"Time reveals the truth."

~J.R. Rim

>>•<<

June opened her eyes to darkness. It was quiet, too, so she wasn't sure what had made her wake up. She was still dressed in her nurse's outfit, but it was fresh and clean. The floor beneath her was warm from where she had laid, but elsewhere it was cold. She didn't know where she was, and barely remembered what had happened.

I was shot . . . By Megatron.

Yes, she remembered that. The negotiation where the bargain was that he would exchange the kids for her, but when a technicality (and an unfair one at that) had rendered that bargain null and void, Megatron had cheated and taken the kids.

And then . . . Killed me, I suppose. Is this what death is?

Cold, dark, lonely. Yes, that is what it seemed to be. It made her incredibly disappointed. She had hoped that there would have been something in the afterlife, or completely nothing at all. Perhaps she was stuck in limbo, not quite in nothingness or the afterlife.

Her eyes were barely adjusted to the darkness; there was a limit of how little light the human eye could detect. And since there was not much here, her eyes were constrained to that limit.

Standing up, she felt her knees wobble and shake, the blood rushing away from her head making her dizzy for a brief moment before it was gone, and she focused on trying to see. She stretched out her arms and began to walk, taking a few careful steps forward, knowing her sense of direction would be completely off. It was amazing how easily confused her brain could be.

An idea popped in her head and she searched for her cellphone, patting empty pockets before realising that she had destroyed it, and thrown the pieces away. Swearing softly in her head, she outstretchd her arms again and kept walking.

Slowly, step by step, she navigated through the darkness, straining to hear, smell, or touch something, her eyes virtually useless. It felt, however, as if her senses had been smothered, and it brought a brief panic to mind.

I can't feel anything, with any of my senses.

It suddenly felt hard to breath, and she stopped, dropping to her knees and gasping.

Am I drowning? Dying again? Did I use up all the oxygen already?

She held her throat in her hand as she tried, heart hammering wildly as panic constricted her throat and crushed her chest. It was a terrible feeling, and though logic tried to dissuade her and remind her that this was just something akin to anxiety, that she didn't need to actually struggle for air, her body didn't listen.

"Please . . ." She choked out. "Help . . ."

Her cries seemingly went unanswered until a blinding light blossomed from behind her, searing her eyes and she cried out in pain, covering them. She blinked and struggled to adjust, barely able to make out a giant metal titan before her.

"Welcome, June Darby."

>>•<<

Miko flinched as sparks almost flew into her optics, shuttering them and looking away briefly as the light caused something similar to after images to appear.

"I didn't imagine this was going to be my first tattoo." She mumbled, grimacing as the welder touched her armor a little too hard, making it burn. "I was actually planning to get a bunch of Autobot symbols! You know, like Bulkhead? One on each shoulder, and I was thinking one on m back. 'Cause one in the middle of my chest would be kind of weird, for obvious reasons-"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Knock Out interrupted rudely, walking over to her other shoulder and aligning the Decepticon insignia and beginning to weld it on.

Miko shut her mouth, looking across from her berth at where Jack and Raf were sitting, the eldest boy's shoulders aching as his new Decepticon insignias shone in the dim light, his chest armor also aching due to the somewhat smaller insignia there.

"Finally." Knock Out muttered as he worked, finishing her shoulders and gesturing for her to get off the berth, Rafael silently and obediently clambering on and going still as the medic began assembling his insignia, so that it would custom-fit his armor.

"Was that while you were a human, or as a Cybertronian?" Jack quitelty asks.

"Well, first, as a human." Miko shrugged. "But now as a Cybertronian? That would be sweet!!"

"I wonder if these will show up on our holoforms." Rafael spoke aloud, though Knock Out didn't seem to cringe every time he opened his mouth.

"Holoforms?" Jack asked, optic ridges furrowing in confusion.

"Yeah, our human forms!" Miko said excitedly, but at the shock and confusion of her older friend the excitement died down, and she frowned. "You don't know?"

"We have . . . Human forms?" Jack was incredibly hopeful and skeptical.

"We figured them out after Ratchet took a scan of us." Rafael explained. "There is some kind of addition to our T-cog that allows us to project whatever form we wish, and it even comes with full mobility."

Jack's mouth was hanging open. It sounded like he had that same thing. "How do you activate it?"

Miko shrugged. "It's simple. Just transform into your alternate mode, and then you'll have the option to turn it on." She smirked at him. "Lemme guess, you're a semi, like Optimus! Or maybe one of those rusty old man trucks-"

"I don't have an alternate mode." Jack interrupted blearily. "Megatron won't let me get one."

"Won't let you? What is he, your dad?"

That seemed to strike an angry nerve deep within Jack's core, and he shouted angrily at her without really meaning to. "Megatron is not my father! And he will never be anything like a father to me!!" He shoved himself off the bench and stormed out, feeling angry and somewhat betrayed that Miko would say such a thing.

Miko's optics were wide with shock, realizing what she had said and how Jack had taken it despite the fact she had meant it as a joke. Raf gave her a somewhat apologetic look, and she too bounced off the berth. "Jack, wait! I didn't mean to-!" And she was out the door, running after her friend.

"Teenagers." Knock Out scoffed. "Always so dramatic."

Rafael remained silent, hating that he somewhat agreed.

>>•<<

Special Agent William Fowler was dressed on his usual attire- all black -but this time it was for a more formal occasion. He stood at the freshly dug plot that had a new, shining headstone placed at the head, with June's first name, birth date, and death date etched on it in professional letters.

He had been shocked by the small number of people who were at June Darby's funeral, and even more so by the fact that several of them seemed to just be there for obligatory purposes. How could a woman as loving and caring as June Darby have so few people who loved and cared about her?

He bit his lip, but that didn't stop the tears from falling. Spurring himself to do what he came to do, he set down the small bouquet of red roses next to the stone and stood.

"I'm sorry." He said, the words holding so much meaning and yet they seemed hollow, empty. "I'm sorry, June. You should have never been involved. Not like this."

Turning away, he wiped at his tears with his sleeve, climbing into the orange and white ambulance that waited for him, a black and purple vehicle nestled beside it.

"Do you need another moment, Agent Fowler?" Even Ratchet was somber, his voice gentle and soft.

The man shook his head. "No. Just take me to June's place; I need to organize her stuff according to her last will and testament."

Ratchet didn't understand completely what it meant, but the weight and importance of it kept his spark heavy, and he slowly rolled away from the grave site, ashamed that they could do nothing more for her. The other Autobots, even Arcee, had neglected to come. But the medic suspected that they would each visit on their own time, privately, to say their own goodbyes.

Shovel drove along behind him, his quiet and careful entourage. Even the Vehicon, who had only known June for a couple days at most, was quiet, and even sad about her death.

William Fowler took a long breath in and let it all out in a short huff, gazing out the window with his head propped up against his hand, a few more tears drying on his cheeks. He was about to peek into the life of the Darby's, and under any other circumstance he might have been excited.

But now, knowing that someone may never come to claim what June had left behind for them, he dreaded it.

I'm sorry, June. I can't say it enough. I'm sorry.