If it had been strange for the younglings to adjust to life with one more youngling, learning to live with five was flat-out bizarre. Silverbolt was clearly their authority figure, and as soon as Silverstorm had come out of the medbay, he had requested that any behavioral issues be relayed to him. Silverstorm agreed wholeheartedly, having noticed that the shorter flier, Slingshot, was a bit abrasive and that Air Raid was a bit confrontative. When that was agreed to, Silverbolt instantly became more relaxed.

Skydive and Red Alert became friends almost at once when news of Skydive's assessment of Primus and his Ancient symbols got around. They both were intelligent, and they spent hours talking about all that they knew. Both Silverstorm and Silverbolt were pleased. It turned out that both younglings were more loners than their companions, so to have them become such fast friends so quickly was promising.

Fireflight was the oddest out of all of them. Whereas Slingshot and Air Raid would talk and socialize with the others, Fireflight was constantly with Silverbolt, sticking to him so closely that he was never alone. Silverbolt seemed to understand something about the youngling because whenever he was left by himself, he went into one of several states, one of which was catatonia and the other was a rocking, disoriented mess, much like the one that Silverstorm found him in. The fliers would not talk about what was going on with Fireflight, though, and they got very angry and defensive when asked.

Silverstorm was concerned, but when he spoke to Primus, the mech advised him to be patient and build his relationship with them. So as irritating as their secretive natures were, the Prime bore it with as much patience as possible. Overall, he enjoyed his time spent with the fliers. But one thing became abundantly clear about them. They were the only younglings he'd met with any sort of alt-mode. His own younglings watched with great interest as they flew around and transformed mid-flight to play and dance with each other.

The Prime noticed the desire in his younglings' faces when they stared up at the transforming, happy fliers. He wanted to give them an alt-mode, but he didn't know how. Ultra Magnus was the only one with the know-how to give them the upgrades necessary for transformation. It upset him to see his younglings sulking, and he could sense the beginning of self-hatred and inadequacy in several of them. Red Alert in particular grew angry and bitter about his lack of alt-mode, and he began to snap at everybody except for Skydive.

Silverstorm didn't know what to do. Red Alert would watch the fliers for hours when not speaking with Skydive. Desire was in his optics and he was almost hungry as he watched them twist through the sky. It was only when Sunstreaker burst into his room one cycle that he realized how pervasive the problem was.

"Prime!"

Silverstorm was in the shower, and he jumped and nearly slipped. He caught himself on the wall.

"Sunny? I'm in here! Is something wrong?"

Sunstreaker walked right into the showers, ignoring the spray of cleanser as his optics smoldered. Silverstorm thought with amusement how inappropriate such a thing would have been on Earth then turned to allow the cleanser to coat his back and faced Sunstreaker.

"Is something wrong?"

The yellow youngling narrowed his optics. "If you don't reign in Red, I'm going to cut him to pieces."

"Red? What's he doing?"

"Upsetting Sides," Sunstreaker snapped. "He's becoming worse than ever!"

"He's always been so nice and courteous, though," Silverstorm said, frowning.

"Since you've gotten here and made things better," Sunstreaker corrected, placing his hands on his hips. "Before that, he was bossy and snapped at everyone. He and I got into a lot of fights before you got here. And I'm about to punch his optics offline if you don't talk to him."

"What did he do?"

"He said that Sides's interest in music is stupid and that the piece he's composing is a wreck that nobody would ever want to listen to."

Silverstorm frowned. "He didn't."

"He did. And I'm going to beat his face in unless you make him behave."

"I see. I'll find him after I'm done."

Sunstreaker nodded once then turned and stormed to the door.

"Sunny?" Silverstorm called.

The youngling stopped and turned to look at him, his optics bright with his anger. "What?"

"Thanks for coming to me before you beat his face in."

Sunstreaker shuttered his optics, which turned a bit pink. He relaxed and leaned against the doorway and spoke in a soft, almost gentle voice.

"If you can help me with my anger, you can help him and his arrogance. I've tried using my fists before with him. He goes quiet and then gets louder than before. Your methods might be a little more… effective."

