Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. Blah, blah, blah.

Okay . . . so it's late again. I'm sorry. Went on vacation and put down the computer, but now I'm back and you guys have a chapter. So yeah. Enjoy.

Chapter 14

Warm.

Safe.

Content.

Snuggling into the feelings and pretty much refusing to peak open his bright optics, Bumblebee was more than happy to just lay curled in the familiar protective arms that had him cradled against a powerful spark beating constantly against his audios. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that Ironhide was holding him. That his weird dream was over.

His 'friend' who now had a name was once again gone and he was back when he belonged.

However, his spark and his processor were tired and he was perfectly alright with the notion of just laying there in a tiny bright yellow ball against Hide's dark frame for the rest of his foreseeable future.

Things didn't always go as Bee wanted though.

The spark that beat near his shifted in its warm embrace and took to poking and prodding at the bond that held the two life sources so close together. Add that to the firm—persistent in not being ignored—finger that was rubbing up and down his softly plated side and Bee knew he had no choice but to peak open an optic.

"I know you are awake, my little Bee." Ironhide's deep rumble vibrated through the little youngling that was snuggled so tightly against his chest.

There was no point and trying to fool his guardian, he knew that well. So slowly Bee peaked open one optic and stared up through the glossy ebony armor all around him to meet the slightly concerned faceplate and optics of the mech he had come to see as his Sire.

And just like that all that happened this morning came rushing back.

He snapped his optic shut and burrowed deeper into the unyielding bulk that surrounded him.

"Bumblebee," Hide's familiar baritone made the little one want to uncurl and just throw himself around his Sire's neck and tell him he was sorry, but he was scared. He had yelled at Optimus.

Optimus Prime!

His Prime!

What in the universe had been wrong with him!?

He wasn't all that keen on ever coming out from between the powerful armor plates that surrounded him again. Ever.

Like, never.

He was more than happy to spend the rest of his existence right where he was.

That was perfectly alright with him.

"Half Pint?" The familiar sound of the red twin that echoed to his audios made him rethink that though. "You awake, Half Pint?"

No.

No he wasn't.

He really wasn't.

"Bumblebee." It wasn't a question, it wasn't his nickname, and it certainly wasn't the red twin. "Don't ignore me."

Well slag.

Sunny usually only used that tone on his twin when he was doing something stupid. Maybe it was better if he just went ahead and faced the music. When he heard Ratchet's steps echo across the hard tiles of the medical bay floor the little mech knew he really didn't have a choice anymore.

With an exaggerated sigh Bee uncurled himself from the grooves of Hide's strong chest and peaked his tiny self up to meet his guardian's optics fully. Ironhide let out a tired sigh of his own he shifted his arms and brought Bumblebee up to rest higher letting his arms relax to let the youngling be visible to the bay.

"Oh," Hide grunted. "So you come out for them, huh?"

Bee just folded his antennas down to his head and went to studying his fingers that he was currently strangling in his lap. That was when Ratchet's grasp latched onto his scruff bar and carefully, yet from his actions it was very obvious he was annoyed, yanked him from between Hide's massive arms. The youngling's world spun for a moment and then he found himself optic to optics with a rather mad CMO.

Oh his little life was so over.

Conjuring up the best innocent grin he could come up with at the moment—which wasn't his best unfortunately—he blinked up into those dark blue optics until Ratchet snorted and rolled them.

"Annoying little twerp."

And just like that he was plopped back down in Hide's outstretched palm in which he then sat through several scans that tickled and made him squirm until Ironhide's thumb bent to keep him in place.

"You've caused me enough spark-attacks for one orn, Bumblebee. Sit still."

Bee shrank under the words and went to fidgeting with his fingers again, tugging and yanking as the medic finished his scans, grumbled about something or another in really big medical type words Bee didn't know what in the Well meant, and then stalked back across the medical bay toward a pile of data pads on his desk he went to tossing around until he found the one he wanted and started typing.

While the CMO was distracted Bee's bright optics danced around the large open bay to find Sides and Sunny still in the corner they had been in, hooked to machines—though far less now—and looking about ready to burn the place down if they weren't allowed to get up soon. Though now both sets of vivid blue optics were tracking his every move. So when Bee's gaze finally did find them Sideswipe's faceplate lit up and he gave an overly dramatic wave that Bee barely returned as Sunny's optics narrowed at him. Not in anger, but Bee didn't like it all the same and he looked away to turn his attention back to Hide.

