Disclaimer: Hasbro and Takara-Tomy own Transformers. I just like hounding their giant robots.

Warnings: Things are weird and Prowl's not nice.

This AU has been plaguing me for most of a decade, now it's the internet's problem once again. This is the continuation of Prelude, Cautionary Tale, and Brotherhood. Any questions, please refer to previous stories. More power to you if you're going in blind.

Let's get this road on the show.


Moving Day

RUN.

JUST RUN DON'T STOP. JUST RUN DON'T STOP.

A lanky form slid sideways in the dark, scrambling on all fours. A disturbingly lupine feat, given the way her legs were made. At least they were silent. Her spark was hammering wildly, pushing her vents to whir like an overtaxed laptop.

Or they would have if she didn't have the openings shut.

Her frame was quiet, sure, but her internals were going to cook. Like holding your breath…sort of... the temperatures only climbed as she surveyed her options.

There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Cypress was stuck in a cargo hold, trying to outpace a shadow that was hellbent on killing her.

She ducked down behind a crate labeled: engine parts and the Preda seriously considering crawling inside.

Something crashed nearby.

Cypress peered over the top to see the sweet light of the open door leading out to the halls, as well as the shadowy form that slunk before it.

This mech was unbelievable. He was waiting somewhere right next to the door and the second she made a run for it he was going to attack her. One audio shot up as she picked up the faintest sound of pressure being put on a ped behind her.

She couldn't stay in here.

On impulse, Cypress crept over the crate and transformed, claws scraping the slick floors beneath her.

There was a terrifying sensation of being spotted flaring across her plating, then near silent ped steps.

She whirled around to fight, taking on bipedal mode just in time to get smashed into the floor with an unyielding servo around her throat.

A cold, blue visor shown down at her, the owner's knee digging into her in the tank.

The servo clenched once in rebuke. "You're too slow."

Prowl.

Creepy, quiet, unnerving Prowl.

Sitting and crouching on something important Prowl.

Cypress idly wondered if anyone ever told him how heavy he was. She let her vents open and squirmed, attempting to kick the mech off. "And you're mean."

Even using both clawed peds against his torso, he didn't budge. Instead, the knee moved further into her gut with a painful screech of plating and her lines were crimped that much more.

"Opponents won't be kind to you when attacking."

"Hurting me."

"The lines I am compressing provide minimal energon and will not harm you at the current pressure. I thought we've been over that fact."

Cypress got the impulse to swat at him with her tail and fill that blank face full of spines. She acted on it only to have a ped stomp it into the floor.

For a nano, her vison whited out, replaced by roiling fury.

"I hate you."

"Noted."

To his credit, he let her go soon after.

She rolled out of striking range, servos immediately massaging her dented plating. "Are you okay? That was a little rough…"

He rose in one fluid motion, "You're a highly inexperienced neutral, that was nothing. Get used to it."

She would have rather trained with anyone instead of Prowl, but it didn't matter. He was her self-appointed combat instructor. Why he wanted to put up with hissed remarks, she didn't know; he didn't seem to enjoy her company either.

Cypress shook the tension from her frame, not wanting to stand just yet. It felt like someone had laid concrete on her frame. It made her wonder how good the odds were that she didn't have internal damage from being run over by a Charger.

Prowl had an uncanny ability to find the worst timing. He turned on a heel to face her, "We're starting from the top."

"Can we rest?"

"You need to build endurance."

"We've been at this for hours."

"Joors. Use Cybertronian terms."

That weighty feeling intensified. She couldn't imagine going any further. Ratchet said be honest.

"Look. I don't feel so great."

"That's the best excuse you can come up with?"

"I'm serious, my lines feel heavy."

The narrow glint from his visor made him look severely unimpressed. "I hope you realize this is a life-or-death matter. You can't skip out on this like a class—"

Her shoulders drooped and she sat anyway as he launched into another lecture.

Cypress lowered her helm to the floor.

If this was going to last as long as she thought, she might as well get some rest. Her tank prickled and this morning's—day cycle's—energon teased the back of her throat before some inborn system forcefully shunted it back down. She shut her optics and most of her sensory input after that. Was it wrong to want to cry?

A whopping two months of being a Predacon, the third greatest terror of Cybertron, and she was curled up on the floor because she was tired and her stomach hurt.

Cypress folded tighter, tucking her knees into her chest arms around her middle. A new sensation of something worming its way into her spark made her whine. She didn't think it was loud enough to hear outside of her huddle.

But a servo found its way under one arm to force her to stand, only to yank back in shock.

"You're overheating."

"No kidding," she slurred.

Cypress managed to sit, not bothering to focus on the mélange of black and gold before her.

"Look at me."

"That wouldn't do either of us any favors, now would it?" she spat, glaring at a boomerang of blue that was plagued with swirls at its edges.

He didn't comment on the slight. A bad sign.

"Prowl?"

Something in his field slid rapidly toward unease, "Scan yourself, we're going to med bay."

She could have been wrong, but Prowl seemed like he was panicking, especially when her legs stopped responding. He picked her up under one arm and dragged her to Jazz's quarters, judging by the voice summoned by frantic knocking.

"Yeesh, doors open, mech—what on—"

"I need your help."

"What's up with—oh."

They switched over to comms.

Cypress allowed herself to be propped up against a desk, then laid out on a cot that was either moving or sucking her into a parallel dimension.

It was creepy the way their voices faded in and out while her systems debated on whether or not to black out. The words in her HUD flickered between English, the harsh slant of Cy-Stan, and gibberish. Something was very wrong.

Jazz's EM spiked. Whatever he'd found, it wasn't good.

Why couldn't they just go to Ratchet already? She didn't like being exposed. Or alone in a room with two 'formers she didn't know well. She shrank into herself further.

