Yes, or no?

The long ride to the edge of the bayou gave us enough time to prepare. I had broken us all up into our usual teams, and we had been all grouped together on a single boat to be transported to where Dr. Tully was supposed to live. Little was said; already hope seemed to have grown small, darker days pressing onto the contours of all of our minds. Mine was occupied by that of the Shadow Man's words, my fortune being written out before me taking my full attention. I wondered who was meant to die; and if by next morning we would truly know whether or not it would be stuck like this forever.

Lennox was on stand-by in a plane to pick us up, for with or without Tully we would be going home. Either to prepare to reverse the effects with the machine, or prepare to deal with the time we would have on Earth without ever truly being ourselves again. Tully's home was a house that floated on the water, with two stores and a junkyard that surrounded it on the shore. I drew in a deep breath, before turning to the other Autobots. No words were spoken this time, they were not needed. They were all well-prepared.

At once, we un-boarded and made our way to the house. When we walked up onto the porch, there were a few things that already seemed out of place. The door was ajar, and hanging precariously on one hinge. The wood was dented, almost falling in on itself, and the hallway itself was trashed at a single first glance. Already, I began to fear the worst. Was the death that was foretold already upon us?

I quickly made signals with my hands, ordering the Autobots to split up into their groups and circle the house, immediate and stealthy recon. It was obvious the Decepticons had been here already. My optics turned to Bumblebee, who nodded once and, side by side, we walked through the front door. As usual I took the lead, and he watched my back. The living room was as destroyed as the entryway; the furniture was turned over and smashed, and there was an excessive amount of bullet holes through the closet door, and bullet casings were scattered about all across the wooden floor. Yet there was no blood, the only liquid that had been spilled was the contents of a vase that had been smashed into fragments of thin, translucent glass onto the floor, the flowers it had sustained already wilted and a crumbling brown.

"How long do you think it's been since they were here?" Bumblebee asked, his voice just barely above a whisper. I shook my head. "I do not know."

"They wouldn't take him alive, would they?"

"Megatron did not spare the others," I pointed out, as my optics looked up to the stairs. Drift, Iron Hide, Wheeljack, and Smokescreen were already coming down them, their search as fruitful as ours. Drift's affirmation that the upstairs room was body-less wasn't needed. Jazz and Prowl came in from the back door and through the kitchen, with Ratchet following close behind.

"Anything?" Wheeljack asked.

Ratchet shook his head, his mouth set in a hard line that slanted off to the side. "Nothing. Just trash."

"We must search the junkyard. The Decepticons could still be here, searching for him there." I said. "Stay in your groups. Work around the perimeter and be careful."

"Can do."

The junkyard was a maze in its own right. It was a labyrinth filled with rusted, broken-down cars and a myriad of scrap metal. I began to wonder if it was left-over pieces from his construction of the machine. The pathways were narrow; I had to watch my step so that my shoes did not fall on any of the shavings of left-over metal. I had my hand set on a gun, and a glance behind me at Bumblebee showed he was doing the same. My optics scanned the area, pile after pile, looking for anyone or anything that could be waiting for our approach. We began going down a path where it became increasingly more difficult to navigate through the littered walkway, and I turned to Bumblebee, at once beginning to tell him that it was time to turn back. The scout nodded, and turned around, stepping back over the pieces to take the lead.

And it seemed that he had moved with a little too much haste. His foot hit a crumpled-up, metallic mass, and suddenly he was caught. An unseen wire tightened around his ankle, and he was pulled off of his feet; his legs pulled out from under him so fast, and with such force, that when Bumblebee's head hit the ground, it made an audible and sickening thud.

"Bumblebee!" I shouted, stepping forward, as he hung limp. The blow had knocked him unconscious. In response to my voice, he gave off a low groan, but did not stir. Keeping one hand on my pistol, I looked to the wire that was fastened around his ankle, searching for its anchor point so I could let him back down. The com link buzzed in my ear, Ratchet's voice laced with concern. "Optimus! Is everything all right over there?"

I pressed a finger to my ear as I found the other end and began climbing through, using my free hand to steady my weight when I needed to. "Bumblebee and I ran into a trap . . . I am trying to get him down now."

"A Decepticon trap?"

"I . . . I do not think so."

"Is he injured?"

"I do not believe the blow did more than knock him unconscious, yet . . ."

"We're on our way. You two need to stay where you are so we can find you."

"Understood." I answered, before letting my fingers drop from my ear and run over the wire. My free hand went to my belt, pulling free a knife. The wire was tense enough . . . and I was sure that I could cut Bumblebee free without too much trouble. I put the blade to the wire, and began to saw through, my movements slow as to be ready to catch onto it and let him down slowly.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you . . ."

My whole body tensed, my optics looking up to find a man fully dressed in gray camouflage, standing directly to the left of Bumblebee's limp form. A weapon was directed toward his exposed torso. I reached for my pistol, my optics narrowing, but he jumped, his hand driving the barrel of his gun to where it pressed on Bumblebee's side, his eyes wide with a number of rampant emotions. The most noticeable, however, were fear and focused determination. "Don't! I'll shoot him! I swear to God! Your buddy here will join your Allspark faster than you can say another word! T-take the gun, and put it on the ground . . . !"

I slowly removed the gun from my holster, and brought it to the debris-covered grass, and when I released it he spoke again, another string of orders.

"Hands up where I can see them! That's right, 'Con! Up! Step over the gun! Leave it set there!"