By the tired ache in those deep blue optics he found there he knew he should have probably done that first.

"Hi, Hide." He whispered softly.

A long sigh and then he was yanked up and snuggled against the weathered faceplate he had long ago memorized and with a happy chirp he latched onto the angled curves and ancient metal as that powerful, familiar, love filled spark crashed over him like a wave of warm energy and Bee jumped head first into the tide until he was lost, swimming in the bubbling emotions perfectly content to stay there for the rest of his life.

"What am I going to do with you?" Ironhide murmured under his breath to where only Bee could hear him and with the words the youngling only clicked a very sparkling like sound and burrowed in deeper trying to make up for what he'd done. He wasn't sure how to fix his little temper tantrum, but figured the best place to start was Ironhide. Because when it got right down too it Ironhide was the basis of everything in his world. It all came back down to Hide in one way or another. Because at the end of the orn it would be Ironhide's arms he was curled up in.

So if he wanted to try and make it better, he would have to make Ironhide's spark stop feeling like it was running away with the universe.

Only, he wasn't really all that sure how he was gonna do that.

"Me sorry, Hide."

Yeah.

That seemed like a pretty good place to start.

The snort he received though was not all that reassuring. "I don't want you to be sorry, Bumblebee."

A pause in which Bumblebee went back to wringing his fingers until Hide's larger finger closed over his tiny hands to stop the nervous habit. When his hands were stilled without his consent the little mechling stared timidly back up into those dark blue optics he knew so well.

"You are not a burden. Don't ever think you are a burden to me." The words rolled over the warmth that bubbled around him through the link that connected him to the mech that had taken him into more than just his home. The echoing pulses were not truly words. Nothing spoke over a spark really was. They were more like thoughts strung together with emotions that were bent, and twisted, and spun, and swirled into something that resembled a sentence. In itself it was an impressive feat to be able to accomplish. It took a level of connection and trust between sparks that was not easily attained. Though there was not a spark on any of the Autobot ships that didn't know Bee's well enough to be able to speak with him via a spark bond.

In fact it was actually Bumblebee that really was the one that had the problem with it.

For as powerful and as bright as his little spark was and all that it could do he still had not really mastered the way this type of communication was done.

Emotions were no big deal for him.

He broadcasted what he felt to all those closest to him pretty much all the time and had no idea he even did it. It was not something this family really had ever felt the need to correct him on either. Because more often than not they didn't need to be all that near Bee to know what he was feeling. He let it float through his bonds quite well—though he did have an impeccable ability to shut it off when he was up to something, which was why it usually took all of them so long to find him when he decided to play give Hide and Optimus a spark attack by vanishing from sight—and he'd never even been taught how to do any of what he could do.

It was that strange talent of his.

His ability to feel and be felt far more then he should be able too. The thing that was so very much like the Gift of the Primes.

The thing that three myths made real claimed made him one of them.

Though that was a thing those that had been there that night they'd found Bee deep in recharge in the arms of some green opticed femme between two massive mechs that had somehow handed Megatron and Soundwave their afts on a silver platter tried not to think about.

None of them had taken the words 'he belongs to us' all that well. Because Bumblebee sure as Pit did not belong to them.

And that was something Ironhide, Optimus Prime, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Jazz, Ratchet, and Prowl were more than willing to fight over.

However, as magically as Trickster, Impulse, and Evermore had appeared they vanished just as quickly. Four vorns and the Autobots had seen neither hide for wire of them. They were gone as if they had never even been there in the first place. Taking all their secrets and answers of everything that surrounded little Bumblebee with them.

Vanishing back into the darkness as if they'd never been there at all.

And somehow that just made it all the more worse for the mechs that held the adorable little yellow trouble maker so close to their sparks. Because they could feel just how special that spark of his was. They knew how . . . not normal what he could do was. They knew enough about life and the world they all now found themselves struggling through every orn in to know that sooner or later Bee's talent was going to get him in the best case in trouble and in the worse case killed.

