It was quiet as Fay sat in her bed, awake even though it was still the early hours of morning. She'd been obsessed with sketching since yesterday, and had done plenty of work since then, making rough sketches of nearly all the poems that currently occupied her notebook. She made a sketch of her favorites and started doing a few freelance images, which were mostly just curved lines that connected here and there. Fay was honestly loving the freedom to sketch here and there. It had consumed her time for much of last night.

        Fay couldn't help but smile as she got the inspiration for something new when she caught a glimpse of her bracelet, the one she'd purchased at the state fair, even though Optimus had frowned upon it. It reminded her of the accident, yes, but it also reminded of the time before the accident, when she had her full family around. She missed them more than anything some days, and it made her spark ache, but it wasn't as painful as it used to be. It was . . . Calmer.

        With a deep breath, knowing full well this would invoke a fresh ache inside her chest, Fay began to jot down the newest set of words that had seized her spark.

        'Flit, flit, flit, the flapping of powder-light wings,

        A bright blue shade that flickers in between sun and shadow,

        Free and floating, serene and content,

        All 'till flames singe the tiny creature's wings,

        Forcing the poor small butterfly to attempt to fly with damaged wings,

        So hard to fly and yet she tries, her efforts feeling wasted and broken,

        And she keeps going again and again,

        At least 'till they find her, flying through the flames and pain,

        And they attempt to tie her down, to pin down her damaged wings,

        All for their own purposes, to use her for themselves,

        Until she finds the strength to fly away again,

        Or until someone has the strength to aid her in her in her escape,

        To brave the newer set of flames and danger for her,

        For those who did before no longer can,

        For they were lost in the endless flames.'

        Fay paused, eyes roaming around the words she'd put onto the page. It felt quite right. And so she flipped the page open and began to make a sketch for the image that had invaded her mind while she'd been writing.

        ~~~

        "Don't you think it's about time Fay knew about this? It's not like she can't handle it, Optimus, she's strong. The only reason she broke before is because you dumped a shitload of stuff on her at once. More so, on the anniversary. But if you could just suck it up and let this HAPPEN, then maybe Fay would take a step in the right direction. We can't just keep doing the same thing and hoping for different results. We need to take a chance for once. It could pay off, y'know." Charlie's voice was hushed as she chided Optimus, frustrated but trying to keep from yelling.

        "Are you certain she'll be capable of handling and processing the situation properly? You know precisely why this is an issue, Charlotte, and I question her ability to handle the situation, more so in her current situation," Optimus replied evenly, his voice calm despite the pressure and weight of the issue Charlie was attempting to press. Unfortunately, Charlie was as firm as him on this, if not more so.

        Her eyes flicked over to where the topic of their conversation stood, doing his best to ignore their conversation, though his audio receptors had picked up on them a while ago. IronHide in turn glanced at Jazz, who shrugged, as though to write it off as "some dumb human thing", even though the Lieutenant had overhead a fair amount of their conversation as well, and had a bit of growing curiosity of his own. Of course, he didn't want to admit that he was intrigued.

        "Why do you have so little faith in her?" Charlie muttered, crossing her arms, though she kept her eyes on the pair of Autobots, one painted black, the other silver. She'd figured out the first day what was going on here, more of the secrets they'd been keeping from Fay. She was a tad bit outraged at their audacity, and why they hadn't opened with the 'You're really an alien robot' thing with this secret instead of having to go about it the way they did. "You could've saved so much trouble if she'd known about this part first instead of the crap heap you had to hand her, much less the way you did it."

        Optimus let out a slow, deep vent. He was just as frustrated with their situation as Charlie was, but he wasn't the one proposing some preposterous plan just because she 'had a hunch' it might help. Perhaps the girl did know Farrah better than he did, or any of her previous guardians did, but that didn't mean she could truly know this was the right course of action.

        Did it?

        "I . . ." The Prime's helm turned to his weapons specialist and Lieutenant. Charlie knew in that moment that she was winning. She was getting through to the Prime at long last. That was a major plus, because in some instances, she was ready to bash his head in, giant alien robot or not.

