Fay paced around her room, having long ago given up on sleep. Three a.m. Three a.m. and she couldn’t sleep. She could always sleep. Most nights she slept like a rock, really. But tonight was different. Tonight the new moon cast an added darkness the stars couldn’t replace with their smaller bits of light. Tonight was the first new moon since-.

    Since . . .

    Since she’d slit her wrists and spilled her blood, blood and energon, on the mossy forest ground. When deep red and pale blue had mingled mixed. She glanced down at her left arm. She’d cut all the way from her wrist to her elbow on the underside of her forearm. Not a single scar remained, and she knew that was beyond ridiculous. No one healed that quickly. No one.

    ‘No one but freakish otherworldly idiots dumb enough to get themselves trapped in an asylum where digital eyes watch your every move . . .’ That had been a particular problem Fay had been experiencing: her lack of freedom. Her inability to do anything without the potential that someone would find out.

    And since she’d woken up, with every day that passed, it became harder and harder to control her vicious urges, harder to control the inner mechanisms that almost seemed to have a mind of their own. They kept itching to be used, but it absolutely terrified her to think of what might happen if she did.

    She had yet to use her inner machinery. She’d been trying her hardest not to even think about it. But every now and then a pulse would beat through her veins, different from the usual flow of fluids, and edge it’s way into her spark, nagging her that she was ignoring her heritage, that she was ignoring her glorious fate. That she couldn’t ignore it forever, but the longer she did, well, then when it finally broke free there would be no stopping it’s reign of terror until it was good and spent.

    She shoved it aside every time, silently scolding herself that it was her overactive imagination. She didn’t have two consciouses. That wasn’t possible. But that dark shadow that reigned like a thunder cloud over her mind was relentless. Kept insisting she would eventually move onto bigger, better things . . .

    Things that didn’t involve being locked up in a mental ward.

    Fay stopped at the window, looking outside at the courtyard illuminated with artificial, filtered light from the lamps above the walkways. They were supposed to be on lockdown at night. The cameras would catch her if she left her room.

    If she went through the hallways. She had another option. Another completely tantalizing option that she couldn’t help entertaining, even though it made her chest tighten at the thought. Fay closed the final inches that separated her from the window.

    The damn thing was sealed shut. She huffed, biting her lip. Apparently there would be no grand escapes tonight for an early morning stroll. An incredibly dark, peaceful, isolated, early morning stroll. Fay sighed, lying down on the bed. For a while, she just lay there, feeling the blood and energon pulse through her veins, her skull, her spark. It almost began to feel like it was throbbing. An even beat in time with the seconds that passed. The seconds that passed while she was alone. So incredibly alone and stupidly awake despite the sedative they’d given her like they did every day.

    If they caught wind of this, they’d up her dose and she’d be a vegetable at night. Fay bit her lip and turned over on the bed. She held her head in her hands, biting the sensitive skin harder and harder.

    It wasn’t ‘almost throbbing’ anymore. In a matter of seconds it had escalated and now she could feel every horrible pulse like a hammer to her skull. It beat again and again, the silence deafening in the dark. Suddenly, every spot of light that came through the window was painful. Every thought that formed in her mind was forced and breathtakingly sharp against her will. It hurt more than she’d ever thought possible -- it broke her pain threshold as she lay in the darkness, her mouth opening in a silent scream that never manifested. Just a ghostly shriek that no one would hear outside those doors.

    The only sound that existed was in her mind. In her mind, she heard the horrible screams that escaped her throat. She heard every agonized sound, the almost animalistic yells.

    Fay began to writhe on the bed, gripping the sheets in her hands as her body convulsed from the pain that was consuming every neuron, overriding everything else she might possibly focus on. Salty tears leaked out of her blue eyes, the whites already reddenned from the blood rushing to her face as she fought the pain, though she could hardly say she was winning. Every second became more painful, shattering each new threshold that formed when she finally thought it had plateaued. A sliver of saliva leaked out of her mouth as she ground her teeth together.

    Her mouth opened slightly, wanting to beg for a release from the pain, willing to bargain for it, even. She wanted no more than to have the pain stop. All she could see anymore was the blinding pain, and the immense, endless darkness. A shadowy, breathing darkness that threatened to swallow her whole if she didn’t steer clear of it.

    Fay thrashed, pushing against the bed, sitting abruptly though it made her head pound even more. She didn’t even realize she’d hit her head against the wall, or how hard, until she tasted the blood in the back of her mouth. Her mouth opened again, but she only choked on a sob.

    It was so horribly painful. And it had come from nowhere. Her eyes squeezed shut so tightly, her eyelids ached, but she couldn’t open them. The little light that made it’s way through the window would make things worse. She couldn’t have it. She refused. She just wanted to escape, wanted to run where the pain couldn’t find her. If only such a place existed. But all she knew was that she wanted to run, and that somehow, she had to get away from the terrible ache that only got worse and worse.