Which was one of the reasons over the vorns Optimus and Ironhide had been trying to teach him to have better control over what he did. Teach him to better understand his walls and barriers, they really didn't want to keep him from broadcasting to those he was linked too—maybe it was selfish on their part for they didn't want to not be able to just shift in their consciousness the slightest bit and find the bubbly light that had taken up residence in a part of their sparks no matter who the little mechling was spending the orn with—they wanted to be able to feel him, but they also knew that unless Bee was scared or upset he never shut himself out from every spark around him.

He let himself be felt because he felt it was safe enough to do so.

This was war though . . . and as they had been so dramatically reminded of just a few orns ago there were many bots out there that would rather snuff out that bright light then let it in.

And those bots were getting better at getting the drop on them.

No matter how much Ironhide's pride didn't want him to admit that he could let something like that happen.

If it hadn't of been for Grimlock and Slag they might have very well lost Bumblebee down there in those tunnels.

Though that incident had had nothing to do with Bee's spark and the talents it possessed it just meant that there was somebot out there that knew enough about him and wanted him bad enough to place a large enough figure on his head that would draw bounty hunters to the Prime's ship.

It was something that had Ironhide's whole frame wound up like a fraggin' top. Then add that to the little one's temper tantrum this morning and the resident weapons specialist was well past his wits end. He wasn't joking when he asked the mechling what was he going to do with him.

In the long run, in the middle of a war that had destroyed so much, he really wasn't sure what he was going to do with Bumblebee. Because the youngling seemed to already think himself a burden even if he was the furthest thing in the world from that.

What was Hide going to do when Bumblebee was old enough to hold up a rifle and place himself between one of them and one of Megatron's?

What was Ironhide going to do when the orn came that he looked up and found his son standing beside him on the frontlines?

What was he going to do when the little mech finally started asking questions with answers he was afraid to give?

What was he going to do when the orn came where Bumblebee finally decided he needed to prove himself something other than the burden he seemed to think himself to be?

Because that orn . . . that orn and all that might happen because of it was going to tear the weathered warrior apart.

"Can't do." The timidly formed syllables knocked Ironhide from his thoughts as he felt the warm, soft voice roll though his spark. His optics flashed in pride and excitement at Bee managing to make words of the bond and he hid the smile it brought to him by nuzzling the youngling snuggled tightly to him.

"You are a youngling. You don't have to do anything other than be that. You are not a burden. To any of us!" He had to understand that. Above all else, Ironhide had to make him understand that.

"Get hurt because me." Bee said, his little fingers twitching under the hold of his Sire's larger one. Ironhide wasn't going to let him pull at his fingers though. It was a habit that the youngling had that he hated with his entire spark. Bee was too young for such habits.

The statement almost made Ironhide laugh though that was probably the absolute last thing that Bumblebee needed to hear at the moment. So the massive mech just shifted back into chair he was resting in near the back of the medical bay and leaned heavily against the wall his dark blue optics never leaving the youngling he now called his own.

Bumblebee was certainly not the first thing in any of their lives they'd been willing to be 'hurt' over. They were living, dying, fighting, struggling, winning, and losing every orn in a war that none of them truly remembered why had started in the first place.

Because what really was left for them all to be fighting over now anyway?

Between the two of them, the Autobots and Decepticons, they'd managed to pretty much annihilate most of their home. It seemed now all they were really fighting over was the chance to pick up the pieces and try to make something out of the ruin that was left behind. They were fighting for a second chance.

They were fighting for hope.

And since all many of them had to help them still believe in hope anymore was Bumblebee, in a lot of ways Ironhide knew they were fighting for him as well. Because if no other reason Bee deserved the chance to one orn not wake up in the middle of a war every orn. Some orn he deserved to see the glory that had once been his home planet even if that meant every bit of it was going to have to be rebuilt from the ground up.

Though maybe that would be a good thing.

Because Hide knew quite well that no matter how much he loved the home he had once known that Cybertron was far from perfect. There had been things happening around them all back then that left even the likes of him—a tribal brat that had long since run away from what he was sparked too in the search of something better—had cringed at. Things he had stood in the palace of the Prime and argued about.

Things he'd almost lost his job trying to bring to an end.

Things Sentinel Prime had looked down at him, scoffed, and walked away when he brought up.

