Once Beachcomber was settled onto a berth and Ultra Magnus told about the battle, the younglings all settled in as Pipes turned his attention to the Aerialbots. Fireflight was favoring his right side and Slingshot was favoring his left. After a quick examination, Pipes began to repair some minor damage on Fireflight. Silverbolt sat tiredly on the berth, his optics trained on the floor while Skydive and Air Raid leaned against the wall.

Sunstreaker broke first. "So what's a gestalt, Prime?"

Silverstorm looked over. "It's where two or more mechs are altered so that they can transform together into something larger. The better ones have a different consciousness than the components."

"Not exactly," Skydive said.

Silverstorm looked over and raised his optical ridges. "By all means, correct me. I honestly don't know any more than that. We only ran into one on my home planet. And the Autobots' knowledge of them is woefully incomplete."

Skydive looked at Silverbolt, his fingers idly stroking his chest. The Aerialbot leader shrugged. "Go ahead. We're going to talk about this, so he might as well know what it is."

Skydive straightened and began to pace as he talked. "A gestalt is not two or more mechs, it is three. Twins can also combine into one form, though their consciousnesses are still split. Gestalts can occur naturally, but only once Primus has blessed mechs with the title of Prime."

"Whoa, whoa, what?" Silverstorm interrupted.

Skydive looked up, startled. Then he smiled. "You and Optimus would naturally be able to combine into a more powerful form without the extensive torturous experiments that we were subjected to. You would also have a naturally combined consciousness that would be a mesh of your personalities and wisdom."

"I don't think I have any wisdom," Silverstorm laughed.

"That's not true," several younglings chorused.

Silverstorm shifted uncomfortably then shrugged. "Whatever. So all gestalts that aren't Primes would be considered unnatural?"

"Very much so."

Everybody jumped and spun to see Primus leaning on the wall by the doorway.

"Hey," Beachcomber said.

"Hope you don't mind," Primus said.

"Please, join us," Silverstorm said, gesturing him forward.

Primus walked over and sat beside Beachcomber. He pulled him close and began to trace the weld line. Beachcomber relaxed as the aching pain receded, though the weld didn't heal.

"Thanks."

Primus smiled then turned to Skydive. "Continue."

Skydive smiled and nodded then began to pace again. It was clear he thought better when moving, a fact that Red Alert was well aware of.

"When the war began, or even before, there was a theory that gestalts could be manufactured. Before the war they would have been used for projects like building and such, benign things like that. But when the war began, a more violent thought began to spread. And unfortunately for the Autobots, they have morality that wouldn't allow them to do the experiments necessary to flesh out the idea. But Megatron had no such limitations. And so he hired Shockwave, a promising young scientist with no scruples about vicious, bloody experimentation. They struck up a deal. Megatron would provide him with the funds to do any experiments he wanted, and Shockwave would try and manufacture gestalts for the cause."

There was a pause then Slingshot spoke. "We were just friends when the war started," he said quietly. "We were in Iacon when the bombings began. We were desperate to get out of the streets. And we found a mech that seemed interested in helping us. He promised we would be safe from the bombs if we went with him. He said we would have to do things for him, but he was vague. We were so scared, so desperate that… that we said yes."

Air Raid spoke next. "At first he simply took our vitals and learned every bit of our anatomy. Typical medical stuff. We weren't scared, not at first. Then we started meeting mechs in the compound. Some were babbling messes, unable to string two words together. Others would carve themselves up with anything sharp, talking with a bland smile the whole time. Then we started to realize our mistake. We talked together and agreed to leave, but Shockwave stopped us. He asked what we were doing. Silverbolt told him we'd take the bombings over whatever insanity he was creating. Then he smiled and said we had already made our choice. And then everything went dark."

The Aerialbots were silent as Pipes finished repairing Fireflight. The youngling went through the exercises then Pipes nodded.

"Don't lift anything heavy for a week."

Fireflight nodded and stared at his hand, flexing it as Pipes went to repair Slingshot.

"We don't know how long we were down there with him," Fireflight said. "But the things he did to us were horrific. Mental, physical, emotional, there was nothing he wouldn't do. We were his playthings, his shot at creating something new, nothing more. The first thing he did was to turn our groundpounder bodies into flier forms. He modified all of us over several months, all the while twisting strands of our sparks together."

"What?!" Ultra Magnus yelped, his optics wide.

Fireflight smiled a grim smile. "Yep. He would strip out long lines of our sparks and wrap them around the others'. He'd take four strips out of mine, then he'd bare the others' and force them together. It fragging hurt."

"I know what you mean," Blurr murmured. He reached up to touch his chest, trembling from head to foot. "It hurts so bad when they take it out. 'Gotta fix you, Blurr. Gotta make you normal…'"

Silverstorm jumped up and hurried over, hushing him gently. "It's okay, Blurr. You're not there, you're here. Focus on me."

When Blurr had calmed down, Fireflight continued. He seemed to be talking faster now, and Silverstorm knew he wanted to get it all out before he lost his grip again.

"We began to sense each other. At first it was just where we were in a room. We used to separate ourselves as far across the room as possible to try and get rid of it. But the more he messed with our sparks, the stronger the link became. We began to feel each others' feelings, hear each others' thoughts. And we couldn't escape it. It wasn't normal, wasn't natural, and it scared us. Then when we were fliers, he forced us to learn how to fly. It had to have taken a year or more to learn. We were starved if we refused, and when that didn't motivate us, he'd take me and torture me so that the others could hear me screaming and see me writhing and feel the pain and fear exploding out of me. He used to torture me to motivate them, Prime, because I was the most sensitive physically."

Fireflight's optics were bright, and he looked ready to whine. He began to shiver as his optics dimmed. Silverstorm moved from Blurr to Fireflight, slipping his arm around him and tracing gentle patterns on the back of his wings.

