Author's Note:
Look up "Dance With The Devil Prime" on YouTube and watch the first video! It's my awesome inspiration!
Megatron.
Nightstalker sat curled up on the floor, watching with sickening apprehension as Mrs. Darby and Ratchet poured their hearts and minds out over Raf. Ratchet's exclamation over his tools being all wrong for Raf bled of frustration, and seeing the CMO worked up enough to throw his own instruments of healing across the room was enough to make Nightstalker's spark pain for him.
It was Megatron.
Nightstalker seethed on the inside at the 'Con, and yet she felt conflicted at the thought—she owed her life to him. Much less, she knew how tender he could be, so his low blow at Bumblebee and Raf had her shaking.
Megatron.
How could she forgive him for this?
*I—I'll slag you into scrap for this, Megatron!*
Nightstalker's helm jerked up, and her spark skipped a beat as Bumblebee slammed his frustrations into the wall so hard that it cracked beneath the pressure. Heads jerked up to the despairing scout, and Arcee jumped him, pinning him to the wall before he could do any more damage.
"Bee, listen! You think I don't know what it feels like to watch a partner— . . . harmed . . ."
The slip in her speech was noticeable though she tried to cover it up. Nightstalker jumped to her feet—here she was, wallowing in her worry, and Bumblebee needed her. By Primus she wished she was even half the femme Arcee was—strong, supportive, so full of determination . . .
"Revenge won't help Raf right now. You need to keep your emotions in check."
Bumblebee's big, sad eyes shifted to Raf as Arcee let him go, and he muttered something unintelligible as he pressed his servo to his forehead.
Standing up quietly, Nightstalker walked to Bumblebee. He sank down on the edge of one of the medical berths, holding his hanging head in both hands. The defeated position pulled at Nightstalker's wounded spark—
She knew what it was like to lose a brother.
Since he wouldn't look up, Nightstalker knelt at his feet, ducking her head so she could look up into his face. His optics saw her, but refused to register, whirring wide and sad. Nightstalker snaked a hand up to hold behind his neck.
"Hey," she said softly. He blinked. "Shh . . . Raf's going to be fine."
Bumblebee's voice hitched, and he said quietly, *Please . . . Don't promise me that*
Leaning up on her knees, Nightstalker pressed her face to Bumblebee's and felt her heart grieve for the young scout. "Bee . . . Don't give up on him. You've got to believe that he's going to get better, or else we've lost even before we started."
Bumblebee hid his face in his servos, fingers gripping tightly with a muffled desperation. *But . . . If he really did . . . It'd hurt so much worse . . .*
Nightstalker shook her head. "No. I have faith in Ratchet and Mrs. Darby. The finest medic, the finest nurse—combined, they know what they're doing. All right? Easy . . ."
His arms suddenly wrapped around her, and Nightstalker felt her spark jump when he buried his face in her neck cables. *What if . . . Nights, what if . . . he really does . . . die?*
Her spark hurt. She kissed the top of his head. "Do you want honesty, or do you want comfort?"
*. . . Both*
Nightstalker sighed at the impossibility he presented to her. After a moment, she let her fingers knead in that spot between his wings to relax him. "Bee . . . If he dies . . . This may sound harsh, but it's not the end of the world." The muffled sound of a sob caught in the scout's throat. She patted him. "I know. Sounds mean, but . . . I know. I moved on. And if I can let go of Fli-Ni and live without half my spark, you can honor Raf by letting go and keeping living."
A small trickle of lubricant began to slide down her collarbone. *Nights . . . How did you do it? You're so strong . . . to be able to do that . . .*
Nightstalker shook her head and kissed the top of his head again. "I don't know. I just . . . did. Guess somewhere in me knew he'd want me to live to my fullest." She rested her cheek on his head and heavily decompressed air. "He always promised me we'd get off the streets. He promised me a big house, as much as I ever wanted to fuel on, and a pretty paint job. He always fancied me in . . . yellow, actually. Or pink. Or orange. It was always some ridiculously bright color, usually yellow." Nightstalker paused, realizing she was rambling a little.
She hugged Bumblebee comfortingly, murmuring, "You'll never stop missing him. But that doesn't matter—cause you have nothing to miss. He's right here."
