Of Cybertron

by northpeach

Sam and alien artifacts have always mixed funny. He wakes with a Spark and in a familiar frame long ago on Cybertron before its destruction with a voice calling him 'Prime' after he fell through the Space Bridge. Megatron rules by Optimus' side, working to make his world a better place. Sam has to try to prevent the war that ruins Cybertron. No Sacrifice, No Victory. TimeTravel

6. Chapter 6

THIS IS CO-WRITTEN BY WOLFSRAINRULES

---

TIME MEASUREMENTS:

Astrosecond: .5 seconds

Nano-klik: 1 second

Klik: 1 minute

Breem: 8 minutes

Cycle: 1 hour 15minutes

Solar-Cycle: One day (20 hours)

Lunar-Cycle: One night (20 hours)

Deca-cycle: 4 weeks (one month)

Mega-cycle: 96 hours (four days)

Meta-cycle: 12 months (one year)

Stellar Cycle: 6 months

Vorn: 83 years

Mega-vorn: 83,000 years (1000 vorns)

60 mega-vorns: 4,980,000 years

---

Getting out of the city once they made it out of the temple was much easier. Janus may have Declared Optimus, but it had been done on a balcony, high above the the city, while standing with Optimus and all the other bots. No one had gotten a good enough look at him to pin him down as 'Janus Prime' especially with the changes he had made to his frame the way Jazz had managed once-upon-a-life.

He kept the hologram hiding his Sigils up, and made no move to change his color back to normal all the same. It was better safe than sorry after all. Still, he gathered some attention outside of the Temple walls. His frame was taller and well built compared to most other Cybertronians and regardless if they knew him as Prime or not, his appearance was bound to be noticed. He was passed off as a noble fortunately enough and the crowd's attention was pulled elsewhere.

It was with little interference that they made their long trek out of the City, beyond the gates and into the outskirts. While the City itself was a shining endless wonder of brightly polished and intricately decorated metal forming all the living quarters and business areas, just before the walls separating the city itself from the wilds, was something of a different story. The Center of the City was their Temple, housing the treasured spark-giving artifact, while the outskirts were made up of the spare materials. Not that it didn't hold a beauty of it's own, but there was an obvious division between those within and those outside. The polish was provided by the acid rain when it came, while the carvings were of a different nature than the City designs.

Walking along the road that lead into the wilds, Janus was reminded of the hobos of Earth during the Great Depression. Symbols draw on fences, mailboxes, stones in the front or even sidewalks, letting others know what kind of person lived there. If they were one to help, or one to chase them away.

It took much longer than Janus expected for the buildings to begin to thin out and the beginnings of Cybertron's unmarked wilderness was revealed. Songbird radiated wonder and curiosity as she gazed at life beyond the City. Janus took a moment to regret that Cybertron was devoid of any life, in the manner of Earth. There were no lush pastures, no stream of crystal clear waters, no trees. Due to the lack of a star to revolve around, there was no light other than the stars. Considering that Cybertronians had no use for oxygen, some of those stars were quite close.

Relatively. Not enough to be classifed as their sun, but close all the same.

Even then, they were not needed. It was to varying degrees, but everyone could see in the darkness. Some could see farther and clearer, but it was a trait every last bot possessed. Considering that the planet revolved around no sun, all light came from either artificial sources, stars or the silvery-blue of energon that shone from deep underground oceans that could only be glimpsed from looking into the bottomless chasms and occasionally even from the mouths of caves. Energon, while it was a liquid of some sort, didn't flow so much as rest. So there were no streams, nor any rivers or creeks.

There was also a distinct lack of trees or forests of any kind.

Cybertron was beautiful in it's own way. There were many different metals that blended together, jutting edges of cliffs that had been smoothed and polished by acid rains for thousands of vorns. Their proximity to the City meant that there were roads and the occasional structures dotting the plates, but Janus knew that the further out they went, the less official roads and deliberately built structures to help them there would be.

Janus vented and cast his thoughts back to the memories lingering in his processor. The nearest place where he could accurately remember being a cache was quite a distance from their present location, but if they transformed, they would be there much sooner. While Sam had never transformed, he had witnessed it many, many times. There was the knowledge stores in his memory banks and the instinctual application that he could feel so he was certain he could do so with ease.

With that decided he turned to Songbird, waiting for her attention to return to him. When her gaze snapped back, he carefully initiated the shift, making sure to accommodate for Ironwill in his hold. Plates of cybertronium folded and rearranged themselves into a compact shape. Janus was fascinated and paid close attention to every single piece that moved and twisted, relocating and forming an unbelievably sleek vehicle. It was designed for maneuverability and speed, practicality, but it was elegant- in a distinctly Cybertronian way.

When he was settling into his alt form, he took a moment to test out the anti-magnetic force field that surrounded his frame. It allowed him to hover a sizeable distance from the ground, but it did not allow him to leave the gravitational pull of the planet. All bots had this device, of varying strength and quality. The Seekers were the only one who could truly fly. This was a pale imitation, but it functioned as it was intended to, helping him to navigate the sharp scarcely touched metals of the planet.

Songbird triggered her own transformation, shifting swiftly as her plating slid together with practiced ease. With a flare of amusement, the newly promoted High Priestess rocketed off, before stopping suddenly. Carefully a flash of lights lit up as she backed up, coming to a halt besides the still frame of Janus.

There was a vague, hastily suppressed flare of sheepish embarrassment before she spoke.

"Janus Prime," she said, her voice firm and steady, "I do not know the way."

To her credit, she did not move even as Janus' deep chuckles washed over her. He carefully revved his engines, making sure to keep the mag-lock engaged. He sent a mental poke for Ironwill to keep still, before he released his brakes. The speed which his frame possessed honestly surprised him for a moment, before exhilaration overcame his shock. He shifted his view to the rear noting the distance between him and Songbird, humming happily that although she was a ways behind, it wasn't enough to lose sight of him..

Sam's inner child- the one that wanted to have the best toys, the fastest 'car' the most amazing things, was utterly and completely thrilled. The rest of him was remembering a time on his Earth, when Bumblebee heard him muttering about how he 'wished he could drive like that' when talking about the impressive synchronized u-turn from Mission City, and took it as a challenge.

Sam had ended up behind the wheel of Bee's alt mode, with himself firmly in control. He'd been taught simply to drive by Cybertronian standards, which by Earth-standards, was considered stunt-driving. He had ended up behind the wheel of all the bots at one point or another, learning what he considered 'stunt' driving, the end result of which was Sam discovering he was an adrenaline junkie of the highest order.

And here he was- firmly in control of himself, and he found he really wanted to push the limits, to test his new body. He wanted to learn what Cybertronians considered stunt driving.

At the thought, many different memories jumped to the front of his processor. If he could have, Sam would have drooled.

Oh. Yes.

---

Going high speeds was done with ease, as most of the terrain was just smooth enough to qualify as roads. For the moment anyway. Not that it mattered, because the force field that made hovering possible automatically adjusted for changes in distance to the ground. To a certain degree. When moving lower to the ground, there was less time for the processors to correct turbulence, compared to when you were several thousands of meters in the air.

Of course, there was a different setting to engage if you were to pass a certain height, as the force fields worked best in lower altitudes. While it was possible for someone to slap rocket boosters to a bots back struts and enable them to fly, it wasn't ideal. Maneuverability wasn't great, and adjustments had to be made manually during flight to sustain it without decaying and crashing painfully into the metal below.

Some legends spoke of Seekers, on the verge of death, who gave their wings and their parts to a grounder and made them into a hybrid. Most Cybertronians considered it to be a myth, since it had never been verified to happen. Sam knew it had happened, had seen Jetfire hand over his parts to Optimus without thought, and Optimus keep and use those parts. Considering Seeker attitudes towards Grounders, and Grounder views of flight being mostly a convenience for travel versus a Seeker's way of life, Sam could understand why Cybertronians considered it to be fairy tales

He, personally, had always been curious about flight. He'd have loved to go for a flight with a Seeker as a human, except every time he'd met one they were xenophobic and homicidal which kind of put a damper on the whole thing. Regardless of the fact that he would have to strap himself in very tightly and with enough strength to hold himself in place during the twists and dives most Seekers seemed incapable of doing without.

An image of Starscream, trying and failing to dislodge him from his person as he tried with increasing intensity to shake him off from his frame popped into his processors. Sam snorted, but transformed it manifested as an odd revving-clank. Ironwill warbled sleepily in his hold at the noise, emerging from recharge at feeling his caretaker's distinct amusement. Janus' engine rumbled in response to the sparkling waking noise.

He almost wanted to 'purr', but it was an intimate noise for Cybertronians. A sign of trust, of bonds forged and tested, a privilege to hear. A noise meant to comfort packmates, a noise meant to convey 'you're not alone, you're somewhere you're trusted and wanted, and it's okay to let go, to relax'. A bot didn't purr their engine unless they felt comfortable, unless they were amongst pack, or alone and in need of comfort. Sparklings were the only exception to it, the bond being forged between them near instantly by the Allspark itself, but as much as Janus liked Songbird, as much as she was his, she was still a stranger and he could not- would not- purr anywhere she could hear it until she had earned that right.

Instead Janus rumbled his engine, and sent warm-happy-joy-tenderness across their bond. In response he could feel happy-welcome-fondness swell from Ironwill.

Janus' spark felt...almost tight in his chassis. He wondered if this was what his mother had felt when she first held him. Sam had heard about parents and the almost instant kind of bond they shared with their children on Earth, but he hadn't understood. Not really. And most certainly not the depth with with Cybertronian parents held with their children.

Ironwill...With Ironwill though, he thought he understood. Not even a full Solar-Cycle with the little one, and Janus couldn't imagine not having the sparkling there, in his helm and spark. The very idea of losing that made Janus defensively murderous.

He shook the thoughts away, checking to make sure Songbird was still keeping up with him. She seemed to enjoy the speed they were going, and was keeping up well enough. If they kept up this speed they would make it to the first cache of weapons by the end of the Solar-Cycle.

That was good- Janus had no idea what would be waiting for them when they got there. If the cache had survived, and if it had, what sort of traps were between him and the entrance to the cache itself.

---

Janus slowed, transforming back to his bipedal mode and staring hard at the jutting mountain of metal in front of him. Nothing made it stand out from the mountains around it, but Janus knew the truth. The mouth of a cave system inside this mountain was hidden from sight, holding many traps and failsafes, and beyond those it hid a cache from Ancient times.

Songbird transformed and stood beside him, looking curiously at the seamless appearance of the face of the mountain.