"It's okay. Intake, Flight. Output. That's it. Just breathe."

Fireflight buried his head in Silverstorm's neck and shuddered. "It hurt. It hurt so bad. I couldn't keep my mind on the present anymore. It began to slip, bit by bit, until I'm a flighty, spacey mess that can hardly focus. I don't want to be that mech. But I don't know how to stop."

"We can work on that, Flight," Silverstorm said confidently. "You don't have to dissociate anymore. If you want to, we will work on it. Do you want to?"

"More than anything," he whispered.

"Then we'll start working with you on that."

"All of us," Sunstreaker said firmly.

"You aren't alone anymore, Flight," Seaspray said. "I used to think that when my depressive episodes happened, too. I still do sometimes. But they're helping me. And we'll help you, too."

Skydive jumped in. "We have tried," he said. "But we don't know how."

"I'll teach you what I know," Silverstorm said. "And we'll learn the rest together."

The Aerialbots all looked at them, grateful and overwhelmed by their kindness. Then Silverbolt spoke.

"After we learned to fly, he began to alter our forms again. He was making us fit together physically. I don't know how many mechs had to die, but by the time he'd made us, he knew what to do to make us physically compatible. But we were not a success. We fought each other, unwilling to meld our consciousnesses together, and so Superion was often unable to stay together. Shockwave was so angry at us, and no matter what he tried, we couldn't do it." He paused then a slow smile spread over his faceplates. "And then we discovered something. Shockwave didn't lock his laboratory windows."

"We'd never flown outside before, but when he left us alone, we went and jumped out the window and flew away. Just like that."

"It was certainly overwhelming to have the currents on our wings, but we got as far away as we could then we hid," Air Raid said.

"And we moved from place to place, keeping ourselves hidden and scrounging enough energon to survive," Slingshot said.

"And after a year, we decided we needed to be able to protect ourselves from any threat, including other gestalts," Fireflight said. "So we began to purposefully combine and try to stay together. But we never could. After a few minutes, we'd fall apart. And we never understood why. But I think we get it now."

The other nodded, but Silverstorm was confused. "I don't understand. What made you stay together this time?"

Silverbolt smiled. "A common goal. To make sure Devastator and Shockwave couldn't hurt you and the others. We all agreed for once, and Superion didn't struggle to keep us cohesive. And we get it now. We've been so afraid to lose ourselves in Superion, to lose what makes us who we are as individuals, that we kept pulling back. But we finally merged our consciousnesses without reservation, and Superion was the result. And we survived. We're still us. Together we're him, but after it's all said and done, we are still the Aerialbots. I'm still Silverbolt. I'm okay. We're okay."

Primus spoke. "I understand why you felt that way. What he's doing is an abomination, a twisting of something that's supposed to be beautiful and amazing. But not all mechs are designed to become gestalts. Only Primes are supposed to do that as a blessing of leadership, as a way to retain harmony and companionship. I have seen much in my many, many life cycles of living. But I have never seen anything as disgusting as what Shockwave is doing. You weren't designed to be of one mind. Just because he can do it doesn't mean he should. And I'm terribly sorry the gift of the Primes has been twisted and used against you. But I cannot change it without doing more damage."

"We don't want you to change it," Fireflight said softly. "Not now. Not when we're finally getting it. But we're glad you care."

Primus considered things then looked up. "Interesting."

"What?" Silverstorm asked.

"The Great One. He's got plans. This will be used for the benefit of Cybertron. Though it will not be through experiments but a more natural way. I believe groups of mechs will be created for the specific purpose of being gestalts in the future…"

"So it won't just be for Primes anymore?" Skydive asked

"I'm not sure. But we will find out in time. Time is an excellent teacher and one of His most commonly used tools for lessons."

Pipes stood back and looked critically at Slingshot. "Okay. I think I'm done. Try the full range of motion."

Slingshot obeyed and grimaced. "Frag, I'm sore."

"No lifting heavy objects for you either. And no flying for a couple of days, just to be safe. That goes for all of you."

Silverbolt nodded. "We're pretty tired. Mind if we go and rest?"

"Sure. Take it slow. Or else." He teasingly waved a wrench at them.

Silverstorm burst out laughing. "You look just like Ratchet!"

Ultra Magnus laughed, too. "He does!"

Pipes's optics turned pink. "Ha ha. Now, everybody else line up. I'm giving you all a once over and a scan."

"I'm going to walk the Aerialbots to their house," Silverstorm said. "Then I'll be back."

"Yeah, you'd better be."

"See ya, Ratchet."

Silverstorm ducked as Pipes turned and heaved the wrench at him. He followed the Aerialbots out into the cool, starry night, laughing so hard that he could barely stand. Ultra Magnus was also howling with glee, stuttering something about how all medics seemed to have the same teacher even when they weren't together. When he'd calmed down, he walked the fliers to their house. Before they went in, he stopped them.

"Thank you for telling us all of this. I know it wasn't easy."

Silverbolt studied him. "It wasn't. But we shouldn't have waited so long. I'm sorry we didn't trust you sooner."

Silverstorm smiled and patted his shoulder then turned to Fireflight. "Whenever you're ready, we'll start to help you come back."

Fireflight sighed shakily. "That would be wonderful, Prime. Thank you. For everything."

The Aerialbots turned and went inside. Slingshot hesitated a moment before he pulled Silverstorm in for an embrace. Then he quickly turned and bolted inside, his optics pink. Silverstorm stood there for a moment, smiling to himself, then he turned and trudged toward the medbay again. The younglings had survived their first battle. The Aerialbots had finally trusted him with their painful past. And progress was being made. All in all, not a bad day.