*For now*
"And he'll stay here." Nightstalker left it at that, feeling her own wounds bleeding. She closed her optics, and her wings tried to fan (but were unsuccessful because of the cuffs) as she remembered the screech of the taunting seeker. Optimus knew who he was. It infuriated Nightstalker, but through it all, she somehow trusted the Prime's judgement. Through it all, she always believed Optimus had made the correct decisions with her. That was what surprised her the most.
"Jack, help me get Raf to the car. He's going to the emergency room."
Mrs. Darby's clipped order made Bumblebee's head jerk up and his whole body to stiffen.
"Nurse Darby," Ratchet said gravely as Nightstalker disentangled herself from Bumblebee, "Your doctors won't be able to comprehend what's afflicting him. Not without a decade of study."
"I don't have time to argue," she said brusquely.
Ratchet seemingly ignored her comment, continuing, "The effects of an energon blast on an Autobot can be devastating enough, but this is a HUMAN." He paused. "I'm not getting any readings . . . How could I not have seen this! Rafael has been infected with DARK energon!"
Everyone's head snapped to him. Bumblebee stood up, nearly knocking Nightstalker over in the process. Wait . . .
What?
"If dark energon is devouring Raf from the inside out," Ratchet monologued as he scanned the tiny human, "we must expel it. And fast. The only possible way I know." Nightstalker's optics popped when he whirled around and grabbed his syringe, bellowing, "I need energon!"
A shocked look crossed Mrs. Darby's face. "Wait. You said energon was devastating to humans!"
"Under normal circumstances, quite," Ratchet replied, hand clamped around the tube. Nightstalker watched in utter horrified fascination at his explanation. "But I am relying on the dark matter currently invading Rafael's body to meet it head on!"
Before the doctor had a chance to explain what was going on in any more detail, the monitor of Raf's heart began to sputter erratically. Bumblebee jumped forward, extending his arm and allowing Ratchet to take the donation of energon as Raf's heart fell fully into cardiac arrest.
Panic tore across Nightstalker's sensors. No—NO! This wasn't supposed to happen! Her spark seized in terror, and she literally took a step back until she stumbled and fell on her aft. Not—Not Raf! Not Bee—he shouldn't have to suffer through the spark break!
The heart beat increased rapidly, almost impossibly fast for a heart as it struggled to stay beating—the blue lights flashed. It burned through Nightstalker's processor, and she heard her brother scream; the bright blue energon; the flash of the bomb.
Then, a heartbeat slowly steadying.
Nightstalker opened her optics, trembling on the floor as she heard Nurse Darby's voice state with relief, "Pulse rate is stabilizing."
Her fearful spark sang when she heard his voice.
"Bee?"
Nightstalker barely heard the conversation—Optimus limping back into the silo with the help of Ratchet and Arcee. Their words buzzed around her head like flies.
Unlike Bumblebee who had bounced back perfectly fine knowing that Raf was all right, Nightstalker found herself shaken. It was just . . . too close. It hurt—Primus, it still scared her, and he was perfectly fine now, albeit a little weak! She refused the shudder that wanted to creep up her spine. Oh, Megatron . . . How you complicated things. Here she was, suffering a debt, and yet she wanted to strangle him for hurting Raf.
The fates could be cruel sometimes—
"I've heard enough."
Nightstalker felt her broodings jerked out into the real world by an exasperated Nurse Darby. "Jack, please, help me get Raf into the car."
Nightstalker's mind chugged to a halt. Wait . . . WHAT?
Bumblebee shared in her shocked worry. *What? Y-You can't just take him . . .*
Nightstalker felt her jaw slacking a little. Really? Jack trailed behind his mom, sharing in the slap to the face she gave them all. "B-But—Mom, I thought he was doing better?"
"Raf needs to be examined by REAL doctors," she said condescendingly.
The crest fallen, utterly HURT look at overcame Ratchet was nearly enough to make Nightstalker go up and hug him—almost. After all, he still viewed her as "dirty traitor" so it was best not to push his buttons.
"And Raf's family needs to know what happened." She sent them all a scathing glance. "His REAL family."
