Author's Note: Like with "Kinship" and "The Tie That Binds," everything but the Prologue and Epilogue in this story is in first-person POV. Just so I don't confuse anyone. Hope you enjoy!

PART 1: Sam

It never rains but it pours.

Mikaela was in the hospital, so I was a nervous wreck.

Then I got the email from Will Lennox saying that the scuttlebutt about him being promoted to a general and reassigned to the Pentagon was true. He was trying to talk himself down from the anxiety attack that went with stepping away from NEST's daily operations. I'd replied by pointing out that most people were happy to get promotions. He wrote back just minutes later and claimed the President's National Security Advisor Charlotte Mearing had been locking horns with him and he suspected she was behind his reassignment. Since it was a political problem, he naturally asked for me to pull any political strings I could to get her off his back. That wasn't exactly an easy request; Mearing and I hadn't even been in the same room together.

And then there was Joe Marshall, Senatorial Liaison and pain in the aft. He kept repeatedly pinging me on my phone's conferencing app until I finally picked up just to tell him to frag off...politely, because politics.

"I apologize," I said, trying to sound like I meant it. Lying long-distance was so much easier back in the good old days of phone calls, back before video-chats took over. Used to be that bedrooms didn't double as an office. "I'm working from home this afternoon, and…"

"Yes, Mr. Witwicky, so your secretary said. Convey my well-wishes to your wife. I understand she's in the hospital?"

"Yes, she is," I curtly said, wondering what al-Sharif would think of being demoted to 'secretary.' "Which is why I'm here this afternoon to meet the children when they get home from school. We'll be leaving to visit Mikaela as soon as they arrive and I'm really not taking any calls today."

"I understand. I'll be brief, then. My sources tell me that NORAD detected several large meteorites making planetfall two months ago, but we still haven't had any official word from you. I know they are more of your aliens and I want their full bios. Since you're working from home, you don't have people pestering you and I'm sure you'll be able to send that to my office in the next hour."

"As I said, I'm not taking calls, Mr. Marshall. You'll find out about any theoretical new arrivals along with the rest of the usual Washington insiders when I have been authorized to release such information. But remember that not every piece of space rock is an alien." He puffed up his chest, ready to launch into an argument, but I nipped it in the bud. "I will, however, convey your request to the leader of the Autobots."

The front door to my penthouse slammed open, and I could hear my daughter Beatrice shouting, "Daddy! Daddy!" Trying to be discreet, I leaned over and pushed my bedroom door closed. "Now if you'll excuse me…"

The door burst open and my children all but tackled me. It was a good thing I was already sitting down on the bed. Annabelle Lennox followed them into the room, scolding them in hisses. "Daemon! Beatrice! Get back out here! Your dad's on a call!"

Deciding that misery loved company – and this call was doomed anyway – I gestured her in. "Annabelle, you remember Senatorial Liaison Joe Marshall."

The young woman did me proud and narrowed her eyes for only the briefest of seconds. Then a saccharine smile spread over her face. "Of course! How could I forget the man who cared so much about my well-being back in high school?"

He hid a grimace. "You look well."

Annabelle played the part of the bubbly blonde to perfection. "Well, you know, first year of college and all. Being stateside is good for me."

"And is that your bodyguard?" Marshall demanded, narrowing his eyes.

Annabelle reached for the solidly-built, dark-haired young man who'd been hovering in the doorway and pulled him into the room, her arm looped through his. "Who, this? Don't be silly, this is my boyfriend! Jackson Trump, but I call him Tracks for short."

"Trump?" Marshall repeated suspiciously. "Any relation to the Trumps?"

"Distantly," Tracks said, his face neutral.

Only a decade of playing politics for the Autobots let me keep a straight face.

"We met at the ballroom dance club on campus," she gushed. "He'll really go places in this world. Don't forget his name – I'm sure you'll hear it again!"

"Mr. Marshall," I cut in, trying to rescue Annabelle before she went too over the top. "I apologize for cutting our conversation short, but I really must go now." With impeccable timing, a resounding crash clanged in the kitchen. "Good bye."

"Good – " Marshall began, but I was already closing the connection.

Annabelle and her 'boyfriend' were two steps ahead of me, helping seven-year-old Beatrice clean up the handful of spoons she'd accidentally dropped onto the kitchen floor. I was grateful for their help – I was just a little too on edge right now with worry for Mikaela.

