Bout

The only reason Zelda is going to college is to equip herself better to be the Autobots' Ambassador. Yet, not even three months in, Zelda finds herself in a race against time to stop The Fallen before he can destroy Earth as everyone knows it. She must act, protect, resurrect.

Sunstreaker/Zelda/Sideswipe

Bayverse AU

Part 3 in the Æon Series

[Bout Final Word Count: ~54.5k]

Chapter One: Fizzling Visions

The joyous sound of children's laughter echoed throughout the sunlit garden, where vibrant flowers brought an explosion of colour in the summer heat. Two young girls, their hair braided and adorned with colourful ribbons, danced among the blooms, their giggles harmonising with the rustling leaves.

Lost in their game, they twirled and spun, their imagination creating worlds beyond the garden's borders, completely unburdened by any worries or cares in that blissful moment.

It was a rare moment for them to act like the children they were.

Gently watching the girls, Judy held her new born son and wished that she and Ron had been able to adopt them into their family for what felt like the hundredth time. Losing Rina had been difficult for Ron, especially since he had so rarely seen his sister. Then, just five years later, the girls lost their father as well.

Judy was acutely aware that she would never fully grasp the complexities of her sister-in-law's profession, especially now she was deceased. It had been a world shrouded in secrecy, where every whispered conversation could have weighty implications. She could always sense the undercurrents of danger that often danced around the edges of their discussions whenever Rina had visited.

Ron's family had always maintained a close-knit relationship with government agencies, their lives intricately woven into a fabric of political intrigue and classified operations. Even though Ron himself had chosen a different path, pursuing a career that seemed to align more comfortably with the public eye, the influence of his family's connections was undeniable.

And now, her nieces were entangled in that life far too young. Had Judy not known what could happen to her, she would have made a racket and would have shouted to the heavens for justice for these little girls.

Instead, Judy basked in the moments they could be here and act like the children her nieces were supposed to be. Through the echoes of laughter from Aria and Zelda, Judy blinked back her tears, turning her gaze onto Sam cradled in her arms.

Back and forth. Back and forth. The soles of her shoes squeaked with each sharp pivot of her heels. Despite how exhausted her body felt, practically begging for rest, Zelda paced relentlessly, wired and wide awake. Faint Cybertronian script flickered across her vision, eyes open or closed.

A handful of hours ago, Zelda had been sleeping only to awaken from a terrible vision of a battle full of carnage and bloodshed. The land had been scarce of what Zelda was used to seeing—dead frames and crashing buildings. There had been no ruined Cybertron in her dream tonight. Instead, it had been a juvenile land. Wild and not yet tamed by civilisation.

Often, Zelda dreamt of the countless battles that had ravaged Cybertron during the war. Memories that the AllSpark had stored before it had been jettisoned from Its home, and even beyond that. When it came to memories not from the AllSpark, Zelda had long concluded the memories she was witnessing were from the bonds she had forged with the Autobots.

She was used to pain and suffering. Zelda had suffered extensively herself, but this was different. This was an entire planet being ravaged and torn asunder.

But this time, this nightmare was strange. She had been forced to trail after an unknown femme. Her name was just out of reach for Zelda, but she had fought beside her brothers. Something about the dream had been different. The fighting…it hadn't been a part of the war between Autobots and Decepticons.

No. The femme and her companions fought against another. He wanted something. His name was beyond her, too. It was on the tip of her tongue, and yet she could not recall it—it was as if it had been wiped, stripped away from her.

But that wasn't the worst part. No, after shooting awake with a scream lodged in her throat at the sight of cruel carmine optics, Zelda had been assaulted with Cybertronian script she wasn't able to understand. What wasn't flashing by too fast for her register was beyond her comprehension.

But moving helped. Moving kept the worst of it at bay and so she hadn't been able to rest for a moment since. If she stopped for even a beat, those images assaulted her psyche.