A faint squeak caught in Bumblebee's vocals—it was like hearing a puppy get kicked. Nightstalker stiffened, but immediately moved forward to squeeze Bumblebee's servo.
"But Mom, Raf's family can't protect him! Not like they can."
"June," Optimus's deep baritone finally said, and Nightstalker felt her spark jump when he stood up—he shouldn't be up yet! He nearly wobbled on his feet! "It deeply grieves me that I have failed." Then, her spark swirled into mush.
As always, taking the blame when it shouldn't be cast to him. She felt her wings try to droop sadly, only to be constricted by the cuffs. Why did he do that? He sat there and took the blame of Raf getting hurt when it clearly wasn't his fault—he took the fall for them all. Even when NO ONE could have done anything different to stop it! Self-righteous, pompous, compassionate leader . . . She didn't really realize how much it bothered her until now. Nightstalker's servo tightened on Bumblebee's hand. He bore so much weight on his shoulders . . . it shocked her with how erect he could keep them and never let them slump.
"But I will do everything in my power to insure that no harm comes to our human friends . . . or any human ever again."
June stilled at his words. Primus, he was perfect. It was no wonder he was chosen to be Prime. Everything about him—the gentle optics, the compassionate spark, the swift blade of justice, and the understanding—she couldn't quite comprehend him, but that was all right with her. In fact, it rather gave her . . . something to look up to.
He embodied what she wasn't—honorable, compassionate, and pure. Through his teachings, she knew what was wrong and what was right now, and it gave her purpose, something to strive towards to be better than the femme she was before. He gave her a focal-point mech in her life (that wasn't a brother or someone she fragged). He could tell her what she did was good or bad, he could punish her, he could comfort her, and he provided the main center of growth from her transformation from a Decepticon torturer into an Autobot. She wanted to please him, for him to be proud of her, and undoing the mess she had made of her acceptance was difficult on her because she had hurt him, scared him, and disappointed him. The latter somehow hurt the most, to see that disappointment crease the brow of the one she looked up to so much.
Actually . . . He kind of provided the father figure she never had.
"Optimus," June said seriously, "they're children. They do not belong in your world. They should be worrying about grades! Prom dates! Pimples! Not their own survival!"
"Mom," Jack said with blatant obviousness, "dark energon is pouring out of the Earth. It doesn't do that! This could be about everyone's survival, not just ours!"
She ignored him. "You're coming with me! All three of you!" She turned her glare on Optimus again. "And they will NOT be coming back!"
Nightstalker's hand clamped tighter on Bumblebee's. No . . . She couldn't actually do that . . . could she? Nightstalker's spark beat harder. She couldn't take them—the entire reason she had defected from Decepticon!
But of course . . . she should know Optimus by now.
"I understand," Optimus said with the resignation of a leader knowing when a mother's rule usurped his—yet, also with a touch of sadness.
"That's it?" Miko cut in. She scowled up at the Prime, putting her hands on her hips. "After all we've been through together, "see ya?" What about OUR freedom to choose?"
"That may fly on their planet," June said sharply, "but not here on Earth." Raf climbed submissively into the car, a little too young to be defying his elders. June fixed a glare on Miko. She pointed to the open door of her car. "Get in."
Miko scoffed back. "Do you really expect me to ride in a non-transforming vehicle?"
"Miko, I'm serious."
"You're not my mother."
Bulkhead stepped forward. "Miko—"
"Neither are you!"
Bulkhead recoiled at her sudden vehemence, and Nightstalker felt a sigh decompress from her body. Raf couldn't defy her. He wouldn't. She felt her servo nearly crushed in Bumblebee's.
"Well I am yours," June said, arching a brow at Jack. "Let's go."
Arcee's footsteps cut into the heavy silence. Jack looked back at her, and she just gave a shrug, but inwardly, the blue femme's chassis was pained—she was losing another partner.
"She is your mother," she said quietly.
Nightstalker felt her spark swell until it nearly burst at the mature move Jack made—standing up for himself. Something that even Nightstalker found she couldn't do sometimes.
"I'm staying. . . . I'm sorry."
An incredulous look crossed June's face, and she scowled, turning and marching away, slamming the car door shut on Raf before he could get his bearing with the strength of numbers.