Another young man – this one of average height and lanky with sandy-blond hair – stood near the breakfast bar, talking up a storm. "I can't believe you said Tracks was your boyfriend, Firebrand, and to somebody official, too, because you know he'll get the report eventually and he'll remember Tracks and then he really will think he is your boyfriend and then it'll be all over the tabloids and – "

"Bluestreak," Annabelle said in a low voice, standing in front of the young man and resting her hands on his shoulders.

He stopped talking, though his mouth flapped for a couple of seconds longer. He blinked and said, "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

She fought back a smile. "Yes. Remember, the subroutines you downloaded for your holoform include a lot of reflexive human behaviors, including breathing. If your holoform pauses for breath and you don't…"

"Then I get out of synch," he mumbled, ducking his head.

She squeezed his shoulders once encouragingly and then let her hands fall to her side. "You'll get the hang of it. They all did – even Prowl and Ratchet. Can you imagine trying to learn this from scratch, though? At least you've got the library the others have built."

"That's true," he said, brightening. He glanced nervously at eleven-year-old Daemon, who was now playing video games in the living room with Troy Breaker (Trailbreaker's holoform) and Cam Romero (Bumblebee's holoform). Then he looked over at 'Trice, who was dishing ice cream next to the fridge with help from Caleb Kuhn (Hound's holoform) and one of the freshly-washed spoons.

"Don't forget the chocolate syrup," she told him as he handed her the bowl, and then she sagely added, "Besty says it's the best for ice cream!"

"But the stakes are kind of high here," he continued. "If they figure it out…"

"They won't," Annabelle assured him, her voice too low to carry to my daughter. "I helped train both sets of twins, both Arcee and Chromia, Wheeljack and Prowl and I never figured it out. You two don't have half the malfunctions they did."

"Thanks, girlfriend," Tracks snidely muttered from where he was leaning against the counter. Hound retrieved the chocolate sauce from the fridge and handed it to 'Trice, who dumped it on.

"Anytime, Tall-Dark-and-Bodyguard."

"I thought that's what you called Prowl," I said, sending 'Trice and her bowl of ice cream toward the dining-room table.

Tracks look mortally offended and Annabelle burst out laughing. Through her giggles, she said, "He still emails three of those girls regularly."

"I guess I missed this story," Blue said hopefully.

"It's a long one," Annabelle said, still fighting for composure. Her eyes darted to 'Trice (who was telling Hound about all of Besty's culinary expertise), and then she glanced back at Bluestreak. "I'll tell you sometime when we don't have an audience."

"Remind me how I got stuck babysitting as her guardian?" Tracks grumbled. "She never tells us any of these stories she teases us with."

"You complained one time too many to Optimus about the lack of night life on Diego Garcia, that's how," I said. "So Will suggested you'd enjoy spending some time at college."

"And you were one of the few 'bots I didn't grow up with," Annabelle lightly added in a low voice, putting the ice cream away. "So having you around doesn't feel like I've got a big brother hovering over my shoulder all the time."

"What's with Besty, anyway?" Blue wondered, changing the subject "Beatrice talks about her all the time, but we've never met her or her brother Fancy and she seems to know everything and I was wondering if maybe she's kind of a human Teletraan or Wikipedia or something, but she goes to the same school as 'Trice and so that didn't seem right either." He stopped and dramatically drew a breath.

"Besty is Beatrice's imaginary friend," I said, sympathizing with his confusion. "It's a stage a lot of kids go through. She started talking about Besty when she was five and she's been at it for the last couple of years, but she'll grow out of it eventually."

"But Besty isn't a real name," Tracks protested. "It's not even a real word."

"It's slang for 'best friend,'" Hound called from the dining room. "Look up Urban Dictionary when you get the chance. Prowl prefers us to stick with print dictionaries, but Urban Dictionary will solve a few mysteries for you."

"Besides, haven't you listened to her at all?" Annabelle smirked at him. "She's Besty because she knows best. And for the record, that's a femme trait among humans, too, boyfriend."

He glowered at Annabelle and she relented. "Fine. I'll tell you all about Prowl's misadventures on the way to the hospital and you can give Blue an info dump later. 'K?"