"Janus Prime?"

"We've arrived," he said, answering her obvious confusion, "keep your senses high, this area is clear, but there are traps disguising the way to the entrance."

He turned to face her, his chest plates folding open and tucking themselves neatly into his sides. He reached in, gently lifting Ironwill from his sparkling-chamber, staring firmly at the little bot gazing up at him with questioning optics.

"I need you to wait here with Songbird little one. I will be right back."

Ironwill stared him down before he crooned softly back acceptance rushing over their bond.

Janus smiled at the sparkling, running his digits carefully over his helm before he turned to the caverns waiting for him to enter. "Remain here. I will be back as soon as I can safely manage."

"We will wait for you." Songbird acknowledged the command easily despite her concern and curiosity.

Janus turned to face the cave system, bracing himself mentally as he began the careful trek towards the cache he knew was concealed inside. His scanners and sensors were cranked up as high as he could stand, memories of another place and a different time drifting through his processor, as he took slow careful steps towards a section of the mountain that appeared like all the others.

The Allspark prompted him carefully, the memories a strong presence in his processor showing him the careful pattern he had to press and tap into the mountainside. Pedes, servos and digits, all had a place to be in a correct order. There was even a place where a piece of the mountain that appeared to simply be jutting out of the side actually slid to the left and slightly down into a little natural looking divot in the metal.

Janus went still after he felt the metal click into place. He heard Songbird's armor rattle with surprise as the mountainside appeared to rip itself open.

That was the easy part- messing up that particular trap would only make it so the entrance wouldn't appear. If Janus made a mistake on any of the others...that would have more...dire consequences. He vented deeply as he took a careful step forward, making sure to use his full stride on the first step so he wouldn't set off the perimeter pressure-plates. The design was meant to last mega-vorns, but at the outer edges of the entrance, rocks were piled up, save for one spot where there was a perfect oval hole in the floor.

Janus could only be grateful that the craftsmanship had withstood the test of time. He could vaguely recall one instance where a trap had been set, that relied on several hundred vorns to pass before it became active. Of course, to actually set off that trap, a bot had to have inside knowledge into the pitfalls, all save for that one in particular. There was a nagging familiarity to the setup of that specific snare, one he could not place.

He brushed that line of thought aside to concentrate on his current task. He deliberately relaxed his frame and walked confidently into the darkness, avoiding the switch on the floor that would trigger a massive explosion meant to cave in the cavern.

Safety measures crafted and implemented by the powerful and paranoid Cybertronians of old in a time where skirmishes were relatively common between packs over territory and resources. Still, when the invaders came much later after Cybertron's hard-won victory, each weapons cache was made accessible to all warriors, be they of their pack or not.

Going by the absence of any disturbance in all of the mechanisms, besides the obvious wear and tear of time and disuse, Janus was the first living thing to step foot into this place in many mega-vorns. He paused, letting the information settle and clarify in his processors. There were many dangerous places, each with their own level of damage they were meant to deal.

Cautiously, he moved forward, placing his pedes this way and that, sidestepping a thin wire that would trigger a chain of events which would lead to a painful death, being slowly crushed by the weight of the mountain. Only after being impaled by spears though. A few of them were malicious in nature, intending to result in an agonizing and cruel death, created after the war and no one wanted to take the time to dismantle them. Others offered a quick, merciful death.

With a twist, Janus bent around and under a support beam which was hollow and outfitted with a system to pump superheated slag from deep beneath the outer surface plates, set on a delayed timer as to catch an intruder leaving, guard down and spoils in their grasp. This action very narrowly resulted in another cleverly placed obstacle that would have triggered another domino-effect event. There was little rhythm or reason to most of these hurdles, save that should you activate just one, all of them in the nearby vicinity would instantly come to life.

To put it clearly, if you did not know what exactly you were doing and how exactly you were going to do it, this was a suicidal venture to take. In the vorns long past, each member of the pack knew how to access these caches. It was easy for them, as they carried an identifying mark which indicated if they entered voluntarily or were coerced. Traps would activate in their wake at the command given from a small insignia hidden somewhere on their armor.

Should someone learn of the insignia that acted as their 'pass' into the caches, and try to take it, it would be deactivated the instant it was disconnected from the Cybertronian with the encoded spark signature. Granted, it would be reactivated via a correct flaring of spark energy field, as the Primes and Alphas wanted to make absolutely sure that only those who they wanted would be able to get in. The security measures in place were impressive and Janus wished that he held an override key as all the Primes and Alpha had.

Without it, he was doing this the hard way, which was going through and avoiding each and every trap, every deadfall and pit trap without the system registering him as an unwelcome intruder. Still, as a human he had beat worse odds, and as a Cybertronian, as a Prime with the memories of Sentinel Prime and the AllSpark in his head, he was confident in his ability to make it in and out unscathed.

It took almost an entire cycle, his inner clock ticking away ever closer to his recharge time, but he made it safely to a hollowed out room stacked with crates and weapons displayed proudly against the walls. There were recharge berths, medical equipment and enough weapons and energon to sustain a small army. There were lights integrated into the wall, the power fueled by several durable batteries stacked out of the way. They lit up as soon as he crossed the threshold.

He strolled forwards, aiming for the armory side of the enclosure, reaching toward to allow his digits to curl with familiarity around the Rhisling Sword. He slowly pulled the blade up from it's resting place, satisfied when it came willingly to his side. He hefted it aloft appreciating the shine of a sharpened blade and swung it experimentally in a crisscross, side to side fashion. It felt comfortable- like he had done this before.

He allowed it to settle against his back, waiting a moment to see if the blade would disagree with his desire to wield it. When the blade magnetized itself to his back-plates in such a way that it didn't impede his movements, Janus took a moment to grin, and brush a feeling of gratitude-welcome over the blade. He wasn't sure why he did it- only that it seemed like a good idea. Like a ritual he had long forgotten.

He turned his attention to the rest of the underground chamber. It held multiple stores of energon, some basic first aid supplies, various hand held weaponry and some specialty weapons that would have belonged to a specific bot who had mastered them.

For some reason- beyond just having the Allspark memories in his helm- each of the weapons looked familiar. The handhelds he understood. Some of them were common, some were modified heavily, but still based on something familiar, but the specialty weapons? Sam had no idea why those could be familiar, why he looked at the cybertronian version of a whip- a flexible conductive piece of metal- and had the instinctive urge to take two large steps to the left and put the jutting metal stalagmite between him and something he couldn't see. Why the sharpened boomerang brought ringing melodies to mind, why the two large energon-axes brought broad shoulders and a gruff undertone to the forefront of his processor.

Then he saw what cybertronians, specifically Seekers, called talons. The were a bladed weapon crafted by Seekers that magnetized to the space between digits, used most often by a Seeker that dropped from the sky to sink the slightly curved blades into enemies. They could be used by other bots of course, but they were made by Seekers, and rather guarded, so it was rare to see a 'grounder' with a set.

Janus couldn't stop himself from approaching them. They were gleaming obsidian black, and when he tilted them just so in the lights, there was a subtle tinge of blue in the polish. Janus almost wanted to keen, and he wasn't sure exactly why. There was a sense of loss with this particular weapon, but all the same, Janus couldn't have stopped himself as he slid the talons between his digits, magnetizing them into place. They felt natural, fitted, as if they were supposed to be there.

With a thought, he had his subspace protocols programed to work with the talons. He took a quick series of test swings with them, noticing absently that each movement would be lethal if used on a bot as his body moved automatically, before triggering the protocols. Between one swing and the next, the talons were in his subspace, before he continued through the movements, triggering his subspace again. Sure enough, the talons appeared between his digits, already magnetized into place and ready for use.

Janus flexed his servos testingly, staring down at the gleaming talons, at the maker's mark that showed up as a bright azure blue flame at the base of the talons, and trying to vent through the sense of grief-loss-missing.

He sub-spaced the talons, and turned to absently grab a few of the basic first aid kits, subspacing them away alongside the more common handhelds. His optics pulled away from the familiar weapons and down to his servos when his digits came into contact with the grip of a gun that felt too new to belong to anything in this cache.

He was glad for the distraction as he took in the weapon he had picked up. It was worn, well used and cared for, like the other weapons in the cache, but in a different, fresher way than the other weapons. It was also, however, familiar.

He stared hard at it, his optics slowly widening as he realized what he was looking at.

It was Starscream's Null-ray! That was impossible. He knew from his Optimus that Starscream had invented the Null-ray, and that it was impossible for such a new creation to be inside this cache, behind all the security measures. His optics darted to the place he had picked up the weapon automatically, and stilled as he spotted a previously unnoticed glyph, scratched into the metal of the ground directly beneath where the gun had been resting.

Save Us.

Save us? Save who? Janus didn't recognize the servo-writing, but he would bet a cube of high-grade it was Starscream's, or at the very least, one of the Seekers. The glyph was one that when expanded upon meant, save us from one who has enslaved us.

Janus suddenly felt as if he'd been bludgeoned upside the helm. It was an accepted fact among the Autobots that all the Decepticons, from Megatron down to the last drone, was batshit insane. No one had thought to question it. It just 'was'. Some speculated from Bonds broken, friends and family lost, imprisonment or any number of scenarios that could happen in war time.

But this…!

Never in any of their wildest imaginings had they ever thought that there was something deliberately, maliciously wrong with any of them. Janus did not even need a nano-klick to know who was responsible if it was true that the Seekers had been embedded with a virus. The Prime bared his denta, his features rearranging themselves into a snarl as his digits folded over the weapon in his servo.

This changed things. If the Fallen was responsible for the entirety of the war? Janus would have to slag that fragging glitch as soon as traces of his presence appeared on the planet. He would not allow the slagger to ruin Cybertron, to ruin the bond between Megatron and Optimus, to ruin an entire race. He made no move to control his Presence as it flared aggressively, beyond ensuring Songbird and Ironwill would not be affected by it, allowed his armor to mantle aggressively and snarled his engine. He would destroy the Fallen. He had planned to before, had sworn it before the Allspark and a room full of witnesses, but if that mis-clocked son of Unicron truly had started everything...Janus would atomize him without hesitation, erasing his existence from the Universe.

He allowed himself this unrestrained moment of fury, before carefully pulling himself back together. Songbird was waiting for him, he had promised Ironwill he would be back quickly, and he knew it would soon be time for recharge.

He had to finish up here. His servos flexed. He could deal with the Fallen later, when he was present to be dealt with.