It was a mistake, Jazz's attention focused back on her.

"Kiddo? You're hurting worse?"

"No."

Prowl stepped forward, "I'm going to check your diagnostics."

That meant he was going to use her wrist port. Servos curled into fists.

There was something creepy, something too private, about that action that she was starting to loathe. She also didn't want him in her helm.

Cypress forced a transformation and curled into a spiny knot.

"Really? Now?"

"Go away," she managed, the voice coming out as a waterlogged squeak.

"We need to check—"

"Prowl." Jazz said quietly, "She's scared."

The horned mech dropped down to her level, "Kiddo, we're going to the med bay, but we need to be sure nothing's rattled loose."

"That's fine. I'm not letting him though."

There was a quiet shuffle of doorwings as Prowl moved further away.

"Got ya," Jazz said, "I won't use your ports, hol' your helm up."

She got scanned and her throat cabling prodded.

"Nothin'."

"Is it a reaction to something?"

"I can't see any… What'd you drink, lil wolf?"

"Regular grade energon."

Jazz frowned behind his visor. "She aint used to extra-terra energon, but she shouldn't be reacting to it like this."

"Minor virus?" Prowl helped.

"Yeah." Jazz stroked her head in a similar motion she'd done to her dog. "C'mon. We're goin' ta Ratchet."

The Polyhexian cradling her like a sick toddler had the opposite effect of feeling comforted. It was embarrassing. Sometimes, she felt more like the ship's pet.

At least the trip was short and they didn't run into anyone.

The welcome scent of antiseptics enveloped her as the doors slid open.

"I thought I told you not to come back until this evening." Ratchet said without looking up, "Go socialize."

The medic's EM prickled when Jazz deposited her on the berth.

Prowl supplied, "Virus."

Cypress wheezed out of the slits in her frame, avoiding her intake on purpose because her body still thought that how it was supposed to work.

Blunt digits pried one of her optics open. "Last time I checked, acclimation and viruses didn't cause denting."

"We were sparring and she lost ability to stand."

"Kid has had more than enough time to adjust… Don't see what else she could've come down with… Unless you all have been inundating."

That finally got her to prop her head and open her optics, "What's that?"

"Taking poison to build up a resistance. JAZZ."

"Hey, I was minding my own business!"

Ratchet sighed. There was a hint of begrudging acceptance in there. "Go."

The second mech she could stand nodded and flashed a tired smile, "See you soon, kid."

"You can wait outside, Prowl."

The Praxian slunk outside without another word.

Ratchet turned attention to her, "He pinned you, didn't he?"

"Ten different times. The goal is to get past him into the hall and I can't even get out of the cargo hold." She finally transformed, shoving her helm into the blessedly cool surface of the berth. "Then everything felt like it weighed a ton and my tank started cramping."

"Huh. I gave you the most up-to-date patches and virals pre-activation. This is reading more like bond sickness than a virus…" he trailed off. "But your systems are still new enough to be acting strange. Just rest."

Ratchet milled around the bay and she settled for slipping in and out of consciousness, back to Earth, back to Utah.

Back to getting good morning licks from Rilo, the back of Marci's shower drenched hair as she glared at their sluggish coffee maker, and Eric attempting not to pass out as he was coming down from a caffeine high at the table.

It was her job to set the TV to something easy to watch—a cooking show, yoga tutorials, Bob Ross, early-morning kid's shows from the half-a-century ago that made her question if she wasn't still asleep— then they'd have a breakfast of leftovers until the outside world demanded their attention.

This time, Eric and Marci were already gone. She could see Rilo was waiting outside to walk her to school and she'd stopped to double check that the stove was off. There was someone else here, though.

A young woman that could have passed for an old school high schooler, or just the type that was into vintage stuff…or grunge…or both. A snug letterman jacket covered her top while a pleated skirt flirted with her knees. All of it variations of soft pink, except for her leg socks—it looked like someone had splattered blue paint all over them.

A tone of blue a lot like the energon Bumblebee had been covered in.

The lady flashed a cocky grin and spoke without moving her pretty pink lips.

~ I like the one with the glitch-mouse people. ~ she gestured at the still glowing set.

"Oh…okay then. Good?"

~ It's nice to finally meet you. ~

Cypress glanced around, "How'd you get in here?"

~ Your door was open, so I came in. ~

"You are the most talkative sleep hallucination I've seen. This is a dream and I've never seen you before. Shh."

~ New guys… ~ She muttered, ~ I'd be more worried if you had seen me before. Come sit. ~

"No thanks. This never ends well."

~ Suit yourself, given the state of things, I thought it would be appropriate to introduce myself ahead of time so you don't have a meltdown. I am Arcee. ~

"What are you supposed to be, my conscious?"

~ Your teammate; we'll be seeing each other soon. ~

"Whatever you say, lady, I'm going to school."

She canted her head, ~ If you can do whatever you want in here, why go back to where you're most miserable? ~

"Because on the way there, I can turn into a magical girl, a monstress, or a superhero between here and Main Street. One of those is hitting too close to home, so I've got a hankering for the impractical skirt and glitter."

~ What type of monster? ~

"Freaky with a buncha teeth. Is there any better type?"

The grin Arcee wore was a little too toothy for a human and as familiar as her own skin. It hurt to place where she'd seen it before, but Cypress found herself mirroring it.

~ Being on Earth has corrupted your processor. I'd like to see that. ~

Whatever else the vintage lady had to say got replaced by the deafening whoop of a siren.

She bolted up right, servos slamming down on the berth. "Ratchet! Ow!"

"Tried calling you and you didn't respond. Anyone ever tell you that you talk in your recharge?"

"My ex's."

Ratchet began to nod as if this were fact. He paused. "I would like to make one thing clear, though."