Tracks grudgingly grumbled, "Okay," and left to join the video game in the living room.

"Someday," Annabelle said with a mischievous grin, "I'm going to insist that we kiss and make up, just to watch him blow a gasket."

I shook my head in amusement, but I couldn't manage more levity than that. For the fortieth time that day, I checked Mikaela's profile on the app that Ratchet had custom-made for us. We Autobot allies all had fitness watches that not only tracked our vitals for the overbearing medic but also revealed our health status and location real-time to each other and the 'bots. Mikaela's icon on the map was still at the hospital, but it was back-shaded with a reassuring blue instead of the unnerving yellow of this morning or the terrifying red of last night.

With that confirmation of Mikaela's good health to steady me, I took a deep breath and called out, "Daemon, do you want a snack before we go visit your mom?"

He held up a half-eaten banana in answer, too into the game to bother with actual words.

I knew what Optimus hoped for from Daemon, and honestly, I hoped for it, too. But there were some days I was convinced there was no way that kid could be a Prime. He was too much like me in all the wrong ways.

…

I usually forgot that I had an entire squad of Autobot bodyguards hovering around me, they'd become that embedded in my life. But as we made our way through the halls of the hospital, I felt like we were storming the place, with all the humans and holoforms. I mentally counted: me, the kids, Annabelle and her bodyguard, the usual six 'bots who were regularly stationed here, and Bluestreak – we were a full dozen, and that wasn't even counting Wheelie, who was already standing guard in Mikaela's room in his alt-form. As we waited at the elevators, I leaned closer to Bumblebee. In a whisper, I said, "There are too many of us to all go in at once. Family only, at least at first."

He nodded, understanding flowing in from his end of our kin-bond. Less than three years ago, the accidental creation of his Prime of a son had turned us into kin, but anymore I couldn't imagine living without that bond or hearing his healed voice. A heartbeat later, I felt Optimus' encouragement and sympathy, and I figured 'Bee must have updated him for me. "Give her our love," he said aloud.

When we finally got to Mikaela's room, my heart broke even more. She was in a hospital bed, pale but without an IV anymore, just the base for the needle taped into her hand. 'Trice climbed up onto the bed with her, though thankfully she was gentler than she had been with me back at the penthouse. Daemon stood beside the bed, anxiety making him hesitant, and I wondered how much of this he really understood. Mikaela kissed 'Trice's forehead, her eyes welling up with tears.

Oblivious, 'Trice asked, "Is your tummy feeling better?"

Fighting for composure, Mikaela answered, "It's starting to, sweetheart." She hadn't wanted the kids to know she'd miscarried again, and so the best explanation I could give them yesterday was her stomach hurt.

"Besty is worried about you, Momma, and she kept me up all night last night. When are you coming home?"

Mikaela cleared her throat before saying, "Soon. Maybe even tonight. They want to make sure I'll be okay first. You and Besty will need to be good girls for me until then, okay? You tell her to let you sleep. I'm in good hands here, and I'm going to be okay."

'Trice snuggled closer and smiled a little. "Okay, Momma. Besty and I are good girls, but her brother Fancy might teach me another naughty word if you don't hurry."

Mikaela chuckled and stroked our daughter's hair. "I might need to teach you some naughty words to use back at him."

I felt Bumblebee nudge me over the bond, and when I glanced his way, Evac's holoform stood beside him, smiling apologetically. Knowing the medic was being put up to this by Ratchet, I nodded, allowing him to come in and run whatever scans his holoform could. Besides, Ratchet had given Mikaela some of the same training as his human repair team, and she'd basically been Evac's apprentice since he'd arrived over three years ago. Mikaela wouldn't object to his presence. He considerately stayed near the door and went to work without a word.

Mikaela reached out to Daemon, and he shuffled closer to hold her hand. "Love you," she said.

"Love you, too, Mom."

After the silence started to stretch, she asked, "How was school today? Do you have any homework?"

"Just math. Breaker said he could help me with it."

"Good. Do me a favor and make sure your dad eats his fruits and vegetables, okay?"

He perked up a little. "Does that mean I'm in charge?"