Bumblebee stepped after them, stretching a hand out towards Raf. The little human was easily seen through the back window of the car, hands pressed against the glass. The white car disappeared from sight, taking Raf with it.
Bumblebee gave a soft coo, and his wings drooped. Nightstalker came around to his front, and she tilted her head back to look him in the face. She reached up her hands to cup his cheeks tenderly. His optics dilated.
*I didn't lose him . . . but I still lost him*
Honestly, it only took about a minute to cheer Bumblebee up—only about a minute to make him realize that he had to go get Raf because the Earth was seriously collapsing in on itself.
Then, the scrap really hit the fan when they realized Unicron literally WAS the Earth.
…
Nightstalker literally gaped at Optimus as he said, "Agent Fowler, I do not believe that Earth became Unicron's home, but rather that with time and gravitational force, debris collected around the slumbering titan, forming your Earth itself."
Nightstalker felt her optics pop. And he was only awakening now due to the gravitational pull of the planetary alignment! This—this was—impossible! And if the dark energon was pouring from the Earth, how was that going to affect the humans and their atmosphere? Suddenly feeling sick to the stomach, Nightstalker stepped up near Optimus intending to ask him. She tapped her claw on his hip and asked, "Optimus—"
A hand slammed into her, and Nightstalker gasped thinly when she felt herself slammed into the wall. That servo pinned her there, wings crunching between her back and the wall, the hand pushing so forcefully that it nearly squashed her flat.
Silence overtook the room except for Nightstalker's rapid in cycles and Optimus's heavy breaths. His wide optics were dilated tight, dancing and jumping with . . .
Fear.
Nightstalker gaped. A moment passed where Optimus made a visible effort to control the raging fear behind his optics, and guilt cut across his features as he realized what he had done. He released her so suddenly that she fell on her aft with a squeak. His gears ground audibly as he stood straight, optics still jumping a little as he looked down on her.
He finally pressed a hand over his optics. "I am sorry," he said heavily. He took a step back. "I should not have done that."
Nightstalker noted two things. One: Optimus was so stressed over Unicron and still haunted by what she had done to him that he had a momentary snap. Two: he took a step back from her. Her spark pained. He was still afraid. He needed room.
"Easy, Optimus," she heard Bulkhead say, and she squeaked when he picked her up, sitting her on his shoulder. "C'mon, Nights."
But, he didn't take her away. He just moved back to his original position at the side, and Nightstalker again noticed Optimus's optics cut to her. She wiggled, but Bulkhead's grip was solid. "Bulkhead," she muttered tightly, "let me go."
"Not a chance," he told her easily. "You're one of us. You deserve to know what's going on."
Nightstalker shook her head, avoiding Optimus's gaze. "I know what's going on. I can catch up with battle plans later. Let me go."
"Nights—"
"Bulkhead, I understand that it's not that I'm not wanted. But I know repercussions when I see them, so let GO. If not for my sake, for Optimus's."
She heard Optimus's worried grumble. "Nightstalker, do not—"
She slipped off Bulkhead's shoulder, shaking her head. "Don't give me that, Optimus. You need to focus, not worry about me." And so saying, she left, wandering the halls. Bumblebee kept her updated through the public comm. link despite being worried that she was alienating herself from the group, and once again she had to persist that she knew it would be easier on Optimus's processor.
As she walked the halls of the silo, Nightstalker groused to herself about that. Optimus may not be taking it easier now. He might be thinking the same thing—that she closed herself off because of him, and that was no doubt going to bother him. Nightstalker huffed in irritation. She was just trying to be helpful! Why couldn't anyone see that? She appreciated their concern, but what needed to be done needed to be done.
She sighed in frustration. Her wings strained against the cuffs. Great. Now that she wasn't doing anything, in the midst of all the excitement that Unicron brought up, she found herself wanting to fly again. More than halfway through now. Seventeen days left. She could handle it. Nightstalker took a deep breath, straining to flex her cramping wings, but honestly, she was glad they were there. It was a rather shameful thought, but she knew she had to do what she had to do.
