Archive of Our Own

Bumblebee was missing.

It was an ironic statement to say after a solid fifteen stellar-cycles of Bumblebee being undercover with minimal communication. Optimus didn’t ever know where the scout was in the world at any given point, much less what he was doing.

And yet, one deca-cycle ago, Bumblebee’s cover was blown, and he went on G.H.O.S.T.'s radar. He had called Optimus with the briefest mission report, voice strained and dangerous.

“They might know,” he had warned Optimus over the communicator, “that you’re involved. I never mentioned you, I don’t think, so they shouldn’t have any proof to tie that together. I’m going to lie low for a while. Optimus– I’m sorry.”

“Do not worry.” Optimus had returned, keeping his scout’s name out of his intake, lest G.H.O.S.T. was listening. “Stay safe, I implore you. We shall figure this out.”

Bumblebee had laughed, and if it sounded a bit more clogged than normal, Optimus didn’t say a word. “Promise?”

Optimus had promised.

Except now Bumblebee wasn’t responding to his communicator. ::This channel does not exist,:: the automated voice claimed over and over, whenever Optimus tried to call his friend. ::Try again later.::

It had been a human week, seven solar-cycles, since Bumblebee had last checked in. Optimus had run out of ideas of where he could be. He had searched everywhere he could in Northern America, spending as much free time as he was allowed looking for him.

G.H.O.S.T. was getting angrier and angrier at his tardiness, and he couldn’t exactly explain his distraction. It was all he could do to pray that Elita-1 and Megatron would be enough to tide them over while he struggled to locate Bumblebee.

He had one last destination to check out. The Maltos.

Wheels left the pavement as he started down the dirt road to their address, their barn and quaint yellow house coming into view in no time. He offered a polite honk as he rolled to a stop, transforming back to root mode.

There was a pause, and then the door swung open, revealing one Dorothy Malto. “Optimus. Prime.” She snarled between bared denta. “Do you want to tell me just what you’re doing at my house?”

Ranger Malto seemed angrier than normal. Wonderful.

“My scout appears to be missing.” Optimus said, taking a knee to try to make himself appear less threatening. Not that Ranger Malto would ever be intimidated by the likes of him, but it paid to be cautious. “I was hoping… he was here?”

“Uh-huh.” Ranger Malto crossed his arms. “Proves how little faith you have in him. Bumblebee knows better than to come back here and risk both breaking his cover and putting us in danger!”

“I have utmost faith in Bumblebee.” Optimus promised, feeling his voice thin. He should’ve sent Megatron to check instead. Somehow, his friend had a way with Ranger Malto that Optimus envied. “That is why this was the last place I checked. If he’s not here, then–”

Ranger Malto slumped slightly. “You haven’t seen him anywhere? He stopped calling Alex back, and we… We thought maybe he was on radio silence. Or was laying low.”

“No.” Optimus shook his head. “At least– Not under my orders. His channel has been deleted, which is an absolute last resort for any Autobot. Wherever he is, I fear the worst.”

“We do too.” Ranger Malto said lowly. “He’s an Autobot and a Malto, Optimus. We need him back. The kids need him back.”

Optimus needed him back, too. The last fifteen stellar-cycles had been downright agony for him, pacing restlessly, wondering when Bumblebee and his schedules would align enough for a conversation.

Bumblebee, the first stellar-cycle he had been gone, had filled Optimus’ mailbox with a million messages, describing everything he had seen, everything he wanted. Optimus had not deleted a single one, counting down the days until he could see Bumblebee once more. When he did not need to pretend that his favoured scout was dead.

Optimus turned to go, defeated once again. Where else could Bumblebee be? Not on this continent, surely. Even “Canada” had produced no results. Perhaps he had to go further south to find Bumblebee. Or perhaps he was across the world, hiding in “Asia”.

Optimus didn’t know.

He was stopped in his escape by seven figures bursting out of the barn. The Maltos – Terrans and human children both – flocked around Optimus’ pedes.

“Optimus!” Robby said, resting one servo against his plating while his counterpart, Twitch, threw herself against him and hung on tight. “It’s great to see you! Do you know where Bee is?”

Optimus felt his spark wane, dying down to a small flicker, something soft and warm.

He kneeled down once again, careful not to step on any of the much more fragile beings, and held out a digit for them. Nightshade transformed into alt mode to swoop up and cling to it like a perch, and Jawbreaker waved his servos until Optimus lowered it for him, resting atop the young bot’s helm.

How Ranger Malto raised such precious children when she was such a fierce woman, Optimus would never know.

“I do not know where Bumblebee is.” Optimus restated for them. “I am currently looking for him. If you find him, please call me.” He looked at Morgan. “You have my number.”

“I do, Optimus.” She confirmed, half-hidden behind her brother. “I’m… We’re all worried about Bumblebee. So if you find him, call us too?”

“You have my word.” Optimus promised, servo over his chassis. A vow, for both the people of Earth and Cybertronians alike.

But, of course, Morgan didn’t accept that. In some ways, she was her mother’s daughter. Instead, she held out her tiniest digit, her “pinky”, firm and steadfast. “Promise me.” She insisted, firmly.

Optimus held out his smallest digit in response, tapping it against Mo’s as gentle as he possibly could.

“That’s better.” Morgan smiled, dentas on full display. “Go find Bee for us, okay?”

Optimus offered her a small nod, and very carefully stood back on his own two feet.

“OP.” Ranger Malto called from the house, and he turned to look at her again. “Last we saw Bumblebee, he was trying to join a race. He said he was looking for his friend. Breakdown. Who was then captured by G.H.O.S.T. at the same time. If anyone knows where Bumblebee is, it may be him.”

“Thank you, Ranger Malto.” Optimus inclined his helm at her.

He felt a brief prickling of irritation at Bumblebee. Over and over, he has warned the scout that mettling with Breakdown would lead to trouble. Bumblebee had always waved him off with a busy scoff, and had blatantly ignored that order.

Not that Optimus could blame him; he knew how much it stung to be on opposite sides of a fight than his best friend. He only got lucky, because Megatron came back. Bumblebee had yet to get that mercy. Besides, he could not blame Bumblebee for trying to find his friend.

How often Bumblebee had begged for time with Optimus, even during his stay with the Maltos. It made sense that he wanted a companion who would willingly stay close to him. One who was not quite so… obsessed with him as Alex.

But, at least it gave him another trail.

(:)

“Restricted?” Optimus raised an eye ridge, careful not to let his temper flare. “What do you mean “restricted”?”

“Well, uh.” The human guards exchanged a nervous glance. “There’s been, um. Energy surges going on. Sometimes cell doors break, and the Decepticons get out. We’re keeping the big doors sealed until we get it under control. You know, so they can’t use them to get out?”

Optimus closed his optics. “Why was I not informed of this when the problem first arose?”

“Uh, we don’t know. You’re going to have to talk to Agent Croft about that one.” The other guard said, nervous. “We just know no bots are allowed in or out. The other detention blocks are available, though!”

Just not the one with Breakdown. How convenient.

Optimus resisted dragging a servo down his face plate from pure frustration. Fine, then. He supposed he was asking Agent Croft so that he could get to the bottom of this.

It wasn’t until he was walking away that he realized a few flaws with that.

First of all, he was never informed they caught Breakdown at all, nor was he told that they had discovered Bumblebee was still alive. Both pieces of information came from allies they didn’t even know he had.

Secondly, Optimus didn’t exactly make a habit of patrolling the detention cells. It would be abnormal of him to throw a fit over something so… mundane.

Well, then. It looked like he had to enlist some help first.

Changing his trajectory, Optimus instead started making his way towards the Autobot division of the G.H.O.S.T. base. The route wasn’t well patrolled by humans, especially since there was nothing else really in this direction other than the Autobot’s base.

Aside from Agent Croft and occasionally Agent Schloder, only interns really showed an interest in visiting, and according to Optimus’ schedule, none were due for a while.

The path leading to the Autobot’s base was a long hallway with multiple blast doors that could slam down at a moment’s notice. Just another way Optimus was confident in G.H.O.S.T.’s distrust of the Autobots.

They wouldn’t need so many fail safes in place – obvious ones, too – if they were truly partners.

Perhaps Optimus just wasn’t used to being at another’s command. Elita-1 had suggested that possibility once or twice, though she usually directed it at Megatron when he was being particularly  insubordinate.

Optimus just couldn’t help but point that digit at himself as well. When he first became a Prime, after all, he hadn’t been used to the power he possessed. There were no secrets kept from him, there was no door unlocked. It was overwhelming. Now, having restrictions was out of left field. He couldn’t grasp the possibility of not being in control.

He had to talk to Breakdown, and yet he couldn’t without proper surveillance. Even if the doors weren’t locked, he probably wouldn’t have been allowed in to talk to Breakdown anyway. Not without supervision, which he couldn’t afford.

There were cameras in the detention unit, too, and Optimus couldn’t have that.

No matter. He was sure his friends and allies would be able to help him come up with something.

Upon entering the base, Elita-1 and Wheeljack turned to face him, the only two currently home. 

No cameras were under G.H.O.S.T.’s free jurisdiction in their section of their hideout, at very least. The cameras that were there were mostly for the Autobot’s purposes and record keeping. Therefore, it was free to talk freely in their base.

“What’s up, OP?” Elita-1 asked, placing her servos on the hips. “Any update on Bumblebee?”

“No,” Optimus said, feeling his expression twist into a scowl. He fought it off his face as soon as he could, hating how it felt. “Ranger Malto suggested that, perhaps, Breakdown may know what happened to him. G.H.O.S.T. apprehended him without our knowledge, and are now no longer allowing us in his detention block.”

“Of course they aren’t.” Elita-1 sighed under her breath. “They want to make sure we’re completely reliant on them and the information they give. And Dot was who told you about Breakdown?”

“Yes.” Optimus nodded, frowning. “At least they are… aware that we are in contact with her. So letting that slip will not be such a problem, I suppose. However, Megatron will likely have to spend time with her, first, because they know she likes him best…”

“And she was there when he got captured, right?”

“She was.” Optimus agreed, venting quietly. “So, we know how we could convince G.H.O.S.T., plausibly, that we know about Breakdown. We would simply have to double check with Range Malto that she would not get in trouble if they knew.”

“You said we’re not allowed in the detention block?” Wheeljack asked, turning back to the computer and hitting a few buttons. Security footage of all across the base popped up on the monitors.

“Indeed. They said the doors kept glitching, and Decepticons could escape if they left the blast doors unlocked. So, for the time being…”

“Hmm.” Wheeljack grunted under his breath, switching through a couple groups. After a small pause, he glanced back at Optimus. “The cameras must be glitching, too, because we don’t have access to them.”

“No access…” Optimus muttered to himself. What were they supposed to do? “Gone, or just locked?”

“Can’t tell.” Wheeljack reported. “They make sure that the locked files don’t even show up for us. Probably so we can’t hack ‘em.”

And the rest of the computers were in spots Optimus had no hope of reaching. The doors were too small. Scrap.

“So, in short,” Elita-1 said, “this whole thing hinges on Megatron. He can say he knows about Breakdown because of Dot, and he can ask to see Breakdown. They might give him more information about the so-called breakout, too.”

Optimus hated to say it, but he agreed with Elita-1. “We all agree that there likely isn’t a breakout, then?”

“Of course there isn’t.”

“I’d be more surprised if there was one.” Wheeljack sniffed. “There’s an electrical issue, and they aren’t asking me for help? A Cybertronian engineer?”

Optimus and Elita-1 exchanged a glance behind his back. The chance of Wheeljack’s “fixes” blowing up were… pretty high. He worked so hard to help, and yet it was safer to leave him to his own devices and keep him far away from theirs.

“I can feel you two staring,” Wheeljack grumbled, even though they hadn’t even been looking at him. “You’ve said enough, I get it. Even so, this whole thing is awfully suspicious.”

“It is, yes.” Optimus sighed, rubbing the space between his optics. Where was Bumblebee, and why did he have to be so painfully far away? If Optimus hadn’t been worried about G.H.O.S.T.’s intentions from the get go – what if they tried melting them down, to steal their metal or their sparks? – he would’ve kept Bumblebee close.

He needed his scout like he needed his own spark. Close by and unharmed. Preferably hugged against his own chassis. Optimus had, after all, been taking care of Bumblebee since he was nothing more than a protoform. His caregiver protocols had never fully deactivated, try as Optimus might.

The last fifteen stellar-cycles had been… agony, to say the absolute least.

And now, Optimus didn’t know whether Bumblebee was alive or not, which was objectively worse.

It was all he could do to keep playing their last conversation in his mind over and over, to see if Bumblebee even alluded to the possibility of him deleting his entire channel and going off the grid. Such an extreme was saved for the most critical of moments.

And yet, try as he might, he couldn’t recall anything.

Elita-1 put a servo on his shoulder, and when he looked over at her, she was wearing one of her rare smiles. “Hey. I know you’re worried about him, but I’m sure we’ll find Bee. You know how clever that bot can be. He’s probably just lying low.”

Optimus reached up a servo to place over hers. “I hope you’re right.”

There was a slight pause. And then Elita-1 admitted, “I hope so, too.”

(:)

“Well,” Megatron announced a solar-cycle later, when he had the chance to make it back to H.Q. and talk to Ranger Malto. “She says she never had direct orders not to mention it to us. So if they question her, she can just claim she thought we already knew. However, Dorothy did point out that, if she “tells us about Breakdown” then she likely would have also informed us that Bumblebee is alive.”

Optimus imagined yelling at Agent Croft, demanding to know why she would hide Bumblebee’s status from them. They were worried, too, didn’t she know that?

Megatron tacked on, “So it might be best for us not to let it slip we know about either Breakdown or Bumblebee, because Optimus cannot act to save his life.”

Optimus frowned. He wasn’t that awful, was he?

“Maybe he can go the “so angry he’s steaming” route!” Arcee suggested with a tease, banging her elbow against his arm. “Let Elita throw the fit, yell at them for not telling us anything. And Optimus can just ignore everyone!”

But that’s rude, Optimus thought, hopelessly, which he had to admit proved their point. It wasn’t like yelling at them would be less rude, and they were right. He wouldn’t be able to actually follow through.

“I’ll gladly yell at them.” Elita-1 grumbled, punching her palm. “The hardest part will be staying on track. And not yell at them for their stupid blast doors and their secrecy and the fact that they keep us out of the loop–”

“Maybe I should be the one to yell at them.” Arcee hummed under her breath, and then turned her bright grin onto Megatron. “Or maybe Megs here should!”

“I will end up squishing them.” Megatron deadpanned. “You know what I’m like.”

“Do we actually think Breakdown has any information on Bumblebee?” Wheeljack asked. “I know they’re close, but would Bumblebee have really told a Decepticon where he’s planning on going?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Absolutely.”

“Optimus told me where he was going plenty of times.”

“Bumblebee’s an idiot!” Arcee brightly put in.

Wheeljack sighed, dipping his head in utter defeat. “Fair enough.”

“Even if he didn’t,” Optimus sighed, staring at the monitor. Once again, it was pulled up on the security footage for all the detention levels but the one housing Breakdown, “he’s our only lead. There’s a reason they’re keeping us from him, after all.”

“Aside from them not wanting him to tell us that Bumblebee is alive?” Elita-1 asked, but it was teasing. “Yeah. I hate to imagine what they’re doing to Breakdown.”

“I hate to imagine that they would stoop as low as Mandroid did.” Megatron agreed, wincing. “As low as I have. And yet…”

Optimus could feel optics on him. Unspoken, and yet remaining there, heavy in the air. Why would you sentence us to work with people so cruel? Why would you put other Cybertronians in danger? Your fault. Yours.

He had no refute.

He kept his optics locked on the screens, and did meet anyone’s gaze.

(:)

They didn’t end up yelling at anyone for Bumblebee’s “mysterious” reappearance. Ranger Malto’s meddling stayed out of G.H.O.S.T.’s common knowledge.

And yet, Agent Croft ended up showing up in the middle of their main room anyway, servos firmly clasped behind her back. As always, she was accompanied by a stoic, silent guard.

“Optimus Prime,” she said, levelly. All five Autobot heads twisted around to stare at her. “I heard you were trying to get into detention block three. Is there a reason for that?”

“Well– I–” Optimus tried to think, but all that came to mind was telling her he was trying to see Breakdown.

Which they couldn’t say without admitting they knew about Bumblebee, and they couldn’t mention Bumblebee because everyone would get far too angry about everything else G.H.O.S.T. was doing wrong, and scrap it, this is why Optimus always wrote his speeches down first! Improv was, unfortunately, not his strong suit.

“It was my idea!” Megatron burst, but with a somewhat subtle look to Optimus that told him there would be a payback for this later. “I often visit my former allies when I can. To see if I can convince them to side with G.H.O.S.T., as I hate to see them imprisoned. As you know, I have met little to no success.”

“No success,” Arcee echoed. “Very sad.”

“A tragedy!” Wheeljack bemoaned. “All those poor bots! Rusting away!”

“It’s a shame.” Elita-1 deadpanned. “We so very much wanted to join forces with– eugh. Ratbat.”

And they called Optimus a bad actor.

“So,” Megatron continued. “I figured, what better bot to convince them to change their ways then the bot who did it for me? I sent him to detention block three because of Hardtop. He often does not have all his circuits in place, which would make him an easier one to win over, does he not?”

Agent Croft raised an eyebrow. She looked between all of them.

“Yeah, his processor is as rusted as they come!” Arcee laughed, waving a dismissive servo. “I could fight him with one arm tied behind my back, but that would make it a fair fight! Ha! Both servos tied behind my back! And! One leg!”

“Don’t get cocky, Arcee.” Elita-1 gently reprimanded.

“But I could!”

Optimus looked down at Agent Croft, and decided if he couldn’t act, he could at least force himself to believe it. “Please, Agent Croft. I only want to save our fellow Cybertronians from a life in prison. Megatron was a Decepticon once, too. And he has proven to be one of our best allies.”

“Riiight…” Agent Croft rolled her optics. “If you call running off on his own, firing missiles at everything that looks at him wrong, and refusing to follow our script “one of our best allies”, then yes. I’m sure he fits the bill.”

“You cannot be mad at us for showing compassion to our own kind.” Optimus told her. “Furthermore, if there is a glitch in the cell block, shouldn’t we have been informed? We could help you subdue them, or move them to a more secure detention unit.”

“How we handle our prisoners is none of your business.” Agent Croft told him, holding out a servo and stopping him. “It’s safer the way we’re handling it, without any of you getting involved. Your goal right now is to track down any and all Decepticons and anyone else who may or may not be affiliated. That’s final.”

“I told you they wouldn’t understand,” Megatron scoffed, meaning more than just their lie.

Optimus did not have an answer; he could only bow his head. “...if that’s what you believe, Agent Croft. We will respect it.”

He was just grateful the other Autobots held back on the scoffs he knew were building up in their ventilation systems. They waited until Agent Croft sniffed at him and strode away, the doors shutting behind her with a mighty throb.

And then Elita-1 was flicking the back of his helm while everyone groaned in unison.

“We have to get out of here.” Megatron grumbled.

“I wish I could agree.” Optimus said, lowly. The cameras were recording, but there was nothing to be done. “But G.H.O.S.T. is our only option to find Bumblebee at the moment. If we stage an attack, it has to be carefully thought out. It has to have a reason. We cannot defect until we can free the Decepticons.”

“Launch a coordinated attack,” Megatron whispered, pinched ridges staring at the ground. “Thank you, Optimus. I do not feel safe leaving them in G.H.O.S.T.’s care.”

“And they won’t be.” Optimus promised. “Not for long.”

He glanced up at the cameras, and then back at his team. Even though the G.H.O.S.T. agents weren’t supposed to have free reign of the cameras, Optimus was suspecting they would obey the rules less and less. Suddenly, he no longer felt comfortable.

“However, we will not discuss this here.” He decided. “Whenever we talk, we’ll…” He hesitated.

“We’ll know where to go.” Elita-1 reassured. She crossed her arms. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Good.” Optimus pointed at Wheeljack. “Just to make sure, scrub the footage. Make sure no recordings are left of what transpired here.”

“You got it,” Wheeljack returned, pivoting back to Teletraan-1 to start typing. “If they ask why I deleted everything, what should I say?”

“We’re in a stalemate at the moment,” Megatron put in, frowning. “Just like we can’t ask them about Breakdown and Bumblebee, they can’t ask without tuning us in to the fact that they’re checking the cameras.”

“And if they figure out a countermeasure regardless, tell them that we delete the footage periodically. As a safety measure. ” Elita-1 suggested. “But they shouldn’t.” She frowned up at the camera. Its red light didn’t stop blinking, its lens focused soullessly on the middle of their room.

“From here on, we must be on our best behavior.” Optimus said, nodding to himself. “Autobots… Good luck.”

(:)

Optimus visited Ranger Malto again three solar cycles later.

He would’ve come sooner, but G.H.O.S.T. had tried to lock security on them. They had managed to wiggle out from underneath their thumb, protesting the newfound measures until G.H.O.S.T. relented. But he knew that it meant that G.H.O.S.T. would be keeping a more careful optic on them whenever they were “home”.

He came in the evening, when Optimus was certain both Ranger Malto and her conjunx would be home. In the distance, he could see Arcee with the children, weaving in and out of the fields and trees.

Elita-1 was right, he thought as they waved to each other across the way. Everyone knew where to go.

“Hey, O.P.,” Ranger Malto greeted, sipping tea on the front steps of her house.

Doctor Malto raised his own mug, beaming up alongside his conjunx’s subtle frown. “It’s good to see you! Heard you’ve been looking around for Bee. Any news?”