---

Regardless of the lateness of the cycle, Songbird was patiently waiting for her Prime. Ironwill, however, was not. She had allowed him to perch on her shoulder plates and to walk in a very small circle around her body, but not a millimeter farther. Of course, the sparkling took this as a challenge to see how fast he could move from place to place, all the while taking in every change of the landscape around them.

For the first half of the cycle, he had been content to lightly doze, yet with the absence of his caretaker and the rapid approach of the lunar cycle, he had gotten that burst of energy before his recharge time. Songbird had looked after several sparklings during her early years before coming to the temple, while each one was different, they were all alike in that they got hyper before going down for the night.

Ironwill teetered on the very edges of her shoulder plates, loosening his grip until he was hanging far as he could get. Songbird whistled sharply, bringing his attention to her before sending a stern reprimand to his energy field. The little one drooped down in disappointment, flattening himself to hang over her plates to peer up at her apologetically with bright blue optics. A sound startled her and her attention shifted to the entrance that had hidden itself after Janus has vanished into the depths of the mountain.

Janus was returning. His stride was ground-eating as he headed their way, and she noticed that his pedes stepped exactly where they had been placed when he approached the mountain as he now approached them.

"Songbird, Ironwill. I am sorry it took me longer than I planned to get through the cache."

He slowed to a stop in front of them, reaching for the hyper sparkling that was babbling at him happily to run a digit carefully across his helm in a calming gesture.

Songbird shook her helm in instant denial.

"You warned me that you were not sure how long it would take you to get through the caches. I did not mind waiting for you to get what you needed."

Janus sent a quick burst of gratitude to her before holding out his servo.

"Come, there are recharging berths in the chamber, and I have disarmed the traps." .

Songbird shuttered her optics as Janus turned on his heel struts and marched back to the entrance mechanism. She hurried to keep in step, making sure that Ironwill was securely in her arms as she picked up her pace to match her Prime's long strides. She watched with amusement as he had to turn slightly sideways to fit into the opening concealed both by the natural shape of the mountain and the devices designed to conceal.

It took barely a breem of Songbird following Janus for them to reach the cavern, hardly the cycle it had taken for her Prime to dismantle all the traps and pitfalls. Still, she was appropriately astounded with the sheer size of the chamber and amount of supplies packed into the space. She stared at all the miscellaneous objects impressed with the amount of history in the cavern. Sure it was similar to what they had today, but there was a sense of age, and weight in the room, a sense of battles seen and won with the things she was looking at now. It was different- she could see personal touches to the weapons in the caves, hints about the bots that had owned them once before. She was looking at pieces of her culture, and that was worth more than words could express.

She turned to take in the entirety of the caverns, following in her Prime 's pedesteps. He lead her to the recharge berths he had mentioned easily reaching forward to pluck the sparkling from her arms as he did so. Only he paused, shifting the little one to a single arm before reaching for his subspace. A med-kit rested on his servo, one of a design that Songbird had never seen before. He offered it to her and she carefully picked it up, surprised by the weight.

"For emergencies, these were prepared with the maximum amount of supplies for every injury imagined using the minimum amount of supplies for treatment. Always be prepared for the inevitable."

At the solemn and grave tones Janus spoke in, Songbird bowed her head and subspaced the kit without questions or hesitation. Her Prime graced her with a soft brush of approval before returning his attention to Ironwill as Songbird retreated to her berth for the night.

He absently began to rock the little one as he approached the berth he had claimed as his own for the night. Ironwill was not happy to be rocked, beginning to fuss and twist in Janus' arms in the way all of all sparklings who fought the call of recharge.

Janus cradled Ironwill in his arms, ignoring the little one's fussing with what appeared to be practiced ease. He settled down into his recharge berth, making his frame comfortable, before pausing a moment. Ironwill must have picked up on something because he instantly ceased all noise and stared up at his caretaker with curiosity.

Then, the Prime opened his intake...and began to sing.

"The Well is in the Deep, shining softly blue.

Go to sleep, my sparkling, I'll watch over you.

The mountains and the plains, the stars lighting our sky.

Beauty from the rains, beauty from on high.

Listen to the Songs, my sparkling, the voices of history.

For we have Wandered long, searching for mystery.

My precious one, with your optics full of wonder.

Do not hide in fear at the sound of thunder.

Wars rage between Primus Below and Unicron Above.

But I will keep you safe, surrounded by my love.

The Well is in the Deep, shining softly blue

Go to sleep, my sparkling, let the Songs sing to you."

Songbird was mesmerized, sitting perfectly and completely still and absolutely silent.

It was such a simple thing, a mech singing to their sparkling to lull them into recharge. Save for the fact was Janus Prime and Primes had not sung in…vorns, hundreds of vorns. As Cybertronians, there were those who possessed many types of singing voices, from deep and compelling to soft and moving, yet it was the Primes who have the most beautiful singing voices. Without exception, the voice of a Prime was a priceless treasure to hear.

There were recordings of almost every single Prime singing, from the first Thirteen, to the Prime who was before the one once called 'Sentinel' came into power. Those records existed in the Gallery at Iacon and very few were allowed to hear them play. According to historic data, when there were many, the Primes used to gather and sing. No one knew for what purpose, or if it was a celebration or simply a ceremony of sorts, but that act had fallen out of practice some time ago.

None knew the exact reasons for the deeply emotional resonance a Prime's voice had when they sang, only that it was so. Although, despite the knowledge that Primes were made to sing so beautifully, none from the last two reigns had done so.

Songbird remained as she was, content to take in the undeniable privilege of hearing a Prime sing for the first time in many vorns. Janus' voice was deep, impossibly vast and she could feel it as it seemed to reverberate through her. It didn't matter that he was only singing an old sparkling lullaby, one that Songbird herself had been sung to in her sparklinghood, simply hearing Janus sing it gave the song a weight and depth, a life that could not be replicated by any other means.

She closed her optics, her audials focused solely on his voice, and barely dared to vent. She would swear that she could heard a melody to his words, as if they were standing in a great theater and hearing a Prime perform. A basic four-beat rhythm, a steady deep tempo, harmonic and longing in a way Songbird couldn't put into words when sung by the Prime, yet it was so beautiful.

As his voice faded off on the last note, the echoes of it seemed to bounce off the caverns, thrumming through her very spark. When the sound died out completely and the melody ceased, she felt a keen sense of loss, but her optics remain closed as she stayed in the moment of remembrance and the emotions, both that the singing had invoked and those that spilled over from Janus. It made her want keen for the sheer longing, wistfulness and the bare touches of a long-forgotten sorrow.

"Good Lunar Cycle Songbird," Janus' voice broke the silence, easing the heavy silence that had fallen.

"Good Lunar Cycle Janus Prime" she answered softly.

---

Janus is the first to rise the next Solar Cycle, barely a klik past it's beginning, his systems having been set to alert him at the first signs of danger. It had been unnecessary thankfully, but Janus knew better than to fall into recharge without someone on watch out in the wilds on Cybertron. He glanced down, his optics warming at the sight of his little one curled against his chassis directly over his spark, one of Janus' servos shielding him even in sleep. He was still asleep and there was no need to wake him, especially considering the earliness of the cycle.

Janus sat up carefully, his servo cradling Ironwill as he opened his sparkling chamber. Once it was opened enough, he set Ironwill inside, using his now free servos to prepare the sparkling's breakfast. It was only as he was finishing up with the bottle of sparkling-grade energon that Songbird woke from recharge, sitting herself up and glancing around.

"Good Solar Cycle Songbird."

Her helm whipped around to face Janus' voice, optics wide before she relaxed, replying promptly with,

"Good Solar Cycle Janus Prime."

She took a moment to scan her surroundings, pausing before she asked, "Where are we going next?"

Janus hummed, his optics dimming in thought even has he carefully coaxed Ironwill into wakefulness, dangling the energon in front of his face. He smiled at the delighted clicks and chirps he made as he lunged for the cube, making little grabby motions. When the little one was sucking greedily and happily devouring his energon, the Prime turned his attention back to Songbird.

"We're in the Sonic Canyons now, but our next stop will be Tarn."

Songbird tilted her head, visualizing a map based on their current location before asking in curiosity.

"Back towards Simfur?"

"Yes," Janus nodded, keeping a watchful optics on Ironwill before taking a moment to gaze at her, "We bypassed several caches to come here, to this one, because we needed a key, which was hidden here, for those. There is one in particular that we're aiming towards."

Songbird hummed her understanding despite the vagueness of his answer as he reached out a servo and held out an energon cube for her cumsumption. She hesitated a moment, before taking it, picking it up with delicate digits. She peered suspiciously at the little blue cube before raising it to her dermas and sipping cautiously at the energon. She paused at the unexpected flavor before happily downing the rest.

"Thank you, Janus Prime," she said seriously.

He nodded solemnly, a smile tugging at his face plates as he drank his own cube and kept a careful watch on his sparkling. Draining the last of his breakfast, he surged to his pedes, keeping a firm hold on Ironwill as he squeaked and warbled in excitement at being lifted up high so quickly. Janus pivoted and strolled to the exit, stopping on he reached the arches.

"Songbird?"

At the sound of his voice, the High Priestess shot ot her feet and immediately positioned herself at his heel struts.

"I am ready to depart as soon as you please, Janus Prime."

"Is there anything you wish to take with us?"

She appeared surprised by his offer, hesitating only a moment to glance around and waved a servo towards her optics.

"Nothing material, perhaps some stills? There is incredible historical significance to this site. I know that you lived through many vorns and this is perhaps a place you were responsible for, but to me, I have not lived as long as you and history fascinates me," Songbird explained, her voice steady and clear even as her gaze drifted downwards as she spoke.

Janus turned to stare in surprise at the femme. Being barely a day in Earth-terms of awareness as a Cybertronian, having a split personality of both Sam, the Human and Janus the Cybertronian Prime, not to mention the lingering energy of the AllSpark, time and places held no meaning towards him. To a degree. He felt emotions keenly in certain places and the past was not simply just the past due to his unique perspective.

It was confusing to say the least, with the familiarity of this place and the ease in which he did and spoke about events thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of years ago with a sharp clarity that he almost expected. Some instances, it was as if he had lived through all that he could remember from the AllSpark itself. To Sam, it was...concerning and he forcibly kept his thoughts away from the massive emotional trauma that clarity brought. For Janus, who was both of Cybertron and of Earth, held memories of nearly everything, there were places in his processors he did not go.

The knowledge on the surface was enough and the answers to his questions came willingly and with ease. He did not have to search through the blank spaces for them. Still, he could recall how historians were amazed and astounded by pieces of broken pottery, the older they were. So he inclined his head, giving Songbird permission to document her discovery.

