"Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal."

~Richard Puz, The Carolinian

>>•<<

Jack wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something, destroy anything, to get the rage that filled his chest out of his system. How many times had he seen Megatron? Talked to him? Looked him in the optics? And yet the sadist had never once let on that he had murdered June Darby in cold blood. Arcee had tried to comfort him but he stalked off, and the smaller femme knew better than to try and follow him. More than likely, he was still unaware of his own strength, and could potentially hurt her if she tried.

Optimus, instead, went after the boy, following him through the halls of the base, noting his shaking muscle cables. They were silent for a long time before he spoke.

"Jack, losing your mother has been a tragedy; and we will punish Megatron accordingly for his crimes. But do not let revenge and anger be your focus of attention."

"Do you know how many times I saw him?" Jack growled angrily, his back to the Prime. "How many times I looked him in the optics? And not once did it even occur to me that he might have killed my mom. He never let on to it!" He whirled. "All those times, I had the chance to extinguish his spark! And yet I never even knew!"

Optimus' optics widened slightly in surprise, his mouth opening yet no words came out. Jack's optics began to glow red, illuminating the harsh lines of his faceplates.

"I had every opportunity, and I didn't even know!" Jack screamed, and his fist went flying in a wild punch, full of raw energy. Optimus flinched as it hit the wall, causing a sizeable dent that would be there permanently. However, it did make the boy calm down, and as he took several long vents he closed his optics, leaning against that damaged wall.

"Jack . . ." Optimus began slowly, questioningly, wary about this new development.

Energon tears leaked from the corner of Jack's optic, and when he opened them again they were blue, but Optimus still saw the red which lined his pupils. Another shuttering of the optics and the red was gone, or at least reduced to miniscule amounts that the 'bot couldn't see.

Jack spoke softer now, vocalizers laden with emotion. "Was there . . . A funeral? Did they bury her?"

Optimus gave him a nod. "Yes. And once you require an alternate mode, you may go see her as soon as possible."

Just then his audio clicked with an incoming call, and he turned away slightly to answer it.

[Smokescreen to base. Bulkhead and I have returned from scouting; there was no sign of energon. Wheeljack and Shovel are still in the mine.]

"Understood." Optimus answered, returning his gaze to Jack. "Jack, there is something I need to attend to. But if you need any more guidance or help, I will be more than happy to assist you when I get back."

"Thanks, Optimus." The boy said wearily, slumping against the wall as Optimus left.

"Ratchet, prepare a Groundbridge." The Prime instructed. "Smokescreen and Bulkhead, return to base."

"And where are you going?" Ratchet asked Optimus, like a parent catching their child sneaking off to a party.

Optimus frowned. "I have the feeling that the Decepticons are up to something. I am going to check on Wheeljack and Shovel."

Without another word of protest Ratchet let him go, Arcee raising an optic ridge with interest at the medic.

"You seemed pretty quick to let him go. Are you not concerned?" She questioned.

Ratchet huffed. "Of course I'm concerned! But if he wants to check on the wellbeing of our comrades, then I won't stop him from doing so."

"You mean the wellbeing of Shovel." Smokescreen teased. "Both of you have become pretty attached."

"Don't be preposterous!" Ratchet snapped. "He makes a good lab assistant and operating technician, vital assets to assisting me!" The medic turned to his computers. "Just because he's extraordinarily helpful doesn't mean we're 'attached.'"

Milk and her guardian looked at one another before giggling behind their servos. If anything, Ratchet had just revealed how much he cared about the Vehicon- just enough that he didn't want to appear soft in front of his comrades.

Ratchet simply huffed before going back to work.

>>•<<

"It's kind of weird." Shovel noted. "We haven't seen any energon since coming down here, yet Ratchet got a noticeable reading."

"Yeah . . ." Wheeljack realized the Vehicon was right, frowning a bit. He had already been caught up in one Decepticon trap, he didn't want to be stuck on another. "Any ideas why that is?"

Shovel shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe we just got the tail end of the mining operation?"

"Maybe . . ." Wheeljack looked unconvinced. "But that doesn't make sense. Why didn't we get a reading when they first started?"