Almost all of the Autobots had gone out on the mission to Shanghai. Had Zelda been an active NEST soldier, she too would have been out there, but those days were ones she was trying to leave behind. She didn't want to fight anymore; she was tired. She spent twelve years working with the D.A.A, and while she experienced amazing things, it only brought her tragedy.

She lost her parents for their involvement. She lost Adan—lost Aria, and her time with MECH was because of her involvement.

Zelda was tired of hurting.

But at this moment, she wanted nothing more than to feel the soothing echoes of the Autobots' sparks. She wanted to curl up as close as she could to one of their chassis and listen to the rhythm of their spark. Any one of them would be perfect; each had a distinct identity that belonged solely to them.

Most of the Autobots were in Shanghai, and Jolt was busy monitoring communications between them all. Zelda couldn't be a distraction to him.

Soma paused his typing, eyes flickering to the clock beside him. He blinked but looked unsurprised.

Zelda knew the focus clock—something that NEST had been intent on Soma using for more reasonable workdays—had just reached another hour.

But she refused to think about it. She refused to stop for even a moment.

She needed—she needed—

Viciously, ancient Cybertronian script raced across her vision, harsh and unrelenting in its display.

—the pain to stop.

Zelda stumbled over her feet, knees giving up.

A chair scraped against the floor, and Soma kneeled beside her the next moment. Zelda only gasped for air, rolling onto her back and pressing the heels of her palms roughly into her lids, desperate to stop the bombarding visions.

Her whole body trembled uncontrollably. She felt unbearably cold, her hands icy even to herself—it mattered not that one was no longer flesh. A well of something profound and otherworldly bubbled inside her; it felt like, at any moment, it could lash out without prejudice.

"Easy, just breathe, Zelda." Soma gently removed her hands from her face, which was burning with warmth despite her apparent cold. He was frowning in visible concern.

Zelda clasped her hands together, pressing them to her chest as she tried to control her trembling. "I don't—I don't know what's…"

A sob threatened to escape, and Zelda bit her lip, tears welling as she choked on it. Absently, she noted Soma had pulled his phone out, and his brows creased, lips curling down.

Zelda blinked, panting, watching through the script as Soma's mouth moved, but the sound was fizzy to her ears. Oh. Was she…

The faint feeling of being lifted stirred somewhere at the back of his mind as something touched her mind—safe/calm—and suddenly, Zelda could breathe again. Gasping deeply and desperately to fill her lungs, her head was all woozy, and her fingertips tingled.

It took a long moment to realise it had all stopped.

Slowly, Zelda began relaxing. After hours of unrelenting pacing and wired thoughts, after the near-ceaseless script across her vision, her body was finally given the rest it needed. Trying to open her eyes again felt like molasses and the bright lights on the ceiling burned. She whined, shying into Jolt's chassis and burying her face into the crook of her arm.

A digit rubbed her back. "Rest, Zelda."

Jolt continued to hold her as she was lulled to sleep.

Ratchet cycled his vent in frustration as he rubbed his temple. Soma's description certainly aligned with the emotions that Zelda had broadcasted during her panic attack. Despite the distance between Zelda and them, which usually muted the bond greatly, the pain had been enough to reach them. It was…worrying. To put it lightly. If Jolt hadn't been at base…

The visions of Cybertronian script were not new to Zelda. This last year had an uptick in the AllSpark's…attempt to process information for Zelda? Ratchet would be the first to admit while they knew plenty about the AllSpark, there was so much more they did not know. It was what brought them into existence; it stored ancient knowledge and could do many great things, yet they barely scratched the surface of precisely what the AllSpark was in the grand scheme of things. That is not to mention Zelda's existence as a living AllSpark host.

But this was the first time Zelda's reaction was painful to such a severe degree. Ratchet wasn't so sure Zelda leaving for college was such a great idea anymore. However, he knew how she would take that, so here he was with Optimus.

Zelda had slept for the remaining hours they had been away, barely stirring until mere joors ago. She had slept for almost forty-eight hours straight.