:Hey, Nights?: she heard Bumblebee say over the public comm. link. :Optimus is out looking for Unicron now. If you want to come back to the front you can:
:Be there in a minute:
She rolled her optics at his precious concern. She wasn't taking it personally—she knew what she did, she knew the consequences, and she knew about repercussions. She had seen it with Cliffjumper all too easily.
Nightstalker suddenly halted in the hallway. Her spark gave a painful squeeze.
How many more Autobots would she end up hurting?
Shaking off the feeling, she went back to the main room of the silo, hoping that Optimus would be fine as he—wait.
WAIT.
UNICRON?!
They let him go after Unicron ALONE?
Sudden exasperation and worry seized Nightstalker for Optimus. "Holy bot fragging son of a Cessna!" She bolted down the halls. And she would bet her wings that Optimus was the one to tell them all to stay behind!
True to her word, Nightstalker skidded to a halt with a chill hearing a foreboding voice speaking. Not sneering, not gloating, not even threatening—the creepiest thing was that it merely stated its words like they were the one sole truth and NOTHING would prove otherwise.
"Unicron is power incarnate! And you, the last of the Primes, shall perish!"
"I take that as a yes," Ratchet said with a slight snarl, a certain pull of his lips reminding Nightstalker of when he had been hyped up on synthetic energon. "We're on our way!"
All five bots started to go, Nightstalker staring agape, when Optimus cut in quickly, "Negative!" Nightstalker snapped her jaw shut. She had known it. She had KNOWN what was going on in that stupid-aft Prime's head—! "Unicron cannot be defeated by sheer force! He wants ME, Ratchet! This fight must be mine alone."
With that, the Prime terminated the link and left his five Autobots utterly stunned—six, if you counted Nightstalker. When they all glanced at each other warily at the orders, Nightstalker couldn't help but give a faint scoff. Her voice was easily heard in the silence—it was that quiet.
"You can't be scrapping me."
Arcee whirled, narrowing her optics at her. "And just what's that supposed to mean?"
Nightstalker glared back at the hapless Autobots. "That you're all microchip morons. I mean—seriously!" She threw her hand towards the ground bridge tunnel. "Are you all outta your fragging minds?" She enunciated her next words carefully for them to understand. "WHAT IS YOUR MALFUNCTION? Optimus needs you guys and you're just sitting here like obsolete lug nuts!"
"You heard our orders!" Ratchet growled at her, and Nightstalker quailed a moment before narrowing her optics right back. "This is Optimus's battle!"
"Optimus's battle my aft, more like his grave!" Nightstalker let her orange optics cut across the stunned Autobots. "He's the fragging PRIME! Without him to defeat Unicron, we're all neck deep in scrap anyways! Has it ever occurred to you that since HE'S the target, you should be protecting him, not the other way around?" When they failed to move, Nightstalker scowled and stalked forward. "Cliffjumper, get these cuffs off of me."
He recoiled like she had slapped him. "Wh-What? No! Nights, you barely have enough training yet, you'll just be a liability—and if you do that you'll get two more weeks—"
"Frag me flying! Cliffjumper!" She whirled on him, making him step back at the passion in her optics. "If you guys are going to sit on your rusty tin cans then I'm not going to let Optimus die out there all alone! Now get me out of this thing, I'm GOING to help him!"
She jerked her back towards Cliffjumper so he could take off the stasis cuffs, but the moment stretched. Finally, she heard him say, "No."
Nightstalker faced him in utter shock. "What? You can't—"
"I said no," he repeated, blue optics glinting as he turned to glare at the other Autobots. "You need to stay here. I'M going."
Ratchet sputtered. "Y-You can't honestly be serious! You heard Optimus's orders—"
"And he's currently glitched out of his processor if he thinks sacrificing himself like this is going to do us any good," Cliffjumper snarled. He threw an angry hand towards Nightstalker. "She's right! And I don't give a frag about what anyone thinks about her, she's one of us in my book, no matter what she's done!" Nightstalker recoiled in shock. "You might leave Optimus to rust out there, but I'm not!" He stalked over to the ground bridge tunnel, whirling and sending them a cocky grin. "Now if anyone wants to join me and kick some Unicron tailpipe, then let's go already!"
The decision was unanimous.