"Still," Silverstorm replied. "I'm proud of you."

Sunstreaker's optics flashed pink, and he smiled a shy smile. "Thanks, Prime."

Silverstorm nodded then turned to finish washing. An hour later, he was dry and striding down the immaculate street toward Red Alert's typical post for watching the fliers after ascertaining that he wasn't in his office or his room. Sure enough, Red Alert sat on top of the unfinished roof of a one-story building, leaning back against the wall of another taller building and gazing with rapt hunger at the fliers dancing above him.

"Mind if I join you?" Silverstorm called up.

Red Alert jerked in surprise then peered over the edge to see who it was. When he saw Silverstorm he nodded once. "Watch the edges coming up. They'll slash you open," he said then lifted his face skywards again.

Silverstorm climbed up with ease. He was so used to his body now that tasks that had befuddled him in the first couple of months were simple to perform. He plopped down beside Red Alert and dangled his legs down into the open part of the roof. He leaned back and watched the fliers as they danced. He loved to watch them twirl and spin with grace and ease. He sighed.

"I wish I could fly," he murmured. Red Alert snorted. Silverstorm continued as if he hadn't noticed. "To be able to soar and dance like that would be incredible."

"Yeah. But you have to be built like that. You can't just change your frame to be a flier-type," Red Alert said.

"I see. Do you want to fly?" Silverstorm asked.

Red Alert laughed, a genuine sound of amusement. "No! I don't like heights. Flying wouldn't be something I'd like." He shifted and glanced at his Prime. "Why do you ask?"

"You just seem to be here watching them whenever you can. I thought maybe you wished you could fly like them," Silverstorm said, shrugging one shoulder.

Red Alert stiffened and looked into his lap. "No. That's not what I wish for."

"Oh? What do you wish for?" Silverstorm asked.

"It doesn't matter," Red Alert said, and the bitterness that Silverstorm had expected was there.

"I think it does. I'd like to hear about it."

Red Alert didn't answer, but he clenched his hands together so hard that Silverstorm could hear the minute sounds of the metal on his hands warping. He reached over and placed one hand on top of the trembling fists.

"Red? Please talk to me," Silverstorm said gently. "What's wrong? Sunstreaker said you snapped at Sideswipe. That's not like you. Something is bothering you. What is it?"

The youngling clicked softly, indecisively, and Silverstorm stayed quiet. There was pain in Red Alert's face, and he seemed almost afraid to talk. Finally, Red Alert sighed out a long intake and sat back. He didn't look up from his lap, but he did stop warping his hands, grabbing the Prime's hand in both of his and tracing the metal.

"You need to be buffed," Red Alert said quietly. "So many scratches."

"Battle practice and forging weapons," Silverstorm replied

"New weapons again?" Red Alert asked. "We've got knives and swords. What's next?"

"Ranged weapons. I think Raj would do very well with a ranged weapon. His ability to camouflage himself and his sharp optics would make him an excellent sniper. But since I can't replicate a gun, I'm thinking a bow and arrows."

"Mm. Sounds interesting."

Red Alert went quiet then sighed again. "I remember my protector. Before the war, before he died, he was a great mech. His alt-mode was my favorite ever. He was a big mech, but his alt-mode was fast and strong. He helped with electrical work, but he'd race on the side to earn extra for treats. I loved watching him."

"He sounds incredible," Silverstorm said. "He died?"

"Early in the war," Red Alert murmured, his vocalizer spitting static as he tried to keep from whining. His hands were shaking as his fingers continued to trace patterns on Silverstorm's palm. "He was killed in a raid on our town. He put me in the cellar and ran out to help. He s-saved thirteen mechs before they got him. They all told me how sorry they were, that he was a brave hero, and they would find somebody to take care of me."

He lost the battle and began to whine, sharp whistles crackling in his vocalizer as he sucked in great gulps of air. He curled his body around Silverstorm's hand, hugging it to his face as he sobbed.