Things he would try to never tell Bumblebee. Because the mechling didn't need to know. Not yet at least. He was too little, too young, too innocent!

And didn't even a world torn to shreds by hatred and revenge still deserve to have just a little bit of innocence left in it?

"You're our responsibility. My responsibility. Protecting you is our job, Bee."

"Not wanna be helpless."

"You'll learn, my little Bee." Ironhide rumbled out a purr as the little mechling shifted around against him to snuggle even closer to the pulsing ball of light that he was trying his hardest to have a bond conversation with. "With time."

Bee didn't miss how similar the conversation he was currently having was to the one he'd had with Star, and just like with Star he consented that the massive mech before him was right. He was just too little to learn what he wanted to know, at least for now. For now he was dependent to a family that he loved with all his little spark and one orn when he was bigger and stronger he would learn to be able to protect himself and help them and make up for all the times they'd had energon drawn for him.

Yes.

He'd make up for it.

He'd be the best Autobot the world had ever known.

He'd make up for all his vorns of helplessness. He'd show them he loved them for all they had done for him.

Of that he was sure of.

However, it seemed for the moment his learning was going to take a bit of a backseat because Ratchet appeared before them again his optics narrowed in worry and contemplation a look that Bee could feel make his guardian's spark ball up in worry.

"What is it?" Ironhide asked slowly.

Ratchet blue optics were apprehensive for a moment before he held out a hand for Bumblebee. "I need to run some test."

Contraire to popular belief Megatron did not spend all of his time plotting universal domination or beating the stupidity out of glitches like Starscream. That did take up a good portion of his time, yes, but the warlord did have other activities that interested him. Such as blowing his shooting range to tiny little pieces, recruiting from the wilds still left roaming this faction split planet, and as of lately simply sitting back and watching—or listening—to what Ravage and Laserbeak had so kindly obtained for him by the brilliance of Soundwave.

Like he was doing now.

Lounged back contently—kind of resembling a sprawled robo-cat—in the dim, inky gloom of his 'throne room'—crashed ship control center—the massive grey mech stared down at the captured still images he scrolled casually through with the bird and cat like mechs that were perched on both sides of his throne. A privilege he only allowed to his two trusted spies. The two that had time and time again accomplished what he asked of them without even leaving a hint behind them that they had come and gone.

They were beyond skilled—nothing less could be expected of Soundwave's cassettes—and pulled off their missions without a hitch. Which was why the warlord had them on this task.

Even if he knew he shouldn't be doing it at all.

There was just something that interested him about that little yellow thing grinning like a solar flare as he toddled down a long black hallway next to a very familiar foot.

Optimus' foot.

The little mechling so obviously chattering away about something or another, his optics bright little balls of life and his smile downright spark shattering in its innocent honesty.

Megatron hated it with everything inside him.

Gah! How he fraggin' hated this!

"My Lord?" Ravage's questioning voice along with Laserbeak shifting beside him reminded the warlord that he was in the optic and audio range of others making the deep snarl that had built up in his chest very noticed as he gazed down at the images he kept flicking through of that same little bit of time where it seemed the runt was bouncing down a hallway circling Optimus' massive feet until the commander knelt to scoop him up and then Megatron found himself staring at a still image of his little brother's gleaming with joy faceplate as a tiny little yellow thing snuggled into this thick neck cables absolutely radiating happiness.

A very large, very dark, part of Megatron wanted to take the damn data pad and chunk it into a smelting pit just to watch it burn, perhaps being able burn the images out of his processor as it melted down into nothing before his very optics.

He didn't do that though.

The Decepticon lord just closed the small data pad in his sharply clawed fist holding onto it for a long few nano-klicks before he threw it into subspace to torment himself with later.

The snarling deep inside his darkened spark ordered he rid himself of this idiocy.

His Master was not pleased with what he was doing.

That was not surprising.

Even if the warlord continued to tell himself the only reason he was doing all this was because the little glitch had quite the talented spark and he wished to know more about it, how it could be used to serve him, he knew it wasn't.

He kept tabs on the runt because he wanted too.

He wanted to see what the runt was up too, how much he had grown—which was very little—how much he had learned about that ability of his that so strangely broke through what had long ago taken over the massive mech and found the part of him that he hid from even himself.