Songbird lit up with joy, her optics lifting from her pedes, as she inclined her head "Thank you." She turned to the cache Janus had brought her too, happily capturing stills of the different things inside from various angles.

Janus waited patiently tracking her movements as she flitted around pausing from moment to moment as she would randomly stop and peer in utter fascination at one thing or another. She made sure to take careful stills of the place where the weapons had hung, close-ups of the medical portion of the chamber and at the spare parts. She paid close attention to the sparkling baseforms that were halfway hidden by a large shelf stacked with datapads and other needs for a sparkling and any repairs they may need.

The sight alone seemed to depress her and for an instant Janus could see a medic desperately trying to save the life of a sparked-femme while her sparkbonded was despairingly keening at her side. The femme's pedes were mangled beyond belief, energon pouring from fuel-lines at a crippling rate even as her midsection plating was pulled back to expose internal damage. The face of the medic was desperate as he worked to repair her injuries, but it didn't look good. He vented sharply, shuttering his optics and shoving that random little pop up behind his mental barriers and forcefully wrenched his attention to his own sparkling, safe and secure in his hold.

He vented, deep and even as he struggled for a klik to work around the surprisingly powerful emotions tied with the visual image. When he managed to wrestle them to the back of his processor, he returned to watching Songbird finish up taking her stills, while keeping part of his attention on Ironwill. The sparkling was happily amusing himself by rolling around in the sparkling hold as much as he could. It made Janus smile at the innocence that Ironwill had and the simple things he did to entertain himself.

Songbird finished up with her stills and moved back to Janus' side, thanking him again before she transformed, idling as she waited for Janus to join her so they could safely exit the not-so-hidden cache before heading towards Tarn. For it to be necessary for one to go out of their way just to pick up a 'key' to access a cache meant that there had to be something very important in the one they were journeying towards. She kept her curiosity at bay, as her Prime did not appear to be in a speaking mood at the moment. There was a heaviness about him, not of any identifiable emotion, but it was there all the same.

She was quiet though, as Janus transformed, Ironwill whirring as he suddenly found himself in the seat of his Caretaker's altmode. It was a short trip out of the cave and the little one was quickly taken in by the scenery moving as Janus' began the long trek, heading for Tarn.

---

Songbird comes to a halt as Janus does, transforming at the same moment as her Prime. Unlike last time where he had gone straight up to the entrance, they stopped a ways away from the underground cavern. Songbird had barely taken a step before Janus turned to face her, his optics serious and steady on her as spoke.

"Follow in my pedesteps, as close as you can manage. The perimeter was trapped as well as the cache itself, and I don't want you to get hurt if you accidently set off one of our defense mechanisms."

Songbird stilled, her optics wide as she looked around at the seemingly innocent surroundings. She could see nothing, but she immediately moved to stand in the wake of her Prime, following his pedes as close as she could.

"Why was the perimeter so protected?" she voiced the curiosity in such a way as not to think about what sort of traps she could trigger with a single careless step.

"There used to be a city down there," Janus said softly, nodding towards the underground entrance, "that formed around the cache. It was formed during warring times, and so the perimeter was defended with some of the more dangerous traps in an attempt to keep the people that called the underground city home safe from invaders. Both foreign and domestic. The cache was trapped as well, of course, but this is one of the more dangerous caches to venture inside because of the perimeter traps."

Songbird lifted her optics to Janus for an instant, only just glimpsing the melancholy on his face plates before she brought them back to where she was placing her pedes.

"An entire City?"

She was awed at the idea, wondering at the sheer magnitude of the work to be done to have a whole City, actually underground. Some believed that to go underground was sacred, that only those chosen should enter beneath the plates. That in the olden days, they had actually built a city. Underground. It was astounding.

"Yes," Janus answered, seemingly oblivious to the uniqueness of a city being built under the plates, "they came to the mech that formed the cache, hoping for something. Desperate or simply curious. Many bots came."

Janus wasn't sure where the information he had came from, but he knew it to be true as he spoke without pause. The words fell from his dermas, flowing easily from some distant part of his processors.

"The Prime that formed this particular cache was known to be very old and very kind, a helper of the people no matter their backgrounds. Perhaps it was his intention or perhaps not, but in helping these mechs and femmes without expecting payment, he earned quite a bit of loyalty. When he formed the Cache and hid such an important weapon inside of it, some of those Cybertronians came to him, and they formed places to live around it, in an attempt to add security to his armory."

Janus flicked his optics back at Songbird to make sure she was keeping up with his pace before he took another step and continued, "When the Prime failed to get the people to move, he chose to trap the perimeter in an effort to protect those who chose to defend something of his out of loyalty."

Janus' servo darted back, stopping Songbird as she became distracted for an instant, fascinated by the lost history he shared with such ease.

"Be careful." he commanded her with an edge of steel in his voice, before he began to move forward again.

Songbird kept her optics on her pedes after that, feeling like a disobedient sparkling, as she carefully followed after her Prime.

"I am sorry," she apologized swiftly.

Janus vented a soft sigh of relief as they approached the actual entrance underground. He turned his attention briefly back to the femme, a gentle touch with his energy field to causing her to lift her optics.

"It is alright. We're almost to the safe-zone," he said, his tone encouraging, before turning back to start steadfastly into safety.

It was an area where, when there were bots living in the city, the sparklings could play without fear, protected by their defenses, yet far enough away as to not trigger them. Yet, long ago when everyone had left, he knew there would be no traps in the small section of space. There would have been a hope for some to return, even if it was those who had only heard stories of this place.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the rest of the city. Janus knew that as the bots moved out from this underground city, they would have set up defences as they left. The city itself was a literal minefield of unexpected and barely anticipated danger all around them.

Janus had some knowledge of the devices set up in the city, but not all of them, and he found himself a little impressed with what his sensors were picking up. He was picking up each and every trap, all of them being encoded to transmit a signal over a secure transmissions line for returning bots, though he wasn't sure how he was picking up on it like he was meant to.

He came to a stop in the very center of the sparkling play area, pivoting to Songbird as she came up by his side, handing over Ironwill.

"Do not leave this area," he ordered, trancing the area which remained safe with a digit, outlining the borders slowly, "the rest of the city is trapped heavily beyond this point, a single misstep you could set off explosions at the very least. Do not let Ironwill out of servo range."

Songbird nodded sharply, dipping her helm in assent.

"As you command, Prime."

A queer emotion twinged in his field, but Janus was already turning then to Ironwill, dipping his helm down to press their forehelms together lightly, projecting love and a stern order to obey.

"Do not leave Songbird's side little one," he said gravely, "There are dangers beyond this area I cannot protect you from should you wander."

Ironwill clicked, understanding from the feelings and tone of his caretaker just how serious he was about what he was saying.

"Good," Janus spoke firmly.

The Prime turned away from Songbird and Ironwill, shifting and rearranging his armor for a moment as he took in their surroundings with a careful optic. He knew the cache was further in the underground city, against the back wall and to his left. He was also very aware of exactly how many obstacles he would have to clear to get to the cache. Truly the security that made this place so secure was now a hinderance to him. There was a joke in there somewhere, he figured.

Still, Janus took two quick steps, leaping from his place in the safe-zone, flipping quickly and cleanly to land on an extended servo and push himself over his pedes landing for an instant on the ground. He stilled himself, knowing there were pressure sensitive explosives throughout the ground and it didn't take very much weight for one to detonate.

Unlike the Earth equivalents, which would explode as soon as something triggered it via releasing the pressure, the Cybertronian version had a little trick to it.

Most bots weren't quick or agile enough to use the trick, and so wouldn't set the failsafe into the explosives, and if they were fast enough to manage the trick, they weren't aware of the pattern needed since each set of the explosive laid down had a different pattern that had to be 'tapped' to work as an emergency shutdown.

It wasn't just a matter of knowing where the explosives were, but knowing which pattern they would need to be touched, how long the pressure had to be applied, and which of the explosives would just explode when they were tapped. That wasn't even taking the countdown that started the moment the pattern was started into account, the entire correct sequence having to be pressed before it reached zero or the whole field would explode.

Janus knew the pattern in front of him. The information was all but demanding his attention from his processors.

He knew the place he had placed a servo was free of any explosive at all, and the place his pedes had landed had started the countdown as he 'tapped' two explosives at once for an instant before moving again. It almost looked like a breakdance routine, as two, three and four explosives needed to be pressed at once, some longer than others, forcing Janus to balance on one servo in some places. It vaguely reminded him of Twister, a game he as Sam had only played once.

Two kliks later, Janus was standing outside the minefield of explosives, venting a little harder than normal, having shut down the explosives. He didn't look back as he immediately lunged to the building on his right, scaling the side to pull himself up to the balcony to avoid the collection of traps lining the alley below him. He known at least three of them are lethal if triggered, and would rather not offline. When he reached the end of the balcony, he stepped up in the railing, stretching out to grab the equivalent of a cybertronian streetlight, a reinforced bar shaped to be visually pleasing, crafted to support the acrobats performing routines like what Janus was preparing to launch into.

Sam felt like a gymnast as he snagged his servos around the bar, spinning twice around it. The bar creaked worryingly, but it held under his weight as it was supposed to, and on the third rotation, Janus released his hold on the bar, flying a sizeable distance. He landed on the building to his left, catching himself on another streetlamps, slowing his momentum by allowing himself to spin until he came to a halt. Servo over servo, Janus worked his way to the base of the streetlamp and slid to the ground.

His next steps took him on a zigzagging pattern, avoiding the multiple tripwires, and pressure plates along the way, things that would set off projectile weapons from the walls, explosives, and various other things Janus had absolutely no desire to deal with.

He emerged from the cluster of homes into the central courtyard of the city. It was open with nothing to hide behind, a welcoming place for socializing...except Janus knew the entire thing was trapped in such intricate steps, it was truly amazing. He vented deeply, holding it in parody of a breath for a moment, before he darted across the open space, his pedes gliding across the ground, evenly distributing pressure, as to trick the plates to avoid registering weight. He expertly avoided the multiple traps, and every one of the pressure-explosives in his path. It was designed so that because Janus had no shutdown codes it was necessary to avoid them completely, lest he trip even one.

As he approached the next set of once-homes, he is quick to take a rolling leap through the alleyway as the faintest hint of sound reaches his audio receptors. He feels the displaced air as the projectiles whizz past his form, but none touch his frame thanks to his swift reaction time. He rolls back to his pedes, surging onwards, knowing this next challenge is nothing but a test of speed and reflexes with no actual way to avoid the activation of the traps.

