Holy cow, this was a whopper of a chapter to write. Sorry for the delay on this too! Life caught up to me for awhile, but I managed to escape it's grasp long enough to drag out this monstrosity. Also, I went back to the first couple of chapters and did a little nit-picky editing to try and make them... not suck as much. Don't know how well it worked, but at least it made me feel better.

Anywho, all of your comments really help with my motivation issues and I thank you for them! A special thanks to Plummy-kins and MoonWalker for following this from the beginning and continuing to comment! Also, welcome on to any new readers who have made it this far! Hope you guys enjoy this stupidly long chapter!

They camped as far away from Praxus as their exhausted systems could take them. The smoke from the city was thick enough that it blocked out the afternoon suns, but they made it just far enough away that Ratchet could pretend to forget. After a full night of driving and half a day of searching, neither he nor Meister were too eager to get on the road again just yet. Ratchet still had two days left. There was time to rest.

Their camp consisted of an abandoned building on the outskirts of the ruined city. They could only guess whoever had stayed there fled when the attack started. Ratchet couldn't blame them. He sat down against one crumbling wall, holding the sparkling against his chassis and allowed himself a tired sigh that was far too mild to describe the hardships of the day. The little mech had cried himself out long ago and now laid silently against Ratchet's chassis, shivering with fear and hunger.

He pulled out the half empty cube and showed it to the sparkling, loosening his grip a little now that they were in relative safety. The tiny mech looked at the cube, his engine hiccuping quietly before he looked away again and curled up a little tighter.

"Hey, don't be like that," Ratchet murmured and opened up the cube for him. The little mech didn't seem to have any fight left in him. Maybe his will to live and left him too. "C'mon, just try a sip for me." He tried tilting the cube against the sparkling's lips, but the little mech just turned his head away, burying his face against Ratchet's shoulder.

Ratchet chewed on his bottom lip. Praxians had just become an endangered race—the thought of losing one so young was too painful for words. "Please?" he pleaded gently and coaxed the cube a little closer. "Just a little sip?" The sparkling kept his head firmly buried against Ratchet's boxy shoulder, not even acknowledging he was being spoken to.

Meister was sitting over by the open door, glancing out at the fires of Praxus in the distance. "Dip your finger in it and put it to his mouth," he said. "Once he gets that first taste, he'll drink."

Ratchet frowned at the mech but did as he was told. He cleaned his finger off on a rag before he dipped it into the pink liquid and gently lifted the sparkling up so he could get to his mouth. He pressed his finger against tightly closed lips and could hear the sparkling's tank groan with hunger before the little mech finally gave in and latched onto Ratchet's digit. The young medic gave a small surprised laugh as the sparkling grabbed his hand, holding him still until he got every drop of energon off. When his finger was finally released, Ratchet gently tipped the cube against the little mech's lips. Little hands grabbed the cube as though helping to steady it and, finally, the sparkling started drinking.

"Told ya," Meister said and sighed as he settled down a little further.

Ratchet looked at the mech in surprise. "How did you…?"

Meister just shrugged, a sad smile on his face. "I know sparklings," he said before asking, "You gonna fix that wing of his?"

Ratchet sighed and caught an errant drop of energon with his finger as it escaped from the corner of the sparkling's mouth. "His energon levels are too low—I can't even think about touching his wing until we get him out of the red zone," he said quietly as the sparkling held onto the edges of the cube, being sure Ratchet didn't pull it away.

Meister groaned as he pulled himself to his feet and closed the distance between them with a few smooth strides. The sparkling tensed, optics watching him warily, but he was too distracted by fresh energon to stop drinking. "I ain't gonna hurt ya," Meister said as he knelt down next to them, reaching out a finger to gently brush against the little mech's red chevron.

The sparkling watched him uncertainly, but didn't try to run. Ratchet smiled encouragingly at him even as he pulled out a cable from his wrist. The sparkling didn't even seem to notice when Ratchet gently plugged it into the back of his helm. "I can at least deaden those sensors so it doesn't hurt so much," he said and manually switched off the power to the heavily sensor laden wings.