“No.” Optimus frowned, “They know we know something. They tried to increase security on us, but we protested against it. They are doing their best to keep us prisoner, trying to control us. Megatron was right. We are nothing more than mere lackeys to them, undergoing punitive labour.”

“Hmm.” Ranger Malto frowned. “Arcee mentioned you two are planning a revolution.”

“Indeed. I was expecting to tell you the news myself.” Optimus teased. “I suppose I cannot keep up with the new generation.”

“Don’t feel bad, Optimus,” Doctor Malto put in, setting down his mug to stand up and dust himself off. “The kids are always going to be quicker than us. Always moving too fast for us to keep up with… It’s just the way it is. It’s historically proven!”

Before Optimus could respond to that, even in agreement, Doctor Malto whisked his way into the house. He returned only a few nanokliks later with an energon cube in servo, which he excitedly offered up to Optimus, despite it nearly being half his size.

Optimus took it gratefully. “Thank you.” How these humans managed to get their servos on energon, he would never know. “But you’re not wrong. Even Elita-1 is only a hundred cycles younger than I… And she is more energetic than I ever was, I swear.”

“Only a hundred…” Ranger Malto mused. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember how long you can live.”

“We are undying until we accept death or are killed.” Optimus shrugged.

“Hmm.” She sipped on her tea thoughtfully. “Do you think G.H.O.S.T. is planning to execute the ‘Cons?

“I’m unsure how they plan to do so without our knowledge, but… It is a possibility. They will likely capture us all first before they risk it. They cannot afford loose ends.” Optimus took his own drink of the energon, and found its texture perfect. “I almost risked our safety by trying to check in on Breakdown. It was only thanks to Megatron’s quick thinking that we are still safe.”

“Do they know you know about Breakdown?”

“Not yet.” Optimus sighed. “Megatron’s excuse was a good one, albeit… Our options continue to narrow.”

“Well, you Autobots are used to working your way out of tight spots!” Doctor Malto enthused. “You just need a bit more elbow grease, and I’m certain you’ll figure something out! Trust me, Optimus. The amount of times my kids and Bee have been able to slip out of danger is… Well, it’s something else. You’ll figure it out again.”

“Thank you.” Optimus smiled. “Our tenacity is a key part of our organization. Hope and optimism are our main principles. As long as there is a chance of better days…”

“I appreciate your focus on keeping our kids safe.” Ranger Malto said thoughtfully. “Not mentioning Breakdown… Well, it sure explains why no G.H.O.S.T. agents have been bangin’ down my door lookin’ for him.”

“Yes.” Optimus agreed, a bit more timid than he meant. “You are correct. I am worried about Bumblebee. But that doesn’t excuse me risking yours. One is not more important than the other.”

“I know.” Ranger Malto sighed under her breath. “You know… I’ve grown a lot as a mother since we adopted the Terrans. It makes the mama bear in me go wild. So angry that everyone in this world wants to hurt them, dissect them, bully them, whatever.”

Doctor Malto wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close. He looked at his conjunx and frowned, worry strewn across his optic ridges.

Ranger Malto, however, reached her free servo up to rest along the handrailing, smiling up at him. “I see a lot of that in you, too. And maybe you parent differently than I do, but that’s okay, OP. And I’ve gotta learn to be okay with that. I worry about my children, and you worry about yours.”

Optimus? Worrying about his children? The notion was so ridiculous, it was almost laughable. What made her think that Optimus had any–

His processor rebooted just in time for him to realize what she was getting at. “Oh– No, Ranger Malto. I am sorry to disappoint, but Bumblebee is not my child. He was simply a sparkling I extended a servo out to, and–”

“Come on, Optimus,” Doctor Malto smiled, expression bright. “We see what he means to you.”

“Yeah. Anyone with two eyes – or two optics – can see how much you care about him, and the way he’s always driving himself absolutely crazy to impress you. If he’s not your kid, then the Terrans aren’t mine either.”

There was the sound of an impact, and Optimus looked up just in time to see Hashtag lift her faceplate out of a pile of dirt. She must’ve been returning to the dugout or barn for something, and had overheard the last part.

She looked utterly devastated.

“Wait– We’re not your kids?!” Hashtag squeaked, absolutely beside herself.

“Your Mom didn’t mean it like that!” Doctor Malto reassured, quickly.

“I was just using an expression, baby!” Ranger Malto added. “Of course you’re my kid! You all are!”

When Optimus looked back down at her, Ranger Malto’s optics were bright, staring up at him again. “And Bumblebee’s yours, Optimus. So when it comes to your revolution, you better count me in. As long as it doesn’t put my kids in danger!”

“I most certainly will.” Optimus hesitated, kneeling down beside her to get a bit closer. “I… admit that I did not ask you first, but may we continue to use your home as a temporary meeting spot, just as we plan? It is the closest, safest spot we know.”

“Of course you can! The kids are always happy to see you.” Doctor Malto promised, and Ranger Malto nodded alongside him. “There’s plenty of room in the dugout, too. So if you ever need to visit for longer than a meeting, we can host!”

“I appreciate your generosity.” Optimus smiled. “We will do our best not to abuse it.”

“Don’t worry, O.P..” Ranger Malto reassured. “I doubt you will.”

(:)

“I see why Bumblebee likes it here.” Arcee said, when Optimus approached her half a groon later. She was reclining against a tree, arms crossed, as she watched the kids play Capture-the-Flag across the cattle pen. They were using the cows as obstacles as well as the hay bales, swerving away from one another, using their unique abilities to their advantage.

Bumblebee had done an excellent job teaching them everything they knew.

“It’s peaceful.” Arcee finished, optics shuttering closed for a moment. “Funny. I never really used to care about peace before. When I was a teacher, before the war, I was always wishing I could be a security officer instead. And the war came and it didn’t stop coming.”

“Do you ever wish you could go back?” Optimus asked, testing the waters. “Become a teacher again?”

“I don’t know.” Arcee admitted. “I mean, the Terrans are good kids, and I don’t mind covering once in a while, but… I’m not sure who I would be long term. I think I’d be even worse than Bumblebee is at teaching the new sparks about peacetime!”

“Is Bumblebee bad at that?”

“Ha! I bet he taught the twins to shoot a blaster before he taught them basic addition!” Arcee laughed, jerking a thumb at them. “They’re a little too good at being scouts, don’t you think? He’s teaching them like he was; how to stay safe in a world that wants ‘em dead.”

Optimus’ servos balled into fists. “Unfortunately, those lessons are not useless. Earth can be a cruel place. G.H.O.S.T. especially. They would want the Terrans in their labs.”

“I know that!” The younger bot bristled. “And he’s clearly letting them have fun, or else they’d all be boring and stiff.” She wrapped her servos around herself. “Maybe I would want a new spark or two. Play mentor for a little while. If the Allsparks home, anyway.”

“The Terrans will not be the last,” Optimus promised, but he couldn’t tell if it was more to himself or to her. “More will come. The Cybertronian race will continue, and we will build up our numbers once again.”

“We better.” Arcee grumbled. “Or I’ll have a bone to pick with Quintus and Primus!”

“Both of them?” Optimus teased.

“Oh yeah, both of them. You better believe it!” Arcee laughed. “Though I might need more than one leg to beat them.”

Optimus laughed right back, giving her a nudge with his elbow. She pushed back, and pretty soon the kids were flocking around to see what was going on.

She was right, Optimus decided. It was peaceful.

(:)

“They locked me out of the Decepticon holding cells!” Megatron raved the next solar cycle, as he and Optimus drove and flew to their next mission. “All of them! The detention blocks, all locked!”

“I see.” Optimus measured, thoughtful. Inside, however, multiple worse-case scenarios rang up in his processor, connecting threads and trying to figure out which was more likely. Hopefully, none of them would come to pass, but.

Optimistic or not, they could not afford to be dense.

“They could be– Optimus, they could be torturing them! Trying to squeeze information out of them, bleeding them dry, dissecting them…! If a Decepticon went missing, I would not know! Nobody would know!”

“I understand.” Optimus agreed, still busy cataloging.

“Optimus! Are you listening to me?!”

Ah. Optimus snapped himself out of his rumination and brought his attention to Megatron. He allowed his own worry to run against Megatron’s EM field, and tried to project reassurance. He knew he was doing a Primus-awful job. “Yes, I am. And you are right. There are multiple things G.H.O.S.T. could be doing.”

“Thank you!”

“But we cannot run the risk of jeopardizing everything so soon. If you are locked away from the Decepticons, that will make it that much harder to free them when the time comes.”

Megatron fell silent, subdued for a few kliks. “...We could blast open the doors.”

“That will send an immediate code-red throughout G.H.O.S.T., and if given the opportunity, I would rather avoid as much resistance as possible. We do not know what kind of weapons they have constructed specifically against us. We do not know what they would be willing to use on us.”

Optimus hesitated, and then added, “Besides, many of them likely do not know what they are doing, and believe that G.H.O.S.T.’s intentions are pure. The more subtle we are, the easier this will be.”

“Your hesitance endangers the Decepticons.” Megatron grumbled, the accusation thick in his voice. But reluctantly, he admitted, “But you are right. It would do them no good to get caught ourselves.”

“I am sorry, my friend.”

“Of course you are.” Megatron scoffed, and they continued on the rest of their route in silence.

(:)

It took another half deca-cycle for them all to have the free time to meet up at the Malto’s homestead. Missions temporarily finished, and freetime secured, Autobots, Maltos, and Terrans alike found themselves in the dugout.

“Has anyone been able to find more information on G.H.O.S.T. or Bumblebee?” Elita-1 opened their meeting, leaning over the table. Her optics drilled holes into the countertop, like she could destroy it if only she wished hard enough.

“I have discovered an entire section in G.H.O.S.T. that remains inaccessible to us Autobots.” Optimus said, projecting the blueprints from his wrist into the holographic capabilities of the table. “It is big enough for a Cybertronian to walk through, easily. And yet, it is hidden.”

“It’s not along any of our usual paths.” Elita-1 tracked, running her digit along the map from their base to the entrance, and then from the entrance over to the orientation floor. “It’s… actually closer to the detention units than anything.”

“What are they hiding in there?” Megatron scowled, folding his servos under his chin, sitting on the ground. Twitch and Nightshade leaned against his sides, playing with various puzzles. “What are they planning?”

“You know,” Hashtag mused, sitting on the edge of the second floor and peering down. “We could totally sneak in for you guys, if you want. With my ability to hack G.H.O.S.T., they won’t even see us coming!”

“Nuh-uh, out of the question.” Ranger Malto pointed up at her youngest daughter. “The only reason you’re here right now is that we wanted to keep you in the loop. But you’re not volunteering for any missions. You hear me? None of you kids are.”

“If you disobey,” Optimus warned them, “then we will have to find somewhere else to meet. After all, the one rule to us being here at all is your guaranteed safety.”

“Booo,” Twitch pouted, frowning up at them from her wooden puzzle. “We want to help, too!”

“Until we know where Bumblebee is, it’s too dangerous. We don’t know if it was G.H.O.S.T. or someone else.” Doctor Malto gently scolded. “We won’t be having any field trips, or visits to town, or even to the cave water spring. If you need anything, Dot and I will get it for you. But we can’t risk losing you. Not for anything.”

“But Megatron promised us a trip to the Spacebridge Memorial.” Nightshade frowned. “And I was so looking forward to it!”

“There will be plenty of time for that later.” Megatron grumbled, crossing his arms and pointedly avoiding everyone’s eye contact. “After this threat has been averted, and we have found your teacher again.”

“Hmm.” Nightshade agreed, temporarily subdued.

“Do you have… any clue where Bumblebee might be?” Thrash asked, rocking anxiously on his heel struts. They kept twisting in and out of being wheels and being pedes, nervous energy coursing through him. “Because, I don’t know, it’s… I’m worried about him.”

“We all are.” Twitch agreed.

“We have gotten no information.” Optimus frowned, staring up at the screen. “I looked into possible leads early on, and though I check back on them occasionally, nothing new has popped up.”

Wheeljack frowned to himself. “Y’know… Grimlock has been off our radar for quite a while. If we could relocate him, and bring him back, he would be a handy surprise against G.H.O.S.T..”

“There’s a reason he ran away, and you know it.” Megatron scoffed.

“He didn’t run away!” Wheeljack argued. “He went no contact! That’s a very different thing, and you know it!”

“Just like Bumblebee.” Arcee hummed under her breath. “Do you think that’s connected?”

“I doubt it.” Elita-1 sighed, clicking a few more buttons on their console and transferring data over about Grimlock. “To recap, Grimlock joined an underground fight club called Bot Brawl, which, as far as we can tell, was a plot to earn money off of Decepticons battling each other.”

Megatron grunted under his breath, anger pouring off of him in waves.

“Aside from the five of us, you humans are the first to know where he’s gone. In fact, we didn’t even tell G.H.O.S.T.. We had to pull strings to send him on such a vital mission, because we were… worried it was a front for them. Due to Grimlock’s information, we no longer believe that to be true, but he went offline two orbital cycles ago.”

“We can still connect to his comm link and leave a message,” Optimus continued, “but we are vague on purpose. Bumblebee, however… His channel is completely disconnected. He was not taken by surprise as much as Grimlock was.”

“But he does have more experience with undercover stuff than Grimlock does.” Arcee put in. “Maybe Grimlock didn’t know better.”

“Perhaps.” Optimus muttered under his breath. His fist raised to press against his intake, thoughtful. “It simply... Does not feel right. I was considering sending Bumblebee after Grimlock, for he likes to have purpose. An objective. But I hadn’t made a decision yet, so Bumblebee should not have been anywhere near him.”

“I doubt there’s a connection.” Elita-1 agreed. “Too few similarities.”

“What’s the plan for relocating Grimlock?” Doctor Malto asked, eyes sparkling.

“There isn’t one.” Optimus refuted, holding up a servo to quiet Wheeljack’s distressed expression. “Yet. As long as G.H.O.S.T. has a tight leash on us, we can’t follow him. Grimlock is, unfortunately, a problem for another day.”

Wheeljack turned his helm away from the debriefing.

“Bumblebee can’t be a priority either.” Elita-1 pointed out, and a flood of horror filled Optimus. “I know you don’t want to hear it. But he’s not. We don’t have any clues to where he went, and our one lead is locked behind bars. When we free the Decepticons, we can focus on finding Bumblebee and Grimlock. But not before.”

“You’re right as always, Elita.” Optimus frowned, crossing his arms. It would be unfair for him to focus on Bumblebee when he refused to let Wheeljack prioritize Grimlock. It still hurt.

So many times, a special ops agent would go missing while in the course of war. Bumblebee’s missions would go longer than planned. Jazz would hear a clue and buzz off with barely a word to even Prowl. Mirage would get distracted by something shiny and then pop up two deca-cycles later with grime caught in his motors and a dorky smile on his face. 

It should be expected.

Yet, the sudden disappearances always filled Optimus with worry. Where did his scouts go? What was so important that they could not come home and did not communicate?

That wasn’t the case this time. Optimus knew it deep in his spark. Yet, he could not do anything about it. And that hurt worse than anything.

(:)

“Can’t prioritize Bumblebee…” Arcee grumbled under her breath as Optimus and her drove away from the farmhouse, splitting in a different direction than the other three. They had all decided to do patrol, wanting to make their arrival times a bit more intermittent to make their absence seem a little more genuine.

What were they supposed to say? They wanted privacy? They were off drinking high grade? Those were all things they used to be comfortable with doing at G.H.O.S.T. H.Q., and to suddenly change their habits would be suspicious. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Arcee continued. “Isn’t it ridiculous, O.P.?”

“It isn’t.” Optimus hummed. “Though I do not like it, either. But Elita-1 is right; we cannot prioritize Bumblebee above everyone else.”

“But isn’t that what we’ve been doing? Can’t trust G.H.O.S.T. with Bumblebee, but we can trust ‘em with Decepticons?”

Optimus liked to imagine, if he was a human, he could thud his head down on his horn and keep it down there. Instead, he stayed silent for a few nano-kliks. “...You’ve been spending time with Megatron, haven’t you?”

“Guilty!” Arcee whooped, and then subdued herself. “But, seriously, Optimus, he has some good points. Maybe some bad ones, too, because, I mean, why shouldn’t we prioritize Bumblebee? He’s helped us a lot more than the Decepticons ever have. He matters more to us.”

“I know.” Optimus agreed, quiet. “Bumblebee is… an incredible Autobot.”

“He’s my best friend, Optimus.”

Was he? Optimus hadn’t known that. He had always assumed that Bumblebee’s best friend was Breakdown, much as he disapproved. He found that hearing Arcee say that, whether or not it was true, released a tension he did not know he was holding.

“And he is my most trusted friend.” Optimus agreed. Ranger Malto’s words replayed in his processor: “I worry about my kids, and you worry about yours. And Bumblebee’s yours.”

Friend was, suddenly, a gross understatement.

“But right now, we cannot allow that to cloud our judgement. Bumblebee is a wonderful bot, but he is smart and clever. Wherever he is, he can take care of himself. I fear that that option has been removed from the Decepticons altogether. They are in need, and it is a tangible need. We cannot allow ourselves to be blinded by worry and “what if”s when it comes to Bumblebee.”

“We put those Cons there, Optimus!”

“Perhaps. But if we want to make peace with them, prisons and cells are not the way.”

Arcee was quiet for a long time. The silence built between them, but the atmosphere was not tense. It was warm and curious. Arcee was thinking, but not angry.

“Bumblebee would want this.” Arcee agreed. “He’d be so disappointed in us if we put him first before actual people in need, even if they’re Decepticons. Especially if one of them is Breakdown, too.”

It was Optimus’ turn to think. She was right, of course. Bumblebee would lay down his life for the greater good, and had almost done so more times than he could count. He even agreed to fake his own death for an undisclosed amount of time without argument.

Without asking when he could come back. Perhaps he had wondered, in his mind, or asked other people, but to Optimus, he kept his intake shut.

Optimus wondered how long it had taken Breakdown to know that Bumblebee was alive. Had it been new, was the Witwicky race their first one seeing each other, or had they caught glimpses off and on? How well did they truly get along?

“Do  you think… Breakdown truly knows where Bumblebee is?” Optimus asked at length. “Or is this another dead end, and we are on a… chase of geese?”

“Goose chase!” Arcee corrected exuberantly, and then sobered. “But… I don’t know. It’s all we’ve got. And what do you always say?”

“When hope is smallest, it is greatest.”

“That’s right!” Arcee cheered. “I’ve been trying to live by that, ever since you said that. I like to think it extends to bots, too. I’m on the smaller side, y’know, but I sure am one of the great Autobots! They made comics about me, Optimus!”

“Careful. With that ego, we may have to rename you Elita-2.”

“Aw, but Elita would never allow that.”

“Perhaps not.”

Their wheels grinded against the pavement for a while longer, and the silence was still comfortable. Two old friends, relaxing together. Struggling with the battle of morality and merits, missing a mutual friend of theirs.

“Humor me a moment, Arcee.” Optimus requested. “When were you the most scared?”

“Ooh, that’s a toughie! You gave me a tough question there, Prime!”

“With so many moments to choose from, I am unsurprised.”

Arcee rumbled, but she didn’t think for nearly as long as Optimus figured she would. “It was when you came home with Megatron for the first time! After you left for that diplomatic meeting, but it ended way too quickly, and suddenly he was in the Autobot base. I remember thinking “What the scrap? Did the ‘Cons finally master mind-control technology?!” and being so worried about you. So scared that we were going to die right then and there.”

“Ah.” Optimus hadn’t even thought about how terrifying that might have been for his allies. He knew they would be confused, and perhaps angry, but scared? That sounded like a far cry for any of them.

“But then you didn’t even complain when Elita punched him. You looked like you were cheering her on, but wouldn’t say so. And that’s when I knew it was okay. ‘Cause you knew we could handle ourselves, and weren’t going to let the ol’ M.T. bully us around. Why? When were you the most scared?”

Optimus did not have to think at all. “Right now.”

“Oh.”

Arcee did not ask to elaborate, and Optimus did not try. They both knew why.

(:)

In the early morning of the second solar-cycle after, Optimus left his berth to find Wheeljack awake and bent over Teletraan-1, muttering under his breath as he tapped his digits over the keys and flicked through files.

Optimus sighed, already wanting to go back to his recharge. Wheeljack being up early at all was a clear sign he had stayed up all night, and it was an omen Optimus did not want to mess with.

Yet, despite his better judgement, he found himself approaching. “Wheeljack,” he greeted, as calmly as he could. “What’s troubling you?”

“Optimus!” Wheeljack jerked his head up, relief flooding his gaze. “Thank Primus, perhaps you can help me with this little problem I’ve been having… What in Cybertron are we going to do with Teletraan-1?!”

Optimus froze, glancing up at the camera. He tried to keep it subtle, but even he knew he had done a poor job. “Wheeljack,” he said simply. “Will you join me for a drive?”

Wheeljack paused as well, realization springing in. “Ah, yes. Yes yes, of course. Let us go for a drive, Optimus. That sounds like a fine idea. Yes indeed. A drive… Perhaps we can get energon… coffee, was it?”

“I do not believe the human’s coffee comes in energon flavor.” Optimus rebuked, reaching out to settle a supporting servo on Wheeljack’s back. Perhaps a drive wasn’t a good idea if he was this tired, but Optimus needed some excuse to get him out of the base.

Whether or not someone was watching the cameras, it was too dangerous to discuss in the open nowadays. Optimus could practically smell a curfew coming with how rarely they returned back to G.H.O.S.T. until much later in the night than Agent Croft liked.

As it was, however, they made it out of the base with no complications.

They transformed, burning rubber as they made their way towards the hills surrounding Witwicky. Wheeljack and Optimus drove across cliffsides, the dawn casting beautiful light across their path. Birds were starting to sing from the trees, a couple even flying overhead.