He can't hesitate for even an astrosecond or he'll get caught and there will be no recovery, Janus knows. His stride is ground eating and his optics on a constant swivel as he dips, ducks, rolls, skids and climbs his way through the obstacles. He is fluid, bending, twisting and practically dancing as he continues to the prize that awaits at the end. By the time he makes it to the back wall of the underground cavern, and quickly presses a series of hidden panels to shut down the entire trap field inside the cavern, he's venting hard, trying to help his cooling fans as they work to bring his core temperature back down.

Janus leans against the wall for a moment, not moving, before he presses his servo flat to the wall, digging the tips of his digits into the wall. He feels as his digits slip into the right place, and he twists his entire arm, up to his shoulder plates, to the left a half turn. The wall clicks, aged machines flaring to life, and Janus turns his servo, digits still gripping the hidden locking mechanism, three-quarters to the right, a quarter turn left and then a full turn to the left again before he presses down.

The locking mechanism clicks and Janus releases his hold as the lock seems to spin and collapse into itself, coming apart to reveal what a hole sized correctly enough for a his arm. Janus reaches in without fear, stretching until his digits encounter a wall, where he finds another concealed lock. Unlike the last one, this device requires something else to work it. Janus easily brings the talons he had taken from the last cache out of his subspace. He twists his servo until his palm faces up and slides the talons into the next lock, twisting it to the right one half turn and then left for a quarter turn before pressing down on it. Once he feels it slot into place, he pulls his arm back out of the hole, and watches as the wall seems to split open, revealing the cache Janus had remembered was there.

This one has a small amount of first aid supplies, various throwing weapons, and a large selection of what Janus recognizes as the cybertronian equivalent of furs, usually used to create nests in the wandering days as a replacement for berths. Before they left, the former residents must have taken most of the supplies, although they recognized the need for that weapon to remain lost.

It's that which holds Janus' attention. The Prime's focus is on the sword mounted to the back wall and for an instant Janus swears he could remember holding it once long before. It takes up a great deal of space, so very ancient, radiating its own presence.

"The Matrix Blade…"

Janus approached cautiously, extending his servo towards the hilt and stilling before he actually touched it. He knows better than to touch anything with the title of 'Matrix' without permission, regardless if he holds the Matrix of Leadership in his spark. As if it could have sensed his thoughts, there's an instant where Janus can feel the weight of an ancient gaze turned onto him, the pressure that pulsed from the sword, and he knows he is being judged.

For a moment, Sam rises to the front, furious and seething and deeply annoyed. The interfering behaviors of higher beings associated with Cybertronians seem to concentrate on him. In all his lives.

He can feel the Matrix of Leadership he holds stir and stretch, waking from sleep and reaching for the sword. Janus is still as the weapon seems to spark to life, shaking the mega-vorns of inactivity off in an instant, shining brightly with power. A sense of welcome-acceptance projects itself into his mind.

Janus completes the motion he began, wrapping his servo around the hilt of the Matrix Blade, pulling it in one smooth movement from the wall. It's a heavy blade. He can feel it weighing on him. Not in the sense of weight as in physical, but in it's importance and significance, it's a burden to be carried. The Allspark knowledge in his processor stirs, and Janus stills.

This is a blade that has seen beginnings and endings, a blade meant for things of importance, not one to be used as a lesser sword would be. A destiny, an oath, a vow, life and death in harmony, intentions and spirit. It all spirals across his awareness. Janus dips his helm in acknowledgement, lifting the sword up to his back so that the hilt is on the opposite shoulder as the Rhisling Sword would be, should it be worn at the same time. Once it magnetizes into place, he activates his subspacing protocols and puts the sword away. He spends a klik checking to make sure everything had worked as it should, double checking nothing gets in the way when he's using the Rhisling Sword as well.

Once everything is subspaced and properly put away, Janus turns away from the cache and rolls his shoulders before he heads back towards Songbird and Ironwill, pondering which of the caches they should visit next. There are many and each holds their own treasures and priceless artifacts from history. They hold no significance to him, but to Songbird who listens to the history of her planet with such a light in her optics. They mean something to her. Would mean something to Optimus who has spent so long before he was a Prime as an archivist...and Janus had promised to share the histories with Optimus and his pack. It would harm nothing to gather as much as he could in the timeframe he had given to Jazz.

Janus' dermas lift in a smile as he approaches the sparkling play area to find Songbird playing a servo-game with Ironwill, who is diligently staying at her side as Janus had asked. He projects praise-pride-adoration along his bond to the sparkling, and is rewarded as the little one's optics snap up and straight to him with a happy coo.

He brushed gratitude-accomplishment over Songbird's emotive field as he approached.

"I have finished with the cache here," he spoke calmly as he liberated his sparkling from Songbird's arms when the little one reached for Janus with his tiny servos, "And as it is early still, I thought we could continue on to our next destination, a city called Uraya."

Songbird easily nodded her agreement, gently releasing Ironwill to her Prime.

Janus took the lead, opening his spark chambers to allow Ironwill to curl up in his warmth. He takes a moment to glance at Songbird, to ascertain her position and to subtly encourage her, before stepping forward. He kept his stride even and short, allowing her to keep close as he lead the way out of the underground city. Songbird was a step behind him, taking stills of the city as they walked, excitement and awe vivbrating off her frame. Janus cannot help but smile softly, keeping his pace slow and steady to allow Songbird to do so.

He clears the exit first, some lingering urge of caution present in his processors even as his optics continue scanning the area in time with his scanners. Regardless how advanced his sensors were, he knew better than to rely on them entirely. He kept Songbird in his peripheral vision even as she continued to take her stills of the underground city. He is careful to trace his path out of the city exactly as he had come in, staying near the entrance so Songbird will see him immediately without any need to wander. The killswitch he had triggered only shut down the traps in the city itself, leaving all the perimeter traps intact and just as dangerous, varied, and lethal as they had been when he came in.

He leaves his sparkling chamber partially open as he waits, playing servo-games with Ironwill as his own little servos dart out in random attempts to catch Janus' own. Normally, it would amuse him, lead him to relax and enjoy the moment. Unfortunately, the situation is much too dangerous for Janus to allow himself to lower his guard. It takes a few breems for Songbird to come out of the cavern, her optics alight with the joy of a new discovery, and gratitude on her dermas. Janus does not wait to hear them, already beginning to lead the way out, towards Uraya, listening as Songbird shares what she has seen.

He understands her need to rant about it. He remembers the times as Sam when he had, what Miles had dubbed a 'geek out', over some show, or celebrity. Of course, this was back before his life had become some sci-fi action flick and he had been too busy freaking out over 'why me's and 'Oh, God, I don't wanna die's' to worry about still (hopefully) fictional things, or people not in his immediate circle. He ignores the grief and the part of him that misses the people who don't exist and won't for a very long time, forcibly turning his attention from his memories.

And then Songbird gasps, the sound almost obscuring a soft noise, the volume just being loud enough to reach Janus' audidials. There is no time, there are warnings screaming in his head and he doesn't need to stop and analyse the situation, he already knows.

Janus' frame is moving even as his processor locks onto the sound, running calculations to determine where exactly it originated from, even as a long-ago memory telling him exactly what pressure-plate Songbird has just accidently triggered. He braces himself, moving without hesitation even though he knows, knows this is going to hurt, but because it's Songbird and he's not going to let anyone die when he can do something.

Everything that happens next is frame-by-frame for Janus, even as barely three astroseconds pass, and everything is happening so fast. It's less conscious thought and more instinct, but there's a sound beating a steady beat in his processors and his decision is already made.

One.

His sparkling chamber is opening, and a servo is reaching for Ironwill even as the other snatches Songbird by the scruff-bar. He uses every last ounce of strength he has and whirls on his heel, knowing he only has astroseconds, not enough time to get himself out of the way, and he throws Songbird even as he shoves a panicking sparkling into her arms, urging his sparkling chamber to shut as soon Ironwill is clear. There is no hesitation, he has no regrets, even if this kills him, but for a moment, there is a stillness and he can see.

Two.

Songbird is tumbling behind him, curled protectively around the Ironwill and making no attempts to brace herself through the crash landing- he had thrown her harder than he meant to in his attempt to get her clear of the area of effect- and Janus knows he's too slow even as the trap finishes triggering. Ironwill is panicking, afraid and confused, but his optics are shielded by Songbird's frame so that he won't see.

The stillness ends, the calm in the storm passes and time moves on.

Three.

There's a flash of high-intensity light, searing the delicate wires in his optics, forcing them to reboot and Janus is staggering back from the area of origin, his armor rattling despite coiled lines and pulled in plates.

He doesn't have the time. It's instinctive as he slams down on the bond he shares with Ironwill as fully as he can without damage while he can still manage it, dimming the connection between himself and Songbird as much as he can while he's at it. He would not cause them indirect suffering through his own.

His sparkling chamber- so very close to his spark- is still partially open when the cloud of dense fog-like acid hits him, just as he had known it would. His optics have rebooted so he can see clearly, and there is nothing that he can do that he has not already done. He simply watches as the acid hits his frame.

It is agony.

Janus couldn't have stopped the wail of pain if he had tried as the acid burns wires, melting exposed parts of his frame, fusing bits and pieces together that should not be, slipping into sensitive places and continuing to burn away even as the cloud of acid disperses, its purpose fulfilled. There are voices in his head in the first instances, of people, both Cybertronians and humans and some he can put faces and names and some are like dust in the wind. His processors are overloading and he cannot think.

Janus dropped like an asteroid, landing heavily on his knees, his pedes losing all feeling and collapsing under him, involuntary keens tearing their way out of his throat. He folds over himself, servos hovering over his chassis with an intense urge to cradle the worst of his wounds, the only thing stopping him being the dim knowledge that touching the acid would only spread the burning agony to his servos. His vents are fast and stuttered, deep and short, choked as he tries to 'breathe through the pain', his entire frame shuttering.

Ironwill is keening, loud and terrified, panicking that his Caretaker had shut him out. He is horrified that Caretaker was curled over himself and screaming, that the femme Caretaker entrusted him to when he could not be there was hurt, and that he had no idea what had happened.

And still, Janus chokes on his screams even as Songbird scrambled up to her pedes, staggering at the pain before forcibly shoving it aside. She can barely think past the sound of Janus's pain, the unending wail ripping itself from his intake. Songbird was not trained for any of this, she has no idea what she can do, but she knows that she's the only one who can do something. Since she had no knowledge of the danger in the immediate vicinity, she makes sure to carefully kneel next to her Prime, even as he shudders and shakes and screams.