Mikaela glanced at me, some of that sparkle back in her eyes, and I had the first real hope I'd felt in the last 24 hours. To Daemon, she said, "Yeah, I think so, at least for meals. I can always trust you to eat healthy. Your dad, however…"

"Hey!" I protested, playing along, and 'Trice giggled.

Daemon grinned and let Mikaela tug him close enough to pull him into a real hug. She held him for a long moment, and he finally said, "Are you really gonna be okay?"

"Yes," she softly answered, completely serious now. "I lost some blood, but I'm going to be okay."

Lifting his head to look her in the eyes, he asked, "So it's not cancer or something?"

She half-smiled. "I can't hide anything from you, can I. It was another miscarriage."

He straightened and nodded, wiping tears of relief from his eyes, and my heart warmed. Maybe he was more of a Prime than I gave him credit for.

A few minutes later, one of the doctors joined us in Mikaela's recovery room. Seeing his serious expression, I looked over at the kids and said, "We never brought any get-well presents for your mom. Why don't you two go with Hound and 'Breaker and pick out something from the gift shop?"

'Trice and Damon eagerly went with their guardians, who had stepped closer to the door when they heard their names.

Once they were out of earshot, the doctor said "I have good news, and I have some concerns."

"Okay," Mikaela said, straightening in her bed.

"The good news is that your condition has stabilized enough that we should be good to send you home. But I would like you to schedule a follow-up with your OB/GYN sometime in the next week or two. We ran a full blood panel, and there are some metabolites we found that are concerning. Especially considering your personal history with pregnancy, it's something that I feel should be followed up on."

"Metabolites?" Evac asked, and the doctor gave him a guarded look.

"He's a friend of the family, and he has a medical background," Mikaela explained. "Go ahead and let us all know what you found."

Still addressing Mikaela, he said, "You have a buildup of lactate in your blood. You don't have an elevated white blood cell count, so I'm not concerned about infection, but it's something that wasn't there before in the medical history we have on file, so it is worth looking into."

Mikaela glanced at Evac, and he nodded. To the doctor, she said, "We'll definitely do that. Thank you."

…

We left the hospital late enough that I gave up on making dinner, and we stopped at a drive-thru on the way home. The kids had picked out several mylar balloons, a half-dozen "Get Well" cards, and some candy for Mikaela on Hound's and Trailbreaker's dimes (those two mechs spoiled the kids ruthlessly), but we got all her get-well gifts arranged in the living room before sending Daemon and 'Trice to bed for the night.

Mikaela managed to hold it together until I shut our bedroom door. When I turned, she was curled up, softly crying on the bed.

Her back was to me as I crawled into bed, so I cuddled her close, wrapping my arm around her waist. She pulled that arm closer and vehemently said, "I hate IV's!"

"I know." She'd said more than once that they were the worst part of the whole labor and delivery process.

Burying her face in her pillow, she started sobbing, and it slagging near broke my heart. I nuzzled her hair, and she clung to my arm around her. Her sobs were punctuated by groans, and even though my own tears were itchy as they rolled down my cheeks, I didn't let go.

This was our third consecutive miscarriage, and I had long ago run out of words of comfort. Holding her would do more good than anything I could say. From time to time, I kissed the top of her head as she cried herself out over the next twenty minutes.

Eventually, the tears slowed, the sobs quieted, and she fell into that numb exhaustion of grief.

"I almost lost you," I said, stroking her hair, and she finally rolled over to look at me. "I know we talked about a big family, but I can't…" My voice failed me, and it took a second to pull myself together enough to be the strong one for her. "I can't lose you. Not like this. Not when we have a choice. Pregnancy is too hard on you."

"But what about Optimus and the others?" she said, sniffling.

I rested my hand on her cheek. "We have two Primelings for them, but if we want our children to grow up to actually be Primes, they will need their mother. I can't do this by myself. I can't…" My voice broke again, and I rested my forehead against hers.

"Can you tell them?" she asked in a small voice.

"Of course."

...

That night, I didn't meet Optimus in our usual place for a bond dream (the aircraft carrier where he'd sent a transmission to the stars about the defeat of The Fallen). Instead, I found him in an old memory in one of the rough caves on Cybertron. It was where the Autobots had built their first base during the earliest stages of the War. It wasn't a memory he'd ever shared with me before, though. Elita One was laid out on the floor, her optics dark.