The situation was becoming more and more questionable, the two mechs keeping their weapons warm as they carefully walked through the mine. It frustrated Wheeljack that the Decepticons knew of the Autobots main weakness- lack of energon -and were exploiting it over and over. For once, he wished that they could take advantage of a Decepticon weakness, whatever it was.

"Um, Wheeljack? What's that?" Shovel pointed ahead to a soft, sickly yellow glow. The Wrecker approached it, optics widening as his spark seized, unable to briefly comprehend what exactly it was that they were seeing.

"By the Allspark . . ."

>>•<<

June shivered as she sank into the warm water, the arms that had been covering her front dropping once she was sure that the curtain and tub was effectively concealing her. Though she doubted that he had any interest, she didn't want Knock Out to have any ideas about peaking.

Though he had made it abundantly clear that he thought human "interfacing", and humans in general, were disgusting. But still, she really didn't want to take any chances. The last thing she needed was to be humiliated by a robot ten times her size.

Taking a breath she dipped her head below the surface a couple times to wet her oily hair, before taking the soaps provided and scrubbing. Despite realizing it was a silly notion, she hoped the off-brand shampoo and conditioner wouldn't damage her hair too much. She was used to more expensive products in her hair.

"Are you done yet?" Knock Out whined.

"I haven't even started!" She snapped back, rinsing her hair thoroughly.

The medic huffed audibly in distaste, clearly impatient and having "better" things to do than wait for a fleshling to finish with a bath. June was almost tempted to keep him waiting, but then decided she didn't want to inadvertently cause Megatron to become involved.

How humiliating that would be: to be seen stark naked by the leader of the Decepticons.

As Knock Out let out another groan of impatience she dipped below the water to scrub at her face, standing briefly to wash her body and shivering as the cold air assaulted her wet skin. It was insane, how cold the Nemesis was kept. She was somewhat shocked that icicles had yet to form in her hair.

Grabbing a towel provided she reluctantly slipped out, miserable and cold, trying to dry herself off as quickly as humanly possible. New clothes were also provided for her, but she dared not complain the overly large sizes she was given. The tags still hung from them, XL flashing in big, bold letters. On a terrible bloating say she maybe was a little snug in a Medium, and only wore Large sweaters and jackets. The XL size was massive on her, and didn't help her body retain any heat.

Once she decided she could suffer no longer she stepped away from the curtain, red optics immediately zeroing in on her and rolling.

"About time." Knock Out huffed. "Now let's feed you so I can get back to my finish. I've still got a spot that needs working on."

June could hardly care less, shivering in the cold air. Soundwave, oddly enough, wasn't present, though typically Megatron only entrusted her in Knock Out's servos when the silent communications officer was around. For him to be gone was . . . Odd, and a bit concerning.

"Here." The medic dumped her on a flat, counter-top like surface first before a pile of food followed, but her stomach didn't growl. The thought of eating another granola bar made her sick to her stomach. She wanted real food, not something the Decepticons happened to grab fistfuls of when they were raiding the local Wal-Mart.

"Do you have something else?" She asked timidly.

The Decepticon gave her another optic-roll before scrounging around. "There's these." He then proceeded to dump bags of dried fruit, canned Spam, and what looked suspiciously like off-brand Ramen from his servos and onto the ground next to her.

The woman immediately reached for some dried fruit, ripping open a bag and eagerly eating those, drinking a bottle of water. She wrinkled her nose at the Spam, but after a moment of debate she decided the protein would be worth it, forcing the salty concoction of meat and water down her throat before immediately washing it down with water.

Eating as much as she could without getting sick, June finally stood, nodding towards Knock Out. "I'm ready . . ."

Without further ado she was scooped up and taken back to her cell, her captor grumbling something about how she finally finished up before he dropped her off just inside the door, then walking off.

June flinched as the door slammed shut and enveloped her in darkness again, not a single ray of light to be seen, the door practically airtight and bringing no comfort.