"Ironwill," she speaks and the designation barely catches the sparkling's attention so she repeats it until he turns to warble fearfully at her.

"Don't let go," she tells him, guiding his frame to her shoulder plates, "You cannot touch the ground, so don't let go."

She hates herself in that moment looking at his energon-stained face and the terror engulfing his frame, but she can't spare any more time to comfort him. Songbird reaches into her subspace for the med-kit Janus has given her barely a cycle ago and cracks it open. She doesn't have a chance to do anything beyond that before Janus gives one last wail of agony and goes still.

With panic and desperation slamming into her spark, her servos shot forward to roll her Prime onto his back plate, even as she upturned the kit, looking for something to stop the spread of acid. The site of Janus's chestplates, his spark chamber, the way the designs are erased from his frame at the point of impact, makes her vents cease working. A keen works it way up her throat, but she doesn't allow herself to falter. She frantically searches for something to nullify the acid that continues to eat through her Prime frame and when her digits brush again a canister with the symbol of acid crossed over with the glyph for 'used against', she nearly cries.

It takes a moment, a moment too long as she skims the instructions, turning the nozzle, only to rip it off and upend the entirety of the container onto Janus's chestplates. She makes sure that the liquid goes in all the places the acid touched, but before she empties the bottle, her Prime jackknifes into a sitting position.

The sound that leaves his dermas is haunting, resonating with aguish and painpainpain. Songbird automatically extends her arms to place her servos against his shoulder plates, but Janus flinched away from her, curling into his chest, in a futile attempt of protection. The sizzling bite of acid eating through metal is thankfully absent, so she knows that no more damage is being caused. Beyond what has already occurred.

Songbird isn't a medic, she doesn't know anything about acid injuries, beyond that of the natural acid that falls occasionally, yet that would only harm if one stood in a constant flow for many vorns. But when her Prime's digits start pulling at his frame in the burned, twisted and warped places, even she knows that's a bad idea.

"Janus, Janus stop!"

Her only response is another wail, a keen of hurt before he forcefully stifled it. Songbird can only stare in horror as her Prime clamps down on his screams, stills and turns his optics to her. What kind of agony has he experienced that he is still able to retain higher levels of processor function? She doesn't want to know, doesn't even want to think about it, because this would have offlined her in a very unpleasant way, this would have ended her and Janus is regaining his functions willfully and by force.

"I-injur-ed?"

The word is barely recognizable, as Janus almost skips the first sound and grits out the second only to draw out the third, but Songbird already knows the first question he's going to ask. So she steels herself and instead of yelling at him, she as calmly as she can manage, answers him.

"I am fine, Janus Prime," she whispers, pausing a moment to let the sparkling warble his own assurance, "we are both fine."

There was a moment's stillness before Janus partially relaxes and Songbird's spark aches because she can't feel anything from him, not from the bond, not even from his energy field. Nothing. It was a void to her own field and she couldn't stifle a low, long keen as she stared at him.

He dragged his gaze up, his attempts to speak beyond the one word halting and painful, so she stops him.

"Janus, there is nothing and no one here who can help you. I don't know what to do."

Those last words slip out from her dermas, but they're true and there's nothing she can do about that, not when she knows, there's nothing to be done.

Primus, please.

She doesn't phrase a request of anything, simply a wordless plea. She doesn't know what to do, but she stops and starts in surprise because Janus is reaching up his arm, a single digit extended and before she can move, he jabbed it right between her optics with astonishing force. Barely a nano-klik later and information is downloading into her processors.

It's the layout of the still activated traps beyond this point. It's a map to the nearest city, it's paths and trails, roads and instructions. It's an order and a demand and she doesn't keep back her keens, grabbing Janus's servo with her own even as Ironwill crawls down to worriedly place his own tiny servo against both theirs.

There is a surprising strength as Janus pushes against them, even as his arm goes limp and he slumps over. Songbird catches him as best she can even with the height difference and stands to her pedes to pull him away from the splattered remains of the acid. Gently and with care, but she still catches involuntary motions of pain before they reach a small area of safety.

He is heavy, so heavy there is no chance of her lifting him and carrying the mech any length of distance. Not with her shorter frame, not with her strength. It's impossible and there's only one option and if he's going to survive there's nothing else she can do-

She lowered his body to the ground, her servos hovering over the horrific damage and his limp frame, before squaring her shoulder plates and standing to her pedes once more. She turned on her heel struts, clamping her intake shut as she marched away from the fallen form of her Prime. Ironwill chirped, warbles and keened in distress, in confusion, attempting to throw himself away from her reaching for his Caretaker, but Songbird pulled him up in front of her face plates.

"We're going to get help. I need you to be brave and come with me," she said, determination and desperate pleading in her tones.

The sparkling stared at her in silence, before slumping down, wailing softly and shaking in her grasp. Songbird placed him into her sparkling hold. It was small- she was almost too small herself to have one- but Ironwill was so young, he was tiny, and he would fit for the duration of their travel- leaving the darkness of a once shining city. She picked up her pace once the map Janus had given her showed a clear path. She lunged into the air, coming down shifting and changing into her alt-mode, engaging her force field to the highest setting, maximized for speed as she shot off back towards Simfur, thanking Primus that Tarn was so close.

---

Jazz was curious at the departure of the old/new Prime. The Prime who was very old, ancient even, but that no one knew, therefore he was new.

He was a mystery, and Jazz had never been able to resist those. He stuck close to Simfur for two reasons alone, the first being that Optimus needed him. His Prime was new to being the Leader of Cybertron, for all that he had shadowed the once-Sentinel. At this moment, Optimus was the top. The one the others looked to, and Jazz was his eyes and ears amongst the people. The one that they would not see, and so would be honest around.

The second reason was the Vow the New-Old-Prime had given to him, his voice ringing with power and promise. He would come back- so Jazz would stay in Simfur, he would wait, and he would learn when the Prime returned.

That didn't mean that he wouldn't ask around, prod conversations towards the Prime in an effort to gather information without leaving Simfur. That he wouldn't pay attention to every swell and turn in the people, searching, listening to their whispers, following the trails, the hints that lead to the big picture.

This careful attention he paid to the people, meant that he was the first to hear the whispers rippling inwards from the outskirts. That he was the one to hear of a femme, frantic and injured, rushing through the city.

A femme that sounded very much like Janus Prime's High Priestess.

So of course Jazz had to go looking.

---

When the horizon broke with the mass of buildings, beautiful works of glimmering art and the looming walls that encircled the city, Songbird nearly keened in relief. She put on a burst of speed, ignoring the burn in her tanks and the pain in her spark at the thought of Janus suffering alone in an abandoned city. Long forgotten to history and maybe even any living memory save for Janus's. If Songbird didn't find someone to help her, if she didn't find someone trustworthy Janus would die.

She wasn't going to allow that, surely Primus would guide her, Janus was beloved, Janus was Prime. She had to have faith.

She barreled into Simfur, transforming with such speed her injuries protested and she stumbled and almost fell. Luckily she caught herself, ignoring the attention her actions and appearance gained, forcing herself to break out into a sprint.

She staggered the first couple of steps before sheer momentum kept her going. Her optics lifted to stare towards the heart of the city, towards the Temple. She prayed Bumblebee was there, for he could lead her to Optimus.

Optimus would help her.

---

Jazz stilled, optics fixed on the femme. It was Songbird, that he was certain of. Those sigils marking her as a High Priestess were hard to miss and she wasn't doing a thing to hide them. It didn't take but a nano-klik more to figure out why.

She was frantic, injured, and panicking. Her servo was pressed over her chassis protectively, her frame dented, broken, scratched. Energon was leaking from her fuel lines, the dark blue liquid dripping down her cables.

Multiple high impacts wit somethin' sturdy. Sizes ah th' impacts are many, and varied. Torn lines, energon on 'er frame...No Prime.

Som'thin' happened. An attack?

Jazz moves quickly through the crowd, easily finding his way to the Priestess' side. That fact that she didn't notice his presence, regardless of his somewhat small size, speaks volumes on how far she's come in her condition.

"Songbird! Wha' happened?"

Songbird whips around, the relief nearly overwhelming her as she cries out, her emotions field overwhelming in its relief, terror and despair, all jumbled up and agitated.

"Jazz! Jazz, oh thank Primus, please. I need your help, he's hurt and I couldn't carry him, I was too weak, I had to abandon him there and I don't know how much time he has left, but I don't know what I'm doing he needs help!"

It takes Jazz a klik to figure out what she's saying, the high speed babble rushes out of her so quickly, her words shoving into one another. The constant barrage of strong emotion takes a bit to push past too, so he pauses and takes in everything he can see, the words Songbird has just spoken and all the current information he has.

His optics widen when the pieces click and he understands. What in Primus' name could have injured Janus Prime, who had stood on even ground with Sentinel, so badly that he could not even walk? Jazz may not be the medic in their little family, but that speaks to him of severe wounds, paralysing and borderline fatal.

"Where is he? His status?"

His words are sharp, enunciated fully as he tenses, his attention narrowing down to the femme in front of him even as he pulls up his communication lines. As of his last known position and intent, Ratchet should be in the presence of Prime and Megatron, going over some policy changes Optimus had wanted to push through due to the sudden positive opinion of himself. He wouldn't answer the first ping, but he should on the second.

"We were near Tarn," Songbird begins, her words still desperate and hurried, but they're clearly heard now, "There were traps, defenses for the city, and I was careless I made a mistake, I triggered one and Janus saved me and Ironwill. There wasn't enough time to save all three of us so he chose to sacrifice himself. There was acid and he was screaming, and he has spark damage Jazz."

Jazz curses vehemently, his choices sharp and varied as he whirls away from the High Priestess, the femme following sharply on his heel struts, despite the wounds to her person. He would slow his pace, but time is going by and he's still on the first ping on Ratchet's comms and it's going to be another klik before he can place another one. He pulls up another screen, aiming for Ironhide, knowing the weapon's master would be training Bumblebee sometime this solar cycle.

"Ironhide," the mech's voice is brisk and precise as he answers the ping to Jazz's eternal relief.

Jazz speaks quickly, knowing time is of the essence "Ah need ya ta go ta th' nearest gate an' head towards Tarn. We have work tha' needs doin'. Ah'll meet ya on th' way and explain."

Before he disconnects, he gives one last request.

"Bring 'Bee."

His pedes skid under him as he darts around a corner. Ratchet isn't picking up his pings, which leaves Jazz to his own devices. If Ratchet can't come to Janus, Jazz will bring Janus to Ratchet...and to do that he needs a larger mech than himself- like Ironhide.