“So,” Optimus said, cautiously. “What was this about Teletraan-1?”

“Right,” Wheeljack snapped back to himself. “Well, you know how G.H.O.S.T. is. I assume we won’t be able to fully take down G.H.O.S.T.… I mean, we don’t have any connections to the government or legal systems beyond them, so we’ll mostly have to cut and run. You know?”

“Yes.” Optimus allowed. He felt a wave of remorse. “It is all we can do to free the Decepticons, but none of us will be safe afterwards. We will all be on the run.”

“Teletraan-1 would be left behind.” Wheeljack reminded him. “We need to figure out some way to move him, or download all his data to a different computer system. We can slowly do the transfer over to the dugout, I suppose, but G.H.O.S.T., I bet, would figure out a way to track that. I don’t want to scrub his systems, either.”

How could Optimus forget about that?!

Teletraan-1 was their friend, or the last remnants of him, anyway, and his integration into G.H.O.S.T. had been a sign of their trust in their new human allies. A show that their home was now where G.H.O.S.T. designated it, and nowhere else.

To move him, they’d have to be subtle. It would have to be so under-the-radar that G.H.O.S.T. would have no clue it was even happening. And that was almost an impossibility, especially with how close G.H.O.S.T. had been watching them.

They’d just have to be smarter, quicker, more resilient.

“Ask Ranger Malto’s permission first,” Optimus advised, “but start the necessary preparations to move Teletraan-1 over to the dugout. See if Hashtag can access G.H.O.S.T.’s network to block the transmit signal, and if not, work with Nightshade to see if there’s a workaround. We will not put the Terrans in danger if Ranger Malto disagrees. We’ll start anew.”

“I still would rather move his whole system. I hate the idea of making him switch to a whole new terminal.” Wheeljack muttered. His wheels were starting to drift. “But it’ll have to do, I suppose… We can come back for the rest of him later. Or we can pull a… What was that one human myth called? The one where something – a ship, I think? – was gradually replaced?”

“Ah, yes,” Optimus wracked his processor. That was information he had yet to delete, apparently. Mostly because Bumblebee loved using human metaphors and tomes, so to keep up with his scout, he had to keep a running tally going. “The ship of Theseus?”

“I… I do believe so, yes!” Wheeljack agreed readily. “If we can slowly break down Teletraan-1’s hardware and move it to… wherever our new base will be, that’d be ideal.”

Optimus thought of the Ark, its husk still back on Cybertron, but scrapped for parts to repair the Spacebridge to bring them to Earth. They had removed the entirety of Teletraan-1 from the Ark, then, to bring him with them. But at least then they hadn’t been sneaking him along. They had just been… bringing him.

If that was really what Wheeljack wanted, there were ways to get it done. They could load Teletraan-1 into Optimus’ trailer. The hard part would be getting him all the way down to the hanger, however, without anyone seeing.

“We’ll figure it out, Wheeljack.” Optimus told him, starting to guide his exhausted friend home. “Whatever happens… We won’t leave Teletraan-1 behind.”

(:)

It was a familiar sound of rotors that alerted Optimus to a newcomer during one of his patrols, and he turned his attention up in time to catch Twitch nearing in drone form. She was closer than most people were able to get to her, even Cybertronians that were praised for their silence.

“Hey, Optimus!” Twitch greeted with a cheer. She spun in midair, delighted to have been caught. She was getting better at detecting EM fields, despite them both being in alt modes. “I got close this time, didn’t I?”

“You most certainly did,” Optimus praised. “Bumblebee has taught you well. Unless…?”

“Yup! All Bee. I’ve been trying to practice what he taught us, so that I’ve made at least some progress by the time he comes home, you know?”

“Well done,” Optimus praised. “But he will be quite pleased to see you regardless.”

“I hope so,” Twitch burst. “Do you think he’ll come home soon, Optimus?”

“I…” Optimus began, the instinct to comfort bubbling up fullswing, but he could not lie. Twitch’s field pressed against him curiously, audials pricked. “I do not know, I’m afraid. Even if he is safe, and the disappearance of his comm channels is a fluke, we have no way of reaching out to him, and vice-versa. He cannot come to the farmhouse because of G.H.O.S.T., and we do not have anywhere else to go that we all know about.”

Aside from the memorial, Optimus supposed, but he had checked that a dozen times over during the last orbital-cycle, and had come up empty. Bumblebee absolutely was not there either.

“Right, I know that, but… Where do you think he is? You guys have all said that he’s missing, but none of you have talked about where he could be! We’ve got to find him, and I want to help.”

Optimus paused. Of course Twitch wanted to help, but it was dangerous. There were restrictions put forth by how much they were allowed to do. Ranger Malto, despite giving permission for Nightshade and Hashtag to help Wheeljack, had specified that they would be pulled out at the first sight of danger, no exceptions.

Optimus would not be the one to break those rules. As a matter of a fact, Twitch was not supposed to even be out and about, and certainly not on her own. She was very clearly disobeying her parents.

Silently, the Prime redirected his route to take them back to the farmhouse, and not along his patrol route. “I know you wish to, Twitch. Bumblebee is important to your family, just as he is important to my own.”

“Yeah! Exactly! And–!”

“But,” Optimus continued, pointedly, “We do not have any leads. Until we have more information there is nothing you can do. Nightshade and Hashtag have a certain threshold of skills that we are able to utilize, right now, at this moment.”

Twitch was silent for a long time. “But… I’m their older sister. I should be able to help, too.”

“Just because we have not reached out to you yet does not mean there will be nothing to come in the future.” Optimus told her. “A compliment to them is not an insult to you. It is simply understanding the needs of the moment.”

“I guess that makes sense…” Twitch twirled in midair. “I still don’t like it.”

Optimus took the next turn, flashing his turn blinkers for only a nano-klik or two. “None of us do. The sooner Bumblebee is back with us, and the sooner G.H.O.S.T. is gone, the sooner we can relax and focus on increasing you and your siblings’ skills.”

“Yeah, I guess that…” Twitch trailed off. “Hey, wait a minute, this isn’t your normal patrol route! Where are we going?”

“Do not worry about it,” Optimus said distractedly, because he bet Twitch would swerve off and go somewhere he could not easily follow if he waited. “But, Twitch, even if we are unable to train you or do not currently need your help, this does not mean we do not welcome your ideas. If you have any thoughts of where Bumblebee can be, or how we can track him…”

Twitch was quiet for a moment, and then she sighed in defeat. “No, I don’t… I don’t know. I’ve been trying to think, but all I can keep thinking about is maybe he’s at the house, or maybe he’s in our cave, but I’ve searched both times a million billion times! And he’s never there!”

She was silent for a long, stressful moment. Optimus said nothing, feeling how her field pulsed from twisted up anxiety, pent up and wanting to burst. “He’s… I know he’s just missing. I know it. I know it means he’s been captured or hurt, or… But all I want is for him to come home, Optimus! That’s all I want. It’s all I want…”

Optimus struggled to find something to say. Everything he came up with was lacking, not quite good enough. And it made his spark twist. He barely managed to find the right words with Bumblebee, when he was younger, and half the time he was confident the scout only pretended like his words helped.

How was he supposed to find the right words for Bumblebee’s student, especially when he was so upset too?

“I… I want him to come back, too.” Optimus settled on at long last.

It still didn’t feel right, but Twitch’s anxiety pulled back a little bit. The space was filled with a rush of affection instead. “How much longer do you think it’ll be until he can come back?”

“I am uncertain.” Optimus admitted, quiet. His entines rumbled as they passed over the asphalt, slowly inching back towards the wooded area. “Ideally, it will be soon. If allowed the time and resources we need, we should be done in a deca-cycle, but that time frame can easily quadruple depending on how tight security becomes on us. G.H.O.S.T.… does not much like us.”

“I’ve noticed,” Twitch grumbled. “After the way they treated Bumblebee and the way some of the agents talk… I don’t think I ever want to be around them again. Sometimes, I hate Witwicky.”

Optimus vented deeply. He didn’t want to hate Witwicky, with its scenery and the peacefulness of the quaint little town, but… He had to agree. G.H.O.S.T. had ruined Witwicky for him, perhaps for good. He wondered if Bumblebee still loved the town.

They drove the rest of the way back to the Malots, about ten kliks, in silence.

Twitch sighed when they pulled into her driveway, detransforming to cross her arms and pout. “You didn’t have to take me home!  We weren’t done talking.”

“We were,” Optimus deadpanned, crouching down in a kneel. “Besides, I don’t think you’re allowed to be venturing out on your own right now. I am familiar with human calendars, and I know your parents are at work, and Robby and Morgan are likely at their school.”

“I…” Twitch stared down at her pedes, kicking them in distress against the ground. A rock went flying beneath her pedes. “I know it was disobedient, but I just… I wanted to figure out how I could help. I hate being stuck waiting around.”

“Twitch,” Optimus soothed, wanting to hug her but remembering just how tiny she was. “I am confident you will have your time to shine. Everyone has strengths. Your time will come, just be thankful for this rest while you have it.”

“Rest,” Twitch grumbled under her breath. “Yeah.”

“Twitch!” Thrash called, bursting out of the barn and rolling on his heeled wheel struts. It reminded Optimus vaguely of human children on their roller skates. “You’re back! And you brought company! Hey, Mr. Prime, sir!”

“Hello, Thrash.” Optimus said, amused when Jawbreaker burst out of the barn, too, to excitedly wave at him. “Hello, young Jawbreaker. I was only escorting your sister home. It is good to see you, but I must go before G.H.O.S.T. gets after me.”

Thrash grabbed Twitch’s arm, hissing, “I told you you’d get in trouble!”

“I didn’t!” Twitch protested, shoving him back. “Optimus didn’t scold me or anything! He just talked to me for a bit and brought me home!”

“Thanks for bringing her home!” Jawbreaker smiled, waving. “It was good to see you again! You’ll be back soon, right?”

“Of course. We have a meeting scheduled for tomorrow night,” Frankly, Optimus was surprised their parents didn’t tell them as such. Well, it wasn’t as though Ranger and Doctor Malto liked their kids in the meetings. So perhaps it had been an on-purpose thing. “I’m sure I’ll see you for a few minutes either before or after.”

“Okay,” Jawbreaker nodded. “And, um… Is someone going to come train us soon? We’ve been… We haven’t had a lot to do. I mean, Nightshade and Hashtag have, but… When everyone’s gone it gets… quiet.”

Optimus’ spark waned. “I will… see what I can do.”

Condemningly, because he was still so young and had yet to understand, Jawbreaker looked up at Optimus with big, pleading eyes. “Do you know when Bumblebee’s coming home?”

Jawbreaker had to know, deep in his spark, that Bumblebee was missing. That there was no possible way Optimus was in contact with him. That for all accounts and purposes, Bumblebee was just as dead as he was fifteen stellar-cycles ago. But he still asked, because he was young, still learning, and he didn’t know how to process grief yet.

Even Optimus, after a millennia of war, didn’t know how to handle it properly yet.

As it stood, Optimus wordlessly shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jawbreaker.” He said, but there was nothing to be done. The youngest Terran had to understand that. He had to.

It didn’t stop him from looking sad. Optimus felt rather sad himself, too.

(:)

The next meeting came into order, as stated, the next night. Optimus barely got to see the Terrans for longer than two minutes before Ranger and Doctor Malto herded them upstairs to watch a movie in the barn with their human siblings, but Nightshade and Hashtag looked tired but optimistic. Wheeljack looked no less so.

“I imagine it was a success?” Optimus asked Wheeljack hopefully as the last bot bundled into the dugout.

“It was a success!” Wheeljack cheered, throwing his servos up in the air victoriously. “A complete mission success! Obviously, we weren’t able to transport his body. You’re right, it’d be too hard right now, and I feel downright awful about it. But we’ve made sure to leave that door open for later!”

“Leave that door open?” Elita-1 said in alarm. “Wheeljack, if we’re not careful, G.H.O.S.T. can take advantage of whatever openings we leave, and–!”

“Oh, not like that,” Wheeljack scoffed, waving his servos dismissively. “It’s armed with all kinds of failsafes and defenses so nobody can access or remove him, no matter how skilled they are at G.H.O.S.T.! It’ll require not only a Cybertronian, but the proper codes, too. If someone tries to break into him, he’ll short the entire system!”

A grin grew across Megatron’s face. “Well, that sounds familiar.”

“Oh yeah, someone did that to us, once,” Arcee thoughtfully hummed, tapping her chin. She shot Megatron with a deadpan expression. “I wonder who… Oh, right, it was the big M.T. himself!”

“Oh, be quiet.” Megatron scoffed. “It was not my fault you didn’t do the proper security checks. And with the extent of devastation it caused, I think it was a rousing success! Shockwave did an excellent job with creating such a horrific cyber attack!”

“Maybe not the time, Megs.” Elita-1 sighed, rubbing between her optics. “Yes, it was effective. Yes, it led us open to being bombed. But– Frag. Where were you going with this, Wheeljack?”

“Right, well,” Wheeljack rubbed his servos together. “His memory is wiped until the proper code is inserted, too. And the prompt to make it appear will only show up at my command, so, really. Teletraan-1 will be completely safe until we can retrieve him.”

“And you’ve finished downloading him into these computers?” Optimus prompted.

“Yes! Until we find a proper place to stay, this will serve as a good backup.” Wheeljack nodded, rubbing his digits over his chin. “Then we can move out as soon as possible, without having to wait to send Teletraan-1 there.”

To the side, Doctor Malto grabbed Ranger Malto’s arm and pulled her away, whispering urgently in her ear.

“That is wonderful news,” Optimus beamed. “We’re part way there.”

“I have come up with a way to free the Decepticons.” Megatron added. “It is not the kind of thing that you would agree with, Optimus.”

“Let me guess,” Arcee punched her palm. “Fast and ruthless?”

“Indeed.” Megatron agreed. “They would expect it from Decepticons, not Autobots. So if we get to the detention blocks and break into them all at once… There are four of them, after all, so one of us can take each one.”

“There’s five of us, M.T..”

“I am not your keeper,” Megatron scoffed. “The fifth can tag along or do whatever they want. But, if we attack fast, we can save every Decepticon at once and lead them out.”

“What if they have defenses built specifically for us?” Elita-1 demanded. “Primus, Megatron, you have to think these things through!”

“We are a hardy lot! We can break through them.” Megatron scoffed. “Besides, if Wheeljack sets Teletraan-1 to “fry their systems” while we are in the process of breaking out, I doubt they will be able to do anything to stop us. He already has the means, why not use them?”

“It could work!” Wheeljack agreed, wagging a finger at Megatron thoughtfully. “All I have to do is input something worthwhile and stupid, and everything in the building will go down for a bit. Until both Teletraan-1 and their networks reset, that is…”

“How long will that take?” Optimus pressed. Anything less than ten kliks, and it would be too big a risk, even if they managed to be synchronized.

“Fifteen kliks, best estimate. Might be off by two or three kliks in either direction.” Wheeljack hummed, steepling his digits. “Usually it takes them about fifteen with Teletraan-1’s help, but their networks will be acting independently soon, so it shouldn’t take as long as we think.”

“That is excellent news, thank you, Wheeljack.”

“I guess that’s it, then!” Arcee grinned. “The last thing we need is to find a home, and we’ll be free from G.H.O.S.T.’s stupid rules. And then we can go looking for Bumblebee.”

“Thank, Primus,” Elita-1 heaved a sigh.

“And Grimlock!” Wheeljack added, raising his servo high in order to be seen.

“Of course, and–” A ringing in Optimus’ audial interrupted him, and he sighed, pulling back a step or two. He knew who it was already; nobody else cared enough to call him aside from the people right here. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Everyone fell silent, including the Maltos, optics locking on him. They waited, eyes watching and searching as he picked up the call.

“Optimus Prime speaking,” he said, so it wasn’t obvious that she wasn’t the only viable option.

“Prime, it’s Agent Croft.” The leader of G.H.O.S.T., predictably, responded. “Do you care to explain where you are and why your trackers are disabled?”

“A few of us are simply having a few minutes to spend time together,” Optimus said solemnly. “Arcee and Megatron should be on patrol. Are they not?”

“How should I know?” Agent Croft scoffed. “You’re the one who should be keeping track of your team! Wherever you are, you should all come back right away. You’re not allowed to weasel your way out of this, Prime! We are having a serious talk about your disobedience and blatant disregard for our protocols!”

Was she seriously trying to threaten Optimus like he was a sparkling? A protoform, barely assigned a mentor and still painfully young? Optimus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Of course, Agent Croft. We will make our way back.”

Elita-1 narrowed her eyes, and mouthed “we’ll be back in an hour” at him.

“Unfortunately,” Optimus fumbled, hating how uncertain he sounded and tried to remedy it quickly, “we are quite a ways out. It could take us an hour to be able to come back.”

“What are you doing that far without authorization?!”

“As I said, we have not had much chance to hang out in the past fifteen stell– years. We are taking advantage of that now.”

“You’ll take advantage of that when you’ve caught the last Decepticon! Prime, you’re–! You’re… Ugh. We’ll talk about this in an hour.”

“Copy. Prime out.” Optimus hung up, not giving her a moment to continue her yelling. He sighed, rubbing his forehelm. “Agent Croft will truly be the death of me.”

“She’ll be the death of us all,” Elita-1 sighed, crossing her arms firmly. “Which is why we’re skipping town as soon as we can. We’re so close.”

“It’ll be nice to be free again,” Wheeljack agreed. “Not that they’ll ever stop hunting us, but. I’ve missed our high-grade nights. Making inventions without ridicule or pressure, needing to wrangle our way into having our schedules aligned…”

Megatron’s optics softened. “I will miss it, too. I… I admit that I feel sympathetic to our Decepticon allies. I know that it is unwise to bring them with us, to wherever our new home will be, but will they truly be safe, without a plan of their own? G.H.O.S.T. will not stop looking for them, either. And when they get caught again, there will be nothing we can do for them.”

“They’ve had plenty of time to secure their own failsafes,” Elita-1 huffed, tapping the screen and bringing up a map of Decepticon bases. “We’ve seen evidence of them carrying supplies out of their bases. They have to be taking them somewhere, and if they’re smart, that’s where they’ll head.”

“I can give them distress signals,” Wheeljack suggested. “I mean, there’s no way of saying if we’ll get to them in time, but we can at least be able to tell when something happens. We can start working with them to get whoever’s captured to safety.”

Megatron nodded to himself. “I am fine with that compromise.”

“So, just to double check,” Ranger Malto confirmed, pressing into the conversation with her conjunx by her side. “You’re not planning on taking the Decepticons with you wherever you go?”

“That is correct.” Megatron nodded. “We, unfortunately, cannot trust them to “play nice”.”

“Well,” Doctor Malto slowly began, “Dottie and I have been talking. And… Nightshade has been adding plenty of extra rooms onto this dugout for a while now. And it’s just the perfect size for you! So… in the interest of getting you away from G.H.O.S.T. quickly…”

“You’re all welcome to room here for as long as you need.” Ranger Malto invited warmly. “We’ll have to set some ground rules, but I would be very happy to help however I can.”

Optimus’ spark warmed. “That is… very kind of you, Maltos, we…” He looked at the rest of his team, relaxing when he found ready acceptance there. “We would be honored to accept.”

“Great,” Ranger Malto beamed. “Then just let us know when you’re planning to move, and we’ll be ready.”

“I can get enough distress signals ready for the Decepticons in three solar-cycles,” Wheeljack volunteered immediately. “I can also finish up the last touches with Teletraan-1 in that time.”

“I can figure out the best way to get to all the Decepticons at once, too.” Megatron decided. “Which bot goes to each cellblock.”

“Three solar-cycles, then.” Arcee grinned, placing her servos on her hips. “This is going to be great. Are we sure we don’t want to blow G.H.O.S.T. sky high in the meantime?”

“No explosions, Arcee. That goes for you, too, Wheeljack.” Optimus reprimanded, amused when both groaned in perfect sync. Sometimes the two of them were more alike than either cared to admit. “Our exit will be quick and thorough. But we will put nobody in danger other than the bare necessity.”

“Fine, fine, you’re the bossbot.” Arcee admitted reluctantly.

“We’ll be pleased to have you.” Doctor Malto smiled. “I wish you all luck in this, and… Keep us updated when you can.”

“Yeah, good luck with Agent Croft.” Ranger Malto agreed. “She can be… I mean, she is… She threatened Bumblebee, and then Alex and I. One day, she might threaten my kids, too, and we can’t have that.”

Optimus’ spark tightened. He could count a few times, back in the early days, where Agent Croft had balled her servos into fists and spat that it was lucky so many Autobots were dead, because she didn’t want to waste resources tracking them down. He remembered her specifically listing Bumblebee by name, and speaking of him with every inch of disgust allowed to her. Which turned out to be a lot.

Optimus had wanted to crush her, then, but had been so relieved he had sent Bumblebee as far away as possible. He should’ve kept Bumblebee away, perhaps. Because now, wherever Bumblebee was, he was in trouble again. G.H.O.S.T. knew about him. And Optimus could not yet lift a digit to help.

(:)

Agent Croft was angry at them. That much was to be expected.

Optimus spent the entire conversation trying to be calm and not snap at her. Her human agents got to interspice their shifts with fun and time at their “bars”. He wished he did not know why they were different, but he did. Agent Croft hated them.

She just used to be better at hiding it.

He was so glad they were leaving.

(:)

Two solar-cycles later, Optimus waded back into their base, caked in mud.

It was the last time he was chasing after Tarantulas down a mountain path, that much was for certain. He had purposefully thrown himself off the trail so he wouldn't have to have another bot to save. The less Decepticons they had in prison at the time of their defection, the better.