The sinking dread of having to sit through another lecture had Cypress assuring she wasn't magnetized to anything this time. "You know that's a joke, right? Marci would have had kittens."

"I can tell. Regardless, your guardian left you in my care and I intend to honor that wish. I don't care what you do, that is your decision when you are a newbuild. As of now, you're a minor."

"How long will that take?"

"Depends, but given your current age, maybe twenty more vorns."

Over a thousand years. More than enough time to figure out what she wanted to do with whatever constituted as a new life. "I can live with that."

He made a snort of disbelief, "We'll see how long that lasts…just do the opposite of Sideswipe."

"I don't wanna know. Where'd you go wrong with him anyway?"

"I'm still running through that data. There is no cure for free will." He ran a remote scan. "Feeling any better?"

"Loads."

"Hopefully that's the last of that. I don't think being stalked and tackled helped any."

She nodded. "Is Prowl always so…"

"Off? Yes. He and Jazz were in a joint branch of Autobot Black Ops when they were a few vorns younger than you. Prowl avoids talking about it and Jazz will talk you in circles. Neither one of them will say much on how they met."

"This is one of those situations where I don't pry, right?"

"Correct."

"But since you brought it up, what branch?"

"A bunch of nasty commandos and assassins: The Wreckers and Spec Ops."

"I thought Prowl was a ninja."

"Partially, never finished his training from what I hear. They've both been a lot of things." Ratchet leaned his bulk against a nearby worktable as he faced her.

"It's good you come from a military background; you'll adjust to the Ark better," the medic said suddenly.

Cypress shrugged. She'd always been around Marci's friends. They were just an extension to her world. Maybe it was because she'd only seen them on leave, but they were pretty lax if the standard definition of military was anything to go by. With Marci it was, "If you're home keep everything clean, be in by dark, take part of the takeout to Eric, homework first, no pay-per-view."

That last part always struck her as weird. Marci didn't have to remind her. Eric could obtain less-than-legal copies of anything without hitting the virus lottery.

Ratchet continued, "This place is seven flavors of stupid on a good cycle. I think training together will be good for the both of you."

She made the universal gesture for squeezing and shaking something.

"That reflex gets dimmer with time. He's not the best with communication. Give him a chance. He's not as terrible as you think."

Not long after that, her frame temperature lowered to a simmer and Ratchet allowed her back out. Or rather, kicked her out to go wander the halls again.

She still didn't feel quite—right. Her chest felt like it was echoing every so often. Best to go ride it out somewhere else.

"I'm sorry about this."

Cypress glanced over at the quiet apology and realized she'd been followed. A definite downside to dulling sensory input.

The faster she got Prowl to leave the faster she could be left alone. "You're just doing your job."

He never answered. "Feel well enough to walk around?"

"Might as well, just taking up space."

He had nothing to say to that either.

"So, where's Bee?"

"With Ironhide."

More silence.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?"

"Only when something needs to be said, but I do need to speak with you in private."

They'd stopped in front of his room and she backpedaled. She still remembered the sterile area from the previous night. No knick-knacks to speak of. No blanket on his recharge berth. Nothing on the wall. Just a weird crystal sticking out of what looked like rust in an even more alien looking pot.

"No thanks."

He seemed like he was stifling his doorwings from swinging up and back, "What's wrong now?"

"Can we go somewhere else?"

Cypress could see him piecing together why she didn't want to go in alone in real time.

Prowl finally frowned, "You really think that little of me?"

"Yes, and worse if I knew for sure there wasn't antifreeze where your spark should be. Besides, your room gives me the creeps. Did you just move in or something?"

"I keep my most important belongings in subspace. I'd advise you to do the same."

He started off without her.

"What's with the plant then?"

"It's a crystal. I'm attempting to grow it." He jerked his helm in the direction of the observatory…

Otherwise known as the adequately sized leftover spot above the bridge where the glass continued and there was enough clearance for a good view. Sort of like a second rec room but not for roasting your teammates.

She followed, "Is this what the Cybertronian version of the flu is like?"

"What did Ratchet say?"

"He wasn't for sure, some form of bond sickness."

"Oh. Strange."

"Does everyone have this?"

Prowl went quiet for at least a klik, "It's subjective. You'll feel better tomorrow."

There weren't really any chairs up here, just mats and an all-encompassing void of stars above.

Prowl sat. Apparently, he meant for her to do the same. Her frame reverted to beast-mode and she bundled herself into a tight ball.

She feigned dosing off to keep from talking.

"Cypress?"

She didn't want to answer.

"Are you up?"

Why wouldn't he leave her alone?! She had half a mind to bite— No, that was something a wolf would do. She was human…or whatever grey definition of species Transformers rested on.

~ Cypress? ~

Said Preda sat up with a startled jerk for the second time that cycle, looking daggers at the adult Praxian. "WHAT?"

His posture said 'thin fragging ice', but his voice had the forced patience every adult faked. "Bee will be on his way here after shift. Until then, I want to talk to you about your future here."

Physical discomfort mysteriously gone, she sat up. "That's Optimus' job."

"Partly. I'm going to tell you a story."

She rolled herself to face him and propped up a paw beneath her jaw. This should be good.

"Once, an old mercenary warned me against going out into Cybertron with friends pre-war. He said we would see and experience terrible things. We didn't listen and he was right. Every word of it. So, I'll give you the same chance he gave us."

Some ragged edge of resentment poked at her spark and it honed in on Prowl. "It's a little late for the warning this time."

"So, help me, I will lock you in the nearest storage room." He hissed under his vents. "How hard is it to shut up? Or did they forget to break the rib that controls that?"

There was an audible screech as her claws dug into the floor. "What in pit is wrong with you?"

