Author's Notes: Hi everyone! Time for a brand new story! Well, I've actually had this idea in my head for a couple years now, but the inspiration wasn't quite strong enough to write it until recently. I have been totally into TFP again for the first time in a long while, and I just want to write as much of it as I can before that inspiration goes away. I feel like this story is a new take on the whole post-Breakdown storyline, and will give me an opportunity to explore elements the show didn't go into in great detail. It is an AU though, so it won't go in the exact same direction as the canon show. Anyway, enough of me talking. I hope you enjoy this story, and if you think it's good enough to continue please review :)

Chapter 1

Funeral For a Friend

The sight still ran through Optimus Prime's processor; a loop that seemed unwilling to end. Yet another casualty of this endless war, except this time the life lost was from a world that was innocent in their conflict. Not only that, but Optimus felt that he was personally responsible for that loss.

It all started with MECH, a human terrorist organization every bit as ruthless and crafty as any Decepticon. They were butchers that didn't even see Cybertronians as living beings, but rather as objects to be used for their own twisted purposes. MECH had developed a giant robot using knowledge they had acquired from vivisecting Breakdown, as well as a transformation cog stolen from Starscream. With these elements taken from their Decepticon victims, MECH developed a weapon of mass destruction...one that was nearly identical in appearance to Optimus Prime.

Optimus and his team went to MECH HQ to stop the metallic titan, as well as its puppet master; Silas. Optimus knew defeating the mecha would be difficult. What he didn't know at the time was that he was going to have outside help.

Agent Fowler volunteered to take down Silas while Optimus fought the robot. Ratchet, being a medic, was of course skeptical about putting a human at risk in a combat zone, especially without telling the other Autobots.

"Look Doc, I don't plan on dancing with any 'Bots," Fowler had said resolutely, "But there's a human element at play, and in case you haven't noticed I happen to be a highly trained, government grade, human."

Needless to say, the man had a point. The kids even agreed with the idea, though Miko mostly agreed because she assumed Fowler wanted revenge for Silas nearly killing him by running him off the road. Now they would never know if that had been a factor in the decision or not.

Things went wrong with the mission right away. The fake Optimus didn't fool the Autobots, at least not very well, but that didn't matter. The puppet was as powerful and agile as its Cybertronian model, and made quick work of knocking out the other 'Bots. Optimus was still grateful none of them had been killed, though it was a small consolation. He would take any he could get at this point.

When Optimus himself fought the machine, he couldn't help but feel unnerved at talking to Silas all the while fighting something that looked so much like himself. It was like fighting his own reflection in a mirror...if that reflection could fight back. When Silas' robot plunged its blade into Prime's abdominal struts, he was sure that this was the end.

Then, in an instant, his nemesis just...stopped. Optimus didn't know what was going on, and he was in a lot of pain, but he knew he only had a short amount of time to finish off the machine. He pounded it with his fists again and again, and even shot at it a couple times. It didn't move.

When Optimus went for the killing blow however, Nemesis Prime suddenly came back online and grabbed his fist in its servos. Optimus pushed back, and the robot fought him with even greater ferocity. They were on the roof of MECH HQ, and Optimus knew if he could force it through that the impact would short out its circuits. His opponent was human-made after all, and human technology was very sensitive (if Bulkhead constantly breaking Ratchet's stuff was any indicator).

Gathering every bit of his strength, Optimus leapt in the air and clenched his servos together to deliver a powerful blow. His aim was true, and the lifeless double fell through the roof and down below into the control room; destroying the controls and breaking the robot simultaneously.

Optimus breathed an intake of relief, and then tiredly climbed down from the roof to check on his comrades. Arcee and Bumblebee were alert, and Bulkhead was just starting to come to his senses. With everyone safe, Optimus called for a ground bridge.

/Coming right up,/ Ratchet replied, and a moment later the green swirling portal was before them, /Oh, Optimus? Is Agent Fowler with you? I haven't heard from him since I transported him to your coordinates./

/You did what?/ Optimus asked, a sense of alarm spiking in his processor.

As it turned out Optimus had every right to be concerned. The Autobots waited for the military to arrive to explain what had happened. At first no one was willing to listen to the Autobots, but when Optimus showed them the inert doppelganger they decided to believe his story for the time being. When Optimus asked where Fowler could be, General Bryce used Fowler's tracking chip to locate him. Well...to locate part of him.

All they found was a leg, severed all the way up from the thigh. It was a terrible sight for Optimus, but a downright gruesome one for the human military personnel; one of whom even threw up. They couldn't find the rest of Agent Fowler, or even the remains of Silas, who had supposedly been crushed by the robot falling on him...when he and Fowler had been locked in a fist fight.