Wheeljack was the only one at the base at the time, and he looked up in tense anticipation when Optimus entered. Almost immediately, he snorted under his breath and jerked his thumb back towards the disinfecting chamber. “You look downright awful.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware.” Optimus quipped back, glaring behind him at the mud tracks he was leaving. Normally he would’ve hosed off, before coming back, but after such a long drive back in the wind and rain, he simply hadn’t cared enough. He had wanted to get dry as soon as possible, even if it meant cleaning up a bit of mud later.

“After today,” Optimus continued, “I will be glad to recharge.”

“Okay, okay,” Wheeljack snorted. “Well, remember; it’ll be another big one tomorrow.”

That much was true. It came with a swell of relief and giddy anticipation. Only one more rest in this place, and then they would be at the barn. Then they could go looking for Bumblebee and Grimlock, and reunite their team. For good.

Optimus smiled gratefully at his friend for the reminder and padded back off to enjoy the disinfecting chamber. Pressurized water nozzles extended from every available surface, and Optimus stood with his servos outstretched high above his helm to await the onslaught.

The entire ordeal did not last longer than five kliks, and no matter how he scrubbed, it wouldn’t get his finer joins, but at least he could get Elita-1’s help for that later. The vents went for half a klik, and finally Optimus felt somewhat clean.

It still wasn’t fantastic, but it would do for the next groon or two. Just until Elita-1 got back from her own mission, hunting down a string of Mandroid’s bots with Arcee.

“Feeling better?” Wheeljack asked smugly when Optimus came back into the main room.

“Quite,” Optimus agreed readily, shaking out each limb one by one. He scowled back at the trail of mud. He supposed he should clean that before he recharged. Even if he didn’t really care about keeping G.H.O.S.T. clean anymore, to be anything but perfectly responsible would be a black mark in his direction.

Like they needed any more suspicion thrown their way.

Teletraan-1 beeped, and Wheeljack went through the extra steps of inputting the code to check what the notification was. He’d go through the proper purging the next day, right before they left, but at the moment it was a hindrance they had to keep up with.

Optimus went to go find their cleaning devices for the cleanup, and left his friend to it.

Or, he would’ve, if as soon as he opened their closet Wheeljack called him back. “Optimus, get over here! I, uh… I have someone on the line who wants to talk to you!”

“Oh?” Optimus asked, careful to keep his tone neutral. From how suddenly nervous Wheeljack looked, it couldn’t be any of their allies. At least, not with good news. And Agent Croft always hooked herself directly into Optimus. To go through Teletraan-1, it would have to be an unfamiliar source, like–

Bumblebee?

Optimus hastily connected himself to Teletraan-1 and locked himself into a private conversation with the caller. He didn’t recognize the id. “Optimus speaking,” he said, urgently.

“Optimus Prime,” Soundwave’s voice filtered through in his familiar monotone. Optimus’ spark leapt in surprise, and then disappointment. “I would like to barter a deal with you in exchange for our freedom. I have information you would greatly profit on.”

“Don’t,” Optimus told Soundwave, struggling to shield the surprise in his voice as he lifted his servo to smooth it out over his audial. “Hold for a klik.”

He glanced at Wheeljack, who loyally saluted and double checked that all the security cameras and audio devices were off in the room.

Then he turned back to talk to the Decepticon. “Soundwave, there is no reason for you to make a deal. The other Autobots and I are planning to defect from G.H.O.S.T. tomorrow, and we will be breaking you all out as we go.”

Soundwave was quiet for a beat. “...That is illogical.”

“We will.” Optimus told him. “No strings attached. And I do not want you to give me information just for you to claim that it was the only reason we saved you. If you truly want me to know it, wait until after you are released.”

Soundwave hesitated, and then muted his end of things. He didn’t hang up.

Optimus sighed, pinching the bridge of his olfactory sensor. Primus, he was tired.

“What’d he want?” Wheeljack whispered, hushed.

“He claims he has information,” Optimus hissed back. “In exchange for us saving them.”

“He doesn’t need to offer us anything,” Wheeljack returned in surprise. “How did they even know we were going to save them? Did one of us let something leak?”

“Soundwave’s in detention block three, remember?” Optimus pressed. “We can’t get to him at all without G.H.O.S.T. figuring it out. He sounded surprised when I told him we were planning to get him, anyway. I don’t know if he believes me.”

“Well, we’re getting him out either way.” Wheeljack said, tense. “So he doesn’t have to believe us. He just has to not be stupid and follow when we tell him to.”

Soundwave came back, a click signalling his return. Optimus pulled away from Wheeljack to accept the call readily. “Soundwave! Are you there?”

“Indeed.” He said, voice giving away nothing. “I have been urged to inform you anyway. Breakdown is of the impression that your “rescue” cannot wait until tomorrow. The sooner you come, the better, even if you are reckless to do so. He isn’t intelligent and wishes to put your attempts in danger.”

Faintly, Optimus could hear Breakdown grunt in offense. He sounded so far away. Optimus curled himself more firmly around his audial. “Breakdown– We’ve been trying to get in contact with him. Is he alright?”

“He is fine.” Soundwave returned. There was a pause, interspersed with more of Breakdown’s voice spitting out words that Optimus could not make out. “Breakdown is fine. However, he is more worried about Bumblebee.”

Optimus’ spark felt like it went out completely. “Bee– Bumblebee’s there with you?!”

Wheeljack startled, wide eyes snapping to him.

“Indeed. He was brought in a few solar-cycles after Breakdown was. We are uncertain how G.H.O.S.T. caught him, but they have been crueler to him then they have been to us. We are unsure if he will survive the lunar-cycle.”

G.H.O.S.T. was being cruel to Bumblebee. They were hurting him to the point where he might not even survive. They were– Why?! Why would they do something like that?!

“Optimus Prime, in return for Bumblebee’s life, we would appreciate immediate evacuation. Unless you are willing to trade his spark, this is nonnegotiable.”

“I understand.” Optimus said, urgently. He couldn’t think of any way for him to do this by himself, but he couldn’t leave Bumblebee there. His scout was hurt. His sparkling, his–

Ranger Malto was right.

“How long do you estimate he has?” Optimus asked Soundwave urgently.

He turned to Wheeljack, and motioned desperately. The mechanic caught his meeting, bless him, and dashed back to Teletraan-1 to send out an emergency beacon to Elita-1, Arcee, and Megatron. Wherever they were, they’d come back immediately. Primus, let it be soon.

“Uncertain as of now,” Soundwave considered. “We are not medics, Optimus Prime. We do not have the necessary skill set to catalog his injuries accurately–”

“Does it matter?! He’s dying!” Breakdown shouted, finally loud enough for Optimus to pick up on his voice.

Optimus winced. “I’m sorry, we simply… I want to get you all out of there.” I want to get Bumblebee out of there. “But I– I cannot–”

“Megatron will be back in five kliks. Elita-1 and Arcee in twenty-six.” Wheeljack recited. “Croft will probably have Megatron go in for debriefing to find out why he’s back so early, but if we do it as soon as Elita-1 and Arcee get here, she won’t have the chance to ask them.”

“Can you hold off for half a groon?” Optimus demanded, turning back desperately to the comm. “That is the earliest possible time we can save all of you, but if we have to, we can do it now but we’d only be able to rescue your cell block.”

“He can hold out.” Soundwave told him, “We prefer this done right compared to unsatisfactory. He has survived an orbital-cycle so far, and he will continue to do so.”

“We will.” Optimus swallowed. “You will not have to wait long. You have my word.”

There was another pause. And then Soundwave said “Your word means nothing. Your spark at risk is what guarantees our freedom. Nothing else.”

He hung up without letting Optimus respond.

Optimus sat down heavily, right there, in the middle of the floor. He didn’t know what else to do. He could only wait.

(:)

Megatron came back from his debriefing just as Elita-1 and Arcee returned.

“Well, we’re back, and Croft is throwing a fit,” Megatron grumbled, crossing his arms. “What was so important that you sounded the alarm?”

“Wheeljack–?”

“Cameras still down. And the bugs they placed are out, too.” Wheeljack saluted, barely flinching at the expressions everyone sent him. “What? I took care of them. We all knew they would do it eventually, and they did! But it’s fixed.”

“Right,” Elita-1 huffed, leaning against the wall. “We’ve got to work on your communication.”

“That is not important right now,” Optimus interrupted, anxious. “Soundwave– He made contact. G.H.O.S.T. has Bumblebee. They’ve had him this whole time, and they’ve been hurting him.”

Arcee’s helm snapped up. “They’ve been doing what?”

“Soundwave reached out, asking for us to free them in return for telling us about Bumblebee.” Optimus explained. “But he’s… We can’t wait for tomorrow. Breakdown was there, too, and he sounded… He doesn’t think Bumblebee will make it without proper care.”

“We do not have time for this meaningless prattle, then.” Megatron announced, charging his proton cannon. “Let’s go stop this mess.”

“The only G.H.O.S.T. agent you have permission to kill is Croft,” Optimus snarled. “Unless you can prove that they were involved in this senseless pain. They might be just as manipulated by her as we were. And I do not want to risk harm to anyone.”

“How can you still be so calm when they hurt Bumblebee?!” Megatron demanded. “They hurt your scout, who you’ve been hiding for this exact reason! This is the time to show them what happens when you mess with our own!”

“I will not be an accomplice to that,” Optimus denied, “no matter how much I want to be. I will… stick with what I know to be right.”

Megatron’s gaze softened the slightest bit. “Good. Or else I was about to call you the biggest hypocrite. How do you suggest we avoid them?”

“We hit quick and hard. Any humans that get in our way– Surely it cannot be so hard as to pick them up and put them in a cell. They won’t be able to escape, either.” Optimus pointed out. “We shall use our size to our advantage– Nonlethally.”

“Unless it’s against Croft,” Arcee snapped.

“But we all know she won’t be getting her servos dirty.” Elita-1 growled. “She likes watching the show, not being part of it.”

“Optimus,” Wheeljack warned, “While we’re talking about Croft… she just asked when Elita-1 and Arcee are going to their debriefing.”

“Then we only have a klik.” Optimus huffed. “Megatron, you’re the most familiar with the detention blocks. How shall we divide and conquer?”

“Thank you,” Megatorn nodded curtly. “Elita-1 and Arcee will head for the furthest blocks, one and two. They’ll have a head start. Wheeljack will override the systems while they are enroute, so it seems like they’re heading to their debriefing. There will not be an immediate need for panic.”

“Sending Croft an E.T.A. now,” Wheeljack announced, plugging in a couple words into Teletraan-1’s system. “And then I’ll scrub Teletraan-1.”

“Excellent. Optimus, you will take detention block three. I do not need to explain why. I will take the fourth. Wheeljack, you said fifteen kliks?”

“Sure did.”

“Good.” Megatron nodded to himself. “Good. I say we take the tunnels nearest the detention blocks to leave. That will give us extra time to flee and put us closer to the Maltos. If we get separated, they’re our rendezvous. And if they’re not safe…”

“We’ll regroup near the Decepticon base, Tri Zeta.” Elita-1 determined, optics narrowing. “It’s one of the few left with enough supplies to last a while, and no ‘Cons have touched it because we have obvious optics on it.”

“And G.H.O.S.T. won’t have those optics, as soon as Teletraan-1’s out.” Wheeljack agreed. “I’ll head out the main tunnel. I can get out fast enough that they won’t even know to block it by the time I’m out and gone. In fact, my speeding off might be what alerts them that something’s off.”

“Excellent.” Optimus nodded. His chassis squeezed, looking at his teammates. Further still, his fear for Bumblebee pulsed. This had to work perfectly, to go without a hitch. Otherwise, they’d lose their scout forever, and even more likely, their freedom.

He vented carefully, counting for three nano-kliks to steel himself. “Autobots, roll out.”

(:)

The lights going out was Optimus’ cue to leave the base, Megatron tight on his side. Optimus didn’t necessarily need the lights to see, the base practically engrained to his memory banks and his optics shining enough light to illuminate the walls before he walked right into them.

As it was, they moved quickly. Most of the humans had gathered into clusters that were easy to avoid in the dark, huddling together for safety as they waited for the power grid to come back to life.

The only thing Teletraan-1 didn’t have access to was the cells that housed the Decepticons. Not like they needed his assistance there; all it needed were the proper codes or, if all else failed a weapon to their controls, and just like that, the Decepticons would be free. Bumblebee would be free.

G.H.O.S.T. had been cruel to him…

Optimus’ steps got a bit quicker. Megatron hurried to maintain the pace.

“Oh, Optimus Prime,” one of the agents called enthusiastically, evidently adjusting enough to make out which bot was striding by in the dark, “do you know why the power went out? Shouldn’t Teletraan-1 be fixing that–?”

“No comment,” Optimus said dismissively, and ignored how Megatron snickered quietly behind him. Behind them, the agent faltered and didn’t say anything else. Optimus did not let himself regret it.

Despite his orders, she could’ve been one of the people hurting Bumblebee. Optimus would not break his morals, even for that, but even he could admit that they were shaky at best at the moment. But like Megatron said, he could not afford to be hypocritical.

Megatron split off to head to detention block four after a few kliks, his servos clenching into tight fists. Optimus continued on his path, careful to keep his pedesteps slow and careful, as to not seem too suspicious. He wasn’t doing anything. Just patrolling the borders of the G.H.O.S.T. base while the power was out.

He really was a horrible actor.

There was a small group of G.H.O.S.T. agents standing in front of cell block three, nervously adjusting their weapons in their servos, glancing at one another, and whispering amongst themselves.

In any other situation, Optimus might have been amused. Today, he was anything but. They were in his way.

Well, not really. They were small enough that Optimus stepped over them, and all three startled, guns whipping up to train on him as he came to a stop in front of the door.

“Wait,” one of them said in confusion. “Is that– Optimus Prime? Uh, sir, you’re not allowed in there, and with the power out–?”

“Truly. I will make sure the Decepticons are still locked up,” Optimus said, and unsheathed his battle axe. While the agents made confused noises at his clear belligerence, Optimus slammed it into the door seams.

It lodged perfectly in between them, just thin enough to slot in, but thick enough that it would not bend as he grabbed the hilt and wrenched it to the side. The doors slid open, and the guards chattered in half-disbelief, but he ignored them. He marched in, grabbed the sides of the doors, and firmly closed them behind him.

It’d take them a while to wedge it open, at least.

Optimus turned back around, scanning the cell block quickly. Where was Bumblebee? Where was his scout?

As far as he could tell, only five cell blocks were occupied, two above and three below. Wherever Bumblebee was, he was out of sight. Or, perhaps, a traitorous thought poured into his banks, they were lying to force their release.

It didn’t matter. Optimus was here now, and they were already trying to free the Decepticons. Wheeljack had even contacted the Maltos and let them know they’d be early. If nothing else, Optimus would save the Decepticons. As always, he had to worry about Bumblebee later.

Optimus turned towards Soundwave’s cell, taking his axe and sliced it along the servo scanner, short-circuiting it instantly. The electric barrier fell away immediately, and Soundwave pushed out, abnormally eager as he moved forward.

Optimus supposed freedom was always an enticing incentive.

“Optimus!” Breakdown yelled, from his cell diagonally behind-ish Soundwave’s. Optimus could barely see him trying to be seen around the corner dividing their cells, desperately trying to peek around the support beam and wave at him frantically.

“Breakdown,” Optimus greeted steadily to turn towards the next cell. He figured it might be a bit quicker to go directly through than across. “Are you feeling well?”

“Geez, you old coot,” Breakdown scoffed. “You shouldn’t be asking about me! Thought you’d be more concerned about Bumblebee– You know, your scout?”

How dare Breakdown–?!

And then the rest of his statement hit. Bumblebee really was here, then, because it didn’t make sense for Breakdown to keep up the lie unless Optimus directly asked.

“Nevermind,” Breakdown grunted, shaking his helm. “That’s not important, you’re here now, so whatever. Prime, Bumblebee’s in the cell in front of me. You’ve got to help him.”

Optimus twisted his head to look, and didn’t see Bumblebee immediately, but all he had to do was take a few more urgent steps off to the side.

As promised, Bumblebee was there. But he didn’t look…

He wasn’t standing up, like Optimus had foolishly imagined. He was a crumpled heap of scrap upon the floor, curled up in a flimsy ball, some limbs not quite cooperating. Most of his plating was either broken – dented in – or plain missing. Wires were bursting from between joints and slipping out from between his lost plating.

That didn’t even mention the energon staining just about every inch of the cell.

Optimus wanted to purge his tanks, but it’s not like he was allowed. He was still in war mode, and that didn’t allow for time to panic and grief.

Before he could even take a pedestep towards Bumblebee to cut open his cell, Breakdown, locked up behind his scout, snapped, “Come on, Optimus, don’t tell me you’re freezing on me!”

Optimus did not dignify that with a response, burying his axe deep in the scanner to force it open. He ripped it out without a thought, and barely wasted a nano-kilk to toss it at the support beam dividing Breakdown and Bumblebee’s cells, rupturing the connection between the cells completely.

Breakdown was free, but Optimus didn’t have time to worry about that. He kneeled down behind Bumblebee, reaching out his arms to cradle his scout’s face in between his palms. Bumblebee did not stir. His optics were latched shut. He was barely venting. His spark was so dull, Optimus had to stare until he saw so much as a flicker.

“Objective: I shall free Bombshell and Shrapnel.” Soundwave announced, somewhere behind Optimus. “Breakdown, focus on Hardtop.”

“Yeah, thanks for remembering me,” Hardtop sarcastically quipped. “I would love to be part of this rescue, thanks… Is this actually a rescue? Does he have a plan?!”

“I don’t want to rescue Hardtop,” Breakdown groaned, his pedes coming to a stop just inside of Optimus’ field of vision. When the Prime looked up, the Stunticon was staring down at Bumblebee mournfully. “I need to make sure Bee’s okay.”

Optimus hesitated. “He is… He’s…” He looked back down at Bumblebee. He didn’t know what Bumblebee was. “Okay” wasn’t in the books, at very least. Was it even safe to move Bumblebee? What if picking him up did more harm than good?

It wasn’t like they had a choice. Scrap. They didn’t have a choice.

“You scrapheap!” Hardtop yelled. “Let me out! Lend me a servo”

“Primus, you’ve got a poor choice of words,” Breakdown scoffed. Still, he lingered. “Hey, Optimus… take care of my brother. Don’t let anything happen to him, or you and I are going to have words.”

And then he rushed away, leaving Optimus with the shattered frame of his scout.

Optimus clumsily adjusted his hold on Bumblebee. He carefully rearranged his scout, rolling him on his back strut instead and tucking Bumblebee’s arms carefully over his chassis.

He tucked his servo underneath Bumblebee’s knees, and stood up, bringing his scout with him. One of Bumblebee’s servos fell off where Optimus had carefully placed them, flopping down and swinging aimlessly. Wordlessly, Optimus clung him all the tighter.

“Optimus,” Soundwave demanded, landing down behind him again. The Insceticons joined him a moment later. “What is your plan?”

Optimus pressed down his anxiety again, summoning whatever remnants of strength the Matrix could give him to persevere. “Come with me,” he ordered, turning to march away, deeper into G.H.O.S.T.’s base.

To his utter surprise, all five followed him closely without complaint.

The extra exits out of G.H.O.S.T.’s base weren’t necessarily as secret to the Decepticons as Optimus would’ve liked. After all, they had been pulled in by means of them a couple times, though typically they were unconscious.

It didn’t mean that they didn’t see new captured cons being dragged in from the “wrong direction”. They would know better than that. They would understand what it meant.

However– “I was expecting more guards.” Optimus noted, but he couldn't ignore how relieved he was that there wasn’t. He held Bumblebee’s form a little closer to his chest. His scout whirred, but didn’t stir.

“Yeah, well, I guess G.H.O.S.T. got a little too confident and cocky.” Breakdown grumbled underneath his  breath. “Security increased for a little while after they got Bee. I mean, can’t blame ‘em, he’s a tricky little bugger… But still. Primus, still. After they broke him… They pretty much all vanished.”

“Why?” Optimus asked, thickly. “Why would they hurt him?”

“They…” Breakdown started, stopped. He shook his head mournfully. “I think they wanted to know if he had anything to do with you. But the kid obviously didn’t say a thing. Not to me or anyone.”

Obviously, Optimus echoed dully in his mind.

Bumblebee was… He was everything. So brave and fantastic and bold. He would put his life down for Optimus, for the cause. He had said so many times. He had willingly faked his death for Optimus and subjected himself to fifteen stellar-cycles of loneliness. And he would’ve done it again if G.H.O.S.T. hadn’t caught him.

Instead, he had gone through something even worse.

Optimus shouldn’t have listened to the guards and just walked away. He should’ve broken into the cell block to see Bumblebee – well, Breakdown – that first deca-cycle. That would’ve been better.

They ventured further into G.H.O.S.T.’s base, or, more of, closer to the hidden exits.

There were supposed to be motion sensors, and normally there would be cameras watching, but with the override… They could keep walking in peace.

Optimus kept his optics open for any guards. The ones outside the cell block had smaller doors to get in, they just had to find reinforcements and bust in. But then again, with four total rescues going on at once, they probably couldn’t muster up enough people.

Funny, how organics became so dependent on their technology that the lack thereof was hindering them. And then the technological beings were the ones that were doing the best with the lack. Bumblebee would laugh at that if he– when he woke up.

Breakdown saddled up close to Optimus, peering down at Bumblebee. One of his servos brushed over the top of Bumblebee’s helm, digits fondling their way around his horns. “Scraplets, he’s still not waking up…”

“I told you even Optimus couldn’t wake him up.” Hardtop announced, squeezing up to the other side. “He’s out, he’s practically dead.”