On top of that, Shanghai had been an utter mess. The only upside was the low number of losses of life.

He had been insistent on a check-up as soon as she had awoken, but whatever had happened had long since passed. So he had nudged Zelda off with the femmes for some quiet time, knowing they were more than capable of helping Zelda relax. Something she desperately needed because soon enough, she would have to be there for the debrief regarding Shanghai. The more rest she had, the better she was mentally prepared.

"We cannot take that choice from her," Optimus rumbled when Ratchet voiced his thoughts on Zelda not going to college. "Constricting her won't do her any good."

Ratchet cycled his vents again. "I know, but you understand my point, yes?"

"I do," Optimus thumbed his chin. "It is a difficult situation. Zelda made good points when she applied for these courses. Learning to fill the role of Ambassador will only be a benefit, especially if we continue to get less than…stellar liaisons."

Ratchet grimaced. The rate at which they had been going through liaisons was… off-putting. They were due to meet the newest one in three days' time. A man named Theodore Galloway. Ratchet hoped at least this one wasn't xenophobic but wasn't getting his hopes up.

"If you think letting Zelda go still is the best course of action, while I disagree, I will not fight you on it, Optimus," he conceded.

But if something happens and they are not there…

He hoped most might think she was simply having a panic attack, which she was in a sense—Zelda's brain was simply too small to process such information and at such speeds she was detailing. It was working her up and resulting in the attack. It was her body's attempt at fighting and protecting itself.

"May I suggest one of us be assigned as a guardian?" Ratchet asked. "It wouldn't be too difficult to set something up. Not when it comes to Zelda's protection."

"Perhaps Bumblebee. With Sam leaving for college as well, our Scout would be most suitable," Optimus agreed. "I shall speak with him tonight."

Ratchet sighed in relief. Bumblebee always tended to have the most luck in getting Zelda to open up too, even before Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

Zelda stared ahead and above the screen while attempting to hide her faraway look, her metal index finger repeatedly tapped against the hardwood table. She was sure the look in her eyes was not missed—that haze made her seem a way away from normal. Of course, Zelda wasn't going to pretend she was sane, not when she was calculating how many faceplants onto the table it would take to knock herself out.

Politicking was not her strong suit—it never had been—but she needed to learn. She had to temper herself and converse alongside Logan for the foreseeable future.

Albeit, she had a few years ahead of her before she would be diving into the deep end, but that didn't mean she wasn't already participating in N.E.S.T's day-to-day politics while on base, especially until the latest Liaison arrived.

(She wondered how long he was going to last. Zelda had already put her bet in the pool.)

She listened as Logan conversed alongside three other N.E.S.T employees, one of whom was Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Glenn Morshower. He was a no-nonsense guy whom Zelda respected.

One of the men present in the conference call was the Shanghai representative, Huáng Wén. The Chinese man was rightfully angry with the turn of events during the most recent mission. Yet, the death toll could be counted on two hands, some of those N.E.S.T soldiers themselves. The most damage came from infrastructure during the chase for Demolisher.

The problem was the amount demanded for compensation. Zelda and the others knew Mister Huáng was trying to milk them for as much as possible. N.E.S.T's appointed treasurer was trying to reason with Mister Huáng.

But with the right words and assurance, Mister Huáng agreed to be more reasonable and flexible.

Then, the discussion turned to the footage of the battle and chase. This was what had Zelda's attention.

As agreed upon by each and every government of the world, the Cybertronians—or Transformers for a more loose term, one which Zelda disliked with a passion for seeming so dehumanising—were to be kept secret from those without clearance, aka citizens, until it was believed the world at large could handle the knowledge that they were not the only beings in this universe. Or the most intelligent.