The sparkling looked up in surprise, his optics glowing a bit brighter as the energon processed in his tiny system. "Feels like you're blind all the sudden, huh?" Ratchet asked. His lips twitched as the sparkling looked over his shoulder, as though checking to be sure his wings were still there. "Don't worry, I'll turn them back on once I fix it," he said, not sure how much the sparkling was even understanding. "Now, let's see if we can figure out a little more about you, okay?"

The sparkling settled after a moment, the smell of energon too tempting, and went back to his cube. Ratchet accessed a few files, finding his information un-encrypted. It was no surprise. Only paranoid mechs like Meister kept their basic info hidden, usually. "His designation's Bluestreak," he said, even as he looked at the black and grey frame with a frown. "I wonder if his coloring's going to come back. He's supposed to be blue and red."

Meister shrugged. "I've seen starved mechs stay grey before," he said. "He's been without energon for at least half a cycle—that's long enough to lose pigment for good."

Ratchet winced. "Poor Bluestreak. Your name doesn't make sense anymore, does it?" he teased gently. The sparkling looked shyly up at him over the rim of the near-empty cube and despite all he had seen that day, Ratchet smiled.

He delved a little further into the mech's info and whistled. "Primus, you are still a sparkling, huh? Barely a vorn. It's a miracle he survived as long as he did… most sparklings can't be away from their creator's spark energy for more than a day or two at this age. After more than three or four without contact to any spark energy, their sparks usually just… go out."

Meister nodded and rubbed the Bluestreak's chevron again and smiled as the little mech leaned cautiously into the touch. "He's digging yours right now," Meister said. "My bet is he ain't gonna move off your chassis, no matter how hard you try and make 'im."

Ratchet looked down and snorted. It was probably true. The sparkling had laid himself right over where his spark chamber was and he could feel the gentle EM field of the little mech's spark reaching out for his own. "Probably right," he murmured and set the empty cube aside, letting Bluestreak do as he pleased. "I'm worried though… his records say he's old enough to talk, but he hasn't said a word yet."

Meister frowned at him. "Do you want to talk about what you witnessed back there?" he asked seriously. A flash of smoke and fire and death rushed behind Ratchet's optics and he shuddered. Meister sighed. "Didn't think so."

Ratchet rubbed Bluestreak's helm. "Primus willing he won't remember any of this when he's older," he murmured.

The Spec Ops mech shook his head. "That ain't something you can just forget," he said quietly. "You don't forget your home being destroyed… or the mech who pulled ya from the ruins. My bet is that kid is gonna remember you for the rest of his life… along with everything else."

The thought hit him like a bullet. "Oh Primus… what am I going to do with him?" he asked, optics widening to disks. "I can't keep a sparkling in the medbay in fragging Kaon!"

Meister shrugged and stretched before scooting down against the wall, hands cupped behind his helm. "Your problem now, m' mech," he said and closed his optics, visor going dark. "I'll take second watch."

Ratchet looked at the Con helplessly as the weight of reality settled on his shoulders. Scenarios automatically started playing in his processor. The safest option would be to take him north, towards Polyhex, but Ratchet would be killed if he tried taking him near the Autobot territory. The other option was the truly neutral territories, but Ratchet only had about two days left of freedom and even at his top speed, it would take him nearly three days to just get there, not even counting how long it would take to get back to the southern pole.

The only other option, Ratchet liked even less than taking Bluestreak to HQ, was finding someone on the road back to Kaon willing to take him in. This far south, he would be hard pressed to find anyone who didn't wear a Decepticon sigil. Even if he did happen to run into a neutral who hadn't fled the oncoming war, on this side of the planet, he was as likely to be sold into slavery in the Deeps as taken in safely. Being right on the border of the southern territories, there was a reason Praxus had built such high walls.

He had no choice. Bluestreak would have to come back to Kaon with him. He rested his hope on the fact that maybe even a Con would think twice about killing a sparkling after looking him in the optics.