That fight had been why Optimus was able to take down Nemesis Prime. Because Fowler had distracted Silas for him. Optimus felt even guiltier with that knowledge. Fowler was dead because he was trying to save them...to save him.

The military had their own funeral service for Agent Fowler, but since the government didn't know about the kids they weren't invited to attend. It only seemed right that the Autobots hold their own service for their fallen friend, so that everyone may have a chance to come to terms with what had happened.

Everyone gathered together in the Autobot's command center. All the Autobots were there with the exception of Wheeljack, who could not be located. The kids were also present, along with June Darby. Everyone wanted Optimus to give the eulogy, and he agreed so as to ease the burden of the others. He knew he could hold himself together for the service, but just once he wished he didn't have to. Just once he wished he didn't have to speak over the grave of someone he had sent to their deaths.

The kids and June sat in folding chairs along the observation area, with Miko sitting down last so she could grab a soda. Jack looked over and saw her t-shirt was black with a skull on it that read 'Slash Monkey'.

"Seriously Miko? Slash Monkey swag for a funeral?" Jack whispered.

"It's the only black shirt I own," Miko replied defensively, "You're supposed to wear black to these things, right?"

"That's not a rule," Raf stated, since he was wearing his typical yellow sweater and vest combo.

"Look, it doesn't matter. Forget I brought it up," Jack rescinded, "I just...I can't believe he's gone."

"At least those monsters won't be able to hurt anyone else," June replied comfortingly as she put her hand on her son's shoulder, "You see, Jack? This is why I worry about you. War is serious business."

"I know, Mom. But I also know the Autobots need our help. They would've all died if it hadn't been for Fowler."

Jack grew quiet then, unable to say anything more. The other kids hung their heads, and June started to tear up. Cybertronians dying in their war was upsetting, but there was something more raw and painful about losing a human to the conflict, especially a human like William Fowler. Everyone saw him as goofy and tightly-wound. He would talk in his sleep, wet his pants when he got scared, and wear ties way too small for a man of his height. It was hard to take him seriously, and yet he took his job very seriously. Deathly seriously.

Everyone quieted down from their whispered murmurs when Optimus walked to the center of the room to give the eulogy. He looked as stoic and solemn as ever, and only then did Jack realize that Optimus always looked like he was mourning someone. Maybe he always was, given how long their war had been going on. That thought made Jack both pity and respect Optimus for the burdens he bore.

"Autobots and human allies," Optimus began, "We are gathered here today to honor the memory of Special Agent William Fowler, of the United States military, who gave his life protecting his planet and his friends. Though we only knew him briefly, Agent Fowler left an impact on all of our lives. He was someone who could be counted on when we needed him, and who grew from merely being a liaison to a trusted companion. I owe Agent Fowler my life, as do countless others without even realizing it. I only regret that I cannot repay that debt, and my deepest hope is that he finds a way to be one with the Allspark. Till all are one."

Optimus then quietly left the room to mourn alone, while the others stayed behind to talk.

"Till all are one?" Raf was the first to speak, "What does that mean?"

Bumblebee answered Raf in a series of beeps and whirs, which wasn't much help to the other humans in the room who didn't speak basic Cybertronian.

"What did he say?" Miko asked.

"Bee says it's the Autobot rallying cry; a wish that all Cybertronians can one day live together in peace without war or hatred," Raf translated, "It's also generally said by the Prime either about the dead or to someone who is dying."

"I'm sure Agent Fowler would have liked it," June said as she wiped the tears from her eyes with a tissue.

"Yeah. It's just a shame he had to die in the same place as Silas," Arcee lamented, "At least MECH is out of the picture."

"We do not know that, Arcee," Ratchet pointed out, "They could be anywhere. Even without Silas, their demented movement might still live on."

Meanwhile, in MECH's emergency base, machines beeped and respirators pumped in and out like the sighs of a sleeping behemoth. MECH agents worked tirelessly connecting wires and monitoring vitals. Blood stained the floors, and a giant metallic form was being delivered by a semi truck into the massive laboratory. It was a place for life, and a place for death.

"Our leader's injuries are beyond conventional medicine's ability to repair," The head doctor, clothed head to toe in obscuring black leather, stated, "Fortunately for Silas, our methods are anything but conventional. Do we have the test subject secured?"

"Yes, sir," The doctor's orderly nodded curtly, "The government agent is clinging to life, but barely. The stasis chambers appear to be working, but we have to move quickly if we are to save them both."

"Understood," The doctor replied, "Of course once we save the agent we are to terminate the connection so that the donor can be repurposed for Silas. We just have to be certain this operation will work."

"I am aware of our current objective!" The orderly snapped, "Do you need me to actually do something or did you just feel like talking, Doctor?"

"If Silas heard you speak like that he would shoot you," The doctor replied dispassionately, "Now, start filling the mech with energon. It must be fully functional before the operation can begin."