"I ask myself the same thing regarding you every time we speak."

There were two ways this could end and one of them consisted of attempted murder. She assumed bipedal mode and slammed the manual door leading to the short stairwell they'd gone up.

Cypress didn't bother going further than the second step, he seemed the type to follow. Surprisingly, he stayed put.

"Are you still there?"

She opted to move to the bottom of the stairwell.

"Could you stay?"

"So we can finish yelling, you mean?"

"No."

"Fine, I get it I'm crashing the party. I didn't ask to be here."

A much more feral EM leaked through the flimsy door. "You really think that makes you unique? No one on this ship is here by choice. No one told you to help Bee, we would have found him on our own. If you'd minded your own business, you'd be home, no one would be dead, and I wouldn't be here listening to a whiny youngling when I've got better things to do."

She clenched her jaw and locked her vents to prevent any sound from escaping. It hurt only a little more than her earlier adventure in locking vents.

"I'm sorry."

He wasn't.

Cypress swallowed the venom draining down her throat, "It doesn't matter. Nothing anyone can do anyway…Is there anyone else I can train under here?"

"Technically yes. Jazz. We're running on a skeleton crew but there will need to be a reason for transfer given."

Not a shred of remorse.

"You think I'm stupid."

Silence. "I didn't say that."

"Then why do you do that? The tone and flatness? Everyone here is a robot and you act the most robotic of all. Something is wrong with you and that's coming from the glitched Earthling. We didn't get along from the start and frankly, I could care less if you never spoke to me again. Why are you bothering?"

He went silent for a long while after that outburst.

Cypress rubbed at her temples, "I'll stay away from you. I'll put myself down as incompatible. You won't have to worry about anything."

This time she did get to the bottom stair.

"Even after you realized you weren't defending a human you still did anyway. Why?"

She let out a stilted snort, "Pity, lonely too, I guess. Maybe latent coding."

"Did it have something to do with your assault?"

"Can we please not talk about that…"

"Humor me?"

She clenched her denta, longer canines raking against each other with a low grind. "I'm guessing between eavesdropping and scanning my records you know the basics?"

"Argument between friends turned sour, too much physical trauma for a sparkling human or otherwise, odd behavioral shifts following, and a shutdown of social skills."

Cypress nodded despite knowing he couldn't see it. "This guy found me, field patched me, and brough me back to the school. No one deserves to be hurt and alone like that where anyone can hurt them."

Something in his field shifted ever so for the better, "I admired that. Kindness is in short supply. The fact your frame isn't compatible with your old form's specifications intrigues me. It was rushed. That's not a good feeling." Prowl paused, "That's why I want to help."

"You can't even help your own processor to vocalizer filter."

"That is how I'm coded. I can only try."

"Then it's like a…" she didn't want to say 'glitch' lest they have to start all over. "…Did something happen to you?"

"I've always been like this more or less."

That was about as helpful as Ratchet said he'd be. "Huh. Sorry for snapping, its… I don't feel good anywhere. Every time I think I'm getting used to being this something messes up inside me and I feel like I'm losing my mind."

There was a quiet hum.

"Several lifetimes worth of sensation and experience compressed into a few cycles. Honestly, I expected a much worse breakdown earlier. Now all that's left is cabin fever."

"Fun. What else do you want to talk about?"

Prowl seemed to steel himself.

"Optimus would never want to go into detail, but somehow lack of information is just as bad. You'll be part of a military outfit, expected to follow orders. He won't issue anything official but what do you plan on doing about it?"

"Whatever I can to help?"

"Smart answer. You're too scrawny a frame for anything close to frontlining. Maybe after you reach your last frame stage—if then. You'll fit right in with our subdivision. Scouting and espionage."

"That sounds…sketchy."

"Depends. We'll be working intimately together; I want to know I can trust you."

"How?"

"Patience."

Whatever that meant. Cypress nodded, processor already drifting to back to the vintage lady. Prowl had talked, just for a moment, like her…

"You must have been so lonely on Earth. Just Marci to keep you stable and isolated from anyone like you? That sounds like a sad life."

"I had Rilo."

"A holoform."

"If you don't know what you're missing, it's alright."

"The isolation, the gnawing at your spark, believing you were hallucinating while it was normal bodily functions for a Cybertronian.… You didn't even have an alt that resembled local humans."

She finally flexed her claws. "Knock it off, Prowl."

The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of him. The mech creeped her out. Something not-right lurked beneath his visor. Yet there he was, forcing worry.

He pushed a data slug beneath the door.

"I was disowned by my family, Jazz and, our dear friend Arcee, lost theirs. Our fourth chose to leave his for his own reasons. We wound up forging a kinship together. Bee was the last to join, after our fourth left the team."

"Did he die or something?"

"He isn't the most—sociable Transformer. He had a falling out with Jazz." He chose to move on quickly from that topic. "It's been about 11 vorns since we've had a new member. I can offer you a place on our team for however long you would like. It would be good experience."

Prowl nudged the slug again. Cypress continued to glare at it.

"The program is a simple patch; it'll heal into your coding easily. You'll be able to speak over bond. I can't guarantee everything will be fine from here on, but you won't be alone."

Wasn't that what Arcee had done?

Whatever further logic had been there to distrust quietly washed away. Not being alone… That had never seemed like a viable option. There was school, home, and the woods.

School had been strange after getting transferred in the 5th grade. Following being introduced to the class, everything just went by in a blur. Some brave soul had attempted to befriend her—Izzy something or the other—and she'd bitten the poor kid's head off. Figuratively.

All she'd wanted was to be left alone—and this kid wouldn't stop following her around. It was scary and all she could see was another bad friendship waiting to implode.

Cypress couldn't remember all she'd said, but she didn't stop until she had the girl backed into a corner, sobbing.