A kick to the bottom of his pede startled him awake. Ratchet jerked, his arms automatically tightening around Bluestreak even as the sparkling gave a small cry of surprise. Meister quickly put a hand over the sparkling's mouth to muffle any further sound. "What the hellpart of guard duty didn't you understand?" he asked, voice lowered to a hiss.

Ratchet blinked a few times. It was dark, save for a red glow on the horizon, though whether it was the dying light of Cybertron's smaller sun or the ever-burning glow of Praxus, he couldn't be sure. "What's going on?" he asked, taking the hint and keeping his voice lowered.

"Scavengers," Meister whispered as he peered carefully out of the door. "I'm surprised they didn't come sooner—probably worried about sweeps still in the city."

Ratchet swallowed and switched his optics to infrared for a moment before he cautiously peeked out of the gaping door. He could hear shuffling and the clang of metal against metal as though debris was being kicked out of the way. Through the mess of ruins, Ratchet saw at least seven figures dipping in and out of sight, their heat through the infrared registering them in a demonic glow. Two of them were getting too close for comfort to their hiding spot and Meister put a finger to his lips.

Ratchet nodded in understanding and kept a tight hold of Bluestreak. Thankfully, the sparkling stayed quiet, and Ratchet realized he knew how this hiding game went, even as his functioning doorwing fluttered against him in barely contained panic. Slowly, almost timidly, Ratchet's free hand strayed towards his subspace compartment, where Spec's gun lay unused.

Meister beat him to it, a blaster appearing in his hand like magic and Ratchet was all too glad to close his storage. Visored optics took quick inventory around their shelter before he tapped Ratchet's shoulder and pointed towards the back. Part of the wall had collapsed, leaving a hole just large enough that they could squeeze through it. Meister led the way, slinking silently as a turofox across the rubble inside the building and motioned for Ratchet to follow.

Holding Bluestreak close, Ratchet followed as quickly as he dared, but even the gentle huff of air from his vents felt loud enough to wake the dead. Meister easily ducked through the hole in the wall, keeping low to the ground before he reached through for Bluestreak. Ratchet carefully handed him over, hearing the sparkling's quiet whimper of protest.

He quickly ducked down, cursing his boxy frame as well as Meister's ability to make it look so slagging easy and looked at the hole. He resigned himself to it and laid on the ground, carefully gripping the ragged edges of metal and slowly pulling himself through across the bed of rubble. His head had just breached the other side when his square shoulder scraped against the jagged edge of the wall. The resulting screech stopped him dead in his tracks, making his armor plates clank as they reflexively locked together, as though trying to block out the noise. Halfway out of the building, he was able to look up at the mortified expression on Meister's face.

For a split second, it felt like maybe, just maybe they hadn't been heard until a voice cut through the quiet, "The slag was that?"

Meister's visor brightened for just a moment before he grabbed Ratchet's hand, yanking him the rest of the way through the hole and to his feet. He heard footsteps and muffled voices inside of the building even as Bluestreak was quickly shoved into his arms. "Run," Meister said, his voice taking on an authoritative tone Ratchet had never heard before.

"But—"

"Don't argue with me—GO!" he snapped and gave Ratchet a rough push in-between his shoulders to get him started.

Ratchet swore but obediently took off, quiet be damned. He held Bluestreak close, keeping a careful hold of his doorwing so he didn't cause any excess damage in his haste. He looked for some sort of cover, but the landscape was unusually unaltered for being so close to a city. His hurry, combined with the darkness of true night nearly sent him tumbling into one of the many hive-like vents that released heat from the smelters in the bowels of the planet. Ratchet gasped and backpedaled, his pedes scraping to a stop just on the edge of the dark hole.

Some believed that the molten core was the spark of Primus, the god planet—it was why so many mechs wished for their remains to be put into the smelters, as a return to Primus and the Well of Allsparks. Others viewed it as nothing more than the energy source from which energon was derived and gave thanks to it for that. Ratchet had never been a religious mech but as he glanced over his shoulder and saw dark shapes advancing around the building towards Meister, he called upon the only faith he knew and jumped.