“Stop that,” Optimus hissed.

“Cease your senseless prattle.” Soundwave, for once, agreed. And then he continued, “We are no longer concerned with what happens to the Autobot scout.”

Breakdown’s dentas snapped together with an audible click, yellow eyes flickering over to Soundwave. He looked angry, like he wanted to crush Soundwave’s helm between his servos. Optimus was inclined to agree.

Yet, he could not devote his energy to fighting with the Decepticons, even if it was verbal. “Breakdown,” he summoned instead, attracting the muscle car’s attention once again. “What can you tell me about his injuries?”

“Not much,” Breakdown admitted, springing to attention. “He didn’t exactly tell me what G.H.O.S.T. did to him, and they didn’t do it to him in front of us. They’d drag him out this way, and then he’d come back even worse than when he left. Visuals are all I’ve got, so I know as much as you do. I mean, he was delirious enough to let it slip that they were asking about you, but.”

Optimus' spark was burning so hotly that it was beginning to crackle in his audials. The only thing that made it so he could still hear Breakdown was his desperation to know everything that had happened to his scout. “How often did they…?”

“About once a solar-cycle. Sometimes they’d give him an extra day to recover if the damage was bad, and give him a double portion of energon to tide him over.”

“Yeah, he tried to be stubborn, the dumbaft.” Hardtop rolled his optics. “But even Bumblebee can’t avoid food after he’s purged his tanks, I guess.”

Optimus’ digits got tighter around Bumblebee’s plating. Something clicked beneath his grasp, and Optimus cringed to himself before loosening his grip. He could not risk hurting Bumblebee further.

“When was he last awake?” Optimus asked shortly.

“O.P., I don’t even know,” Breakdown admitted. “G.H.O.S.T. hasn’t touched him for two solar-cycles now. Guess they realized they pushed too far last time.” He shook his head. “But he’s been… drifting. Waking up and fading again. I think he might’ve woken up for a few minutes this morning, but it was hard to tell.”

He paused for another klik, clearly thinking. And then he softly said, “I’ve been trying to get Soundwave to hack in to talk to you for deca-cycles. But that hardaft…”

“It was irrational.” Soundwave protested. “You did not provide a good enough reason.”

“Bumblebee was dying! And he matters to me. I thought that meant something to you, Soundwave. We’re family. You’re supposed to back me up on these things.”

“Negative.” Soundwave huffed. “You are incorrect. Autobots should have no connection to us.”

Bombshell clicked under his vents, quietly adding his agreement.

“Yeah. Why do you think we cut Megatron out after he defected?” Hardtop grumbled. “He led us all, but we aren’t following him that far off the deep end. Autobots stink.”

“Then why are we following one?” Breakdown grumbled.

The Decepticons answered with a few scoffs of their own, but they kept trailing along. Apparently, none of them really knew how to refute that.

(:)

They met no resistance as they hustled the rest of the way through the base. There were no guards around any of the exits and entrances, G.H.O.S.T. putting far too much trust into their security systems.

Arcee was already out, her Decepticons having long since run off. “I won!” she beamed, as if it was a competition, and then her expression fell upon seeing Bumblebee. “Oh no, what happened?!”

“G.H.O.S.T.,” Breakdown explained. “Obviously.”

“Well, no duh, ‘course it was G.H.O.S.T.! They’re a bunch of no-good lowlifes, who have to rely on bots to do their…” She stopped herself, taking a deep vent. “What I meant was how’d they manage to do this to him?! Bee’s smart; he never goes down without a fight! He stands up for himself, and–!”

“That means nothing,” Breakdown spat. “Not against G.H.O.S.T.. You all should know that. You’ve been helping them take us down for long enough. They can make us do whatever they want.”

Arcee’s face twisted up in anger. “Yeah. Whatever.” She hurried over to Optimus’ side, hovering over Bumblebee. “What can I do to help? Do you want me to burn G.H.O.S.T. to the ground?”

“I will not answer that,” Optimus responded, pained.

“Oh, because you’d agree to it?”

Optimus could not answer that honestly. Instead, he asked, “Do you have extra distress beacons?” He inclined his helm towards the Decepticons. “I cannot access the ones Wheeljack gave me at the moment. My servos are a bit…”

“–occupied.” Arcee finished. “Don’t worry about a thing! I’ve got them. Listen up, ‘Cons, before you get too far!” She pivoted on her heel strut, stopping Soundwave, Hardtop, and the two Insecticons from making a break for the trees.

“We’ve got distress signals for all of you,” she told them, pulling them out of her cab and handing all four out to the Decepticons. “If you get found by G.H.O.S.T., just give us a call and we’ll be there as quickly as we can. We know this place inside and out, we’re not going to let you rust if we can help it.”

“You would’ve before,” Hardtop snapped, glaring down at the devices like they’d bite him.

“We do not need your charity.” Soundwave growled, picking up one of the beacons and crushing it in his servos. “We shall persevere. We are superior to you mere Autobots.”

“Uh-huh.” Arcee sniffed as Shrapnel took one of the beacons out of her servos with a chatter. “Well at least one of you has manners. But, fine, if you don’t want these, see what I care! Just remember this option was open to you. And you refused! Nothing I can do about that.”

Hesitantly, Bombshell and Hardtop took their own from her. Arcee grinned at them.

“You’ll never catch me using one,” Hardtop snapped. “This is just so you Autobots don’t stay up at night, wracked with guilt.”

“Sure, whatever gets you to take one.” Arcee grinned. “Now, hurry along before the big mean G.H.O.S.T. comes to grab you. But don’t hurt anyone, or we will track ya!”

“You are all pathetic,” Soundwave told his allies as they all turned to go.

Well, all except Breakdown. Who remained firmly in place, pedes planted firmly in the ground.

“Breakdown,” Optimus said as Arcee pulled a final distress beacon out of her cab. “I… I cannot thank you enough. For looking out for Bumblebee. For managing to tell us he was here. We would’ve come for you regardless, I swear it. But it… This was…”

“I didn’t know that you would,” Breakdown huffed, kicking at the dust angrily. But his shoulders lost some of their tension. “But… yeah. He’s my brother, Optimus. Before he was yours, he was mine. I’m still going to look out for him, no matter how stupid he is.”

He laughed, digging the heel of his palms into his optics. “Primus, after all my effort to save him from G.H.O.S.T., and he still gets caught. Fragging idiot…”

“Thank you, Breakdown.” Optimus said. “For… everything. You’ve always looked out for him, despite everything that’s happened. That is worth much. You have a good spark.”

“Thanks for not saying I “have the spark of a true Autobot”.” Breakdown deadpanned.

Optimus winced; he had said that plenty of times – once to Breakdown, at least – before Megatron had yelled at him for it. He knew better than that now, knew how hurtful that was no matter how much grace he meant by it. It implied that Decepticons did not care, even though he had seen love in their ranks.

“No, Breakdown.” Optimus reassured, despite himself. “Taking care of someone does not make you an Autobot. If that is a decision you want to make, that door is always open. But I– I have changed, and I will not thrust a title on anyone that they do not want.”

He held Bumblebee close to him, and looked down at his scout’s precious, blank expression. He wondered, numbly, if Bumblebee ever regretted being so loyal to him.

If there were times when G.H.O.S.T. was hurting him that he stared at the ceiling and wished he had stayed with Breakdown. If when Bumblebee was exploring the world during his isolation that he wished he had ignored Optimus and stayed close. If he didn’t love teaching the Terrans as much as he claimed.

There was so much wrong. So much Optimus could’ve done better.

What a poor mentor he had been for little Bumblebee.

“You’re getting to be alright, O.P.,” Breakdown said, simply, looking down at Bumblebee. “Still pretty stupid, but Bee was lucky to meet ya.”

Optimus, somehow, did not believe that to be true. How could he be lucky when it only led to this?

(:)

Megatron and Elita met up with them not even a klik after. Their batches of Decepticons took the devices, too, with small bundles of protest, and then took off into the woods. All of them headed in the same direction.

Optimus wondered, privately, if they had their own rendezvous. Then again, some of them had been locked up for over a decade. Maybe there had been, way back when. Perhaps it was gone now.

Optimus didn’t know.

“Okay,” Arcee said, “We’re all here. Jackie’s already headed out, so we’ve got to get moving already. Optimus, we’ll get Bumblebee loaded up into your trai… Um. Hey, wait, where is your trailer?”

Optimus shook his head. “It’s not here. I…”

“You left it in G.H.O.S.T..” Elita-1 realized, optics widening. “Optimus, that was– Why didn’t you bring it with you?!”

Optimus clenched his dentas together, and shook his head. “I didn’t think it through. I didn’t think about… I didn’t know he’d be unable to transport himself!”

“I literally told you that he was dying.” Breakdown scoffed, but his optics were wide and concerned. “So we can’t just– How are we going to get him– Wherever we’re going?”

“We have no choice," Megatron said stiffly. “You’ll have to load him up into me. I’ll fly him there directly. It is the quickest way to give him the medical aid he requires.”

“Slow down, hotshot,” Elita-1 interjected, glaring at Breakdown. “You’re not coming with.”

“What?!” Breakdown thundered. “Why not?! In case you forgot, I’m the one who got Soundwave to reach out! I got Bumblebee out of danger! I basically raised the bugger, and you’re just– That’s my brother. You’re not allowed to separate me from my brother. Not again.”

“Look, we’re sorry, but you can’t come.”

“Why? Because I’m a Decepticon? O.P. and I already talked about this; I’m not becoming an Autobot just because you “insisted”!”

“This has nothing to do with you being a Decepticon.” Megatron agreed, keeping his tone measured and still. “Even if you became an Autobot, you would not be allowed. This is not about factions. Otherwise I would likely not be allowed.”

“Everything’s about factions,” Breakdown spat. “You’ve all taught me that long ago. It’s exactly why Megatron’s trusted instead of imprisoned like the lot of us, even though he’s done a lot worse. I’ve never killed a blasted thing, and yet he’s personally executed thousands of good bots, Decepticons and Autobots alike, and he can walk free?!”

Megatron’s servos turned into fists. “That may be true. But that is–”

“Different?! Yeah, sure, everything’s different when it comes to you. But when it comes to Bumblebee and I, it’s all locked doors, forbidden friendship!” Breakdown’s voice lowered. “You and Optimus could keep being friends, what’s so bad about Bee and I?”

“We were not friends for… thousands of cycles.” Megatron said levelly. “We did not reconcile until now. And if we were, then everything we fought for would’ve been nothing but a petty squabble. It would’ve been immoral. There would’ve been no worth.”

“Sure feels like it wasn’t worth anything now!”

“Sore loser,” Arcee coughed into her fist.

Breakdown’s expression crashed into anger, and he pivoted around on his heel strut to jab a digit at her chest. “Seriously?! That’s all you can think to say?! Wow, wow, none of you actually get it, do you?! That’s Bumblebee, my best friend, and I’ve been looking out for him when nobody else would bother! Without me, he would’ve been dead before you even met him, and he would’ve been dead before your “rescue mission” tomorrow, if you were even going to–!”

“Okay, kid, slow your roll.” Elita-1 interrupted again, making a “calm down” motion with her servos. “That’s not what we meant. I mean, it is what Arcee meant, because she likes to make things hurt.”

“It’ll toughen him up!” Arcee protested.

“Breakdown,” Elita-1 forged on, reaching out to grab his shoulder, but didn’t relent even as he tried to shove off her servo, trying to twist away. “Listen to me. We’re not going to an exclusive Autobot spot, but we are staying with someone.”

“And let me guess, they hate Cons?!”

“They don’t.” Elita-1 reaffirmed. “But they have kids. And they don’t know you. How can they trust you around their children, their sparklings, if they don’t know anything about you? Even if we vouched for you, they wouldn’t like it. They would need to get to know you, first.”

Breakdown went very still, and stared at Bumblebee.

Optimus was hit by the urge to curl around his scout and hide him from view, but that wasn’t fair. Breakdown was right, after all; he was the reason Bumblebee was alive at all. He was a strong defender, a good caretaker.

They had both been children, when Optimus had found them. And yet Breakdown had taken responsibility for Bumblebee, too.

Optimus had offered Breakdown a place in the Autobot regime, too. That was when the aforementioned “spark of an Autobot” had come in. Breakdown had not been a Decepticon yet, but he had still taken great offense.

Bumblebee had gotten starry-eyed and had come with him immediately, but Breakdown had done nothing more than spit at Bumblebee and speed away. He had denied the Autobots before he could even give them a chance.

And yet, despite his harsh attitude, he had reappeared, over and over, to be kind to Bumblebee. To tease him, maybe, but to protect him and offer a helping servo, and it was so hard to not like him.

Not that Optimus was making an attempt to not like him; he tried to enjoy everyone he met. But that initial impression had been rough.

“I get it,” Breakdown said quietly, a twist in his voice that made Optimus’ spark tighten. “I didn’t… When Bumblebee decided to join you guys, I had the same thought that I didn’t know you. He couldn’t stay with you, but I wasn’t going to put myself in danger for him.” He closed his optics. “I’ve been trying to make up for that ever since. Because I should’ve gone with him.”

He turned his back to them. “And now I’m the stranger who’s endangering some other people’s kids. Funny how these things come full circle.”

“We’ll stay in contact,” Elita-1 said.

Breakdown shrugged his shoulders, going to transform and fold into sports car mode.

“We will.” Elita-1 reaffirmed, hard and fast. “I’m sending you a ping for my private comm channel. I’ll message you when I can with updates. I’ll see if I can get you to meet them, or if you can visit, okay?”

“I appreciate it.” Breakdown grunted. “Just… let me know if Bee makes it, okay? That’s what’s most important to me.

She stared at him for a long moment. “I promise.” She swore, and with a spin of his wheels, he was gone.

Elita-1 sighed to herself, shaking her head mournfully. She turned around, servos planted firmly on her hips. “I feel sorry for that kid, he deserves better than– What are you still doing here?! Bumblebee needs to get to the Maltos!”

“Frag,” Arcee cursed.

“Yes, well–” Megatron spluttered. “I still haven’t been told if we’re loading him into me or if we’d find an alternate solution! I did not get an affirmative!”

“Transform, Megatron.” Elita-1 said, hard. She pivoted back to Optimus, optics blazing as she looked down at him. “What’s Bumblebee’s status?”

Optimus froze, and looked down at Bumblebee. Despite everything, he felt a flood of sudden anxiety that he hadn’t been careful enough. That he had gone offline while he was in Optimus’ arms and he hadn’t even realized. The fear hit hard and fast.

“I–” Optimus struggled, fumbling to press his servo over one of Bumblebee’s vents so he could feel the airflow, staring intently at him. “I am just…”

A trickle of warm air hit his palm. It was too hot. Bumblebee was close to overheating, if he hadn’t already.

“He’s still online,” Optimus gasped in relief. “He is still… Elita-1, he is alive.”

“Of course he is,” Elita-1 scoffed, though she couldn’t hide the tumble of worry threading underneath her words. “He’s stronger than any bot I’ve ever met.”

She reached for Bumblebee, and took his weight partially out of Optimus’ arms before he realized what was happening and locked back down.

Elita-1’s optic ridges raised, and she sighed. “Optimus, I need to put him into Megatron. Please, you have to let go.”

“I will put him into Megatron,” Optimus insisted, even as his spark sank in sorrow that Bumblebee had to be put elsewhere at all. Worst of all, he had to be placed within Megatron.

Optimus trusted Megatron with all his spark, but he just… He did not know if he trusted Megatron with Bumblebee’s. He knew how that sounded, he knew. He just, he…

“Optimus.” Arcee gripped his shoulder, and Optimus lifted his optics up to her. “It’s time to let go of him.”

“I–” Optimus started, but faltered when Elita-1 pulled him out of his arms before he could stop it. She hefted Bumblebee against her chassis, staring down at him with crippling sorrow. But she moved faster than Optimus had been.

She had to duck to fit within Megatron, sliding Bumblebee down with a couple clunks of metal vibrating against one another, and she organized the scout to be laying flat. Elita-1 rose. She stared at him for a beat or two, and then stepped out of Megatron’s undercarriage.

With a whir of Megatron’s engines, the door slid shut, locking Bumblebee in his interior. His thrusters began to burst, and his rotors spun.

“Megatron,” Optimus called, desperately, pushing himself up to trembling pedes. “Take care of him. Make sure he gets to them okay. I cannot… If he dies, I will be unable to…”

“I will be careful.” Megatron promised. That was all he said. There were no false promises of safety, that Bumblebee would survive. That was not something Megatron could control.

Optimus should’ve sent Megatron on his way a long time ago. That would’ve made it better, would’ve made his chances of survival all the more likely. But he had waited. He had risked Bumblebee’s safety, and he had thought nothing of it.

What a horrible person he was. What a danger he was to the person who mattered the most to him. Breakdown had been right; he was a horrible influence on poor Bumblebee.

Elita-1 seized his servo without him realizing, pulling him a step closer to her. She looked at him for a beat, and then she said “Optimus. We have to leave. G.H.O.S.T.’s systems will be turning online soon, if they aren’t on already.”

“I’ll see if I can beat Megatron there and help get Bumblebee unloaded,” Arcee determined, and without waiting for a response, she switched down to her altmode and sped off.

Optimus watched her go with tired eyes.

Elita-1’s servo touched his helm and turned his faceplate back towards her. Exhaustion pulled on every inch of her face, the anticipation of the last few deca-cycles finally paying off. The Decepticons had been released, and they were all free from G.H.O.S.T.. No Cybertronian would work for them ever again.

It had led to something worse, though. Something agonizing.

Elita-1 leaned up, servo dropping Optimus’ and wrapping firmly around his neck. She pulled him down and squeezed, comfort rolling off her field and pressing against Optimus’.

Optimus hugged her back after a nano-klik, and let her warmth press against his. Primus, he missed this. He missed her.

His second-in-command, his steady support, his brave friend.

As the cycles passed, they had drifted apart. Not physically, not outwardly, but emotionally and mentally they were as distant as if they were strangers. And yet, while in his arms, he felt like nothing had changed at all.

“Alright,” she said, just like she had so many times before. “We’re all good now.”

Optimus took her cue with grace, and though he did not want to, he released her and let go. He stared down at her, and felt rolling sorrow that he could not keep her close forever.

As if she could sense his wants, she took back his servo, but she did not hug him again. “Optimus.” Elita-1 said simply. “Let’s go get your scout.”

(:)

Optimus and Elita-1 did not have the fastest altmodes. Even going as fast as possible but taking every route possible to avoid G.H.O.S.T.’s surveillances, it took them nearly seventeen kliks to reach the Maltos.

Halfway through, Optimus’ comm rang with an incoming call from Croft. He hung up and blocked her. He deleted his comm line and recreated it with an encrypted code, sending it to the rest of the Autobots.

Half a klik later, he got four pings as the other Autobots sent their own new comm lines, separate from whatever G.H.O.S.T. frequency they had been on. That was something they had apparently forgotten to do, but at least they were handling it now.

Elita-1 made a new group comm line once every new line had been sent, asking a short ::Update?::

A moment later, Arcee pinged them with a reassuring, ::Bumblebee’s still kicking. Wheeljack is already working on fixing him up.::

Optimus felt a flood of relief crash through him. Bumblebee had gotten to the Maltos safe. He was okay, he was alive. He just had to make it through the night. He had to hold onto himself long enough for Wheeljack to stabilize him. That was all he needed to do.

A klik later, Optimus realized there were six numbers in the group. Understanding came quickly, and Optimus updated the unknown number with its proper designation. Breakdown.

It didn’t take them much longer to roll into the Malto’s driveway, but those few kliks felt like an eternity. There were no new updates, but cold and nervous anticipation washed through Optimus.

It was decently late; around 0000 hours. Yet the lights were still on in the Maltos’ barn. Optimus could see restless movement from within, a shadowy figure passing back and forth in front of the cracked-open entrance. Someone was pacing.

Optimus switched back to his root mode and crossed over to the door as quickly as he could, sliding open the entrance and peering down at all nine Maltos, clustered indoors, waiting. Those heads turned up to stare at him and Elita-1.

Eight of them crumpled with great sorrow at the sight of them. Only Ranger Malto pretended to be unphased, but her shoulders remained tight. Even she, with all her gusto and effort, could not completely hide her fear for the young Autobot.

“Optimus,” Hashtag croaked worriedly. “Elita… Please, please, please tell me you have an update! Tell me you know what’s going on, when he’ll get out, I can’t believe– I spent so long plugged into G.H.O.S.T.’s systems and never even saw he was there.”

“Oh, baby…” Ranger Malto tsked, holding out her arms for her daughter and encasing her gently in her hold. “That’s not your fault.”

“It’s definitely not.” Elita-1 confirmed. “It was under all of our olfactory sensors.”

“There was nothing more to be done,” Optimus told her gently as he slipped into the barn, needing to duck to get in the barn. He remained crouched, unable to stand completely with the low roof. Very few human buildings were built to accommodate his bigger figure. “The only person to blame is Croft and her lackeys.”

The words came out more hateful than he met, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it back. He knew it was Croft who ruined everything. Who hurt Bumblebee. She had made a choice, and for that, Optimus would find a way to make her pay.

“Still,” Hashtag said miserably. “We could’ve done something!”

“We stayed safe,” Doctor Malto told his youngest daughter, but his servos were for the other two triplets' servos, holding them tightly. “That’s what Bumblebee wanted from us. If we put ourselves in danger, there would’ve been no reason for this to happen.”

“There was no reason!” Twitch burst, her servos twisting in tiny fists. “There should never be a reason for this kind of thing to happen! I knew he shouldn’t be racing, I knew it! He knew it, too! Why’d he have to go and get caught?!”

