Optimus noticed the change in Bumblebee and Hot Rod a week after the second encounter with Primus. The two mechs began to spend more time together, which wasn't bad in itself. It was when they began to withdraw from the rest of the team that Optimus's attention was drawn to them. As the rest of the crew began to talk about going back home and having free time for themselves like before the war, the two youngling mechs changed. Bumblebee grew nervous, jumping every time somebody said his name, while Hot Rod leaped to attention and grew more eager to please. Something was wrong.

As time passed, the changes became more pronounced, more obvious. Soon everybody on the team had noticed, and they tried to probe into what was wrong, each in his own way, but wherever they probed was a sore spot, and the two mechs snapped and snarled like wounded animals. At last, Ratchet and First Aid were called to inspect them for any physical abnormalities, and they blocked out time to talk with them. Optimus decided to be present during their checkups. He was concerned by the changes, and worry was gnawing at him, fighting with the excitement of seeing home again.

Bumblebee and Hot Rod arrived together, silent and brooding. Ratchet and First Aid began to check their physical well-being as Optimus stood back to observe. Bumblebee flinched with every touch, which was very unusual. Up until a month before, the yellow mech had been happy and playful, though a bit subdued since Silverstreak wasn't around. He knew that the boy was alive and well, some kind of latent connection that had been forged over the last seven years of living with the youngling assuring him that he was okay. Bumblebee had always expected everything, having onlined in a time of war and struggle on Cybertron. Little could stun or scare him, so to see him flinch at every touch of Ratchet, the medic he trusted beyond anybody else, was immensely concerning.

As for Hot Rod, he sat completely still, his optics watching every move that First Aid made, waiting for an order or some other indication of what the younger medic wanted. That was also strange. Hot Rod was the kind of mech to always joke and push the limits. He never sat still and he rarely just listened to orders right away. But now he seemed eager to please, almost overeager, as if he was making up for something.

When the two medics finished, they typed in the information then went over to Optimus. They both looked worried.

"What is it?" the Prime asked.

"Nothing physical," First Aid said, his blue optics bright with worry. "Hot Rod shows no deficiencies on his body."

"Bee's fine on the outside," Ratchet sighed.

"Which means that something's wrong on the inside," Optimus surmised. "So we need to figure out what's changed."

First Aid clicked his glossa and his vocalizer spit static as he hesitated. Then he turned. "Hot Rod?" he asked cautiously.

Hot Rod jumped to his feet. "Need something?" he asked with that bizarre overeagerness.

"How are you?" First Aid asked.

There was a pause, and Hot Rod's optics flashed white as an expression of panic briefly crossed his face. Then he smiled, his blue optics twinkling, and the negative reaction might not have even happened. "I'm fine, of course. Never better."

"Really?"

"Of course."

Optimus crossed his arms. "How do you feel, Bee?"

Bumblebee gave a nervous twitch. "Fine," he answered tersely.

"Try again," Ratchet said dryly.

"Oh, frag off," Bumblebee muttered. "You don't care and you wouldn't understand anyway."

The three mechs stiffened, and Hot Rod fidgeted but said nothing, a forced smile on his face.

"Bumblebee?" Optimus asked slowly.

Bumblebee looked down, his optics flashing. "What?"

"Are you feeling well?"

Bumblebee crossed his arms and a grinding noise came from his vocalizer. "You don't care."

"Of course I do," Optimus said, stepping closer. Bumblebee flinched as if Optimus had threatened to hit him.

"You wouldn't understand even if I tried to tell you."

"Try me."

Bumblebee sulked as he uncrossed his arms and tapped at the exam table. He reminded Optimus of Silverstreak as he glared at nothing and with a jolt, Optimus knew what was going on. Primus's words about how it was unnatural that Hot Rod and Bumblebee had never been sparklings or younglings made a sick feeling begin in his fuel tank.

"You two are dismissed," he said abruptly.

Bumblebee shoved himself up, grumbling, and Hot Rod saluted before they headed for the door. First Aid and Ratchet didn't argue with their Prime, but they watched as the two youngling mechs walked out. Ratchet turned to Optimus immediately.

"What's wrong?"

"It's unnatural," Optimus murmured.

Ratchet frowned uneasily. "That's what Primus said."

"Do you think that has something to do with their behavioral changes?" First Aid asked.

"I think so," Optimus said. He tapped his cheek thoughtfully. "I think his presence may have jump started something inside of them that hasn't ever been acknowledged before. Something that needs healing but has never been looked at hard enough for them to know that it's broken."

"So what do we do?" Ratchet asked.

"What can we do?" First Aid added.

"I don't know," Optimus said. "I don't know what's broken inside of them. First, we have to figure that out."

There was a pause, then Ratchet groaned, a low rumble that grated in his vocalizer. "This is my fault, Optimus." He gripped his chest as his spark ached with grief and guilt.

First Aid was alarmed at the pain and defeat in his friend's voice. "I thought we established that Primus was the one who changed things."

Ratchet walked over and sat on the exam table, his expression tired and guilty. "That's not what I mean," he murmured.

"Then what do you mean?" Optimus asked gently.

"We needed soldiers so badly," Ratchet said, his voice hollow. "The Cons were so strong and were bombing our ground soldiers to pieces. We were desperate. So when mechs started theorizing about using the Vector Sigma program to make soldiers instantly, I said yes. I knew there would be consequences from bypassing key growth periods. I said yes, and now mechs like Bumblebee and Hot Rod are going to start falling apart because of my stupid decision."