The drop was sickening, and for one spark-freezing moment, he feared he would shoot straight down into the smelters, but his legs hit something hard, abruptly stopping his free-fall and he managed to twist so he didn't land on Bluestreak. A gust of hot air that bubbled up from the depths fogged his optics and effectively blinded him. Coolant condensed almost immediately on his armor but the heat was bearable, at least for now. Bluestreak was understandably upset and uttered distressed clicks and whirrs as he cried against Ratchet's chassis, vainly trying to wipe the mist from his optics with little fists.

Sucking in deep breaths of the hot air, he struggled to calm himself down, both for his own sake and the sake of the sparkling huddled against him. He kept reminding himself that they were safe, at least for now. Blindly feeling his way, he found an indent in the vent wall and wedged himself into it, curling himself protectively around Bluestreak and shielding him for the worst of the hot steam.

Give it a breem, and he would check. See if the coast was clear. For now, they were safe.

Through the hiss of steam, Ratchet strained his audios, listening for any sound of a firefight. Instead, he could swear he heard talking. He turned up the feed on his audios a little, but between Bluestreak's quiet crying and the steady rush of the vents, it was impossible to make any of it out.

On the surface, Meister glared at the approaching mechs even as he stored his gun in subspace. He kept his voice lowered though every part of him wanted to shout at the olive green mech that stopped pace in front of him. "Ya couldn't give me some slagging warning? A comm. maybe? Have someone pass the fragging note along that you were going to be in the area?" he snapped. "I thought you were a merry ol' band of Empties come to drain me dry! The pit are ya doin' here?"

"You know, I might have if I knew you were skulking around the area," the green mech replied as he crossed his arms over his chassis, covering up the red Autobot symbol that adorned his armor proudly. "You're lucky I know you or else you'd be a dead mech right now, Jazz."

"And you better shut your slaggin' mouth," Jazz retorted, voice barely above a whisper as he glanced towards the vent Ratchet had ducked himself into. He grabbed the olive green mech by the collar and pulled him to the side of the building, motioning for his team to get out of sight, just to be safe. "Kup, ya never answered my question."

The green mech snorted and plucked the cy-gar from the corner of his mouth even as he followed Jazz's glance. "Prime ordered a small team to scout out Praxus, see if anything was left," he said.

"Other than the energon refineries that are crawling with Cons, there ain't nothin'," Jazz said with no little hint of bitterness.

"Survivors?"

Jazz shook his head. "Doubtful. The Con's were thorough when they torched the place. You can look for yourself but… it ain't pretty. We got one with us—a sparkling. I'm gonna take him with me after I escort my friend back to Kaon," he said.

Kup shoved the cy-gar back into the corner of his mouth and sucked hard on the end, his face a mask though his blue optics spoke ages of sorrow. "Who is he? Liability?" he asked after a moment.

Jazz shook his head. "Not unless he finds out that I'm not a Con," he said. "So far, my cover is still good in Kaon and I'd like it to stay that way. He's a good mech and I trust him, but when he goes back to Kaon without me, and he's gonna have to, it's gonna raise some questions. I'd rather he not be sent to interrogation—he wouldn't last."

"Why don't you bring him with us? Sounds like it'd be harder to send him back to Kaon than to bring him to Iacon," Kup said.

Jazz shook his head. "Wish it was that simple. He's a neutral that was press-ganged into the Cons. A Praxus University mech. They've got a few of them in Kaon HQ. Some have joined up, the rest have a kill switch on them if they stray too far outta line," Jazz said.

Kup swore. "And let me guess—you don't have the means to get that thing off without killing him?"

"You'd guess right."

"Fraggitall," Kup muttered rolled his cy-gar to the other corner of his mouth. "So, what's your plan then?"

Jazz bit the inside of his cheek, his optics glowing dimly under his visor. "Soundwave thinks I'm out on a scouting mission right now," he said after a long moment. "I need to get back to Iacon and report in. As soon as we get across the Rust Sea and I know my friend can make it back to Kaon on his own, I'm gonna part ways and bring the sparkling north. If some of your group care ta tail me, I wouldn't mind an escort. It's a long way home," he said with a lopsided grin.