It earned her in-school-detention for a week, the label of "psycho", and mercifully left alone.

Funny. Once she got her wish, it didn't feel as good as she'd hoped. Attitudes ranged from apathy to—in Izzy's case—fear. Group partners were forced and didn't want to come over to study.

She couldn't even blame it on humans sensing something off about her. Bitterness seeped into every fiber of your core. Playing into their presumptions was her armor, it kept her safe.

Ironically, there had been a rumor she was raised by wild animals. They weren't completely wrong. She liked finding companionship with nature—and tolerated the occasional tween or teen that believed they were kin to some forest animal. At least she could make sure they didn't get themselves killed.

Like that greasy-haired, pouty lipped runaway—Vlad something—on his way to "find his true form as an alien creature of stone".

She didn't ask questions, just kept walking.

The woods were familiar haunt and largely safe outside of hunting season. She hated having to wear that stupid, neon orange vest. The animals didn't mind her as much as the property owners did.

In a house, though, you didn't have to keep an eye out for grizzlies, serial killers, and cultists. Home had her family, disordinate as it was.

The only one that seemed to understand the wordless longing was Rilo. The dog had been her constant comfort, but there still wasn't the warm static in her chest she felt now. Then it had been a stilted bond with Marci, then blankness. At least now there was a spark of something.

There wasn't a concise word to describe the void she'd lived with lodged in her chest. It felt like a river stone; smooth, grey, cold, and bruise-worthy when thrown.

Prick said he could fix it, though.

At what point she'd sunk to accepting his offer, she couldn't pinpoint. It wasn't like she was surrendering her throat to a predator. More like picking up a spider.

Cypress opened the door slightly.

"That program came from you. You copied it, right?"

"Yes."

"Then we don't need this." She shoved the slug back and slid her wrist port cover back. "I am going to trust you won't fry what's left of my processors. If you do, I will find some way to make your life miserable."

If he was surprised at her offering a wrist port or the threat, Prowl didn't show it. She got rewarded with a demeaning pat to her shoulder.

"In that unlikely event, you're welcome to try. I'm going to perform a transfer; this make take some time. You can go back to recharge if you choose. Relax."

And stupidly, she did.

Back in her head, the vintage lady was waiting, kicked back on the couch, quietly humming along with the peppy theme on screen.

Her white-haired head flopped over, eyes teasing between yellow and bronze. ~ Hey! You're back early! ~

Cypress opened her mouth, then closed it again.

~ There you go, talk with your spark. ~

~ Do you know a Praxian, black and gold? Pain in the aft? ~

Arcee cackled, ~ Unfortunately. Prowl's one of my besties. ~

~ You need better friends. ~

~ Wait until you meet my sparkmate. ~

One of these days, she was going to learn to accept her species was weird as pit. This cycle was not then.

~ You aren't a dream then… what's— ~

~ One thing at a time, he's patched into your systems, right? And you're doing bad enough from the initial introduction. Let's hang out. ~

Cypress finally relented and dropped on the couch, taking comfort in the saggy cushioning.

The screen flicked between bits of old memories, actual tv programming, and a slow progression of a foreign system rooting through her own.

It had been alien, but invigorating when Bee had patched in and shown her how to alter settings. Cypress was doing everything in her power to ignore what Prowl was doing out there. Apparently, it had a strong effect on how fast the channels were changing.

Cypress finally shut it off, ~ Nothing good on anyway. ~

~ As tense as you are can't believe you went through with this. ~

She shrugged, ~ He said I won't be by myself if I let him do this. I think he's lying; probably gets a high off of messing with people. ~

~ Mm, I don't think so. I'm reading you a lot clearer even now. ~

It was true. Arcee's color saturation was more vibrant.

Her "eyes" were angry about that change. Cypress rubbed at them briskly, ~ Where is this? It's different than last time I linked. ~

~ I call it a happy place. Your best memory frozen in time that you use as a lobby. ~

~ Lobby… Is this an everyone thing, or just us? ~

~ I guess. Different strokes for different folks. I don't exactly like linking with everyone I meet. It's a lot of dead people on the end of most 'formers bonds nowadays. ~ She thumped the center of her chest as if affirming an oath, ~ Bonds are a dangerous thing to have, but vital to sanity whether its one like this or a surface level acquaintance. That make sense, kid? ~

~ Yeah. Where's your happy place? ~

Arcee groped around and yanked the middle cushion between them off, poking holes in the fabric with her suddenly pointed nails.

~ Take it easy! Those are hard to replace! ~

~ Imaginary, not real. They'll be fine. Look. ~

Cypress tucked her braids back and leaned into the gap made only to suck in a breath. Even though they were looking down, the view was horizontal, poking slightly above wispy blue tinted fiber optic filaments.

It looked like someone had dumped a crystal growing kit into a dilapidated warehouse and it went wild. All hues of crystal and foreign wildlife jutted out in bioluminescent wonderland.

~ Did—did Cybertron look like this? ~

~ The underground did. Above ground was mostly developed cities. ~

~ Its beautiful. ~

Arcee smiled, true and proud. ~ I'd invite you in, but I don't want you to get jolted if someone rouses you again. Getting trapped in someone's head won't damage you as bad as a physical link, but it won't be fun. ~

Cypress nodded, ~ Thanks. For this. ~

The vintage lady shrugged it off, ~ It's good to have another femme on the team. You really don't want to have to figure all this bond stuff out on the fly. The four of us had to. I'm going to hazard and guess Prowl hasn't talked much about his past? ~

~ No? ~

~ It's a sore subject but you deserve to know. ~ She winced slightly, ~ Come on, guys... Someone on my end wants me alert. Distance requires concentration. ~

Arcee swung her legs into the landscape below, light-up sneakers of all things kicking aimlessly. ~ Keep them and yourself in one piece until we get see each other in real life, m'kay? ~

~ You got it. ~

She dropped in with a flash of grinning fangs—and suddenly there was only couch lint and wadded up sketch papers where the portal had been.