Zelda rubbed her temple, I wonder what people would do if they had the knowledge that alternate universes were a real thing? I bet other me's aren't currently suffering through this boring bs. Then again…

"Gentlemen," she spoke up for the first time in a while, their attention turned to Zelda. "My suggestion is that we simply don't cover this incident up. The more we try to hide, the more people will grow suspicious. It's human nature. There is no denying civilians know something as big as N.E.S.T and all it encompasses isn't something that would be so publicised for their own safety."

Zelda sat back, snagging a glance at Logan, who nodded in approval. She continued, "Leave some of the footage. Confiscating all of it will cause an uproar. Allow a few pieces to circulate. Ease them into, so to speak, as that is the far-off future plan, is it not?"

She breathed a sigh of relief as they acknowledged her reasoning, and before Zelda knew it, the meeting ended. When the screen finally signalled offline and Logan began to gather his paperwork, Zelda let her tablet screen fade to black as she rubbed her temple.

"That was good," Logan said, squeezing her shoulder. "You're getting better."

Head rolling back, Zelda groaned as she slumped into the chair. "But a long way off, there's no denying it. It's exhausting."

Logan laughed. "Sitting in one place has never been your forte."

"Nah, it was more Aira's thing," she smiled sadly.

"Well, she had to be when she was putting up with you."

"Oi!"

Logan just laughed again. Rude.

Zelda stared at Eden and he returned the glare. She made an I'm-watching-you gesture, and Eden scowled and made a sharp throat-cutting gesture.

"Okay, okay," Will laughed along with the other gathered off-duty soldiers. "I don't know why we still play Uno."

"You're both crazy!" Rob cried in jest, staring at his own full hand—he'd lost count! He was struggling to see them all!

"Maybe monopoly?" Chance mused, eyeing the pile of board games they had.

"NO!" Logan yelled from somewhere outside the room. "Not monopoly, anything but that!"

More laughter ensued.

You would think they would have long since learnt their lessons with how competitive Edan and Zelda were, but alas, here they were, being subjected to this abuse.

They would never learn at this rate.

Upon Ratchet's request—since this was her last day on base until the holidays—Zelda had agreed to the Cybertronian doctor's desire for a check-up on both health and signature. There was no denying she was reading more like a Cybertronian nowadays, and it would only ever grow more substantial if it were not kept under wraps.

The original prototype Ratchet had forged two years ago had become outdated in only half a year. It was not strong enough to hide the AllSpark signature she gave off any longer. Being on base was fine for the most part as the Autobots' disguised their own ones, and as Zelda read as young—or a fledgling in Cybertronian terms—her signature fell under those older than her like a parent would shield their sparkling.

But, well, Zelda being confined to base wasn't exactly what she had in mind for her foreseeable future.

Thus, Ratchet presented her with an improved signal blocker and installed it into her prosthetic arm rather than a necklace. It allowed the Autobots to track her vague location but kept the AllSpark radiation muted to those not within her presence, all the while not at any risk of being lost or damaged now that it was no longer around her neck.

Helped onto the Cybertronian-sized medical berth by Ratchet, Zelda—wanting to tease the mech—playfully t-posed as Ratchet took an in-depth scan of her body. She grinned when he shot her a dry, unimpressed look.

"Well, what're the results?" she asked. "Am I healthy as a horse?"

Truthfully, very little affected her. She might catch a sniffly nose or get nauseous in the stomach, but she was never ill like the average person. Her enhanced metabolism didn't allow for her to get sick to such an extent, excluding outside influences like poisoning, as displayed two years ago. The only outlier was AllSpark-related, but even then, where a normal body would degrade from such power or use of said power, she could withstand it. Mostly anyway—she was still human at the end of the day.

"I do not understand why such a phrase is used by you humans, healthy as a horse," he scoffed, grumbling and Zelda tittered.

"It's a metaphor, Hatchet. I don't pretend to understand dead peoples' choices of figures of speech. Have you seen modern slang?" she chimed.

He blinked, nonplussed. "You're spending too much time with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker."

She tittered again. "You make it too easy."