    She got up, using every remaining ounce of willpower she had, and started towards the door, not caring if she crashed into it. At least if she hit it hard enough, the pain would die for a while as she laid unconscious on the floor. A faint whisper registered in the back of her mind, but the pain blocked it out from making any sense.

    It was a sudden jolt to her skull as she met with the narrow edge of the opening door, a second jolt as the back of her skull ricocheted against the wall her bed sat next to. A flurry of spotty lights and red, just a painful, ever-reaching red underneath the bright lights, flooded her vision as she went stiff, and her body crashed to the floor with a heavy ‘thud’. She swore she felt one last shock of pain in her skull, implying she’d had one more impact before hitting the boards underneath her.

    But the sweet embrace of unconsciousness took her in, with the temporary relief of the throbbing and the sharp, derisive aches that had filled her skull. She nearly smiled in relief, and would have had the loss of her conscious mind and the absence of the pain not gone hand in hand so completely.

    ~~~

    The days passed slowly as the femme watched from inside her chamber, as she watched mechs and femmes offline in front of her. She endured every painful second as they onlined, offlined and over again. Her optics got blurry every now and then when the losses took a serious toll on her spark, bruising the amber, tinting it with a few red specks that faded with a bit of time.

    It was far from easy to keep going. Watching them, that is. Watching all of them offline time after time. She learned things every day from her hard drive, from observing the scientist. Piece by piece, she began to formulate true thoughts, but she was still alone. Her first surviving brother was going to wake any day now, but in the meantime, the ever-reaching silence, the ever-reaching darkness consumed her as she waited.

    The tubes in the dank room got emptier every day. It was a horrible existence to know that while she’d once had dozens of siblings to join her, she was now down to less than a single dozen. Only eight remained. Only two more sets of CNA replacement remained. She had the process memorized by now, and she did her best to numb herself before the beginning of each set. She hated that pain, hated the emptiness it left once the new mech or femme offlined.

    She watched, frustrated, as another set was prepared, tube after tube drained, spark after spark injected, body after body contorting in unnatural ways, followed by an immense fury, and offlining. Except for one. The second one to be injected lived. He passed the tests. He would continue on.

    A small surge coursed through her spark at the hope.

    He felt it. She knew she felt it because his helm turned to her, his rusty optics bright and . . . unrestrained. A wildness was inside him. The femme very much so appreciated that. It was something they would understand about each other. Something her and her siblings would always have in common. He was placed back in his chamber, and he glanced at her again as it filled. She placed her palm to the glass, and he returned the gesture.

    Even though plenty of distance separated them, both siblings felt the surge that passed through the empty space, though it was invisible to ShockWave. But, of course, he noticed the difference in the energy.

    He noticed everything. And he looked less than pleased. He’d caught her two other times with this. This gesture. And he never seemed to understand the significance of it. He never seemed to understand what was going on in their processors.

    Her new brother’s optics drifted shut as his chamber filled with that blue fluid, energon, and she knew that would be the last she saw of him for the next couple weeks. Her eldest brother’s spark flickered every now and then with a glimmer of consciousness, but it wasn’t here full-time just yet. Closer and closer . . .

    ShockWave strode over to her tube, his single, bright red optic meeting her ruby ones. She gave no change in expression at his approach, gave no change in emotion. His presence was so second-nature, she’d almost lost the desire to slash the vital tubing in his neck and make his energon gush onto the floor.

    Almost. Her desire to kill still fueled that in the primitive part of her processor. She had to keep herself from hissing at him most days. The single optic that rested in his helm instead of two irked her for reasons she couldn’t pinpoint.

    “What was that?” He demanded, a scowl across his faceplates. “What is that damned gesture? What trouble are you already causing?”

    She just stared at him, blinking once before he threw the door open, liquid energon pouring out the door, and she fell out with it. She stood slowly, shakily, as ShockWave glared. Her control over her legs was still uneven, a wavering, fleeting thing. It took a tremendous amount of willpower to stand, and to meet the scientist’s glare as he stared down at her. She’d gained a substantial amount of height and bulk lately, and her armor was starting to develop: an assassin’s pitch black, detailed only with a dark red and a trim of bright, pale blue. She would blend with shadows, the blue reminiscent of the energon she would spill, the red just shades darker than her optics though of the same hue.

    Her form remained lean as the armor took it’s place covering her delicate, tender, vulnerable areas. She would slip in and out of the shadows as if she was one of them. She was developing into everything ShockWave had hoped for. Except for her strange behavior. Were all his creations going to behave this way?

    A growl formed deep in his vocal modulator. “I asked you a question, femme. What was all that?”

    She stared at him for a few more moments. She hadn’t spoken before at all, much less used her vocalizer in any way. All her communication had been brief interactions with her siblings, through the surges in their sparks. He knew she hadn’t used it before, but had such high standards for her and all the others.