Kup nodded and glanced back at the rest of his team who had stayed a decent distance away during their talk. He pointed at two mechs and motioned them forward. "This is Meister, one of our Spec. Ops mechs. Don't ask him about his job. Meister, this is Trailbreaker and Tracks," he said and the big black mech nodded while the smaller blue one looked haughtily at him, suspicious optics taking in his Decepticon sigil and red visor. "The two of them were picked up in Praxus by Con sweeps right before the fall —made a jump off the slagging roof of HQ in Kaon to get away. They know the area better than anyone. They'll get you home safe."

Jazz whistled as he looked the two over. "Off a roof huh? How'd you manage that?" he asked.

Tracks pointed to the sweeping wing-like appendages that flared up off of either shoulder. "Modified thrusters, sir. Managed to slow us down enough," he said.

Jazz couldn't help but grin at the honorific. "Well m'mechs, here's the plan. You two are gonna tail me and my friend until we get across the Rust Sea. Stay behind, stay out of sight. Once I break away, have a route in mind, cause we're heading back to Iacon." There were twin salutes and "yessirs" and Jazz's grin got a little wider.

He looked at Kup and his grin faded at the expression on the grizzled mech's face. He stood at attention and gave a sincere salute, even though technically, he was considered outside of rank to the Autobots. "Good luck with your search, sir," he said. "And I really do mean that."

Kup breathed a quiet sigh and nodded. "Go get your friend before him and that poor kid suffocate," he said. "I'll catch you at the debrief back at HQ."

Ratchet was too afraid to peek up over the edge of the vent and give his location away. He hadn't heard any indication of a fight though the indistinct murmur of conversation had disappeared. Bluestreak's vents were gasping in tiny puffs and he knew the sparkling couldn't handle much more of this heat. He was almost grateful when Meister slammed a hand down on the wall of the metal vent, scaring both him and Bluestreak nearly out of their armor. The sparkling gave a terrified wail and Ratchet was spitting curses at the mech before he could even see him clearly through his fogged optics.

The black and white mech offered a hand and half hauled them both out of the vent. Ratchet gasped as he sprawled out on the ground, dragging the cool night air into his overheated system. Bluestreak coughed to clear the steam out of his sputtering vents and wiped at his optics, blinking as the fog finally disappeared.

When Ratchet pegged the mech with his most withering glare, Meister finally explained. "They were friendly enough. I gave them what was left of my energon rations for good intentions sake and sent them on their way," he said. "Unfortunately, that also means we need to scurry back to Kaon. Three mouths to feed and the only fuel we got left is what you shoved in your subspace."

Ratchet coughed and slowly sat up, steadying himself as his head spun. "Fine. Whatever," he snapped irritably, the coolant loss making his head ache.

Meister watched him attempt to struggle to his feet before he pushed him back down far too easily. "Naw, take a second," he said and gently scooped Bluestreak off of his chassis to give him some air. Ratchet was too happy to oblige and closed his optics, letting his system regulate. He was close to dozing within minutes, but a gentle nudge roused him before Meister pulled him to his feet.

"I never thought I'd say this… but I'm ready to go back to Kaon," he said tiredly before he transformed and opened his back doors. He heard Meister's quiet chuckle even as the mech set Bluestreak inside. The sparkling whined quietly and huddled uncertainly in the corner of the small cargo space, hugging his knees tightly. The doors closed and Meister transformed before taking the lead once more for the final stretch back to Kaon.

The road back seemed to take twice as long as going out. Maybe it was the lack of urgency, or the fact that none of them had had a proper recharge or meal since they left, but the road across the Rust Sea seemed to stretch on to impossible lengths. The murky brown liquid that sloshed under the road was even more turbulent now. Both suns gravity tugged on the planet's wobbling axis while their combined heat made puddles of floating chemicals ignite. Some feared that one day, the sea would become too contaminated and one of those little shoots of flames would ignite the whole thing into an inferno. Ratchet didn't care one way or the other, as long as he was off of the slagging bridge before it happened.