Optimus glanced my way when I walked into the room.

"Brother," I greeted.

"Sam."

"Is...was she okay?" I asked, nodding toward Elita.

"During this memory, she was in protective stasis. It was just after Corona committed suicide."

Not unlike Mikaela, then. Corona was one of Elita's creations, a youngling sister, and her death had been particularly hard on Elita. That much I knew. Optimus' feelings were muted, but I could still feel his anguish about (I assumed) his mate's pain.

"How is Mikaela?" he asked.

"Asleep. Stable enough to come home from the hospital, thankfully. Pretty heartbroken, though."

"As are you," Optimus observed.

"Yeah," I said, feeling the lump swell in my throat again. "The hemorrhage was bad. We almost lost her."

His anguish deepened and sharpened from sympathy to his own grief. It wasn't even two decades since Elita was extinguished – it was all still fresh for him. In some ways, it made my next words even harder. "I can't ask that of her again, Optimus. We had hoped to have a large family of human Primelings for you – for all the Autobots – but I can't ask her to go into another pregnancy. Not after she lost three in a row. Not after nearly dying herself. I've already decided. We've put all this pressure on her for so long, so it's my turn to bear the burden. I'm getting a vasectomy. Daemon and 'Trice are all the additions to the Prime clan that we can give you."

His grief settled down into understanding. "That leaves a greater weight on their young shoulders, but if that is their fate, I believe they will be up to the task. I would not risk Mikaela's life again, either."

My relief at his words and understanding washed back over our brother bond, and he wrapped me up in his affection – a permanent hug. I didn't have it in me to put up even a token macho show of resistance. Surrendering to the comfort flowing in from his end of the bond, I said, "Thank you."

"Of course, Sam."

I'm not sure how much time passed in the waking world before I felt a shift in his emotions, though. Worry started creeping in.

"What's wrong?"

Abruptly we were back on the aircraft carrier. "Beatus had a check-up today. His spark's power output has increased by 1% since his last exam two weeks ago."

All Primes are brothers; that's one of the reasons Optimus and I shared a brother bond. After him, though, my next-strongest bond was the one I shared with another brother Prime: Beatus. The little mech was still a sparkling, but since he was the offspring of Bumblebee and Arcee, I shared kin-bonds with both my best friend and his mate. Since Arcee shared a sister-bond with Chromia, that meant I was also kin with Chromia and her mate, Ironhide. Together, we were the largest, strongest clan the Cybertonians had left. We were also, without question, the strangest. And not just because a human was part of the clan.

Beatus wasn't just any old Prime. He was the first new Cybertronian created using the reformatted All Spark, which was now housed within the Matrix of Leadership. He was the first of what we hoped would soon be a new generation of Autobots. And he was also their first documented "oops baby." Three years back, Bumblebee had been mortally wounded, the All Spark didn't have enough energy to heal him, and so Arcee had let us use her own spark to power the All Spark as it healed. (While the point had been to save Bumblebee's life, his voice was also restored as a bonus.) Beatus was created by accident during the process, and since there hadn't been a protoform present for Beatus' spark, he'd ended up as a secondary spark in her chamber. Apparently, this was such an unprecedented thing that it just about broke Ratchet's brain.

Primus had a sense of humor, I'll grant him that, but it was also a dark one. A 1% increase in Beatus' power output in just two weeks was a huge jump compared to what we'd previously seen. "That's not good."

"It could be an anomaly, but Ratchet is worried. If Beatus is entering a growth stage, the pressure on Arcee's spark chamber could dramatically increase over the next several months."

We needed a protoform – sooner than later.

My thoughts were interrupted, though, as I became aware of another presence over that bond-sense – several of them, in fact.

"You're too predictable, Samuel Prime," Chromia said as she and the rest of the clan approached. "We always know where to find you."

I half-smiled at her tough-girl act. Chromia had a big heart, if you knew where to look.

Since Optimus controlled our shared dreams for the most part, we were all the same height, with the exception of Beatus. He felt it was too scary to be that big, so Optimus let him select his own imagined height and alt-form. Beatus had chosen a yellow four-wheeler for his alt and stood about ten feet tall, even though he was still just a spark in Arcee's chamber. I knelt to be eye-level with him. "I hear you're getting bigger on us."