        "Trust me," Charlie insisted. "She needs this. If I were in her situation . . ." Charlie paused, then shook her head, a flash of some less-than-pleasant memories flooding her mind for a bitter moment. "If I were in her situation, I would want to know, too. Optimus, they were her guardians for years, even if it wasn't always . . . Obvious. I'd want to know, too. She has to know . . ."

        Optimus vented again, looking down at Charlie's much smaller form. Even when he was in his true form, she still spoke to him like they were equals. It was somewhat strange, though quite respectable. She seemed fearless. Fierce. And once again he drew another comparison to Charlie and Fay. Again, it was no wonder the two were so close. Their spirits may as well have been sculpted from the same mold, even though both were distinguishable in their little ways from the other.

        "One at a time. They have to take it slow," he conceded, and a relaxed smile fell across Charlie's face.

        "Well don't tell me," she told him happily. "Tell the to-be visitors."

        ~~~

        Where CatEyes, CatClaw, now, really, floated inside her chamber, she was peaceful, relaxed, as she rested inside recharge. Things had shifted since she'd been morphed and mutated against her will into what she was now: a Decepticon warrior. A Decepticon weapon. They saw her as nothing more and nothing less. She would be expected to perform the same tasks as her new brethren and sistren, including being forced to slay Autobots.

        While it didn't bother her in her waking hours, when she slumbered, her processor was able to delve back to the depths it possessed in her original state. When she was an average sort of Autobot, the kind that felt and fought and bled and loved. She missed those days in the back of her processor, though those thoughts didn't bother her when she woke. It was only when she slipped into recharge that those images haunted her.

        When those images of her almost sparkmate haunted her, and the way she'd be forced to slay him should they cross paths on the battlefield. CatEyes wasn't sure she could go through with something that dark and sinister, even if she was forced to. If she were backed into a corner and ordered to end Jazz, she may have to do it.

        But if that were the case, she'd also may have to take her own spark to join his, but not until after she'd gotten a decent amount of revenge for her loved one's absence.

        'Do you still wonder about me, Jazz?' She thought, her processor drifting slowly to that place where she could still feel the things she'd been void of for a short while now, but it was long enough to miss it.

        "Hey, Femme!"

        CatEyes grinned and turned around, crossing her arms as she saw the silver mech stride towards her. She was beginning to wonder if he was going to show back up one of these days. They'd made quite the team the other day and it was something else to actually think about the passerby mech. 'Well,' she thought with a smile, 'so much for a drive-by sort of mech.' "The name's CatEyes and you know it, Mech," she retorted, and Jazz feigned offense, stopping in his tracks, hand over his spark chamber.

        "Oh! Be still my damaged spark! It's not a dagger, just a jab by that catty femme!" He dropped to his knee servo dramatically, and CatEyes snickered, placing a hand over her mouth.

        "You, Sir, are just asking to get yourself in some serious trouble." She smiled broader at his performance and turned to begin walking away again. He quickly sprung up and took after her, working to catch up for only a moment.

        "Me? Trouble? Am I the one with a fan club of 'Cons who have a deadly sort of attraction? I think not! Who's trouble now, Kitty?"

        CatEyes laughed brightly. "Um, that would still be you, Jazzy. Thanks for asking, though."

        “Aw, come on, Kitty! Can you really call this adorable faceplate ‘trouble’? You must have a heart of stone, you know that?” He nudged her on the shoulder, and she pushed him back, raising an eyebrow at his shenanigans.

        “You are such a troublemaker,” she chided, rolling her optics, not that he cared that she was scolding him, or attempting to, anyway.

        “Am not,” he insisted. “I’m just too much fun for most.”

        “Oh really? Most? And yet you come to bother me?”

        “Ouch!” Jazz laughed, teasing her. “Easy, Kitty, put the claws away.”

        CatEyes couldn’t help but laugh in return. “Oh, whatever. You just had to start it, didn’t you?”

        Jazz grinned. “Would you rather I finish it?”

        CatEyes laughed again, shaking her helm. “There’s nothing to finish!”

        He chuckled briefly, shrugging. “Perhaps not to you, but I think there’s plenty to finish, and plenty to start. Only question is if you can keep up with me.”

        She grinned and lightly punched his shoulder. “Oh, I think I can keep up, Jazz. But are you willing to take the risk?”