Ahead of him, Meister pulled off to the side of the road and transformed. Ratchet followed him and opened his back doors. Bluestreak poked a cautious head out, optics wide as he looked around at the unfamiliar territory before Meister scooped the sparkling up. Ratchet transformed, but the matter-twisting sensation was too much and he stumbled, his head swimming before he fell to one knee. The suns were finally starting to set, but driving through the heat of the day hadn't helped his coolant levels and red warnings kept popping up on his HUD.

"Why did we stop?" Ratchet asked and gave up trying to stand. He kicked his legs out and couldn't stop a small smile as Bluestreak squirmed until Meister set him down before waddling over to him, throwing himself against his chassis.

"You were drifting a bit—looked like you could use a rest," Meister said, his optics cast out over the sea.

Ratchet followed his gaze, noticing two cars driving across the bridge in the distance. "I appreciate the thought, but it's just going to make starting that last stretch harder," Ratchet said and reached into his subspace. He pulled out his last cube and offered it to Bluestreak who eagerly took it and pulled the tab open. Ratchet helped him lift the cube up, though he was glad to see how much strength had returned to the little mech. His bright blue optics held that healthy glow and when Ratchet ran a discreet scan, he could see that his energy levels had evened out. Even his armor, what little had retained its pigment, looked brighter now that he had enough energy to begin the process of adding mass back to it. He still had about half a day left of his break and he would put it to good use fixing Bluestreak's doorwing.

A small sigh sounded behind him and he turned to see Meister rubbing the back of his helm, pede scuffing the ground like a youngling caught with his hand in the goodie bag. "Slag it, Ratchet. I like ya, so this ain't gonna be fun for me either," he said before he reached into subspace. In one smooth motion, he pulled out his blaster and aimed it directly at Ratchet's head. "I need you ta hand Bluestreak over to me."

Ratchet froze where he sat as he looked straight up the barrel of the blaster, optics wide. For a long moment, the order didn't even register, but when it did, Ratchet felt a hot flush of anger flood his system. "For what?" he growled, his optics darkened even as he tightened his grip on the little mech, curling protectively around him.

Meister sighed again, as though kidnapping was some sort of chore to him. "I'm going to take him somewhere safe—you and I both know he won't last in Kaon," he said.

Ratchet hesitated at that, the simple statement digging at his uncertainty. "Where?"

The black and white mech looked down at him, dentals grit in distress. "I can't tell you," he said helplessly. "Please, Ratch. Ya gotta trust me."

Ratchet studied the mechs face, weighing every instance that might allow him to grant that request. There weren't many. Not enough to trust Bluestreak's life on.

His optics narrowed and he felt his resolve harden like a rock inside of him. "No," he said, the gravity of his decision weighing in his voice. His hand strayed towards his subspace compartment, where Spec's gun still lay, unused. "I don't trust Cons and I especially don't trust you."

Meister looked at him sadly before the light behind his visor flickered towards the road. Ratchet's hand plunged into his subspace and wrapped around the pistol, even as his peripheral caught movement. The sight caught him by such surprise that he reflexively turned, optics leaving Meister's gun for a split-second. Every instinct screamed to face his enemy again, but he gaped, frozen, as the impossible mech unfurled from his ground mode. A familiar blue visor appeared and an uncertain smile followed as his chassis folded down, revealing the bright red Autobot symbol painted on it.

"Trailbreaker?"

Pain erupted on the back of Ratchet's helm and his vision blacked and flickered to static. He felt himself tilting to the side, but couldn't stop it as he crashed into the ground. His cheek scraped across gravel and his frame went limp. Through black and white fuzz, he saw the turbulent waves of the sea spit up a puff of flame while a terrified and helpless wail sounded next to his audio, echoing his own blunted emotions. He felt small hands grab his chevron and tug in desperation before his consciousness failed him and he plunged into darkness.