"I don't want to, but Ratchet says I have to." Leaning closer, he placed his little mechanical hand over my heart. "You hurt."

"Yeah," I said, swallowing down the pain again. "Mikaela…" I wasn't sure how to explain this to him. I couldn't even explain it to 'Trice. Beatus understood the words thanks to his linguistic databases, but he had the emotional maturity of a very young child. "She lost a lot of blood. If Evac hadn't been there to whisk her away to the hospital…" I'd never in my life been so glad that the medic's alt-form was a helicopter.

"We're your clan – can we help?" Beatus asked.

"There's not much anyone can do at this point," I told him.

"He means grieving with you, Sam," Bumblebee explained.

Thanks to Optimus, I had an inkling of the gift this Primeling was offering, and it left me a little stunned. The first time Mikaela miscarried was a couple of years after 'Trice was born, and the second was about half a year before Beatus' spark was forged. I'd never had the chance to grieve with them as a clan. Tonight I was mourning the near-loss of Mikaela, the loss of the baby she had been carrying, and the loss of all the kids we had hoped for but wouldn't be able to have now. With that kind of grief weighing me down, I welcomed a chance for them to comfort me. Solemnly, I nodded.

Beatus took my hand, and it was a powerful thing, feeling his innocent, pure amity pouring into my own spark. The others slowly surrounded me one by one, each laying a hand on my shoulder or arm. And with each touch, I felt a new layer of sympathy, of kindness, of affection settle over my soul.

Touch by touch, the weight of my grief eased, almost like they were lifting it off me by the handful. I knew from experience they were taking a portion of my pain into their own sparks. This went beyond sympathy to true empathy; they were owning my sorrow out of kinship and love. I'd never felt so understood and validated in my life.

Then the real healing began as they poured comfort and affection into my spark. Moment by moment, I accepted the strengthened connection and sank deeper into their shared web of kinship. Some sparks had the flavor of their own losses – especially Ironhide, Chromia, and Arcee – and it gave depth to their gentle understanding. They knew what it felt like to lose offspring. Bumblebee and Beatus were twinned points of hope, though, buoying us all up. And Optimus was an endless well of peace. I gratefully absorbed that gift of peace into my own spark. His mental touch was deepest and most familiar.

And the fingers stroking my face, human fingers –

I sat bolt upright in bed, jolted out of the bond dream. Everyone else in that shared vision had been mechanical. While I'd been focused on their sparks, my brain had interpreted their imagined touch just like it did their waking ones. Warm metal, smooth surfaces. Where would a human touch come from?

Glancing beside me, I saw that Mikaela was snoring away, worn out and sound asleep. That unsettling sensation of human contact couldn't have been her touching my face in the waking world.

On the nightstand, my phone lit up with a text alert from Bumblebee. I caught the preview before the screen went dark again. /Are you okay?/

Too awake to sleep anymore, I got up and put on a bathrobe and some slippers. I could feel he was fretting downstairs on the Autobot level and, in the elevator, I punched the button for that floor.

He was waiting for me in the common room, and he scooped me up, pajamas and all, to cradle me near his spark. I half-smiled at the kind concern pouring off him and said, "Worrywort." But I rested my hand on his warm armor.

"What happened?" he softly asked.

"I'm not sure. You were all there, lifting me up – which was amazing, by the way – and then there was someone else there, someone human."

"Daemon?"

I chuckled mirthlessly. "I didn't take fingerprints, 'Bee. That human touch startled me and I woke up. It could have been last night's jalapeno burger for all I know."

"True. Human cognition is strange."

I nudged him over the kin-bond. "Says the mech who thinks bright yellow is stealthy."

He rose to the barb with mock indignation. "Hey! Any 'bot can be stealthy with enough camouflage. This takes talent!"

I chuckled and settled more comfortably in his hands, letting the warmth of both his frame and spark ease the heartache of the last couple of days. Even before we shared this bond, 'Bee was one of the few beings I didn't have to pretend for. I could be myself – whatever that was in the moment – and he would always be there for me. Now, he felt as much like my brother as Optimus did. "Wake me up at seven o'clock or whenever Mikaela wakes up, whichever happens first."

"You got it."

Author's Endnote: For more about Beatus and how he came to be, see our fic "Creation."