The only reaction she could muster was, ~ Huh. I was looking for those… ~

Then the TV's screen flickered an angry amber. The glass splintered with a cascade of the color seeping out and she blacked out again.

~o~o~o~o~o ~

Prowl withdrew with a visceral wince. It felt like the scummiest thing he'd done to date. Convincing—no, manipulating—a naïve youngling into joining his pack. Even if it had gone rockier than intended. Someone had untapped rage…

His Rubicon coding had no right to be as sated as it was with those facts, least of all himself.

The files sealed away in her helm that Jazz and Ratchet couldn't access easily fell open to him. Why the Dread hadn't removed them was obvious. They were tied to her basic functioning, hardwired in. Someone had rigged it to repress any early non-human memories as well. The rest seemed to be preferences for hunting and choices in packmates.

Tarantulas really had left a lot up to the frame's interpretation. An odd choice for an experiment, but he, technically Arcee, Cypress, and this fourth subject, they were all prototypes. He seemed like the type to observe until a glaring error appeared—then dissect it to find where it went wrong.

He deleted that train of thought.

The Preda was out like a light; frame cooler and much more relaxed with her coding patched to mirror the combination needed to sync with them. A bond didn't need to be forced; it would strengthen with time.

Prowl also didn't think he could stomach overriding another's free will again, even if it was less of a hassle.

He retracted the line and woke her up enough to get her back to beast-mode. She never seemed comfortable recharging in root mode. That might have been only around him, though.

It wasn't all bad…they were happy now. Right? No need to get the Dread involved anymore than they already were.

Prowl noted he kept stroking her audio, admiring the design. It wasn't like Cypress would let him while she was awake. She reminded him of their team's pet steeljaw, Flamewar— A charming resemblance even he knew better than to voice out loud. Predas tended to be weird about that. He wasn't eager to hear their Preda's reaction.

They desperately needed an off-road build. Bee's Pretender suit consumed to much energy, Arcee's alt was too disconcerting, and he couldn't reveal his own.

~ You can come in now. ~

Jazz dropped from the ceiling with his usual flare. ~ Thought I was going to have to break you two up. Word choice mech, we've talked about this. ~ He huffed, ~ She's gonna be pissed if she finds out you're petting her… ~

~ They're very reactive. ~ To demonstrate he pushed one audio straight up. It held, twitched, and settled back limp against her head. ~ Besides, when isn't she? ~ Prowl did stop though. He wasn't clear on the Predacon equivalent, but one didn't quickly forget having your wings groped.

He tucked her neatly out of the walkway, looking thoughtful. ~ She had all the symptoms…out of nowhere. ~

~ Stress-induced it would seem. A shame. ~ he trailed wryly.

Jazz snorted, ~ Does it feel weird working with someone pre-programmed? ~

~ There's no difference. ~

~ You know what I mean, you were both in Koa. Complementary design. ~

Prowl withdrew slightly. ~ It's a familiar feeling, not as bad as then. ~

~ Find anything else? ~

~ Deeply ingrained coding. Nothing as malicious as a kill-switch. ~

~ Good. Less I have to worry about. ~ Jazz hummed, plopping down before him with a more relaxed field, ~ Visor off, let's see if it worked. ~

Prowl did as asked. It wasn't often he removed it, just long enough for Ratchet to confirm nothing was broken. Coincidently, also long enough to fake his old icy blue optic color.

One was as bright and amber as honey, his left finally brightened to a healthier hue. It was still intercut with tinges of two blues, yellow, and a red.

~ Green. ~ Jazz offered a feeble grin, ~ It worked. ~

Prowl replaced visor quickly, ~ Good. I'm glad. ~

An obvious half-truth.

Jazz kept his frown. ~ It's not fair. We got off with nothing- ~

~ Missing limbs and permeant trauma aren't nothing. ~

~ And you got— ~

~ Turned into a monster? ~

Jazz gestured helplessly, ~ Not what I meant…but… ~

~ I know. ~ It never ceased to amaze him how drastic this personality was from the assorted masks Jazz wore, this one self-conscious and vulnerable. Genuine.

~ They made you match the rest of us. ~

Prowl couldn't argue with that, much as he'd like to deny. So, he pulled Jazz down to sit beside him, shoulders snug to better rehearse what it was people did to comfort others. At least Jazz was more patient than most.

~o~o~o~o~o~

Spending half the cycle partially comatose wasn't exactly her idea of fun, Cypress wouldn't complain. At least, that's what she'd said up until a ped slammed down inches from her head.

The Preda managed a drunken four-legged stagger and stared up at the massive form of Ironhide.

Sharp blue optics peered down from a frame that seemed to dull whatever light was left in the room.

"I'll be seeing you bright an' early next cycle."

He left as quietly as he'd come, EM holding a tinge of amusement. Yeah, no wonder he'd been Marci's favorite 'former.

She transformed and dug the heels of her palms into her optics to chase the sleep away. Which she stopped after feeling multiple scrapes and kicking herself for forgetting metal and faux-flesh were not equivalents.

But there was noise. Staticky patterns. Conversation. Laughter. Both inside and out.

~ Yah didn't fry her processor. Good job! ~

~ Shut up, Jazz. ~

That only left her open to be accosted by a blur of yellow and an ecstatic EM. Bee's arms encircled her and it shocked her when she reciprocated. He clenched a bit tighter before releasing with a bright flare. ~ You're here! ~

Cypress nodded dumbly, ~ Yeah! ~

~ Prowl said you passed out during training. ~

~ I did not. He's trying to kill me. ~

Bee winced, ~ Been there. Hurts doesn't it? ~

~ You'll live, ~ Prowl put in.