        Jazz smirked playfully. “Oh, I think I can trim Kitty’s claws.”

        ~~~

        Fay continued placing line after grey line along the paper, examining each one thoroughly as she moved along. It didn't appear to be much at first, other than a bunch of scribbles. But as she kept sliding her hand over the paper, over and over, it began to piece together. The image she was creating wasn't exactly a happy one, but it accompanied the poem quite well.

        The sketch pictured a butterfly, it's wings damaged and singed, a hole in each top wing corner, indicating where pins had once been. It was a bit bleak, yes, but it spoke from Fay’s spark. It was real. It was true. And to her, it was beautiful, if a bit crude in it’s shape and archs. With a sigh, Fay continued to stare at the image for a bit before adding a bit more detail, flicking her wrist here and there as she slid the pencil across the paper.

        ~~~

        “Do you understand the boundaries?” Optimus had asked for what felt like the millionth time now.

        “Yes, Prime,” IronHide replied, if a bit bitterly. He knew exactly what kind of ‘good behavior’ the taller mech expected of him, and while he didn’t exactly like to comply with it, he also knew the kind of chance he was being given here. The kind of chance he and Jazz were both being given. And he wasn’t exactly in the mood to push his luck when it had taken this long for him to be taken seriously.

        Optimus turned his attention to his first Lieutenant. “Do you understand as well, Jazz?”

        “Of course, Optimus,” Jazz shot back, standing alert and ready.

        The Prime gave a curt nod to the pair. “Remember, one at a time. We don’t want to overwhelm her, considering the information her brain has taken in as fact, and that your appearance will cause a bit of a . . . ripple, in that solidity. Jazz, perhaps you should-.”

        “No,” IronHide interrupted firmly. He would accept that he was to be on ‘good behavior’, but he wouldn’t sit around and take a back seat. Not in anything, but especially not for this. He was supposed to be Fay’s guardian. He could tell Chromia was attempting to send a bit of a calming vibe through the bond, but he didn’t care at the moment. Optimus had to know that IronHide wasn’t going to take this lying down. It had been too long. “I’ll talk to her first.” His tone was firm and definitive.

        “IronHide, your presence right off the bat could startle her-,” Optimus began, ready to defend his position, but IronHide was just as ready to defend his.

        “My ‘presence’ could also be something she needs. She hasn’t . . . Optimus, you denied me to see her before. On several occasions. Do not take this away from me again when you’ve finally given me the leeway to see her, and let her see me, at all.”

        Well, his argument had worked. Optimus had allowed IronHide to talk to Fay, alone, even. And he was allowed to talk to Fay before Jazz came into the picture. This was going to be, well, intense, but the weapons specialist had ‘intense’ as one of the first weapons in his armory. He could handle this, couldn’t he?

        For a moment, he wondered about that, but frankly, the mech was excited to see Farrah, and to have her know the blatant truth, not about being in a coma or any such silly thing, but something more, well . . . aged.

        Now, his holoform stalked down the hallways Fay’s mind had built a while ago. Optimus and Charlie had told him he would know Fay’s door when he saw it, that it was distinctive in a unique way. He could only imagine what they meant, until he came face to face with the singed and colored door. From what he understood, Fay didn’t see anything but a plain old door. He wondered what else they saw differently as visitors and creator.

        IronHide took a deep breath, his hand reaching for the door knob. It was morning. And it had been quite a while since he’d used his holoform. Not much since Fay entered the coma. It wasn’t even really like he was using his holoform now, really. It was just his processor working to project it into her mind. But that wasn’t important anymore.

        Carefully, he slid the knob until it clicked, and he pushed the door open. He could see Fay sitting on her bed, sketching onto a pad, but she paused at the sound of her door sliding open, and her mouth dropped slightly at the sight of him. His lips nearly wavered into a smile, and he may have if he wasn’t a bit nervous at the moment.

        She recognized him. It was plain in her face and the way the pencil nearly dropped from her hand. The way she looked at him like he wasn’t real. He needed confirmation that she still knew him, though. He needed to hear her voice, hear her call him.

        “Fair . . . ?” She blinked, a few tears threatening her eyes when he spoke.

        “Dad . . . ?”