A few days and a few calls later the Autobots learned that they were being assigned a new special agent to work with them on the local government's behalf. The atmosphere was tense, since none of them knew what kind of person they would have to work with now that Fowler was gone.

"I hope it ain't one of those desk jockeys that think we're just a bunch of machines," Bulkhead groused.

"To be fair, that's what Fowler was when we first met him," Arcee pointed out, "But he learned. I'm sure we can handle whatever we get stuck with."

Bumblebee beeped a question to the others.

"Well, I suppose that's technically possible," Ratchet replied uncertainly, "But it seems unlikely."

"Whoever is sent to us, we should do our utmost to show them courtesy and respect," Optimus told his comrades, "Our operations will run more smoothly if we don't waste time arguing with the human representative."

A few minutes later they heard the elevator making its way down, and they all held their intakes to see what they were dealing with. When the door opened, it revealed a man with a similar build to Fowler, but paler skin and a lot less hair. The new agent was smiling, his tie was practically unknotted, and his brown suit jacket was wrinkled. He was carrying a metal box, though the Autobots couldn't even begin to guess its purpose.

"Greetings, Autobots. On behalf of planet earth, I am honored to work with you," The new agent said in a genial manner, "My name is Lt. Robert Witwicky, though my friends call me Sparkplug. Nice to meet you."

"Sparkplug? Huh, that name actually sounds kinda normal," Bulkhead commented, "I got used to weird names like William and June."

"Yeah, I used to be an Air Force mechanic," Agent Witwicky explained, "So, what are your names?"

"I am Optimus Prime," Optimus introduced himself, "This is Ratchet, our medic."

Ratchet didn't know what to say, so he just huffed a little and went back to work.

"This is Arcee."

"Hey," Arcee casually greeted him.

"This is Bulkhead."

"I think we're gonna get along just fine," Bulkhead assessed.

"And this is our youngest, Bumblebee."

Bumblebee beeped hello.

"Uh, does he talk?" Sparkplug asked.

"Unfortunately Bumblebee's voice box was damaged during the war," Optimus told him, "However, our scout does speak basic Cybertronian."

"Oh. I'm sorry about that, kid," Sparkplug replied sympathetically, "My grandpa had to talk with one of those mics you stick on your throat. Of course his wasn't a war injury. He was a smoker."

Bumblebee beeped in confusion.

"Uh, I'll tell you later," Sparkplug replied.

"You understood that?" Arcee asked.

"Not exactly, but I can read body language," Sparkplug shrugged, "Anyway, I wanna know all about your mission. Your progress, your goals, etc. Debrief me. I even brought my lunch so I wouldn't have to cut it short."

Sparkplug then opened the metal box, revealing a ham sandwich and a thermos of coffee.

"Very well," Optimus agreed, "We came here after the fall of our home planet, Cybertron. We have been at war for millenia with the Decepticons, led by a corrupt tyrant named Megatron. Your planet's energon deposits made it a target for..."

2 Months Later

At first all he could feel was a dull ache, and all he could hear was beeping noises. Everything he perceived was locked in that blissful fog between sleep and wake.

"Uh...five more minutes, Grandma...I don't wanna go to school."

"The subject is waking up," A voice said from somewhere to his right.

Subject? Was that him? Wait, what happened? Fowler tried to clear the fog from his memory. He had been...fighting Silas! Yeah, that was it. He had been distracting Silas so that Optimus could defeat his evil double. He must've passed out when he was sucker punched or something. Wouldn't be the first time.

Fowler tried to rub his eye, but his arm refused to move. That got his attention, so he abruptly woke up to see what was going on. The sight that greeted him was confusing and frightening.

He saw an arm, and a hand, but they weren't his. It was huge, and made of metal. The hand of a Cybertronian. Fowler turned straight ahead to see what was going on, but the only thing in his vision was a blue box.

Panicking, Fowler started screaming and trying to get his (the robots?) arms free, only to be shocked into submission by a MECH agent!

MECH...so, he had been captured. But why was he seeing robot where he should have been seeing all-American patriot? Sighing from exhaustion and pain, Fowler's let his head fall back. When it did, he saw the ceiling. More specifically, he saw the mirror in the ceiling, and a face that wasn't his own.

He saw that the Cybertronian was Breakdown, and that he was surrounded by black-clad MECH agents. Fowler didn't see the most important part of this equation though: himself. He wasn't there. It was just a badly beaten and crumbling Breakdown and the MECH agents. He tried to subtly move his fingers, and Breakdown's fingers moved in the reflection. The box that had obscured his vision had in fact been Breakdown's chest.

So, it was true then. MECH had fused him with Breakdown. Well, the Pentagon was not going to be happy with this report.