~ Get off the line. ~

~ You can't kick me out so easily. I brought you in. ~

Cypress canted her helm, ~ So, you're saying if you get too prickish, there's a chance? ~

Jazz waved them both off, ~ Okay, you two. The point is, you're not overheating and we're all on the same page. Anyway! ~ he clapped. ~ Welcome to Ops. You are here via your neutral status and because heavy artillery would shred you like tissue paper. ~

Jazz neglected to mention her habit for skulking around out of eyesight and Bumblebee's repair incident.

Something like an intrusive thought tugged at her processor.

~ You think loud. I'm getting to that. This will not be fun, you'll probably come out of this messed up, but it's necessary. ~

Bumblebee's posture shifted ever so slightly into something more stoic, ~ He's gonna do the movie thing. ~

~ Later, yes, more like a preview of what's to come. ~

The barest twitch of his servo had her lurching backward, away from the shiv pointed at her olfactory ridge. There was a very different version of Jazz sitting before her, one that would just as quickly do you harm. And somehow, he still felt more honest than Prowl.

~ Pop quiz. When someone above your rank asks you to carry out an order, it needs to be done. No matter how cruel it seems, that's life out here. ~

He gestured flippantly at Bumblebee, ~ Another Prime tells you to kill him, do you carry it out? ~

The possibly glowing blade was making her optics cross. She couldn't quite tell if it was physical or hard-light. Then it tapped her olfactory twice.

Right. Answering. It was a trick question and she shouldn't answer—

~ Why? Unless he turned on everyone, there's not a reason to. ~ It was also very hard to want to off someone who'd had your back in a doomed fight.

~ You're not supposed to ask questions. ~

~ But I'm not an Autobot, I don't know this 'former. If anything, I should be shooting them instead ~

Jazz's derma had formed an impassive line. He was frowning behind his visor.

She guessed.

It was like trying to read someone's expression through their shades. He didn't make a move to encourage or discourage any further statements. There was a disapproving twist, subtle but enough to get her rambling.

~ I don't like killing things…I've never killed someone before. Is it too late to transfer to medical? ~

~ You're right, you're a terrible soldier. ~ he smiled slyly; the shiv vanished. ~ But you pass. Need to work on your lying face. ~

~ But… ~

~ You should keep working with Ratchet. He won't admit it, but he needs a servo and we need a new medic in Ops. Last one had to stop practicing. There's one thing Prowl didn't tell you. ~ Jazz was already popping up, waving them onward. ~ We're not the most Autobot-ty Autobots… We're supposed to be dead by most accounts. Buuut some of that aint my story to tell. ~

He led their party down to the bridge, where Optimus and Sideswipe were.

"Hey, Prime! Going through initiation, Cyps has a question!"

She glared at Jazz, who'd turned impassive.

Avoiding Optimus had become something of a sport. It wasn't that he was mean. He gave off a warm, uncle-like vibe. She liked him well enough—from a healthy distance. Even at her current size she had to look up to make optic contact. The guy was half the size of a Gundam, had a voice that made her spines stand on end, the captain, and could kick her off the Ark if it struck him.

Not intimidating at all.

She jerked a thumb back to Jazz, "He said you're all supposed to be dead."

An optic ridge quirked, "You couldn't have been more specific, Jazz?"

"Nope."

"There is a second reason we are out on the fringes of civilization. We have reason to believe someone in our faction had reason to eliminate us. We were given a bogus mission and ambushed. This was their ship."

She frowned, "Did you guys steal state secrets or something?"

"Ice cold." Sideswipe commented.

"Mistaken identity?"

He snorted, "They're not blind."

"Someone doesn't like your team?"

"Warmer. You get one more try for the jackpot."

"You were framed for a crime you didn't commit, now you help the innocent while on the run from the military."

"Now you're not even trying."

Optimus gave Sides a sidelong look of exasperation and he went back to watching the monitors.

"Their motive is still unclear, but, more than likely they were after myself and Ironhide for our former allegiance."

She waited for an answer, then read between the lines. The cycles events finally settled in like a cinderblock and her processor ground to a halt.

Frag.

"You're Decepticons."

"At one time. I was integral in starting the movement along with Megatron. We're half-siblings, we lead a revolution for change on our planet, but we had our differences. Once their tactics for change became extremist, it ended in us parting ways and parting our forces. I chose to join the Autobots. Megatron leads the Decepticons." His field stayed steady.

Cypress vaguely noticed her own flatlining. "Extreme like how?"

"Three city-states burned in one cycle; Praxus, Uraya, and Polyhex. Thousands died. Not a pretty sight up close." Prowl said quietly.

"You were there?"

"That was home." Jazz added, nodding to Prowl, "We were fortunate to be on the fringes. It only got worse for Cybertron from there."

"Then you're Autobots…but some people don't see it that way." She puzzled out loud.

The blue helm tilted in a nod, "Having a prominent ex-Con as a Prime boosts recruitment numbers but eventually…I suppose it's a liability."

She stuffed down an unknown form of irritation. They were so clear cut in the beginning, no mentions of this back on Earth. But then again that would have only made things more complicated.

He continued. "As I've said, we're unsure whether or not we were slated to be eliminated in the Cybertron's final cycles. Any contact has been hindered by our placement in the galaxy."

Marci and she couldn't trust her former teammates. The Ark crew couldn't put full trust in their faction.

She sent a prickle of sarcasm Bee's way.

~ I think you forgot to tell me about one other thing. ~

The other youngling responded with a tinge of remorse, ~ Prime said ex-nay. ~

She straightened, "You don't know if they're still after you, sir."