She shivered in the cold. Her hair was still damp, and in these conditions it would suck away a good amount of her body heat. She needed to stay warm, or risk getting sick. And she could bet that the Decepticons had no idea on how to treat a sick human.

Curling up on the floor she closed her eyes, becoming miserable. Asking for a heater seemed borderline suicidal; she was sure Megatron wouldn't appreciate a demanding human, especially since he considered her significantly lower than himself. Almost subhuman, even.

Tucking her arms in the large shirt she shook and began to cry, becoming angry and frustrated as the chill wore down her nerves. She hated this, the back and forth of her and the kids between the Decepticons and Autobots. The only possible way she could imagine escape was to let the know the Autobots she was here, or find a way off the ship herself. And since she was far too small to do anything with the technology these giants possessed, there was no way she could do either of those things. The situation was impossible.

But there is another way . . .

She shook her head, burying her face into her knees. No, there was not another way. None that she was willing to take.

Jack is one of them now. It wouldn't hurt anything, or anyone. You could still be together, with him, mother and son, without any harm coming to either of you.

"I won't." She muttered. "Its not worth it."

But I'll think about it.

>>•<<

"Out of my way!" Ratchet roared, shoving poor Bumblebee aside as Optimus flew into the base via Groundbridge, a beaten up Wheeljack under one arm and a broken Shovel in the other.

"Get them over here!" The good doctor was in panic mode, grabbing every available tool at his disposal and dumping them onto a flat surface next to the medical berths. "What happened?!"

"Megatron sicced his Predacon on us." Wheeljack grunted, still conscious, but barely. "There was a whole lab of Predacon clones, just waiting to be used, but then we blew it all sky high. And then, right on cue, the Predacon came in. But . . . He wasn't exactly the Predacon as we knew."

"It seems that he has evolved." Optimus rumbled. "And has gained the ability to transform."

"Wait, so he has a bipedal mode like you guys now?" Miko asked, unintentionally disincluding herself.

"Yes." Optimus confirmed.

"Hey, doc, I'm fine." Wheeljack waved off the medic before he could approach. "Shovel's got the injury. That beast beat him up pretty bad, smashed his hand and arm to pieces."

"I can see that." Ratchet snapped, immediately beginning to wield and work on the unconscious mech's servo, cringing at the broken and meshed remains of what had been a perfectly good appendage. He knew the Vehicon would be devastated. And he was too; a lab assistant was hardly good with just one functional servo.

"He fought hard." Wheeljack continued softly. "I've never seen a Vehicon take so many hits and keep getting back up."

"Well, he's a fighter." Arcee added. "He'll be back in the field in no time."

"There is no way I am letting him back on!" Ratchet snapped. "I've only been allowing it because he was safe. I didn't think you would send him on a suicide mission!"

"Ratchet-" Optimus began, but was interrupted.

"Hey, you knew about as much as I did about a Predacon lab being down there!" Wheeljack argued back. "If I had known any better I wouldn't have let him go along!"

"He shouldn't have been out there in the first place!" Ratchet was about to explode, pausing from his work to begin continuing the exchange of snappish words with Wheeljack.

"Enough." Optimus interjected, raising his voice only a bit. "This is no one's fault. None of us knew any better." He softened his tone as he looked to Ratchet. "He will be fine, old friend. He is under your care now."

Ratchet glared at Wheeljack, muttering something under his breath before returning to work. The Wrecker simply folded his arms and looked away, unhappy with the medic and himself.

"Has anyone seen Jack?" Optimus questions.

"Smokescreen went with him to get a vehicle mode." Arcee explains, then looking away with a bit of shame and guilt. "He . . . Didn't want me tagging along."

The Prime frowned, concerned that the boy was beginning to put distance between himself and his partner. "We were in the middle of a discussion that had been interrupted. Once he is back, I would like to speak with him again.

"That might be a problem." Bulkhead suddenly said, pointing to the screen. "Because he and Smokescreen have four bogies coming right for them, and one of them is Megatron!"

>>•<<

I would like to apologize, it seems that Wattpad had only posted half of the chapter, so I hope I got it fixed. Again, deeply sorry about that!!