A handful of vorns had pasted and still Megatron could not forget. He could not forget what the runt had said, felt, and done.

And as bad as he wanted to just snatch up the pest, crush him, and be done with it he wasn't so sure if the opportunity presented itself that he'd even be able to do it.

So instead he watched him. Sending his two most skilled spies deep into the spark of Autobot territory—to his brother's very ship—with orders to observe and to never engage, as glitched as that was.

Ravage and Laserbeak had had many an chance to swipe the runt and vanish before anybot would have even known they were there. Not even that visor wearing fool Jazz knew his ship was being boarded. Because those that boarded it were not hacking into mainframes or trying to wiggle their ways into sensitive information.

They were simply hiding in air vents trailing after a youngling that shouldn't exist for a mech that should just order him dead.

Not a bot in the universe would have expected Megatron's interest to be placed on the shoulders of some little runt. Yet it was. And not for the reason most of the Decepticon's that had come across the information thought.

It was easy to play off the line of thinking that he was merely gathering information so that he could acquire the youngling again and use him against his brother.

However, that was not the truth.

Megatron's interest had never been that easily captured and his plans had never once been that cut and dry.

Because when Megatron wanted something, he was not one to be satisfied until he got it, and when he was told he could not have it . . . well that was usually when very bad things begun to happen no matter the voice of reason that tried to talk him back down.

He tended to end up acting very rashly when he was told no—as was his nature.

Because he'd done it before.

The echoing crash registered clear out into the halls, but the fuming mech couldn't bring himself to care.

He couldn't bring himself to care about anything really.

All he knew was the pounding of rage in his audios and how badly he was shaking with . . . an emotion he refused to justify with a name. Because he was not crying.

He wasn't.

Grasping hold of the ancient desk beside his balcony window the massive grey mech let out a snarl that ripped from his very spark and threw the piece of furniture across his destroyed suite room feeling slightly better when the metal structure crashed into the far wall and then fell to the floor in broken shatters.

Because everything should be shattered at this point.

Everything.

Stumbling in his anger—the dark room made slightly blurry through the liquid that had pooled in his optics—the prince caught himself on the far wall of his room his claws digging into the dark grey walls as he slid down to find himself on his knees snarling and cursing under his breath as he banged a fist into the surface beside his head. Over and over again until the dent he made was never going to come out without removing the entire wall and his knuckles were beginning to leak.

The pain distracted him from the present.

The dull throb in his hand made the vile sentence that wouldn't get off of repeat in his processor slow to a quiet murmur in the back of his mind. He could still hear them though.

That bastard's words.

'Optimus will be my successor, not you.'

Optimus!?

OPTIMUS!?

His soft-sparked YOUNGER brother!? Had the old glitch he so stupidly for his entire life given the respect of calling Sire lost his damned mind!?

The throne was his right! He was the oldest son! He was the heir! He was meant to be the next Prime!

It was his right!

He hit the wall so hard then that the whole structure shook knocking paint and plaster down in a sad shower as Megatronus went to slamming his head into the surface before him.

"You traitors old glitch!" He screamed to the wall. "All I ever did was try AND PLEASE YOU! YOU AND YOUR DAMN WAYS! ALL I EVER DID WAS TRY AND BE WHAT YOU WANTED AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME!"

Swinging around, scrambling to his feet, he charged the cannon on his arm and blasted before he even really knew he did it. Though he did feel a bit better when he saw the charred plasma burn on the far side of the room. The smell of molten energy and charred metal relaxed him more then he knew it should as he slid back down to the floor holding his head in his hands as he glared down through tear filled light red optics.

It wasn't right.

His entire life spent doing everything in his power to make that never satisfied mech believe that he could be the ruler he wanted him to be. He did everything the way Sentinel wanted it done. He sneered at the low class, he obeyed without question, he became a fighter that no mech at the Academy or the Elite could compete with.

He was everything he was supposed to be.

Then the glitch comes and tells him that instead of giving him his spark-right he was making the younger brother Prime!

Optimus!

Optimus PRIME?

What was he thinking!? Optimus couldn't be Prime! He was too soft.

Megatronus would know that better than anybot else. Because he was the one constantly covering for his younger brother's follies. He was the one keeping his little escapades outside the city gates a secret. He was the one watching his brother's back!