He needs to get to Tarn.

Songbird scrambles after the smaller mech, her injuries screaming at her, but her determination is unwavering. Janus's life is depending on her action, on her ability to get him to a medic, either directly or indirectly. She will not fail him. Ironwill is still in her hold, safe and still chirping for her attention, worried and insistent. The terrified sounds touch her spark, but there's nothing she can do that she's not already doing, so she forces herself to ignore him for the moment.

When the mech suddenly veers away from his original destination, headed towards the gates, she knows he's headed for Tarn. She also knows her injuries would slow her down too much to go with him, not when Janus was so injured, not when every astrosecond counted.

"Jazz!" she shouts, her voice strong and demanding even as she rushes after him, barely avoiding crashing into him as he just barely stops.

"Take these, and whatever you do- be careful."

She clasps a servo to his shoulder, establishing a temporary link to send him the files Janus had given her, the ones that showed the safest path from their current location, and laid out the entire perimeter including every trap within it. She takes a moment to mark the place she had placed Janus before cutting the connection. Her knee joints threaten to give out, but she locks them in place and stares at the mech she barely knows. She is trusting him, placing the life of her Prime into his servos.

Jazz accepts the files, one part of his processor intensely impressed with sheer scope and variety of the traps marked out on the map, while the rest of his processor is already working out the best way to get himself and Ironhide though the traps, and then how they will get out with a critically injured mech of Janus' size without tripping any of the dangers around them. His optics meet Songbird's straight on, his voice powerful and full of a determined promise as he speaks,

"We will bring 'im back."

---

Bumblebee manages to dodge a sweep from Ironhide's legs, but the backservo connects and he slams into the ground with a small cry of pain. His optics shutter, taking in the distinctly unimpressed stare that Ironhide is giving him from so far away. He instantly knows that the weapons' master and his current teacher read that thought right from his processors because the mech's dermas stretch into a grin. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reaches, reaches all the way down to hold out a servo, his digits wiggling enticingly.

"Come on, little mechling, don't pout. You'll get the hang of this...in a vorn or two."

The barely teasing comment was ruined by the menacing stance that came to Ironhide naturally. Still, Bumblebee shot a discreet glare at his instructor as he accepted his servo and allowed himself to be pulled onto his pedes. He winced at the brief spike of pain that accompanied his rough ascent, but quickly locked down his energy field so that it didn't project his current emotions.

Going by the sideways look Ironhide shot him, he probably managed it, but his facial plates were too expressive. He vented gustily before taking up his stance once more, only to stop as his instructor seemed to be distanced from his instructing.

"Ironhide."

Bee is tempted to lunge at his distracted teacher, and for a nano-klik he almost does. But Ironhide straightens and the ease and what could be called gentleness the mech had displayed in their training lessons is instantly wiped away and replaced with the serious visage of a warrior on a mission.

Although he is disappointed, because he had been both looking forward to and dreading his time with Ironhide, he knows that when the mech adopts that look, there is a situation that needs to be taken care of. However, it's only when that expression shifts just the tiniest bit, perhaps in surprise, that Bumblebee thinks that maybe this one emergency is different from the rest.

There's a beat in his head, strong and unwavering. It's been with him almost the entire solar cycle and he's kept steadily ignoring it. Yet when Ironhide turns to him, his optics bright and his face grim, Bee feels as if his balance stabilizers have been tampered with.

There's is something wrong. He suddenly knows this, with startling clarity and every reaction, every minute distraction that has put him off this cycle, clicks in his processors. He doesn't wait for Ironhide's explanation, although going by the short conversation, it was more of a set of directions, he's turning and moving and sprinting for the exit.

"We have to hurry!"

Time passes, is passing, will pass. Cycle after cycle and the world spins on. Cybertronians live and die and still time passes on and Bee can suddenly feel every fleeting moment and he cannot control his venting because there is something wrong and it needs to be fixed before something breaks and shatters.

Regardless of Ironhide's advanced experience or his height, Bumblebee is smaller and faster. There are paths he can go that only a bot his size can get through. Jazz had shown him and there is no hesitation in his steps when he uses them, completely ignoring his teacher, only to shout out,

"I'll meet you there!"

He doesn't listen to any reply that may have been given because he knows that Songbird is waiting at the end of his journey. She's in distress, the Song tells him so. The sparkling of the Prime is there, he can sense him, but the Prime, the Prime is missing, and the beats in his processor drown out all the noise around him. He can hear the Singing and the Song and a phantom pain ghosts gently over his spark.

He doesn't dare stop even as Jazz pops up on his sensors, only leaping over a much too slow bot, using them as a springboard to gain enough height to grab onto the building in his path and scramble up it. He doesn't know the sight he must make, running through Simfur like Unicron is on his heels, his sigils blueblueblue and a processor devoted to the beat only he can hear.

Its with a jarring lurch that he comes to a stop, his jump from the rooftop of some building putting an abrupt end to his travel. He can see it now. The Song was Singing and he can see why, he knows the reasons and the causes and as the femme's knees give out, he's right there to catch her and ease her down.

Songbird is injured. Not heavily, not presently life-threatening, but they are of some concern, especially considering they've been agitated and made worse than those originally inflicted. There are spots of acid burns on her knees, which is why they gave out. The running had deepened the holes the acid had made into her frame, but it appeared that the worst injury she had was the damage to her back and side plating.

Then Jazz is there, reaching for him and all of a sudden, sound crashes in on his world. The hum and buzz of city life, the commotions and conversations of the curious Cybertronians around them and Bumblebee almost flinches from the volume. But Jazz is there and he's demanding an answer to his questions.

"What?"

"Where is Ironhide?" Jazz repeats the question, ignoring the pulsing blue of Bee's sigils.

"I took a shortcut," Bee explained, most of his attention focused on the exhausted femme in his arms, "He shouldn't be far behind."

Songbird's servos shoot up to her spark chamber and for a horrifying moment, both Jazz and Bee wonder if the spark-damage dealt to Janus Prime had also affected the High Priestess. Their worry was eased, for at the click-clack of parts and plates shifting and moving that signaled the opening of a spark-chamber, they both relaxed and discreetly averted their gaze. Ironwill was scooped out and placed on Songbird's lap as the femme vented heavily and choked back a barely audible keen. The sparkling was scrambling about, jerking his helm this way and that, searching, no doubt, for his Caretaker.

Bumblebee, knowing exactly where this was going to lead, gently grabbed Ironwill and brought him closer to the brilliant blue of his own spark and the still shining sigils. The sparkling didn't bursts into shrieks and wails, but he remained agitated, although to a lesser degree as he felt the familiar power of the AllSpark. When the little one twisted his helm to stare up into Bee's optics, stumbling out a questioning chirp that ended with a waver in his tones.

There was power running through him, and there was nothing and everything and he gently placed a single digit on Ironwill's helm and spoke with a rasp of other.

"Fear not, little one," Bee whispers as loud as a shout, "your Caretaker is an (to-hold-the-sky-upon-your-shoulders) Atlas. The weight he carries is heavy enough to crush him, but still he stands, with untold strength. Even as enemies and forgotten memories alike seek to destroy him, Janus Prime will fight until he has won, no matter the cost."

Ironwill is calm now. Gazing at him with acceptance and the beginnings of understanding. He is young, a sparkling yes, but so very perceptive. But Bumblebee is not just speaking as himself, he is relaying the words that shine from his spark, from his sigils, from the AllSpark which gave him life.

The mission to calm the sparkling down is complete, but now Bee can feel the beginnings of panic stirring because he's never done this before. Dear Primus, the AllSpark is stretching out and Singing and the Song is endless always a beginning, never ending and any other time, any other cycle, but this is a moment in his life where he can't. He's a Sensitive, more so than any sparkling documented that has been sparked since Primus-knows.

He can feel it, the barest traces that guided him so easily, the trickle that became a stream, a river and an ocean in the distance. Always and forever, endings that are simply beginnings in disguise, time passing, the world turning, and life going on and it's beautiful. It's not to last, there is work to be done and right now he has to care for Ironwill and Songbird, waiting until Janus Prime is returned to Simfur.

That was the moment that Ironhide showed up.

---

Jazz stares at Bee in something like reverence, as he had been for an instant and an eternity, been more.

"Get 'er ta Ratchet."

Jazz issues the command, switching mental gears even as he turns towards the gates. He knows Ratchet is busy- something had prevented him from answering the second ping Jazz had sent- but he gives the command anyway. He'll leave it to Bee.

Ironhide stares at Bumblebee for a moment as well, optics scanning over the injured femme and the sparkling she holds, before he rushes after the small silver mech that had called him.

"Status?" he barks the question, frame tense and ready as he tries to figure out what could possibly have happened to cause the absence of Janus Prime.

Ironhide may have been wary, cautious about the Prime, but he had always been able to identify protectors. Those bots who would stand in front of their own, who would not bend or break before them, who were vicious in the defense of their people. It was part of what made him wary of Janus Prime. Those who were protectors had no care for the status of those who threatened their own- they would face any and all of them down without regret and handle the consequences after they were sure of the status of their own. Ironhide had had a feeling about Janus on sight, and when he had faced down Sentinel without hesitation on behalf of his he had proven it.

So the fact he was not here, not with the femme the Prime considered his, was a warning sign in and of itself. The only reason Ironhide could come up with that would prevent Janus Prime from being with Songbird while she was injured and carrying his sparkling was that he couldn't be.

Jazz and Ironhide peel away from the gates barreling towards Tarn, as he answers the weapons' specialist.

"Janus Prime chose ta protect th' femme an' th' sparklin' when she triggered a trap an' he had ta chose. Songbird was injured, but th' Prime took th' brunt of th' acid to protect th' other two. Songbird reported spark damage. He's down, an' she couldn't carry 'im. Ratchet isn't answerin' meh, so we gotta brin' 'im ta Ratchet."

"Unicron above me." Ironhide breathes.

Acid to the spark?

Ironhide pours on the speed, knowing they had not an astrosecond to spare.

---

Janus is drifting.

Run Sam! We'll cover you!

Memories stir, and voices call, voices that couldn't be with him.

You hold the key to Earth's survival.

And all the while, there is agony.

Janus! Have you seen-

I love you.

Janus, I swear to Primus, I will tie you down with my whip. Don't think I won't!

Voices he doesn't know, and yet his spark aches. Throbs in his chassis in a way that has nothing to do with physical pain.

Where did you put my boomerang Janus?

His voice, exasperated yet amused, scolding people he can't place.