"I-I always w-wanted to be l-like him," Red Alert hiccuped. "And I p-promised him that I w-would pick an alt-mode that he w-would be proud of. H-he said he'd saved up enough credits t-to get m-me whatever I wanted. Then he-he was gone. And everything fell to pieces." He groaned, clutching his chest as his spark ached. "And n-n-now I'll never have one! How c-can he b-be proud of me if I d-don't have an alt-mode?"

Silverstorm absorbed this information with a heavy spark. He rarely heard any of the younglings talk about their sparklinghoods, of what they remembered from before the war. He gently pried his hand from Red Alert's grip then embraced him tightly. Hugging was not a common practice on Cybertron. Unlike soft human forms, the sharp sides and mismatched edges made it difficult to be comfortable while hugging. But it seemed like the best thing to do, even if they would have to touch up their paint later.

Red Alert gasped and clutched Silverstorm with strong hands, unwilling to release him. He sobbed and whined and shuddered, facing the thoughts that he'd managed to avoid for many years. Silverstorm held him close, cooing and churring from deep in his chest. The vibrations were soothing to Red Alert, who slowly began to collect himself. After he'd fallen quiet, intaking evenly, he let out another sigh, this one contented. Silverstorm nudged him.

"Look at me Red," he said. Red Alert pulled back and shyly met his gaze. "This protector of yours. What was his name?"

"Swerve," Red Alert said.

"Was he proud of you as a sparkling?"

Red Alert nodded quickly and beamed. "Oh yes. He was always so proud of me. He liked my experiments and thought I was a clever little sparkling. He loved me because I was his and he always told me I was his sparkpulse."

Silverstorm shuttered his optics and scrambled for some sort of meaning in that. Primus must have been listening because he laughed in his head.

"It's a term of endearment, Silverstorm. It's short for 'the reason my spark pulses'. It means he loved him and Red was his meaning for living."

"Thanks," Silverstorm thought quickly then smiled. "That's lovely, Red. But let me ask you something. Did you have an alt-mode then?"

Red Alert stared at him in bewilderment for a moment then smiled. "I sometimes forget that you're not from Cybertron. No, Prime. Sparklings' bodies aren't mature or stable enough to have an alt-mode. So no."

"Then would he really stop being proud of you just because you don't have one?"

Red Alert shuttered his optics and looked up at the fliers, who were still dancing high above them, outside the shield so they had freedom. A small smile grew on his face.

"No. He wouldn't. He'd tell me he loved me even if things weren't going well. He'd tell me to make the best of the situation and work toward making myself the best I can be, upgrades or no."

Silverstorm sat back and smiled. "I see."

Red Alert relaxed. "Thanks, Prime," he murmured.

"Anytime," Silverstorm replied. He paused. "How would you like a new project?"

"What kind?"

"The arrows I spoke of are cylindrical shafts with a pointed head on one end and stabilizers that help with accuracy on the other end. Problem is, the material they use for the stabilizers on my home planet doesn't exist on Cybertron. I need somebody to run experiments to find the best stabilizers."

"And what do these arrows do when they strike?"

A vision of the superhero Green Arrow flashed through Silverstorm's mind, and he grinned and decided to expand the project at once. "On my home planet, they embed into what they hit. But if you're willing to experiment with the arrowheads…"

Red Alert sat up, his optics flashing with glee. "More than willing. Mission accepted. And Skydive can probably help, too. If you don't mind."

"Of course not. Have fun with it."

They climbed down the building and began to walk back to Red Alert's workspace. Sideswipe was sitting down the street, his optics downcast as he plucked at a stringed instrument. Red Alert stopped.

"I should apologize, right?"

Silverstorm nodded. "And talk to Sunny, too. You upset him by saying those things to his twin."

Red Alert nodded. "Okay. Thanks for everything, Prime."

"You are most welcome."

Red Alert headed straight for Sideswipe, who stopped plucking the strings and began to gather everything to leave. Before he could, Red Alert got to him and began to talk. Sideswipe's angry, hurt expression began to relax, and within two minutes, they grasped hands and began to head down the street together. Silverstorm watched with a smile then headed back inside. It was definitely time well spent.