Because if Sentinel found out that Optimus was doing more than just hanging out with those tribal glitches, that he was actually leaving Iacon to help with the rebuilding efforts in the smaller villages of the low class, there would be pit to pay.

Words could not describe what their Sire would do.

He'd—KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

Megatronus glanced up toward the locked black door across the room. Sneering trough the darkness he let his head drop back to his clawed hands and ignored it.

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

"Megatronus,"

Optimus?

Snorting the massive grey mech shook his head. He did not want to see his brother.

"Megs I know you're in there."

"Leave me be, brother." The mech snarled, but the anger was no longer in his voice. It was hard to be mad at the little glitch he'd been taking care of since Carrier died. Since Sire could not be bothered to look after the little twerp when he was slaughtering thousands of tribes it had been left to Megatronus to watch after the youngling now grown. It was him that spent almost every orn with a youngling either balanced on his shoulder or trailing after his feet. It was him that had taught Optimus to fight—to do everything—it was him that made his little brother into the impressive mech he was now.

The mech that had been chosen over him.

"Don't you tell me to leave you be!" The full weight of a mech almost as massive as himself slammed into his door denting it inward. Though Megatronus made no move to do anything at all.

There was a snarl outside when the red and blue prince was ignored and then a few moments of a key pad beeping the wrong code again and again before finally the younger prince had just had enough, the whirl of a charging blaster, and then BAM!

The elder prince's door was magically opened by the smoking end of an energy blaster.

Perhaps, Megatronus taught him a little too much.

Keeping his head low as his brother snarled and stalked across the room the grey mech was making sure all the frustrated tears had been wiped away before the weight of his brother set heavily down beside him.

And then all was silent for a long time as the two sons of the Prime sat there in the dark—now trashed—room just sitting together until Optimus let out a heavy sounding breath, his systems whirling with stress and unease the sound drawing Megatronus' attention despite him wanting to not care.

He glanced sidelong through his claws to find Optimus sitting beside him with his knees drawn up close to his frame with both his arms wrapped around them and his head resting there in defeat.

It was not a posture that suited his little brother, then again neither was the position he was in all that much of a fit for him either.

Taking a deep breath that shuddered his whole frame Optimus finally spoke. "I told him no."

Megatronus snorted. "Did you now?"

"Yes."

"And how did that go?"

Silence.

And then.

"He handed me my aft and then told me to suck it up and accept the privilege I have been given." The brightly painted mech beside him sighed.

"I imagine he did." There was a reason Sentinel was Prime, the Prime that brought the Tribal Times to a final end. He was the strongest mech on the fraggin' planet.

Even stronger then Megatronus.

As much as he hated to admit that.

There was a reason he was blasting apart his room instead of the mech that took away his future.

It was quiet again for a long time as both the brothers sat there trying to digest what had happened in the last five joors, though as per usual, in the presence of his brother Optimus could never handle the heavy silence for long.

"I don't want this, Megs." He said softly.

"You have been chosen." And the words tore something inside the prince apart, but he knew it to be true, and in the end it wasn't Optimus' fault. It was their Sire's.

"But it's your right! You're the older brother! You're the heir to the throne."

Megatronus shoved himself to his feet with a snarl making Optimus rise as well, tense and strung as if expecting his brother to strike at him. He was right to be wary. Even Megatronus knew how dangerous his temper could be, but he wouldn't hit Optimus.

He couldn't.

He would never harm his little brother.

"You have been chosen, Optimus." He forced the words out through gritted fangs and watched as the light from his darkening red optics washed his brother's faceplate in an eerie red glow. "You will now train to become Prime. And I . . . I will be the Lord High Protector. That is what Sentinel has said."

"But I don't want to be Prime!" Optimus stepped forward grasping hold of his older brother's jagged chest armor and shaking him until he got his own frustrations out. Megatronus just let him snarl, and curse, and shake until he banged his forehead down in the center of his thick grey chest and then just stood there leaning on his older brother like he had done for vorns before. Though it had been quite a few since the younger mech did something like this.

Megatronus just allowed it.

There was no point in shoving him away.

Optimus would not understand his anger.

And it was not Optimus' fault.