Ranger Malto shook her head, and reached out the servo that wasn’t wrapped around Hashtag’s helm towards Twitch. The eldest Terran shook her head angrily, spinning on her heel struts and marching straight out of the barn.

Optimus closed his optics, feeling sorrow fill his spark chamber, almost drowning out his spark. Twitch, he feared, was right. Some things didn’t have a reason behind them. They were just plain sad.

“I’ll… I’ll go talk to her.” Thrash muttered, the sounds of his transformation and engine flaring carrying through the barn as he left.

Jawbreaker sniffled quietly, underneath the sound of his whirring vents. Morgan attached herself to her youngest brother’s hip, wrapping her arms as much around him as she could. Robby looked awkward, shifting from pede to pede, staring at the ground with wide, wet optics.

The poor children. Optimus couldn’t remember being so young, not really, but he could recall the countless deaths and injuries.

Of waiting outside infirmaries, servos in his helm, waiting to hear news if someone would make it or not. Ratchet and First Aid padding out, sometimes smiling in quiet victory, other times shaking their helms and looking down. Optimus could do nothing but be the steady arms for the bot’s mourning friends.

Nightshade looked up at Elita-1 and Optimus, looking at them mournfully. “Wheeljack said– He said when you arrived, you could go into the dugout. You don’t need to stay out here if you do not want to.”

Optimus was crossing over to the trapdoor before Nightshade even finished, barely listening as Elita-1 hummed quietly in gratitude at them. Her pedesteps followed Optimus over.

“You’ll all be safe up here?” Optimus asked as the trapdoor slid open, going to the first step and casting a glance over his shoulder.

“We’ll be okay,” Ranger Malto promised, turning her helm to look at him, but her cheek didn’t leave the top of Hashtag’s helm. “We’ll come down if G.H.O.S.T. shows up. But don’t worry about us right now, okay? Look after your kid.”

Optimus extended his field, full of gratitude, to her. He wished Ranger Malto were a bot and had a capacity for such things. It’d be easier if she could feel the completeness of the depths of his emotions.

Thank you for everything thank you for giving us refuge thank you because if you hadn’t extended a servo Bumblebee would have nowhere safe to be right now thank you thank you thank you thank you…

And then he turned around to descend into the dugout, advancing down the steps as quickly as possible.

(:)

Megatron looked up as they entered, pushing off of the wall he was leaning on to advance towards them. “I’m glad to see you two made it. No complications, I hope?”

“None on our side.” Elita-1 reassured, stopping while Optimus continued to advance, creeping up to Bumblebee’s side. “Any here?”

“No. It is… lucky that the Maltos were so well-stocked here. Either Dorothy or Bumblebee ensured they had plenty of medical supplies, likely for the Terrans… But they are serving us well now.

“Good. Bumblebee deserves the best.”

“And he shall get it.”

Wheeljack didn’t even glance up as Optimus finally stood over both him and Bumblebee, staring down at his scout’s limp form.

There was a pile of wires everywhere, bubbling out of his chassis and plating. There were cracks in some of his pistons and joints, and Optimus had a hard time believing such tiny creatures were capable of such damage. His plating was not the only thing that was dented; his spark chamber and tank had undergone some rough handling, and his frame was caved in some places where it shouldn’t have been.

Optimus’ spark ached with a thousand things he could not say.

“He looks heavily damaged,” Optimus said, having to coax his voice box into getting the words out.

“I know.” Wheeljack said helplessly. “They did everything they could to him. I think most of this is sledgehammers and wire cutters, but I could just as easily be wrong. I’m a poor medic, and if I was any worse…”

“Will he make it?” Optimus asked numbly, staring down at his scout’s empty, blank face. It wasn’t even pinched in pain. There was no expression there. Optimus hoped that meant he felt no pain in his recharge, but the chances of that…

“I don’t know,” Wheeljack said helplessly, twisting two of the wires together with clumsy servos. “I’m trying to get him stable before anything else. Arcee’ll buff him out when we know for sure.”

There was a clatter from one of the supply closets, and the femme shouldered her way out, carrying a box in her servos. “Sure I will! But for now, Wheeljack’s got his servos full.”

Wheeljack nodded to himself, but didn’t offer anything else. He bent more closely over Bumblebee, staring down at his mess of wires and parts, fiddling with one of the fuel lines, rolling it between his digits.

Wheeljack must be so overworked. He had been throwing himself into Teletraan-1, had pulled together a plan to get them all out of G.H.O.S.T., and now had to work on Bumblebee to ensure he made it through the lunar-cycle, but he couldn’t afford a break.

Optimus’ spark was sore for him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked, but he knew there wouldn’t be.

Wheeljack looked up at him for the first time, and mournfully, predictably, shook his helm.

Optimus took Bumblebee’s limp servo and squeezed. He sat down with a heavy sigh, turning his back to the berth, all the while keeping his digits intertwined with his scout’s.

Can you feel me? He wondered helplessly. Do you know that you are safe and loved? G.H.O.S.T. will never touch you again. Do you know that?

Obviously, no response was forthcoming. It wasn’t like Optimus was expecting one, but in that klik, he really wished he got one anyway.

(:)

Optimus startled out of recharge as all nine Maltos came downstairs, exhaustion weighing on their features heavily.

“Sorry I blew up,” Twitch mumbled at them once they were all assembled, standing anxiously in the threshold and avoiding looking straight at Bumblebee. She twisted her digits together anxiously.

Optimus wondered, briefly, why she was apologizing to them when it had been her father who had gotten the brunt of it. But Doctor Malto’s servo was on her shoulder, so she had probably already talked to him.

“I…” Twitch continued awkwardly. “I guess I was just…”

Robby took her servo, his sleeve glowing softly. “Scared.”

Twitch nodded sadly. “I hate seeing Bumblebee… hurt. He’s supposed to be okay, he’s supposed to be strong, but instead what happened was… was…”

“It’s understandable,” Megatron reassured. “There are many… “issues” when it comes to war. The trauma, both direct and indirect…”

“But,” Thrash protested. “We aren’t at war. And there’s still things messed up!”

“Well, we’re not fighting the ‘Cons, that’s for sure.” Elita-1 huffed. “But if I have it my way, G.H.O.S.T. won’t be around for much longer.”

“That’s…” Hashtag optics flashed to Bumblebee, and then back to Elita-1. “That’s kind of why we’re down here.”

“Aside from us needing to sleep,” Nightshade added, rubbing the corners of their optics tiredly. “The straw isn’t nearly as comfortable as Twitch and Thrash led us to believe.”

“It’s nice to me,” Morgan complained, sleepily leaning against Ranger Malto. “Just because it gets in all your joints and metal and stuff…”

“Shh, Mosey.” Ranger Malto whispered. “Let’s get you somewhere quiet and nice, okay? Your siblings will be going to bed soon, too. Thrash, can she…?”

“Yeah,” Thrash swallowed, turning to go. “I’ll come with you, I don’t need to hear this again.”

Optimus kept his attention firmly on Hashtag while they left, staring at her. “Hashtag, what happened?”

“It’s, um.” She fidgeted. “The– G.H.O.S.T. just sent out a public service announcement. It’s… It’s really bad. Mom doesn’t want us leaving the dugout.”

“Don’t think I do,” Doctor Malto wagged a finger at her. Despite his playful air, his expression was tense with nervous energy. “But your mother and I will have to talk tomorrow about how far we’re okay with you walking away, because–”

“Out with it,” Elita-1 demanded. “What was it?”

Hashtag took a deep breath, pulling out her data pad and holding it out for everyone to see. Optimus had to adjust his optics to look, and he heard Wheeljack stall in his repairs to stare. Arcee clumsily got to her pedes so she could see the screen, too.

“Attention, people of the world,” Croft’s voice echoed through the room, “I am Agent Croft of G.H.O.S.T., leader of the Cybertronian-human relations department. This is a public service announcement. The Autobots have defected. Recently, they broke in and released the Decepticons from their detention units. Autobots are our enemies. Repeat, Autobots are our enemies. If you see any Cybertronians, contact us immediately on our hotline. G.H.O.S.T. is here to protect you.”

“We can’t go anywhere anymore,” Jawbreaker fretted, anxious. “I mean, we wouldn’t already, but… Sometimes we explore, and… And humans’ll spot us. But they’ve never seemed bothered! I think they assume we’re Autobots, and that’s why we’re okay coming out, but…”

Optimus sighed at the same time that Megatron, Elita-1, and Arcee all groaned.

Arcee shook her helm at them, frowning.  “I don’t think Bumblebee would’ve approved of you sneaking out. You’re supposed to be in hiding, remember?”

“You took us on our first mission!” Twitch said, pointing at her determinedly. “And you’ve been playing with us around the farm, which is also a problem now, because if any cars are driving past, they can see us!”

“And that is most certainly not our faults!” Nightshade agreed with a firm nod.

“It’s definitely not.” Doctor Malto bobbed his helm, holding Nightshade and Jawbreaker’s servos. “My kids… They can’t live in a box. I won’t let that happen. I know you just got here, but…”

Megatron was the one to nod. “None of us are safe in Witwicky. We all need to leave as soon as possible, but I’m afraid that it's just not possible. Not while Bumblebee is…”

Bumblebee’s servo felt cold. Optimus squeezed it and pretended like it was filled with warmth, bursting and filling his own fuel lines with the excitement and enthusiasm that Bumblebee was so good about showing. It was infectious. Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

“I know,” Doctor Malto said, sorrowfully. “For just a little bit we’ll have to stay down here. I’m sorry, kids.”

“It’s okay, Dad.” Hashtag said miserably, folding away her iPad. Her optics found Bumblebee and Optimus again. “As long as we have wifi, I’m sure we’ll manage!”

“This is important for Bumblebee.” Twitch added, hunching into herself. “So he gets better, and he can do it safely. So we’ve got to stay hidden, so this is– This is all for a reason, right?”

Doctor Malto’s expression twisted. “...Yes, Twitch, that’s right.” He took a deep vent. “Okay, kids, it’s very, very late, and you all should’ve been in bed hours ago. The bots will still be here when you wake up, okay?”

They all muttered out their agreements, sneaking off in their own directions.

Tension Optimus didn’t know he had been holding rolled off his shoulders. He always used to try to keep Bumblebee out of the infirmary, no matter how much his scout loved hanging around Ratchet. It was just… such a sad place.

He hated that they had made the dugout into an infirmary, too. Someplace where the injured went, where they rusted and energon was spilled. A battlefield of a different kind, under a unique type of knife, and yet… Deactivation could still happen in an instant.

Wheeljack wasn’t a medic. It wasn’t fair that he had to do something so hard with such limited experience. It wasn’t fair that Bumblebee had been tortured for simply being on his own and being free. It wasn’t fair that the Autobots didn’t have a home, no matter where they went.

Instead, they had commandeered the Terrans’ home, and they had turned it into a place of dread.

Eventually, Optimus hoped they’d all find somewhere safe to move, but he didn’t know where to start looking. The Maltos’ was supposed to be a stepping stone, not somewhere permanent, but… None of them knew where to go.

How could they find anywhere to stay when G.H.O.S.T., when every other person on Earth, was looking for them?

There were a few kliks of quiet, save for the distant tapping of Wheeljack’s tools against Bumblebee’s innerworkings. Arcee hummed a few bars under her breath, but gave up quickly enough. The quiet stretched on for a moment or two.

And then Doctor Malto said, “Twitch? You should go to bed, honey.”

Optimus lifted his head in surprise, finding the young drone still standing exactly where she had been before, shifting awkwardly from pede to pede. “I won’t be able to sleep,” she miserably told Doctor Malto. “May I please stay with Bumblebee?”

“I… I don’t know….”

“Yes, little bird.” Megatron allowed immediately, without even a glance in either Optimus and Elita-1’s directions. Optimus felt a stab of frustration. “But only if you settle down and don’t get in Wheeljack’s way.”

“Ooh, thank you thank you thank you!” Twitch burst, soaring across the distance between her and Megatron to wrap her servos around his neck, giggling with just a bit of hysteria. She turned away from Megatron to dash over to Optimus’ side, and then screeched to a stop.

She bounced for a moment, having to stand on her tiptoes to be able to see over the edge of Bumblebee’s frame. Optimus opened his mouth to say something – though he wasn’t quite sure what – when Twitch cut him off with a point.

“Are you done with this side yet, Wheeljack?”

“Twitch–” Megatron huffed warningly.

“It’s fine,” Wheeljack immediately reassured, adjusting his position over Bumblebee so that Twitch could climb up without getting underpede. “Just try not to move too much.”

“I won’t twitch,” Twitch joked, floating up to clamber up against Bumblebee’s side, curling between it and the servo Optimus was holding. Her rotors had to twist to allow her to settle down comfortably beside her mentor.

Optimus pinged their comm channel, separate from the one with Breakdown. ::I know this is her home. But an infirmary is no place for a sparkling.::

::Yeah, but Megs is right.:: Arcee responding, beating everyone else, scooting over to stand next to Optimus. ::Twitch and Bee are close, and I bet her being here will help. Subconsciously, at least. He likes her.::

::And I’ll gladly admit,:: Wheeljack added. ::I like her, too. She’s comforting. I like having her nearby, even if you’re right. She shouldn’t be on an operating table, especially when she’s not being worked on, but…::

::If both our medic and patient are happy, she can certainly stay. Besides, she asked for this.:: Elita-1 agreed, ignoring Optimus’ wave of betrayal.

::If she ends up causing more problems than solutions, then I shall take full responsibility. If anything happens, she can stay with me.:: Megatron reassured, his optics never leaving Twitch as she remained settled against Bumblebee.

Optimus sighed, but relented. There was nothing to be done about it. If everyone thought that Twitch was okay to remain here, then Optimus would allow it. He hated it, though. He was… a good bit older than the Terrans, then Bumblebee, when he received the Matrix of Leadership, and he had still felt too young.

If he had been able to change it without backlash, Optimus would’ve upped the age of maturity in an instant. But he couldn’t, and it wasn’t very fair of him to think that way. Not a single Malto would live to see the Terrans reach adulthood.

Ranger Malto emerged from the twins’ room a klik later, servos placed firmly on her hips. “Thrash and Mo are all tucked in. Is everyone else in bed?”

“They did,” Doctor Malto reassured, taking his conjunx’s arm. “Robby already headed up to his room, too. Twitch hasn’t gone quite yet, but the bots and I are letting her stay up with Bee.” He was whispering, but Optimus could still pick up on his words, the teacher leaning against Ranger Malto. “I think she’ll fall asleep anyway.”

Ranger Malto peeked over her shoulder at the eldest Terran, her expression smoothing out from hard confusion to worry. “Oh, baby… And the bots are okay with…?”

“She barely had to ask, Dottie.” Doctor Malto told her, leading her the rest of the way to the stairs. In just a klik, they were gone, voices and pedesteps finally fading away, as if they hadn’t been harboring fugitives at all.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” Twitch whispered, apparently not having been sleeping at all. Her servos clumsily reached out to pat Bumblebee’s chassis. “I… I really want him to be okay.”

“He will be!” Arcee quickly reassured. “He’s got the best medic helping him on this side of the universe!”

He was the only Cybertronian medic here. It really wasn’t that much of a stretch.

Wheeljack brightened regardless, his processor temporarily distracted from the seriousness of his task. “Well, thank you, Arcee! I’ve been practicing?”

“Oh, really?” Arcee giggled. “With what?”

“Shhh!” Elita-1 shushed, holding a digit to her intake. “Do you want to wake up the other Terrans?! They’ve been nice to lend us a servo, the least we can do is keep down the volume!”

While Eilta-1 and Arcee hissed at each other quiet scoldings, Optimus turned his attention back to the servo in his palm. He gave it a gentle squeeze.

They’d be okay.

(:)

Three groons later, Breakdown texted them. ::Hey… How’s Bee? Did he make it?::

::Yes.:: Megatron returned, short but not very sweet.

::Don’t worry, B.D.! He’s still kicking.:: Arcee sent a screencap. It was of Bumblebee, chest cavity propped open. A tangle of wires and a mess of gears protruded out of his chassis. Twitch was still asleep on one side of Bumblebee, and Wheeljack was leaning down the other to be in the frame, giving a peace symbol.

Between them, Bumblebee’s spark was glowing, no longer the dim thing it had been.

The relief came fast, and Optimus shuffled off the floor to look down at his scout. His venting was more regular now, in addition to his brighter spark.

“Isn’t it fantastic?” Arcee asked excitedly, optics awash in warm light. “Bumblebee’s going to be awake and walking around in no time!”

“Yay,” Wheeljack said tiredly, and when Optimus looked at him, he found the mechanic looked much different than he had in the photo.

He looked tired and weathered, a tension to his shoulders that wouldn’t leave. He had clearly been posing for the picture alone.

Optimus rounded around the operation table to set a servo on his friend’s shoulder. He had to drop Bumblebee’s servo in the process, but he took the extra nano-klik to tuck it around Twitch instead. Despite still being offline, Bumblebee’s digits tightened the slightest bit around her.

“Old friend,” Optimus pressed. “I… I appreciate all you’ve been doing. But you need to eat. Take a break.”

Wheeljack sighed, shaking his head. “I do, I just… He’s stable. I have a couple last repairs to do, and then I can close him up. His self-reapirs’ll kick in for a while.” He looked down at Bumblebee, taping the clamp he was holding against Bumblebee’s shoulder for a nano-klik. “I think, anyway.”

“Wheeljack’s a miracle worker,” Arcee praised. “I’ve never seen bots be repaired in real time before. None of our medics liked people watching them work.”

There’s a reason for that, Optimus thought, but it wasn’t like they could help it. Their infirmary was somebody else’s home. There was nowhere else to go, since it was the main room. What a horrible situation.

“Just a few more kliks,” Wheeljack reassured. “Then he’ll be okay for a little while. I’ll recharge and refuel, and we can all figure out what we’re going to do about G.H.O.S.T. and the Maltos and the Terrans.”

“Maybe we should head towards Tri Zeta,” Elita-1 sighed, seated against one of the walls, optics not turned toward them. “It’s not the most safe, but… It’d be better than stealing the Maltos’ safe spot, wouldn’t it?”

“It wouldn’t work.” Megatron argued. “I know how people like them think. They’ll be re-establishing connections we made for them as soon as we can. Tri Zeta was ideal as a rendezvous alone, but an actual hiding spot? We wouldn’t last the solar-cycle.”

“Not to mention the cameras.” Arcee added. She crossed her arms, leaning against the table. “They’ll be watching all of Witwicky already, and no matter how we split to try and avoid being seen, they’ll know. I bet they’ll be searching every car with our make and model that they can find.”

“Curse these humans,” Megatron spat. “We spent too long being their loyal puppets. They’ll use everything they learned from us against us!”

“Shh,” Elita-1 chided again. “Kids are still asleep.”

Megatron scoffed again, shuffling his shoulders and hunching into himself.

In Bumblebee’s fifteen stellar-cycles of isolation, he had been slowly accumulating as many safety measures as he could.

Optimus could remember, three orbital-cycles in, Wheeljack approaching with a data-pad in hand as he explained that their energon-suppressor had been stolen. They had looked at each other, and both knew that it had been their scout, ensuring his own survival.

Bumblebee had changed his alt-mode, though Optimus hadn’t even known that much until a sports car had screeched up to Mandroid’s lair instead of a VW Beetle. His survival had been guaranteed the only way he knew how.

It wasn’t until later, still, that Optimus learned just how often Bumblebee had changed his alt mode. He had done it so often that they could never track him down, that they could never peg a specific form onto him, and yet the strain it must’ve put on his frame…

That was beside the point. Ideally, they’d all be able to change their alt modes, too, in order to leave. But with Witwicky on lockdown and optics everywhere, even more firm than they had previously been…

The chances of them being able to secure good alt modes were slim.

The only thing that they could scan that the Maltos owned was their van, and that was… Perhaps not the best option for all of them. Too small for Optimus, too big for Wheeljack and Arcee, and Megatron could no longer scan ground vehicles.

There was just no easy way to get out of this.

“Okay,” Wheeljack announced at last, carefully reconnecting the last wire and clicking shut Bumblebee’s chassis. Twitch let out a sleepy mumble, and curled up more tightly against his chassis. They all held their vents for a klik, as if they’d suddenly wake her up now instead of at any other point earlier in the night.

“That should be it, then.” Wheeljack said, voice lowered. “I’m going to get some shut eye, and maybe some– Why thank you, Arcee! And some energon.” He held up the cube Arcee had procured for him, giving it a tired, accentuated swirl. “Welp, that’s it for Wheeljack. Hittin’ the berth now.”

With that, Wheeljack took a swig, and then promptly faceplanted right there on the ground. Arcee chuckled at her friend, and comedically started dragging him backwards, away from the table and towards a wall.

“I think Wheeljack’s going to bed,” Arcee told them. “Just in case nobody noticed.”

“Huh, and after such an eloquent speech?” Elita-1 teased. “Never would’ve guessed.”

Optimus looked over at Bumblebee. He seemed healthier, by quite a large margin. He was more flush in his faceplate, likely in part due to the energon IV plugged directly into his arm.

Optimus remembered how splattered with energon that his cell had been. How terrified Bumblebee must’ve been, and in turn how scared the other Decepticons must’ve been, seeing how G.H.O.S.T. treated someone who wasn’t even a ‘Con. An Autobot by designation, but a neutral for the last fifteen stellar-cycles.

Megatron had been right. G.H.O.S.T. was bad news. And for far too long, Optimus had let them go unchecked. And now they had backed them all into a hole they could not crawl their way out of.

But Bumblebee’s spark was bright, and his chassis slowly moved as his vents worked their magic and his tanks pushed energon throughout his frame. Still sleeping, but that was good. It meant when he woke up, he’d be healthy and not in as much pain.