''Con'? . . . Does he believe that Bumblebee and I are Decepticons?" I wondered, as I stepped over the scattered scrap metal again, my optics warily watching him. His terrified eyes followed me, the now-obvious shaking of his hands far worse than it had been before. "Dr. Tully," I said, my voice smooth, calm. "We mean you no harm . . ."

"Yeah! Ha! Right . . . I . . . I laugh!" the man answered, is voice still shaky. It cracked as he spoke. "Y-you know what? You guys . . . can go back to that goat face C.O.O. of yours . . . and tell him I'm dead already!"

"Dr. Tully," I tried again, "Bumblebee and I are not Decepticons. We are Autobots. It is I, Optimus Prime."

". . . H-he's dead. You lie."

"I am not dead." I said, reaching for the hem of my shirt and lifting it to reveal the scar on my side. "Very much alive, but half thanks to you, not well off."

Dr. Tully slowly lowered his gun, his eyes slightly widening and his mouth dropping open.

"Dr. Tully, please." I said, as Prowl, Ratchet, and Jazz turned around the bend. "We require your attention."

Ratchet and Jazz helped me get Bumblebee down, as Wheeljack, Smokescreen, Iron Hide and Drift arrived, their optics running over Tully; it was obvious that they were all thinking about what purpose he had played in our transformation. Ratchet looked over Bumblebee, before turning to me. "He will be fine. A sprained ankle is the worst injury he received. He should wake up in about a minute or so."

"That is a relief."

"Wouldn't need to worry if some paranoid freak hadn't laid a trap in the first place." Wheeljack grumbled, loud enough for us to hear yet not exactly loud enough for Dr. Tully to hear. Ratchet helped me lift Bumblebee up, and I slung his arm over my shoulders, his injured ankle being monitored by Ratchet, who followed behind us closely as we followed a stiff Dr. Tully. A few bends later, Bumblebee's eyes opened, and he hissed, his free hand reaching up to grasp the side of his head. "Slag! My head . . . and . . . my ankle! Gah! What in Cybertron happened?"

"You were caught in a trap. But we found Dr. Tully." Smokescreen answered excitedly. "He'll save us now."

Tully stopped, before whirling around. "What?"

Smokescreen stiffened, as we all stopped, staring at him confusedly. The youngest of our members spoke again, his voice reflecting the conflicting emotions that were underneath. "I . . . You . . . You are coming back with us, aren't you?"

"What? Y- No! Of course I'm not!" Tully yelled, indignant. "You seriously think . . . that'd I'd leave the safest place in the world right now?"

"What?" Prowl asked, his face hard.

"This is the safest place! I'm safe here! They think I've left! I'm the last one, and I'm going to live. You can forget about me leaving. Especially now." Tully said angrily, his eyes were still filled with fear, the need to survive flooding over. "They attacked me here, and didn't find me. This is a place scratched off their list . . ."

"A place that could be infested with cameras, or even spies. In my opinion, this could be one of the worst places to hide!" Ratchet growled. "Besides . . . you owe us."

"I don't owe you anything!" Tully said. He looked at me with wide eyes, and repeated himself. "I don't owe you anything . . ."

"You had a hand in Changing us, Dr. Tully. The least you could do is help us get back." I pointed out.

"Why? Megatron can't destroy the world now. Well. Not as efficiently as he could while you were all Cybertronian. And we're safe now."

"No," I said. "We are not. You do not understand. He wants you to die, so that none of us can use the Machine, to change back. He wants the world, and he's taking it the human way."

"Then stop him."

"It is not that simple. You must understand. What you have done to us, is the same as taking a human and changing it into something else. Against their will." I said, trying to appeal to him. His eyes looked down at the ground, and he began to speak again. "I . . . I would help, but I don't want to die. I'm staying here. You guys are strong, the heroes. Do it yourself."

"Do it ourselves?! It's your machine! You're the only one that can help us, you designed it, and you're going to help us figure out a way to use it!" Prowl yelled, walking forward, his posture aggressive, angry. "If you don't come willingly, I'll . . . I'll . . ."

I reached out and grabbed ahold of his shoulder, shaking my head. "It is time to stop, Prowl. We will not resort to violent methods. He is not coming. We are going home." I turned, with Bumblebee still leaning on my shoulders. I looked at the ground as I paused, pursing my lips. "I hope your future endeavors are more fortunate than the previous events that have led us here, Dr. Tully. Goodbye." I began to move, and reluctantly, one by one, my Autobots followed me. I heard Wheeljack contact Lennox, his voice relaying what had just occurred in dismal tones. I didn't hear his answer, but I saw the boat begin to start up. We boarded, and Ratchet accessed the first aid kit and began to treat Bumblebee's ankle. I turned toward the house again, waiting to see Tully coming, to see if he had changed his mind. But I saw no such thing. The boat moved, and we traveled back down the river and to the clearing where Major Lennox was waiting for us. Lennox greeted us with a semi-optimistic smile, his voice struggling to be reassuring. "I'm sorry, guys. You tried your best."

"It is all right. We will just have to endure." I said, as I passed Bumblebee to Ratchet, and we walked up the ramp, as the engines of the plane were started up, our vehicles being loaded one by one. We were going home.

But then, as I turned back one last time, I sighed, as it seemed there was some luck left for us.

Running over the hill, was Dr. Joseph Tully.

"Wait! Wait! I'm coming with you!"