At least that was what the massive mech kept reminding himself of. Because it couldn't be Optimus' fault. If it was . . . .

Then this burning hate and anger and betrayal inside him would be directed at the mech he taught everything too, cared for, looked after, and took pride in.

And that . . . just couldn't happen.

"You will do as our Sire commands," The massive grey mech rumbled quietly. Reaching up with his long clawed fingers to pry his brother from his frame and force him to stand tall in front of him. They held each other's gazes as the eldest went on. "You will train to become Prime, and then you will be Prime. That is the way it will be."

The words tasted like bail in his mouth but his forced them out and forced down the simmering rage.

For now.

"But what about you?" Optimus asked softly. "Megatronus. This isn't fair."

"Who said life was fair?" He snapped back. "Where is that put into text? Life is not fair, Optimus. It is what it is. And that is the way it will always be."

"YOU should be Prime."

"Stop arguing with me about this!" He shook him hard by the shoulders jarring the slightly shorter mech until he was sure he would listen to him. "This is the way it is! You think I'm happy about it!? Well I'm not! I fraggin' hate it! But there is nothing other than what it is! Now drop it!"

Stepping away after he'd shook the brighter colored mech until he was sure he'd remember the massive prince spun around and headed for the door. More than ready to leave Optimus standing there in the middle of his trashed quarters.

However, he was stopped at the door by his younger brother's tentative voice.

"I'm sorry, Megs." He almost whispered the words making Megatronus stall at the blown in doorway and glance back over his shoulder so that his audios could pick up the quiet tone. "This isn't what I wanted."

"Optimus," He sighed. "It's time you learned that you can't always get what you want."

And then he was gone.

The streets were cold, dark, and tainted. As they always were in Kaon. Which was why the hooded prince had taken too the place like he had over the last few vorns. There was not much else for him to amuse himself with now that all Sentinel and Optimus did these orns was discuss things about the Matrix and Primus and destiny and all the things he could no longer have.

A snarl tore through the mech's thick chest as he stalked through the dirty, crowded streets heading for the familiar door to pit. Though when the silent as death silver shadow appeared at his side he was far from surprised. The shadow had been his closest friend longer than any other—longer even then Optimus had been alive—and had long ago acquired the ability to appear and disappear from his side at will. Because Megatron let him.

"You're early, Megatron." Soundwave spoke in that deep underused tone of his as he walked calmly next to the massive grey mech that was cloaked in a long flowing hooded robe that allowed him to leave Iacon behind without being recognized so that he could hop on a Tran and waste the night away in Kaon. A place the once upon a time prince now spent more time in then he did his Sire's palace.

Because the palace was no longer his home.

A fact proven to him by his new master.

The palace was the home of a spited prince by the designation of Megatronus.

That mech was long gone now.

Now . . . only the Ring gladiator Megatron remained.

"I was in the need of a fight." Megatron rumbled to the shorter mech that walked at his shoulder through the dark streets that parted like water around the two powerful mechs. These bots knew gladiators when they saw them. They knew when they were in the presence of bots that rivaled gods.

Soundwave snorted at the admittance. "What has your dear Sire done now?"

Megatron growled. "Nothing."

"I'm sure." His friend chuckled—something only Megatron could make the emotionless mech do—as they rounded a corner heading to the center of the city of towering black swirling buildings and stone fused with metal that towered to the sky.

They made it down seven more blocks before Megatron finally told the silver mech what had brought him to Kaon this early in the orn. "Do you remember that transport tech that Sentinel was working on?"

Soundwave nodded.

"He's finished."

"Well,"

"Yes."

"That could be promising."

"Promising?" Megatron snorted. "It's just what we need to begin."

Soundwave paused half a step at the mention of their plan before he kept pace again as they neared the hidden door to the Rings. "So we are beginning?"

"Have you gathered everything I asked?"

"Of course I did."

"Then yes, it's time to begin."

"My Lord?" Laserbeak's high pitched, scratchy tone shook Megatron from the memories of the decisions and nights that had changed his life.

Shaking his head Megatron looked sidelong at the pair of spies before he growled low in his chest.

"So they're still treating him like a gift from Primus, huh?"

"Yes, my Lord." Ravage nodded his long tail twitching behind him.