Optimus did not want him in pain. He didn’t want him scared.

How was Bumblebee so much safer in the midst of war than he was here?

How did that make sense?

It didn’t. It just… It didn’t.

Optimus needed to take a drive. And yet, he couldn’t. He was stuck here. He had done it to himself. To all of them. What kind of leader – what kind of Prime – did that?

(:)

Agent Croft came house calling, because of course she did. Her and her entourage of seven G.H.O.S.T. agents, masks pulled down over their faces, arrived in a show of gusto at the Maltos’ house.

The doors to the dugout locked with a solid click, and security camera footage popped up on the main monitor. Despite the sudden blaring noise, Wheeljack kept sleeping, olfactory sensor still ground firmly into the floor.

Hashtag took a picture. For prosperity, Optimus was sure.

“Well, I’m certain nobody saw this coming,” Nightshade grumbled aloud as they looked up from the gadgets they had been tinkering with in the middle of their floor. “Agent Croft– Here to no doubt attempt to bully Mom into submission.”

“Not our Mom,” Thrash boasted. “Or our Dad.”

On the feed, the door opened, and Ranger and Doctor Malto stood in the doorway. Even on camera, Optimus could tell how hard they were struggling to keep their faces neutral. With any luck, Agent Croft would just suspect they didn’t like her as a person.

Nobody really did.

“Agent Malto.”

“Executive Agent Croft.” Ranger Malto crossed her arms. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, well. I’m sure you heard the announcement. It’s been circling since last night.” Agent Croft said, servos clasped firmly behind her back. She turned her head just enough that Optimus could see the glimmer of pure disgust in her optics. “The Autobots freed the Decepticons in our custody. All of them.”

“Yes, we’ve heard it.” Ranger Malto said. “Multiple times. It’s all that’s on the news. It’s…”

Doctor Malto reached out to seize her servo. “Terrifying! Very scary.”

“Yes. Criminals everywhere. In disguise. Running rampant in the streets, and we don’t even know it. Who knows what forms they could’ve taken. Where in the world they are.” Agent Croft dramatically flourished out her arms, and Optimus found himself holding back an optic roll. “They could be anywhere. Or they could be in Witwicky. Right under our noses.”

All vents abruptly shut off. A washer could be dropped in the resulting silence, and they’d be able to hear it.

“Does she know we’re down here?” Jawbreaker asked in raw terror.

“No.” Elita-1 spat, but she was pulling out her blaster already, turning to face the door.

“What do you want, Agent Croft?” Ranger Malto growled. “This is private property. G.H.O.S.T. may have gotten me my job, but they didn’t get me my house.”

“Maybe not.” Agent Croft tutted. “Which is a shame. We would’ve found you somewhere with… less land. After all, you’ve got plenty of places to… I don’t know, say, harbor a few fugitives?”

“What’re you saying?” Doctor Malto asked curiously, and for the briefest moment, Optimus almost believed that he was as oblivious as he was acting. There was the actor they had all desperately needed months ago.

“Oh, for– We know you’re friends with the Autobots! Who was it again– Oh that’s right! Megatron. You were in a squad with Megatron? Cyberstrike, or… whatever it’s called.”

“How dare she threaten Dorothy!” Megatron scowled, snapping up to his pedes so quickly he dislodged the twins from his side. He barely spared them a glance, expression twisting. “And on my behalf, too, they–! She–!”

He cut himself off, optics wide, terror and worry painting his expression as he dragged a servo down his face. And then his gaze switched back down to the twins. “Oh, children, I am… I am so sorry.” He stooped down, gathering Twitch and Thrash back up.

“It’s okay, Megatron, really.” Thrash told him, patting his faceplate.

“Mom’s got this. She’s not going to get scared.” Twitch reassured as well.

“Megatron.” Optimus called, and his spark somehow softened and tightened at the mournful look his friend gave him. “They’re right. She’s going to be okay.”

“–saying is that perhaps those bonds stretch further than just amiable partnership. I mean, you don’t really expect me to believe that after we finally reunited you after all these years, they wouldn’t reach out about their plans? I mean… Come on now, you’re friends with a Decepticon, Agent Malto! You don’t think that’s a little bit suspicious?”

“Megs and I work well together. That’s it.”

“Megs?” Agent Croft scoffed. “Surely you hear yourself right now, Dorothy. Everything you say is just more incentive for us to believe that you’re in cahoots with those robotic–!”

“If you’re really so worried, search our whole property!” Doctor Malto interjected. “There’s not a bot anywhere. No Autobots, no Decepticons. Unless– You don’t really think there’s one or two hiding around here, do you?”

“They wouldn’t come here, if they’re smart.” Ranger Malto held her conjunx’s hand.

“I didn’t think she hated us that much,” Arcee teased, as if she wasn’t bristled and ready for a fight, shadowboxing the air behind Megatron.

“You cannot be serious.” Agent Croft deadpanned. “You’re both– Whatever. Everyone, start sweeping the premises. Where are your children? I’d like to ask them a few questions, too.”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t trust you with my children.” Ranger Malto hissed.

Robby and Mo weren’t even in the dugout with the Autobots and the Terrans. Ranger Malto had ordered them into the house to do their homework. She must’ve seen the visit coming, and even though she’d never let them around Croft, it truly was better to be safe than sorry. Especially around G.H.O.S.T..

“I sign your paychecks, Agent Malto.”

“Just because you’re government approved doesn’t mean I’m letting you around my kids. Whether or not Alex and I are in the room doesn’t matter. You’re not allowed near them, and that is final.”

“You’ll regret this.”

“Oh really? Well. Feeling pretty good about my chances right now.” Ranger Malto said, and closed the door in Croft’s face.

Croft froze, and then slowly turned around.

Optimus could admit. There was something very satisfying about her looking so shellshocked about the whole ordeal. As if she could just waltz into a person’s life and demand their total cooperation with nothing but a few cheap words.

What was it Ranger Malto had said? They would both do anything as long as their kids weren’t put in danger?

Well. She had been right.

(:)

They remained huddled in the bunker for a while, keeping close together. Elita-1 kept her blaster trained at the doors, even though Nightshade’s security system allowed them plenty of notice whenever a G.H.O.S.T. agent entered the barn.

They wandered along stiffly, gaze circling the property with critical eyes, and yet every single one managed to miss every camera. Optimus couldn’t say he would do much better.

Nightshade had led them around the farmhouse once, an orbital-cycle ago, pointing out every single camera. Optimus had been surprised by just about every single one.

The G.H.O.S.T. agents continued on.

“You’re sure they don’t know we’re down here?” Thrash asked, pointedly, and Megatron adjusted his hold on them. At some point, the former Decepticon had navigated to be holding every Terran in his arms, curled protectively around them.

“Positive,” Megatron told him.

Optimus, on his end, held Bumblebee in his arms. He doubted G.H.O.S.T. knew where they were, but he had underestimated them before. And if they needed a quick exit, he would not leave his scout behind. Not again.

Besides, it felt… nice, to hold Bumblebee. It reminded him of simpler times. Of small arms reaching up, demanding to be scooped up. Of tiny pedesteps following him around no matter where he went, or waiting behind closed doors for him to finish up meetings.

It reminded him of holding a blaster, a young frame beside him trying to messily copy him. Of bright dentas stretched wide, of a form climbing into his berth during a rough night.

Bumblebee was so warm. His spark was so bright. Optimus would defend that until his last vent, until his spark stopped pulsing.

Overhead, they could hear something creaking, and Optimus turned his head to look back at the monitors, optics searching.

Agent Croft herself stood in the middle of the barn, servos clenched behind her back. Frosty optics swept over the space. “My brother said Bumblebee was staying here, when he was “infiltrating” the Maltos. There has to be a clue on what he was doing here somewhere.”

The G.H.O.S.T. agents saluted, but didn’t say a word, turning back to search. They hadn’t found anything yet, and they would proceed to be unable to find anything every single time they hunted.

Nightshade had put a lot of work into the dugout. Optimus wasn’t even sure how that was possible in such little time, but they had.

“None of you actually think that the Maltos were oblivious, do you?” Agent Croft continued, pacing the floor. None of the G.H.O.S.T. agents responded. Optimus was starting to doubt they were even human. “No, of course not. They had to have known. I knew going along with Optimus’ advice for human allies was a bad idea…”

It had been the best idea Optimus ever had. That much, he was certain of.

The Terrans’ very existence had relied on it, after all.

“No matter. They cleaned up well.” Agent Croft sighed, gesturing to the G.H.O.S.T. agents to circle back up. “Set up security systems. Make sure nothing goes in or out of this property. And then we’ll leave.”

“Hashtag,” Twitch whipped her helm around, something bold and nervous in her expression, all at once. “Can you do something about that?”

“Yup! I can make the cameras break, or set them to loop, or whatever you need! I’ll wait until they leave before I do, of course, and account for daylight, and–” Hashtag trailed off, suddenly aware that the Autobots were staring at her. “What? What is it?”

“Uh, well, we knew you could connect to G.H.O.S.T.’s base…” Arcee mused, kneeling down in front of her. “But all G.H.O.S.T. tech? Really?”

“Oh, please!” Hashtag beamed, waving her servo giddily. “You underestimate me! I can do all tech! Whatever you need!” And then she froze. “But um. I can’t exactly do anything if people drive past, because they’ll see us either way, and I can’t just erase people’s memories.”

“Oh, if only.” Nightshade muttered under their breath. “Then perhaps we could be rid of G.H.O.S.T. for good. But that’s… That’s over and done with. It’s for the best.”

“Hmph.” Megatron grumbled, narrowing his optics at Hashtag. “You said you can’t erase people’s memories… Can you touch Cybertronians?”

“Uh, no, Cybertronians are people, too.” Hashtag scoffed. “And I’m not even trying to do that, no matter how cool it might sound…”

“Good,” Megatron sighed.

“Regardless, this is good news.” Optimus noted. “If G.H.O.S.T. has set up security systems all throughout Witwicky, Hashtag may be able to view the cleanest exit. She can tell us when cars are coming, and we can leave.”

“I mean, I could, I guess,” Hashtag mused. “But cars move fast, and I’d have to manage communications, and what if I don’t warn you guys in time? What if I miss something, or they notice I’m in the system, or–?!”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Thrash leaned out, seizing her servo quickly. “They’re not asking you to do anything right away. Just… Soon. Eventually. And when we do, we’ll be with you every step of the way. We’ll be careful, and we’ll get out of here.”

“You promise?”

“Come on, H.T., I’m your big brother. Why would I ever lie to you?”

Hashtag sighed, relief swelling up and tension falling away. She looked at Optimus, a touch more subdued than she had been with Arcee. Her optics were still wide, but she smiled at him regardless. “Okay, I’ll do it. I might need some practice beforehand, but…”

“Good. And we need to find somewhere to go first.” Megatron agreed. “It appears we have more plans to make. But at least we do not have a time limit.”

“Aside from our inevitable stir-craziness.” Twitch laughed, waving her servos. “But we’ve got time before that, too.” She reached over as far as she could without leaving Megatron’s lap, digits managing to graze Bumblebee’s arm. “We’ve got time.”

(:)

“Kids? Are you all okay?” Ranger Malto asked over the phone less than a groon later, after all the G.H.O.S.T. agents had cleared out and Hashtag was working on getting the necessary footage to set everything to loop.

“Don’t panic, everyone’s okay!” Doctor Malto called from somewhere much more distant.

“We’re okay, Mom!” Jawbreaker promised, hovering as close to the terminal as he could, clinging to his caretaker’s voice. “That was scary… Are you all okay?”

“Yes, honey, we’re holding in there. We’re scared to death about everyone, though. All this talk, and now G.H.O.S.T. agents…” Her voice lowered. “What are we going to do?”

“Hashtag’s on it, Mom.” Twitch promised, leaning in next to her youngest brother. “You should be good to visit soon! And we’ll be able to sneak out the back of the barn, maybe? I don’t think the roads can see us very well from there.”

“I know you’re excited to get out, but slow your roll, baby. We’ll talk about it when we can properly see you without all their security measures. I swear, they somehow bugged the house, too.”

“How’re Mo? And Robby?” Thrash asked nervously.

“Yes, are our human siblings okay?” Nightshade towered over their siblings, staring down.

“They’re okay. Just doing homework. We turned off the TV and radio, because the constant… It was getting scary. I don’t think they’ll be going to school for a while. Scary that we’ve got big bad Autobots roaming about, you know.”

Hashtag giggled, slamming her servos over her intake to try to stifle it.

“I’ll still be going in, though.” Doctor Malto sighed. “Someone’s still got to earn money, since I’m not sure how long Dottie will be working for G.H.O.S.T. after all of this. Her pay might get docked.”

“Don’t worry, babies. We’ll all be okay. We’ll make it through this.”

“Okay, Mom.” Twitch whispered. “Stay safe.”

“You too. We’ll be down as soon as possible. I love you.”

“I love you too!” All five Terrans chimed as one. But even their cheery demeanor could not save the clear worry that was still in their voices.

Optimus had spent so long being afraid, he had forgotten what it was like being a newspark with such strong prospects of the future. He knew, logically, that the Terrans were also trapped, were also held down in a world that wanted nothing to do with them.

But for the first time, he dared to consider that they might be more scared than he and his team were.

(:)

“Okay, there’s a single way out of Witwicky that’s not being carefully watched.” Hashtag mused that lunar-cycle, pacing up and down the length of the base. “I don’t know how long it’ll stay that way, though. And not all of us can leave without being seen.”

“I don’t have an alt mode.” Jawbreaker said, heartbroken. “And I don’t want to rush it, even if–!”

“Oh, baby, it’s okay.” Ranger Malto put a servo on his shoulder.

“Nobody will make you rush that,” Elita-1 told him. “Forcing a bot to do that… It never ends well. You’re a protoform, which means it’s our duty to protect you, no matter how long it takes. On that, you have our word.”

“If I had my trailer…” Optimus mourned, brows furrowing.

“Well, that’s okay!” Arcee reassured. “If we’ve got a clear path out, then you could probably ride in Megatron!”

“Hmm.” Megatron huffed, his optics narrowing into a squint. “While you could, I do not have enough room within me for both Bumblebee and Jawbreaker. So either we would have to wait until Bumblebee recovers, or Jawbreaker gets his alt mode. Whichever comes first.”

“I doubt that Bumblebee will be waking up any time soon,” Wheeljack warned. “I did the best I could on his repairs, and I think he’s okay, but I could be wrong, too. Didn’t exactly have a mentor or someone to practice with. So it could take anywhere from a solar-cycle to a few deca-cycles. His self-repair systems need some time, and his processor has to reboot once it’s got enough energon, but that’ll take some time.”

“Why does it take so long to fuel him up?” Robby asked. “Shouldn’t it be like a car or something where we just plug him in and he gets filled up?”

“I wish that were the case, Robby, I really do. But we’re not really cars, despite our appearances.” Wheeljack admonished. “Look at your sibling! They’re about as far from a car as they can get.”

“Yes,” Nightshade biased, puffing themselves out. “And I look exquisite.”

“They do,” Wheeljack nodded. “But no matter the type of Cybertronian, you can’t just. Plug them up to refuel, especially not when they’re weak. They wouldn’t be able to properly cycle it, and it could end up getting plugged up. Once they can refuel by themselves, they can have as much as they like without blockage forming.”

“That’s…so sad.” Mo frowned.

“Hey,” Doctor Malto reassured. “At least Wheeljack has him on an IV! That’s good.”

“Yes, as long as we keep the energon feed slow and steady, nothing should happen.” Wheeljack promised. “It’s still dangerous, if I mess up my measurements, but blockage is easy to catch early on. Just involves a bit of purging to fix!”

“Hmm, then Bumblebee probably should get first dibs on Megs. At least Jawbreaker is mobile, no matter what form he takes.” Ranger Malto sighed to herself. “I still don’t like him being defenseless, but…”

“We have to wait anyway.” Elita-1 reminded. “We don’t have anywhere to go yet. And G.H.O.S.T. won’t overlook the missing street for long. So, unfortunately, this is one opportunity we have to let go.”

“I’ll keep looking.” Hashtag fiddled her digits. “I’ll let you know what I find.”

Megatron put a comforting servo on her shoulder. “Thank you, Hashtag. You did well this time. We’ll be more prepared for action the next time you find an opening.”

(:)

::Our position’s been somewhat compromised.:: Elita-1 sent into the groupchat with Breakdown early the next morning, after a short progress update on Bumblebee’s recovery. ::We’re safe for the time being, but it’s not secure. Do you know of any hideouts?::

::None big enough for even four bots. Limit maxes out at three.:: Breakdown warned. ::I’ll check around with the others, though. Swindle’s glad enough to have his brother back that he might be good for a favour.::

::Don’t make any deals with him.::

::Elita, for Bee I’ll do anything.::

“Well,” Elita-1 sighed, finally lifting her head. “I guess that’s one lead. Hopefully he’ll be able to help us.”

“We’ll see,” Wheeljack said heavily.

Megatron’s optics shone. “It is good news that we are gaining so many allies. Hopefully they can find us some place to stay. And soon.”

“And with any luck, it’ll be enough space for five additional bots and four humans.” Elita-1 nodded, and paused just long enough to ping Breakdown with the additional family members.

“Or, since Hashtag’s got all those cool powers… we really can go to Tri Zeta!” Arcee put in. “Set G.H.O.S.T. systems on loop. Hashtag can record everything that’s happening for a solid day, and then just set the cameras to constantly replay that.”

Slowly, all the Autobots’ heads turned to face her.

The sudden silence was enough that the Maltos looked up from their family game night, curious.

“Are you…” Optimus began, and then froze to think. “Well, you’re not… that could work. As long as Hashtag can remotely do it, because if it requires her full time attention, it is not worth it.”

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” Ranger Malto demanded, optic ridges drawn tight. “What do you need my daughter to do this time?”

“Dorothy,” Megatron said, kneeling down next to her. “We would need to talk about this further before we reached a definitive decision, but we were considering our original rendezvous location, Tri Zeta. Our original thought was that it wouldn’t be a good spot to stay in, for G.H.O.S.T. would maintain surveillance there. However, it would be remote. Nobody would be there in person.”

“And you want me to help with that?” Hashtag asked, optics shining. “I totally could! Just a little slip into their systems, and beep boop! Cameras overridden. Bet, since they’re old, I could even look back into their memory and use that for the loops.”

“If their memory stretches back for longer than a year, we could account for daylight changes, too!” Nightshade put in, their sister’s excitement clearly infectious. “If not, you can provide me with the footage, I can do proper editing to adjust for it!”

“We’ll need to talk about it,” Ranger Malto said, turning back to her kids to try to placate them. “This would be a big move, and I…” She hesitated. “Alex and I will discuss it first.” She turned around to point back at Megatron. “Don’t do anything until we get a chance to. And we won’t until tonight, you hear?”

“Do not worry, Dorothy.” Megatron reassured, holding his servos up readily. “We will not act until you are ready. We promised we would not bring your children into any more messes, and we mean it.”

“Aw,” Hashtag kicked the ground with a pout.

“Good,” Ranger Malto pointed at Megatron for a beat longer, and then let her arm fall. “I’m going to work. Play nice while I’m gone. Absolutely no leaving the dugout, ya’ll hear me?”

“Don’t worry, Mom!” Twitch saluted. “I’ll keep an eye on everyone and keep them on track!”

Ranger Malto looked tired, and she gave the Autobots a very pointed look. “Keep an eye on the Terrans, please. Don’t let Twitch do all the work, or that reflects more on you than it does on her.”

Arcee barked out a quick laugh. “Oh– Don’t worry, Dot! We’ll keep a good eye on them. I’ll teach Twitch to play poker!”

Ranger Malto looked like she regretted all her life decisions. Despite himself, Optimus felt a bubble of amusement in his tank.

“...fine.” Ranger Malto reluctantly allowed. “But play nice.” She did one more “watching you” gesture, and then headed towards the stairs, taking them two at a time.

They turned back to the monitors to plan.

(:)

::Still looking. Any updates?:: Breakdown asked anxiously some groons later.

::No.:: Elita-1 responded. ::I’m sorry.::

::Cool.:: He went radio silent again.

(:)

It took Ranger and Doctor Malto over a solar-cycle to get back to them with a decision. Naturally, since they spent the lunar-cycle debating, and then waited until they got home from work the following day to share their thoughts.

“Maybe we can talk about this privately. Without the kids.” Ranger Malto boldly suggested, as if there was anywhere they could go in the dugout where the Terrans wouldn’t be eavesdropping. Or Arcee and Wheeljack, for that regard.

“We can probably hang out near the barn, as long as we don’t venture out.” Doctor Malto put in, like his kids wouldn’t spy on them either way. There were G.H.O.S.T. cameras in the barn, too.

But perhaps they were all hoping that the kids would be too occupied with Arcee’s exuberance to try to listen to what the parents were saying.

Robby was the only one to actually notice his parents, Optimus, Elita-1, and Megatron sneaking out. But his gaze flickered away easily enough, and he let himself be caught up in his family’s antics quickly.

About this time, Hashtag’s looped footage of him doing homework would be kicking in. Optimus wondered how long it would take G.H.O.S.T. to realize he was doing the same workpages over and over again. Perhaps the quality of the footage wasn’t good enough to see.

The three officers made their way around the barn, the mechs squeezing their way on top of whatever bales of straw they could. Elita-1 found her way to a pallet that didn’t break under her weight. It was tight and claustrophobic, but they turned to watch the humans regardless, careful to keep any discomfort off their faces.

“So, Alex and I have decided that it would be best for the Terrans if we move.” Ranger Malto told them. She reached out to take her conjunx’s servo. “It’ll be rough for a while, and I’m worried about Mo and Robby… They’ll need homeschooling.”