What made the cavern seem like a good place to practice with unstable chemicals? I thought we discussed this the last time.

Flashes of places he recognizes and still more that he doesn't.

Green trees, stretching around him.

The ocean bright and large, reaching into the horizon.

A metallic cavern, a nest of soft almost velvet metal that acted as cybertronian furs taking up the center of it, much too large for just one mech.

The Lookout.

Metal mountains stretching above his frame.

An aerial view of Cybertron, plains of metal stretching before him, the sounds of thrusters in his ears, mixing with his whoops of utter glee.

When you get trapped, cornered with no way to escape, it's better to have multiple weapons on hand Sam.

Janus are you ready to practice?

You left me no choice, brother.

Janus, hurry up! The Gathering, the Song is going to start!

Janus, we'll be fine, go ahead.

I love you, Sam, I love you.

Leave us! Janus, go! Go!

No...no sacrifice, no vic...tory, right...Janus…?

Emotions stir, pain, loss, regret, determination...

The unrelenting agony of the acid throbs, a strange familiarity in the pain even as it threatened to push him over the edge that he clings to with sheer stubborn will. He. Will not. Fail.

"Janus!"

For a klik, Janus is sure it's another voice in echoing in his helm, another memory, a ghost of an enemy, a friend, of a bot that should be dust in starlight, stirred from their rest.

And then a servo clamps onto his shoulder, hauling him from the ground. Every memory of unwanted servos settling on his frame surges forward, vivid and present in his processors, and he can't move.

Janus doesn't register the gentle way in which he is handled. It doesn't register that he knows these bots, only that he is hurt, he is alone, laying out in the open, and somebody is touching him. He is helpless and defenseless, his servos are empty, he is injured and he knows this. But he does not accept it.

A snarl pulls itself from his vocalizer, dermas pulled back in a feral warning as he twists himself free of the hold. He ignores the way his chassis burns, the way his processor screams at him to shut down into stasis, but he refuses and forces his frame to obey his demands. A servo lashes out, much quicker than should be possible with his injuries, slamming full force into Ironhide's chassis. The large mech staggers back and Janus is quick to follow through, dipping down and slinging a pede at Ironhide's ankles.

He crashes onto his back-plates, his reactions slow and mostly defensive, but Janus is lunging forward, the talons equipped from subspace and pulled back, ready to sink them without mercy into the mech below him.

"Janus, no! Primus mech, stop! It's fine, it's okay! You're fi-safe, you're safe we're not gonna hurt you! Songbird sent us! We're going to get you to a medic!"

Jazz rushes to speak, accent absent as he darts around Ironhide's fallen form to stop Janus from completing the kill-strike he had been in the process of taking. He had been completely blindsided by the amount of strength and speed the severely wounded Prime had exerted through pure will alone. Jazz is uncertain if he could get Janus down. He knows that if the mech was in good health he would stand no chance in a faceplate-to-faceplate fight, but he's injured. Maybe, Jazz could take him, on a slim chance and by the grace of Primus, but without further hurting him?

No chance. Fortunately, the situation doesn't come to that. Janus stills, the tips of his fancy-looking talons just barely scraping Ironhide's vulnerable throat cables.

"Son- Song...bird?"

He barely gets the designation out, but it's important so he forces himself, despite the pain, in defiance of all the warning glyphs flashing across his vision. He turns, and it is only then that he realizes who it is that stands in front of him.

Jazz. The bot is the same silver as the one he had once known, for such a brief time. He's shorter, much shorter than even Bumblebee, especially compared to his current height. He's got the same visor and although his frame style is different, more Cybertronian, less Earthian design. But it's undoubtedly Jazz.

So he focuses, demanding his sight to clarify and his optics drift down right into a very familiar face. Ironhide, it's Ironhide, whole and alive, his spark just barely seen through the cracks of his armor and oh, he could weep. Look what he's done. He wrenches himself backwards, subspacing the talons and hissing with pain as his chassis pulls. His frame sways, betraying his weakness, but his thoughts are filled with the dying words of his once-friend.

"S-Sorry. Didn't...rec...ognize," he bites out.

He doesn't have much time. He's pushed it too far, there's no more strength he can draw from anywhere. He can't force it any longer. His optics shutter, and he tilts sideways.

Ironhide's servo is quick to stop his descent, his voice rumbling with a comforting tone in an attempt to reassure.

"Easy," the weapon's master soothes, pushing himself up to compensate for the difference between height.

Sam recognizes it for the tone Ironhide had used when a mech came back from an mission particularly injured. It's been so long, but he can remember. That's the tone that Ironhide uses to communicate 'you're safe. Relax. We've got you'. Janus cannot help his reaction and he relaxes in response, a choked off keen escaping him as the cybertronian equivalent of adrenaline fades and the agony of his wounds becomes more pronounced.

His vision is fading. He can't keep control of his functions, they're unresponsive... he can't move his limbs.

---

Ironhide expects the Prime to be in stasis by the time they get to him. He's exceedingly careful to follow exactly in Jazz's pede-steps, not wanting to set any other traps off. Fortunately it wasn't long before they came upon the area marked on the map Jazz was transfered, his optics landing on and fixating on the still form of the Prime.

Part of his processor is listening as Jazz finally gets through to Ratchet, following their conversation. The rest is focused on their surroundings and on the probably stasis-locked Prime.

Rachet! Thank Primus, finally!

Jazz. What on Cybertron did you need to ping me 36 times for? I was in the middle of an important meeting. Ratchet sounded exasperated over the comm, but there was an edge of both worry and irritation.

Songbird came back ta th' city injured- Bee should beh lookin' fer ya actually- but she reported Janus Prime had suffered severe injuries an' was unable ta be moved by 'er.

You should see this.

Ironhide joins in the conversation with his usual abruptness, staring at the unresponsive crumpled form of the Prime as they approached his frame. Ironhide reaches out, gently setting a servo in preparation to move his form to get a better look at his injuries. He can see the impact radius just a few steps away, as well as the drag marks. There is a heavy scent in this vicinity that pushes his vents up another notch.

He's not responding to touch, we think he has spark damage Ratchet. I don't- Ironhide cuts himself off, completely shocked and appalled as the Prime who had been so silent and still suddenly explodes into rapid motion.

The open-servo strike connects solidly with his chassis, and Ironhide staggers back, his servo that had pulled the Prime up to his pedes instantly releasing him. Janus takes complete advantage of his shock, a pede lashing out at his ankles and Ironhide goes down hard. He wouldn't expect any bot to be online, much less capable of an attack after taking acid to such a vulnerable place, and as such he was not prepared for one.

As the Prime lunges to follow up on his takedown, Ironhide is lifting his servos, knowing he will be too slow, respect and admiration blooming to life at the warrior that resides in this mech, even as he vaguely worries of the Prime's state. There is no deathblow though, because Jazz is there.

The silver mech's voice is echoing oddly to Ironhide's audials as he hears him physically and over the comm line, still transmitting to Ratchet. Reassurances and denials of hostility are falling from his dermas as quickly as he can speak them, his familiar accent absent in his urgency. But, it's only when the name of the Prime's High Priestess is spoken that he sees the fog of adrenaline and battle clear from Janus Prime's optics.

Ironhide is a little bit awed as the mech immediately stills his momentum despite his injuries, feeling as the blades that are just barely grazing his throat cables freeze in their current position before slowly retreating. He calms himself by analysing what the brief glimpses of the weapon attached to the Prime's servos are. Cat's Claws are typically used by turbo-cats and these are not the right size, so the bewildering alternative…

Seeker's Talons?

Weapon identified, but his attention returns to Janus when the Prime's voice stutters and jerks over the femme's designation as he turns to Jazz. He recognizes the opportunity Jazz has made and relaxes his body as much as he can in this situation. He is confident that Jazz is capable of talking the mech down now that he has the bot's focus.

Ironhide keeps himself still now that the Prime has stopped, not wanting to trigger a defensive response with any sudden movement. He watches the frame pinning him to the ground sway, and despite that weakness the talons at his throat don't waver even the slightest. Ironhide carefully meets white-tinged optics as the Prime looks down at him, and to his relief he sees the moment Janus Prime realizes who it is that he has beneath him.

Ironhide finds himself suddenly released as the talons at his throat are subspaced and Janus jerks his frame off and away from him with surprising speed. He sits up even as the Prime forces an offer of apology, and his servo darts out a second time, stopping Janus from falling as his frame begins to collapse backwards.

"Easy," he rumbles the command without thought as he supports the Prime's body.

He finds his respect for this mech has grown in leaps and bounds, beyond what his actions concerning Optimus had demanded. This is a protector, a mech who had sacrificed himself for those he considered his own without hesitating, who had been horribly injured and still pushed himself up, fought to survive against unknown threats. A mech, that upon realizing he was not in danger but the opposite, had stilled his instinctive reaction and apologized despite speaking being extremely difficult and clearly painful.

And the only sign of the agony he was surely drowning in- especially as he had pushed himself to fight despite the horrific damage- is a hastily stifled choked off keen.

Ironhide is gentle as he possibly can as he slowly pushes the Prime back to his pedes, even as he gathers his own underneath him and rises. Jazz is already by his side and assists his own efforts to keep Janus upright, the Prime no longer able to support himself. Taking a moment to visually check to assure himself that Jazz, despite his compact size, he will be able to bear the weight as Ironhide steps back to transform in preparation to haul the mech back to Simfur.

"Easy Prime," Jazz murmurs, his voice soft, comforting, "We'll get ya ta Ratchet. Everythin' will beh fine. Ah bet he won't even throw ah wrench at ya or anythin', ya lucky bot."

Jazz helps the injured Prime over to Ironhide, easing his form down and settling him in Ironhide's alt mode. Ironhide immediately begins to secure the Prime, careful of his injuries as he makes sure Janus won't tumble or fall and hurt himself more on the journey back to Simfur.

Ah don' know if he'll make it back. We can' go as fast as we did, an' so much time has passed...his injuries are no' like anythin' Ah've ever seen.

He'll hold. Regardless of that acid, he took me down. Granted, I was caught off guard, but that takes willpower and a desire to keep living no matter what.

A/N The Lullaby was written by I, northpeach. Do not use it without permission and acknowledgement. The tune that it is set to is to the somewhat similar tune of watch?v=n6ugC3LU6pw. Only like metallic. And with Peter Cullen singing, but with a softer tone. It's all in our heads, so we'll put out some words for you to think about when you imagine the singing.

Since Wolfy isn't here to add in their two-cents, I'll be doing my normal thing and hoping you enjoy this chapter!

Until next time!