"You, are as much trouble as the terror twins," Ratchet grumbled and poked a digit into her stomach. Zelda laughed, batting at said digit before hugging his servo.

"But you love me," she crooned with a smug grin.

"Unfortunately," was his curt response. She pouted but poked at him over the bond, humming as she slumped against his servo at his unconditional love for her. Zelda made sure he knew it was returned as he cupped his servo and scooped her up.

"You're perfectly healthy, my dear," he finally reported, holding Zelda close against his chassis. "Please keep it as such."

She shook with laughter. "You know me by now, Ratchet."

Ratchet gave the Cybertronian equivalent of a sigh, rolling his optics as he ferried his human cargo to the food court for breakfast.

Hours later, after her check-up with Ratchet, Zelda was held up in her designated bedroom on the N.E.S.T base.

Despite how Shanghai had been one of the better outcomes with such low loss of life, Zelda's brain refused to let it rest. No. Not when something weighed heavy on her mind. Not with what Demolisher had uttered before the Autobots had cut him down.

"The Fallen shall rise again."

The words made incomprehensible knowledge rise to the surface, but even after two years of being the AllSpark, Zelda had yet to speak Cybertronian. She understood it perfectly well in all actuality, and while her throat wasn't…well, humans weren't made to be able to produce the sounds Cybertronians did, that didn't mean she couldn't learn their script, but she certainly couldn't read it when it flashed by too fast for her brain to understand. It was there, yet just out of reach.

"The Fallen shall rise again."

Demolisher was speaking of a Cybertronian, no doubt about it.

Sighing, Zelda finished folding up and packing the remaining items that she was taking with her to college. Most of her things had already been moved to the Witwicky household a few months prior when Zelda had made the original decision to even apply for college.

Swinging the duffle bag onto her shoulder, Zelda took one last long glance at the room that had belonged to her for the last two years. It was nothing like the D.A.A base where they had too large rooms. As one of the few females permanently on base, she had been given her own private room. It just consisted of a bed, storage for clothes and some desk space.

It had the right amount of space. She liked it, and if her viewing of the dorms for college meant anything, she would be getting something similar in size.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Zelda started down the hallway where Jazz, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker would be waiting for her.

Of course, it wasn't just those three waiting for her.

Zelda laughed when Sunstreaker swept her up and over his shoulder, hurrying her along.

"Sunny!" She protested, but the mech just laughed, dumping her back on her feet only once she was within their group huddle.

Zelda wanted to melt into a puddle of mushy feelings when she was pulled into one big hug.

"You've gotta promise to call. We can't miss out on all the juicy girl talk!" Arcee demanded playfully. Chromia and Flareup matched their sister's eagerness, and Zelda promised as such.

Ironhide pulled her close as the bumper twins tried to squirm their way in. He shot a smirk at the smaller set of twins when they glared, disgruntled.

"You take care now, niece," he rumbled, poking her cheek. "We don't need no spark frights."

Failing to bite back a grin, Zelda laughed, tucking her head against his holoform's chest to hide the sound.

"No promises this time!" she chimed merrily, which Ratchet rolled his eyes at.

"I shall have to agree with Ironhide," Optimus chided, but he was smiling. Zelda easily slipped from Ironhide's side to his. "But do know any of us are here if you need us, even just to talk."

He pressed a kiss to her temple and Zelda returned it with a kiss to his jaw as she hugged him tightly. "I'll make sure to squeeze in at least one call a week," she teased. There was a hint of laughter and Optimus rubbed her shoulder, smiling.

"C'mon, c'mon, chop chop," Jazz hurried. "We've got a plane to catch!"

He shooed her from Optimus' side, and the 'bots laughed again as Zelda was nudged towards Jazz's form.

"Why is she riding with you?" Sideswipe protested.

"Cause I called dibs!" Jazz grinned.

"Sorry, Sides," Zelda shrugged unapologetically. "Jazz did ask first."

Sideswipe pouted.