"Huh." The warlord grunted.

"What are our orders, my Lord?" Laserbeak grumbled out in a pitch of static.

"Tyger Pax is where they're headed?" Megatron leaned back in his chair.

"Yes, my Lord." They rumbled together.

"Then track them again. The same rules apply. Observe the runt, do not engage, just observe."

The two spies cast each other a well learned glance before nodding to their orders and then together leaping from the throne they disappeared into the shadows leaving the tyrant to his quiet brooding.

Well at least it was quiet until Megatron glanced up again and found that silent silver shadow beside him one again.

"Soundwave," He greeted.

"My Lord," The silver mech nodded his head his deep red optics guarded.

Megatron knew the look in those burning optics and he turned away with a snort. "Do not patronize me, Soundwave."

"I would never dream of doing such a thing, my Lord." The SIC crossed his arms over his silver chest his optics still seeming to burn into Megatron's spark.

"THEN ENOUGH WITH THE LOOKS!" Flinging himself to his feet the tyrant snarled so loud his voice boomed around the empty throne room, but Soundwave never even flinched. He just stood there calmly beside Megatron's throne watching the gigantic grey mech as he started pacing.

"I know what I'm doing!" Megatron growled as his fusion cannon hummed in his arms.

Soundwave just nodded.

"Don't think I don't! The little runt is important! You mark my words! He will be important! And sooner or later I'll know why and then I'll have him. Just to watch Optimus wiggle, I'll have him!"

"Of course, my Lord."

With a wicked snarl Megatron spun from his SIC, charged his cannon, and fired at the back wall of his throne room reveling in the shatter of stone and metal as a back support beam came apart in a shower of ruble.

Panting hard Megatron glared down at the damage before he sagged a little, his fist clenching and unclenching as he worked his tight jaw, his fangs rubbing together and grinding from how hard he had then clenched.

"Soundwave," The tyrant let out a tired breath. "Do you believe in myths?"

"There was a time when he who you serve was believed to be a myth, my Lord. Even too you." The silver mech reminded him.

"Yes," Megatron nodded, knowing this was true.

"So indeed, my Lord. I do believe in myths." A hand rubbed over the center of the silver mech's chest to the marks on his protoform long ago hidden but never forgotten. The same three marks that marred the Decepticon Lord's chest, though few knew they were there, or even bothered to put together that the gladiator that had ruled the Rings still lived by the same laws as all the others. Was in the same ways as others had been a slave to the life he had given himself over too.

"So you believe in the Guild?" Megatron hissed the title under his breath thinking back to those glitches that had dared to attack him. To take what he had rightfully stolen!

Soundwave was quiet for only a few nano-klicks before nodded to his Lord's back. "Yes, Megatron. I do."

Fire like red optics narrowed to the far wall. "Then it seems you have research to do my old friend."

"As you wish, my Lord."

As his SIC vanished from the room Megatron stalked back to his throne and threw himself down, brooding for a bit before he reached into subspace and pulled out the most recent data pad he had been given. Powering it back up he settled into his seat and went to scrolling through pictures again.

The Guild.

Well . . . at least he'd have an excuse for his Master then.

Because if it was true, then the youngling truly was more than just a way to make Optimus break. Because that reason enough would not be enough to silence the dark voices swirling in the back of his processor.

That reason would not be reason enough to keep the runt alive to have as a trophy and not just snuff him out.

Megatron felt left out, and we can't have that now can we?

Yeah, it was about time I touched on some of this. So there you go. Chew on all that for a bit, I can't wait to see what you guys come up with from here. I actually really like this chapter. It was a lot of fun to write and it addresses some things that need to get moving. Hope you guys liked it too.

Because the next few chapters . . . well Bee's in for a bit of a ride again. I just can't leave the pip squeak alone. Poor little guy.

Anyway, as always your reviews mean the world to me so please take a minute to tell me what you thought. I'm working hard to keep up with both the stories now and it's going alright . . . if life would stop getting in the way. Next chapter should be up next weekend so I guess I'll see you guys then.

Wish Bumblebee luck. He's gonna need it . . . well Ironhide, Optimus, Ratchet, Jazz, Prowl, and the twins are actually the ones that are going to need it.

Poor overprotective mechs.

-Jay