“And we need money to survive.” Doctor Malto agreed. “We can go off the grid for a little while, quit our jobs, head into hiding, but we’ll need food.”

“We’re not quite agriculturists yet, and it’s getting into the autumn. We can’t grow our own food, even if we tried our hardest. This isn’t the Martian.” Ranger Malto told them. Optimus knew vaguely it was a pop culture reference, but he didn’t recognize it. “It’ll be rough for a while, but we’re sure it’ll be okay. Just know your human friends might need some support right now, too.”

“And we’re really going to need to get you a trailer, O.P..” Ranger Malto smiled. “Even if it’s not as good as your old one. Someone’s gotta help us transport all our things, and something tells me the family van isn’t going to cut it.”

“And I’d really like it if Jawbreaker could ride with one of you.” Doctor Malto agreed. “I don’t think he’d be able to keep up.”

“I can do a few trips, if that’d be more convenient.” Megatron suggested, though there was an awkward lift to it. “I don’t mind ferrying people and supplies.”

“Thanks, Megs, but you’re the biggest and most noticeable vehicle out of all of them.” Ranger Malto pointed out. She smiled at him sympathetically. “Optimus might actually be the only one who can go back and forth easily. The rest of you are too… flashy. I mean, when’s the last time you’ve seen a pink car? Or a muscle car?”

“True,” Elita-1 nodded, but she looked annoyed regardless. “Maybe one of us could scan your family van.”

“We wouldn’t curse you like that,” Doctor Malto reassured, patting her pede. “We’re not cruel, just desperate.”

“Well. If we’re going to do this.” Elita-1 leaned forward. “I have one request. Just to consider, but we don’t have to act on it if you don’t like it.”

The Maltos exchanged a look and waved her on.

Somehow, Optimus knew exactly what it would be before Elita-1 even voiced it. “Breakdown,” she said, “Bumblebee’s friend. I think we should take him with us. I know he was a Decepticon, and he can be a bit… He can be a lot. But he’s Bumblebee’s brother. It’d mean a lot if he could keep an eye on him without having to rely on us.”

“He spent time watching what G.H.O.S.T. did to Bee, didn’t he?” Doctor Malto remembered, worrying his lip.

“He did.” Optimus said, quietly.

“I’ve never met him.” Ranger Malto stated firmly. “And I don’t like someone I don’t know being so close to my kids. You all know that.” She waited just long enough for Elita-1 to nod in understanding before softening. “But, I’ll let him come on one condition. He’s never alone with the kids until I give him the all clear.”

“We can do that.” Elita-1 promised. “That should be easy. There’s a lot of us, and only one of him. And from the few times I’ve met him, he’s seemed respectable enough.”

“Good.” Ranger Malto nodded. “Then I’ll be okay with that. I appreciate you asking me. It won’t be my house, but…”

“Your opinion matters.” Megatron promised her. “As the mother of Terrans, you know best when it comes to their upbringing. You and your human children. Far be it from us to put them in danger.”

“You know what’s good for you.” Ranger Malto nodded, and Optimus did not doubt for an instant that she could take them down if she put her mind to it. “We’ll let Hashtag know, and you all can begin the offboarding process A.S.A.P.. Alex and I will collect as much money as we can in the meantime. Just say the word when it’s time for us to go, and we’ll go. No questions asked.”

“Thank you, Ranger Malto. Doctor Malto.” Optimus told them sincerely.

Ranger Malto smiled at him. “The Terrans’ happiness is just as much of a priority as their safety, and being stuck in the dugout is starting to really mess with them, I can tell. Much longer, and I’d have to go to court for “poor living conditions”.”

Optimus didn’t understand the joke, but he laughed anyway.

(:)

It took them two days to make a game plan and for it to be put in action.

Breakdown was delighted to be included, and even happier to be invited to stay with them at Tri Zeta. ::But,:: he teased over text. ::Shouldn’t it be me inviting you?::

::No.:: Elita-1 said.

::Fair enough.:: And that was the end-of.

When Hashtag was able to set the cameras to loop, her attention split between maintaining the link with the footage, organizing their supplies to be easily moved, and trying to find a quick and easy way out of Witwicky.

Optimus felt deep and wide sympathy for her. “Hashtag,” he told her, honestly. “As soon as this is all over, I’ll ensure we figure out a way to give you a proper vacation or reward.”

“Oh,” Hashtag burst with joy. “That’s so cool, Optimus! But it’s my pleasure, really! Thank you! I’m going to do the best I can from here on out!”

Optimus wondered if she knew she was implying that she hadn’t been trying her best up until this point, but he didn’t say as much. He smiled at her, and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Hashtag, for being so studious. I’ll leave you to it.”

She swelled up excitedly under his touch. She was such a wonderful child. A fine addition to their species, and a true beacon of hope.

The moment was interrupted by Ranger Malto coming back, calling Optimus over.

He turned away from the young Terran to head over to her, curious. “How can I help you, Ranger Malto?”

“Well, we got you the worst trailer of all time. Just as big, but… horrible. Dirty, smells a bit…” Ranger Malto smiled at him. “It sounds like the perfect fit for you, O.P.!”

It was clearly a joke, and yet Optimus still felt a wave of disgust over any trailer that wasn’t his. Unfortunately, he supposed he had agreed to it, but his trailer was a genuine Cybertronian article. He loved it dearly, and to be without it…

It may as well have been his own fault. Perhaps he should’ve left it with the Maltos a long time ago, or stored it in a safehouse G.H.O.S.T. was unaware of, but he hadn’t. He could get it back at a later date as long as G.H.O.S.T. didn’t decide to melt it down for scrap.

Please, he silently prayed, servo over his chassis where the Matrix softly glowed. If you have any control over humans, do not let them be cruel.

It was inevitable that G.H.O.S.T. would do something heinous, but if there was even a chance that the effect could be mitigated, Optimus would take what he could get.

“Thank you, Ranger Malto.” He permitted, managing to claw up a smile for her, even when it pulled harshly on his faceplates. “We will make do with it.”

“We sure will,” Ranger Malto agreed, patting his pede one last time before turning to stride away and rejoin her family.

Optimus dithered on the decision of whether or not he should look at the trailer yet, not wanting to be disappointed quite yet, but perhaps it was not that bad. At worst it might look a little cruddy, but nothing he couldn’t take care of.

He stepped out of the dugout to check on the trailer, shoved to the side of the barn, just hidden from view of the road.

To his disappointment, it was almost worse than he imagined.

(:)

::Ready for everyone!:: Breakdown told them, not too long after. He was already safely nestled within Tri Zeta and preparing for their arrival.

If he was being honest, Optimus wasn’t sure what “preparing for arrival” meant, what work could possibly be done that wouldn’t go faster as a group, but that was beside the point.

“We could go under cover of night,” Hashtag suggested thoughtfully, “G.H.O.S.T. is a bit worse about patrolling then, so if we go then…”

“And colour theory!” Nightshade added excitedly. “It will be harder for them to tell what colour Arcee and Elita-1 are! To them, they won’t look pink. They may just look dark brown.”

“A good plan,” Elita-1 agreed, reaching over to set a servo on Hashtag’s shoulder. The young hacker blossomed under her touch, perking up a great deal and giggling quietly through her vents. “That gives us a few groons, hours, to pack up.”

“I’m going to grab some blankets and cushions.” Twitch said, her optics locked to the side. “Make the trailer more comfortable.”

Optimus followed her gaze over to Bumblebee, who was still quietly resting on the table. He had yet to so much as stir, but at least he was repaired as best as he could be. Not for the first time, Optimus wished he could find Croft and take back all the stellar-cycles of silence and obedience and just step on her. All of their problems would be solved in a single nano-klik.

Well, the rest of the human government wouldn’t be too happy about it, but Optimus found he didn’t care much about them any longer.

“Thank you.” Optimus told Twitch instead of confronting any of those furious thoughts, getting a smile in return from her.

“We’ll be moving out after your bedtime,” Ranger Malto warned all seven of her kids. “If you get tired before then, take a nap. If not, try to sleep in the trailer. We’ll wake you up when we reach Tri Zeta. Hashtag…”

“I’ll take a nap now.” Hashtag agreed immediately, rubbing at her optics. “I don’t want to miss something later.”

A flurry of nods greeted her, and Thrash grabbed her servo to lead her away to her quarters.

Optimus kneeled before Ranger and Doctor Malto, nodding at them tightly. “Where do you want me?”

“We need help disassembling the computer!” Doctor Malto said, pointing at the large terminal. “We have to move whatever we can. In case G.H.O.S.T. finds this after we’re gone, I don’t want them to have anything that doesn’t belong to them.

Unavoidable, but that worked.

“I sure am glad I never finished unpacking,” Robby joked behind them. “That’ll save so much time.”

“Great!” Mo laughed. “Then you can help me with mine.”

The eldest groaned, but followed after her anyway. Optimus almost felt sorry for them, needing to uproot their lives twice because of G.H.O.S.T. – first because they tricked Ranger Malto into working for them, and then now – but the desperation to get away overpowered that.

And soon, they really would be okay.

(:)

It was a surprisingly uneventful drive. Though Optimus’ trailer was heavy, and all of the Autobots were driving as far apart as they could manage, they passed through easily enough. A G.H.O.S.T. van sitting on the side of the road didn’t even flag them down as they rumbled past, nor did they attempt to follow them later.

Hashtag claimed she was able to scramble their signal for a while, and either that distracted them, or their plan had worked and G.H.O.S.T. hadn’t thought twice about a semi with a dingy trailer rolling past.

Witwicky far behind them, disappearing out of Optimus’ rear view mirrors, he felt like he could finally vent again.

(:)

Tri Zeta was big and sprawling. It was so much larger than Optimus remembered it being, and it didn’t have any structural damage as far as he could tell.

There were dozens of rooms branching off the main lobby, and as soon as the Malto children – organic and otherwise – were awake, they were dashing in all directions, despite Doctor and Ranger Malto’s attempts to keep them close.

“Nice to see you again,” Breakdown smiled, approaching them and completely ignoring the humans and Terrans scurrying around. “Welcome to Tri Zeta! Me cast is you cast, or whatever the humans say.”

Optimus gave him a nod back, reaching deep into his trailer to reach Bumblebee. His scout lay perfectly still upon the mattresses, cushions, and blankets Twitch had spread across the back of the trailer. Even though there had been plenty of rough points on the road, Bumblebee looked completely undisturbed. She had done a good thing.

“Bee okay?” Breakdown asked, leaning his arm against the top of the trailer as he waited for Optimus to fish Bumblebee out and pull him into his arms. The Prime stroked his digits over the top of Bumblebee’s helm, staring down at his sparkling. “He looks better, I guess.”

“But still pretty rough.” Wheeljack agreed, setting a servo on Breakdown’s shoulder. The Decepticon flinched, then calmed. “I’m just lacking the tools to do anything else. I was hoping Tri Zeta might have a stocked infirmary…?”

“Sorry, already checked.” Breakdown apologized. “Looks like it was picked clean when the others left. There isn’t so much as a spare wire anywhere.”

Wheeljack sighed, shaking his helm. “I suppose I should’ve seen that coming… Oh, well. We’ll keep his systems stocked up on energon, and hopefully that’ll be enough for his nanites to kick in. If not… Well, then. Maybe the Maltos can raid a hardware store.”

“We’re laying low!” Ranger Malto reminded him sharply, but with another glance towards Bumblebee, she relaxed. “But… if it would help Bee, I know we’d all do whatever it took.”

“I knew I liked you the moment I saw you,” Breakdown grinned, at her. “Bee needs all the support he can get. Glad he’s got a good team.”

“Team?” Thrash scoffed as he approached the group, lifting his helm defiantly. “We’re Bee’s family. He’s our big brother!”

Breakdown snorted in disbelief, raising curious optics up to Optimus. “Is he being serious?”

“Yes.” Ranger Malto responded evenly, cutting off Optimus before he could even figure out what he wanted to say. “Bumblebee’s one of us. He’s been part of our family longer than the triplets have been.”

“I don’t know who the triplets are.” Breakdown told her, rolling his optics at her. “Like a trine? You’ve got a trine?”

“No, no, they’re not seekers.” Ranger Malto corrected, pointing towards Hashtag as she crossed from one room to another, throwing open one of the doors to peer into it. “That’s one of the three. Hashtag.”

“Another hallway!” Hashtag yelled over her shoulder. “Maybe this one has bedrooms instead of boring storage facilities!”

“Perhaps I can find schematics for the base,” Nightshade suggested, pointing at the computer. “Find some berthrooms for us to move into.”

“And that’s my eldest triplet.” Ranger Malto introduced, smiling as Nightshade marched to the computer, a plan set in mind and already distracting them. “Nightshade.”

“Come now, Terrans. I know this base well.” Megatron said, joining the Terrans and immediately attracting their attention. “I can help you find what you need. I believe Wheeljack has the first claim to the computer.”

“I sure do!” Wheeljack agreed, pulling away from Optimus’ group to head straight for the computer. “I need to properly download Teletraan-1 into it before we can start on anything else!”

“And that’s Jawbreaker.” Ranger Malto pointed at him as the young protoform trot across the room to join Megatron and the cluster of Terrans he was accumulating. “My youngest overall. And then the twins are their older siblings–”

“I don’t actually care,” Breakdown groaned, tipping his helm up to sigh at the ceiling. “If you all want to play “family”, that’s all well and good or whatever. I’m just here to make sure Bee gets the help he needs.”

Ranger Malto’s eyes narrowed, clearly bothered by the bold dismissal, and Optimus swept in as quickly as he could.

“Yes,” he said to Breakdown, “we appreciate your help with getting Bumblebee to safety. Right now, ensuring his continued health means sharing a dwelling with the Maltos. I am sorry, but learning their names will become a necessity.”

“Yeah.” Breakdown said, shifting uneasily. “Sure. Eventually. Why don’t I just show you the infirmary? Empty or not, it has some pretty comfy berths for Bee that I bet he’d like.”

Optimus hummed out an agreement, sparing Ranger Malto a regretful glance as he stood to follow after the younger Stunticon. Getting any acknowledgment, good or bad, from Breakdown was like pulling denta on a good day. If Breakdown was cagey for a while longer, there was nothing Optimus could do. 

But if he had somewhere Bumblebee could possibly rest…

Optimus would take it. He hurried after Breakdown, and held his scout close.

(:)

Things didn’t fully settle for about a deca-cycle, which was about when the last box found its perhaps temporary, perhaps permanent spot in the base.

The Terrans had all selected their berthings, with Twitch joining Optimus, Wheeljack, and Breakdown with having rooms close to the infirmary. It could not be healthy for her, spending most of her waking groons at his side, holding his servo. Optimus attempted to send her off to play with her siblings a grand total of two times, but despite not being birthed from her, Twitch appeared to have inherited her mother’s stubbornness.

There was nothing Optimus could say or do to get her to leave Bumblebee’s side.

“He’s going to wake up soon,” Twitch promised, squeezing Bumblebee’s digits in her own. “I just know it.”

Optimus did not quite feel what she did, but he remained hopeful that she was right. Being able to see good outcomes nobody else could was the reason he got his position, after all.

Breakdown shared no such enthusiasm. 

“He’s not waking up,” Breakdown scoffed after only the first solar-cycle there, doubt sweeping into every word. “You should’ve seen what G.H.O.S.T. did to him. Constantly. Maybe his nanites could fix him the first few times, but no way are they going to do anything now.”

“Do you think they managed to damage his nanites?” Optimus asked, trying to ignore the way Twitch stiffened at the sound of the blatent torture Bumblebee underwent.

“It’s G.H.O.S.T.,” Breakdown said dryly. “What wouldn’t they do, just to figure out ways to control us? Of course they’d try to make Bee reliant on them. Guess it worked if he can’t even wake up without G.H.O.S.T. shocking him.” 

“He is not reliant on them! Or on anybody!” Twitch argued, rotors beginning to whirr in frustration. “Bumblebee’s so great; nothing can get him down!”

“Except for a coma,” Breakdown scoffed, patting Bumblebee’s pauldron one last time before standing up. “Sorry, kid, don’t think this is something he can come away from that easily.

“Don’t say that!” Twitch bristled, growing up at him.

“I am sure,” Optimus said on his own behalf, reaching out to hold Twitch’s free servo, “that he will wake up in due time. He needs time to recover, and there is nothing wrong with that.”

“Oh, great,” Breakdown scoffed. “You’re encouraging her fantasies?”

“I would think,” Optimus said carefully, turning to frown at Breakdown, “that you would be more hopeful about his eventual recovery.”

“I’m just trying to be realistic. I thought as soon as he was out from their thumb, he’d be jumping around again.” Breakdown told him, glaring down at the scout. “I didn’t think he’d stay like this for so long. Maybe he doesn’t know he’s safe. Ugh, I don’t know what it’ll take to fix him!”

“This is only temporary. We will have our friend back.” Optimus comforted, best he was able. But with Breakdown’s blatant dislike of him, he wasn’t sure it went as far as he wanted.

“Yeah.” Breakdown scoffed, shaking his helm. “He better. I’m going for a walk.”

If Twitch curled closer to Bumblebee as soon as Breakdown was out of the room, Optimus did not say a word.

(:)

“There’s a warrant out for Mom and Dad.” Hashtag announced, stirring from where she had been zoning out on the wall. “For Robby and Mo, too, by extension. It’s public, so pretty much everyone knows about it. I guess everyone’s stuck here until it dies down.”

“Glad we stocked up on food, then,” Ranger Malto murmured, exchanging a look with her conjunx. “We’re in here for the long haul.

“We’ll be okay.” Doctor Malto reassured her. “They can’t hurt us here.”

“I know.” Ranger Malto agreed, turning her helm up to stare at the ceiling. “But they sure can trap us.”

Deep down, Optimus wished he had not brought the humans with them. Disappearing from their jobs, from their homes, was sure to cause a ruckus. It put them in danger for the foreseeable future. But he could not separate the Terrans from them.

It was the one thing he would not chance doing.

(:)

Another three solar-cycles later, and Twitch was bursting into the main foyer, rotors spinning as she practically danced midair. Gesturing behind her wildly, she managed to get out, “Bee’s– He’s waking up!”

“He’s what?!” Breakdown demanded, stuttering over himself but sounding relieved nonetheless.

Optimus was already moving, peeling past everyone else to thunder down the halls towards his scout and sparkling. If Bumblebee were truly awake, it would not be good to leave him alone for long. If his scout woke up isolated and afraid–

The door was still ajar from when Twitch broke out of it, and Optimus dared not hesitate before stepping in, optics finding Bumblebee immediately. His scout was certainly awake, scrambling to get his arms underneath him but failing tremendously. It would almost be amusing if Optimus’ own spark wasn’t spinning so far out of whack that he just wanted to cry.

He approached carefully, arms reaching out for his sparkling, and Bumblebee startled as soon as he spotted the nearing metal. Optimus’ spark waned as Bumblebee pulled himself as far against the berth as he could, clear terror dancing across his optics before they found Optimus’ face.

“Op…” Bumblebee began, voice a glitchy mess before he paused and reset it. “Opt…imus?”

“Yes, Bumblebee,” Optimus whispered, closing the distance before Bumblebee could attempt to pull away again, and held his sparkling against his chassis. “Yes, you are safe now. Your friend, Breakdown, he managed to… He reached out to me. We got you out.”

“I’m sorry,” Bumblebee’s little voice broke, wavering and still afraid, a sound that should never be present before Optimius, because that meant he was partially afraid of the Prime. “I didn’t mean to get caught– I tried to get away, I tried–!”

“I know,” Optimus shushed, digits rubbing circles against the back of Bumblebee’s helm, trailing up as far as his sensory horns and then dropping again. “I know, I do not fault you for any of it. I am just relieved that you are alive!”

“I didn’t mean to put you in danger–”

“You did no such thing.” Optimus reassured. “You persevered through G.H.O.S.T.’s torture. I would not have blamed you if you did break, but… you did not. You survived. And now we are all away from G.H.O.S.T.. I regret ever putting you in danger.”

“But you didn’t–?”

“Bumblebee,” Optimus chided as gently as he possibly could, digits clicking rhythmically against his helm. “Oh, Bumblebee. My sparkling, my scout… no more blaming yourself, no more arguing. You went through a hard thing. But you are safe, you are alive, and that is all that matters.”

Bumblebee’s arms were weak and trembling little things as they reached up to hug him back, and Optimus’ spark ruthlessly tumbled at the feel of them. He was too small. Too young. How could anyone hurt him in this way? He could not fathom it. 

How could Croft hate someone as precious as him?

“Bee,” Breakdown’s voice echoed from behind them, and Optimus pulled back enough that the Decepticon could cross the distance and throw his arms around Bumblebee, too. The scout grunted in surprise, but Breakdown didn’t let go. “You scared me, brother! Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” Bumblebee laughed, tired and only half-there as he moved one arm away from Optimus to hug Breakdown back. “You– you’re okay?”

“Of course I am,” Breakdown scoffed. “G.H.O.S.T. didn’t care much about me, but you… How are you feeling? Does anything feel out of place?”

“I feel okay,” Bumblebee reassured, legs drawing up to make himself small in their arms. “I… the Terrans? Are they okay?”

“They are fine.” Optimus promised. “They’re with us. I’m sure Ranger and Doctor Malto are stopping them from coming in for the time being. I’ll bring you out in just a nano-klik to see them.”

But for now, he just wanted to keep Bumblebee to himself and Breakdown’s arms.

His sparkling was close, he was alive, he was safe, and he was even awake!

Optimus allowed himself to nestle himself in that reassurance. He never wanted to let Bumblebee go ever again.