"No. I would hope this doesn't affect your decision to stay aboard."

Cypress offered a thin smile even she could tell was forced, "Sounds like we're all in the same boat. Can't go home." She shook her helm, "Seems fun here. I've always wanted to be an outlaw."

Prime didn't take offense.

He actually looked a bit relieved.

"I see Ops has already ambushed you. Feel free to come back with any questions."

At least they could go now.

~ I've always wanted to be an outlaw. ~ came a tinny mimicry of her voice as she trailed behind Prowl. It was either Jazz or Bee this time.

"Well, what would you have said?"

"Not that."

"You didn't glitch this time, great!"

She snorted, mind still lagging. Birds of a feather flocked together. Outcasts would pick up outcasts.

"It doesn't—" Cypress stopped, ~ It doesn't bother you Prime and 'Hide were Cons? ~

~ No. ~ Bee answered immediately, ~ He changed and he tries to make things better for 'formers that haven't gotten a fair shake in life. Being on the Bot side just makes it better. ~

Jazz made a sucking noise from some orifice, ~ Everyone's got their own view. I like the idea of siding with the lesser of two evils. ~

Again, Prowl stayed quiet.

Jazz let out a sigh, "I think that's enough for the first cycle, kiddo. Where are your quarters?"

"I don't have any." She stared at the ceiling rather than the visor that turned back.

"I've just been sleeping in med bay. There's this nice cabinet."

It was just big enough to turn around in, in alt with three snug walls and a door. Ratchet hadn't had to open it just yet. He would not be happy when he finally did.

"Sparklet, no. You don't have ta recharge in there."

"Why not?"

Prowl gave her a look, "It's not humane when there are better resources available."

"I like the pressure. No one can sneak up on you in a box." She said quietly, "Safe and an advantage of surprise."

The tricolor mech looked like he was holding back from saying something.

Instead, he shook his helm, "Didn't know civvies did that. Which cabinet?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a hidey hole."

Jazz hummed but left it alone. For now.

She got prickles of mischief and the acceptance of a challenge out of the bond.

After working their way back down the lift, Jazz led the way to the hall with everyone's rooms. In two right turns they were facing down the hall with everyone's quarters.

"Got free space here, here, here," he rattled off about seven "here's" ending with "But some of 'em are like, storage closets."

Different markers popped up in her HUD showing occupied and open rooms. She didn't bother back tracking to furthest side of the hall, Sunny's was down there and the last thing she wanted was to have to sneak past his quarters.

She picked the one snug against Ratchet's.

Jazz smirked as if he'd predicted and keyed it open.

Inside looked as plain as Prowl's room, minus the plant. There was a berth, a broken chair, a desk, and a smashed crate, surprisingly not all coated in dust.

Suspicious.

"Guess we'll leave you to it."

She leaned against the closed door and looked around, making peace with the fact she'd joined a space gang.

Maybe that was too harsh.

People did what they had to do to survive. Just because they had been something did not mean they still were. The crew didn't scare her—most of the crew anyway—fear was a daily routine.

It was always good to have a place to cool down. Something in her coding screamed for it.

Cypress took a few steps, ducked beneath the berth, then her desk, tapping the wall behind each of them.

Claws sank into her chosen spot beneath her desk. Hollow. Then she picked out the rivets in the wall, removing a panel just big enough to fit her. True enough, there was a hollow space between the walls. There were wires snaking up the sides, there was a deep, mechanical thrum resonating, and it smelled like someone had left a fork in a microwave. It would work out just fine.

She crawled back out, replaced the panel, and immediately went back to med bay.

"And you're back." Ratchet said flatly, "Why am I not surprised."

"I missed you!"

"You've only been gone a few joors."

Cypress shrugged. She didn't want to admit her new guardian's presence put her at ease. "Do you have, like, three cabinet hinges?"

"Yes…" Ratchet stopped welding to give her a quizzical look.

"I'm making a hidden door."

"Like your cabinet." One corner of his mouth turned up.

"You knew."

"I'm not sensor blind. I'm assuming you found a room?"

"Yup. We're next-door-neighbors."

He hummed.

Cypress folded her arms on a nearby workbench, intent on watching him sift through his cabinets, returning with three sets of hinges.

"Thanks."

"Everyone needs hobbies. Mind the wiring." He regarded her quietly, "This still isn't like home, is it?"

"That obvious?"

"You won't leave med bay."

"So? You sleep in here."

He popped something in his spinal strut back into place. "Trust me, you'll pay for it. Do as I say, not as I do."

"You sound like Michaels after a bender."

"Its fine if you miss Earth, went through the same thing went I went to University. Even sleeping on people's floors…Where's your sketch pad?"

"Prowl stole it. He said I need to interact with the crew."

"Ironic…" Ratchet grumbled, "Come on, might as well get you familiar with medical equipment. What you did for Bee was excellent given the circumstances, but do you know how to treat something deeper than slashed armor and protoform?"

"No…he had the welder. I wasn't going into nursing or mechanics, closest I got was anatomy and percussive maintenance."

He raised an optic ridge.

"The campus vending machine was pain in the butt."

"You are both very fortunate you didn't light Bee up like a holiday conifer."

The dark humored imagery was enough to get her to settle in without complaints. Ratchet began pulling up holograms she couldn't even begin to process.

"Coby's the one who's supposed to be good at this."

"And he can do so on Earth. No law saying one person monopolizes one skill set. You are here. Audios on, optics focused."


Arcee's TV show is "The Littles", Cypress quotes the "A-Team" opening. Because I still think 2009 was last year and this universe exists in a blender.

"When I offer you survival

You say it's hard enough to live"

"How do you know that you're right?

If you're not nervous anymore"

"Bling"—The Killers