Optimus grimaced. "You're not the only one to blame. I authorized it and put it in motion. We spoke for months about the pros and cons of using Vector Sigma. And desperation finally won out." The Prime paused. "It was wrong for us to make decisions for sparks that couldn't even think for themselves yet. But there's nothing we can do to reverse that decision."

"Maybe not," First Aid said decisively. "But we can assist Bee and Hot Rod in their healing. It's the least we can do."

"It'll be difficult," Ratchet sighed. "Who knows what kind of damage has been done? They've never known what it is to be a sparkling or a youngling. All they've known is being a soldier, following orders, fighting in a war they didn't start and should have had a choice about. And where has that gotten them?"

"Primus mentioned a couple of things that were wrong," First Aid said. "Anybody remember what they were?"

There was silence as they thought this through. "For Bee," Optimus said then paused. A flush of warmth flooded through his processor and Primus's presence was there, giving him the words to speak. "Bumblebee is very clingy towards certain things. Like Silverstreak. He doesn't like changes"

"But he's been to over three hundred planets with us," Ratchet said. "That was a lot of change."

"But his resistance to change has to do with relationships," Optimus replied. "Take Jazz. When we lost him, he was confused and didn't know where to turn to. Yes, he'd lost subordinates and random mechs in the fighting, but to lose a friend almost broke him. That's when he began to cling to Silverstreak, back when he was Sam. He became even more protective, more possessive. And when Sam was gone, he crashed. But he began to cling to us. And when Sam came back to Earth as Silverstreak, there was a dark period where he wouldn't even let him go anywhere alone."

"I do remember that," First Aid said. "I didn't understand why he didn't want Silverstreak spending time with us. Are you saying it was a change in the dynamics of the close team you'd built here on Earth and his own changed position in his relationship to Sam that made him act like that?"

"That makes sense," Ratchet murmured. He tapped the table. "He's scared of changes in his personal life so he clings to what he knows."

"And he fights to keep everything the same," First Aid said thoughtfully. Then he frowned. "What about Hot Rod? He certainly has had a lot of changes in his relationships and has no problems with making new friends."

The warmth in Optimus's processor felt like a soothing balm, filling him with insights that he'd never have reached on his own, at least not that quickly.

"Hot Rod hasn't had a steady, unchanging core team like Bumblebee did," Optimus replied. "He was moved from team to team early on due to poor behavior and taking risky chances. He ended up on your team under Kup's authority, but by then he'd already adjusted to ever-changing relationships."

"So then what's wrong?" First Aid asked.

"It's simple. He's never had freedom."

There was a long silence.

"Explain," Ratchet said, turning to look at Optimus's face for the first time. He noticed at once the warm gold outline around the baby blue core of his optics, and he understood at once where Optimus's sudden discernment was coming from.

"Hot Rod was brought in the world and told to follow orders. And that's all he's ever known," Optimus said solemnly. "He's never had to live outside the military life. And that life is all structured. You have free time built into your schedule. A time to rest, a time to eat, a time to train, all of that structure is important to being a good soldier. But with the talk of going home and breaking out of the system he's always known, he's beginning to panic. So he's compensating for his fear of the unknown by becoming the perfect soldier. I believe he thinks that if he's the perfect soldier, he will be saved from having to build his own life outside of the military."

First Aid nodded and glanced at Optimus, starting when he saw the blue optics rimmed with gold. He and Ratchet exchanged a look before First Aid spoke.

"So what do we do about all of this?"

"It's not going to be easy to help them, not by any stretch of the imagination," Optimus said, tilting his head. "They need us to understand their problems, but I believe that Primus's presence brought everything that had been hidden to the forefront. They're confused and angry and afraid, and they're overwhelmed by strong emotions they have no way to categorize or understand."

"So… they're younglings?" Ratchet asked slowly.

"They're supposed to be younglings anyway. But yes. They're reacting like younglings. But that only makes sense. Younglings are in a stage of growth where they're leaving the safety of sparklinghood and striking out into the unknown. They're learning responsibility and how to take care of themselves and breaking out of all they've ever been comfortable with. And if you think about what they're going through, that's exactly what they're faced with right now."

First Aid placed a hand to his head. "So we lost one emotional, unsure youngling to wherever Primus took him, and now we've got two to take his place?" He looked worriedly between Ratchet and the Prime. "Can we handle that?"

The warmth receded, leaving First Aid's question drenched in cold reality. Optimus stood there, suddenly unprepared for the daunting task in front of them. It had been so long since anybody on the team had been younglings. They had proved for seven years that they weren't prepared to handle one, and it had been almost a relief when Silverstreak had disappeared. But now two of his most loyal soldiers were faced with the chore of growing up mentally and emotionally to fit their fully grown bodies. First Aid's question was serious, and Optimus was afraid that everything was going to crash around his audios even as he replied in a grim, determined tone.

"We have to help them. No matter what."

But he was certain that he was getting in over his head. And once again, the burden of leadership settled over him, leaving him feeling alone, afraid, and inadequate. But as usual, he straightened and smiled and pretended that everything was alright, wondering yet again if he would ever really feel comfortable in his position as Prime.