    The femme hummed, her vocalizer coming to life in the nearly silent room, all the other sounds coming from the faint sounds of machinery and the flow of liquid energon in those large glass tubes. She tested the sounds carefully, her vocal modulator teaching itself second upon second before she opened her mouth, the words stumbling out of her mouth slowly, unsteadily.

    “Do you . . . Know . . . What it’s . . . Like . . .  To be . . . Alone . . . ?” She asked, testing each sound that rolled off her glossa with the utmost care. ShockWave looked her over, contemplating her words. He knew what it was to be isolated, but truly alone? He had the Decepticons, he had Lord Megatron and even BrokenWeld at his beck and call, so was he ever truly alone? She seemed to read the thoughts crossing his faceplates, almost with too much ease.

    “Not . . . alone . . . by choice . . . but alone . . . because you truly have no one . . . Do you know what that’s like . . . ?” He examined her as she spoke, her optics flashed every now and more and more questions flashed through his processor.

    What was she capable of already? He knew the things he’d programmed her to be capable of, theorized a few others, but none of them had included whatever had caused the glass chamber to shatter like it had. He’d found no critical weakness in the broken pieces, no sufficient damage to cause it to . . . burst like it had.

    She nearly scoffed at his lack of answer. “Exact . . . ly . . . I was alone . . .” She gestured to what remained of her siblings. “I’m trying to . . . make sure . . . they don’t . . . feel alone . . . like I did . . .”

    But ShockWave hardly had time to apply the logic of her words, because a hiss escaped her as light flooded the lab, temporarily blinding the femme. As the doors closed, she could make out the assistant mech who almost always seemed to be around when he wasn’t wanted, but he had someone else with him. Someone neither of them had seen before.

    A natural-born femme.

    ~~~

    Fay groaned as she woke in her bed, a few rays of pitifully gray sunlight streaking through the window. A thick overcast cut down the what rays of sun were breaking over the horizon, making the light seem depressing in it’s own right.

    It didn’t take long before the pain in her skull came back to her, pounding through every ounce of her being, tear-worthy within seconds. Her mouth gaped, and her hands flew to her temples, trying to make it stop, silently begging for it to go away.

    And then, miraculously, it did. A tremendous relief came to her as a palm pressed to her forehead. For once since two hours ago, Fay took a deep breath, willing the remnants of that ache to leave her. Her eyes flickered open slowly, half afraid that whatever had made her feel better would somehow vanish if she gazed upon it.

    But the miracle cure didn’t vanish.

    He didn’t vanish.

    Malakai stood over her bed, looking down over her, his gray eyes almost curious as he watched her come to, as he watched the expression of her face shift from immense pain to relief. She laid against the pillow, blinking as she watched him, not making much sense of anything, much less the fact that she’d collided with the door, wall, and door handle before she’d completely lost consciousness. Or the fact that she’d collapsed on the floor and was now in her bed. And that no evidence existed of anyone else being in her room but the two of them.

    What she did notice, was that Malakai was very, very close, and that his palm was an almost paralyzing touch, but in a good way. Right? It just wasn’t possible that it was a bad touch . . . No. It wasn’t feasible. He just felt so right. He made it stop hurting. How could anything that wonderful possibly be wrong? How could anything that amazing be bad?

    A half-smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched her. “Does someone need a painkiller?” His tone was almost taunting, and she probably would’ve said it was had it been anyone but Malakai. Sweet, caring, Malakai.

    Who was in her room at five in the morning. Without pills or anything else remotely business-related. What was he doing in her room at five in the morning? Everyone else . . . was asleep . . . Reluctantly, her brain began to piece things together, but for the sake of her sanity and innocence in the situation, she played the part of the less-than-brilliant girl who was still tired and trying to shake off an incredible pain.

    He chuckled, and the sound made her chest tighten slightly, adoring the gorgeous sound. His voice was melodic and beautiful. She couldn’t help but envisioning it holding her like the softest embrace. She sighed softly at the thought. Optimus might not’ve had the perfect voice, but he’d certainly been sweet and wonderful, and, well.

    He’d entertained some of her craziest rants. Things she wasn’t comfortable discussing with just anyone but him and Charlie. Thinking about talking to Malakai about such ridiculous things felt, well, dumb. Shallow. Insignificant. Bothersome. Whereas with Optimus, well, he’d accepted her and her eccentricities, with a smile. Even on the first date when she’d ranted about her hatred of cyclops.

    “I’m telling you, it’s just plain freaky when something only has one eye! It’s not natural! Especially when it’s huge and right in the center! I mean, really! And what about depth perception? How many times do those weirdos walk into things? You just never know!” She knew her voice was a bit loud for the playground, but it was still mostly empty. Fay took another bite of the pizza and chewed, becoming parched. The stuff was good, but it had lots of salt, and lots of garlic.

    Optimus gave a small chuckle, and she shot him a glare, chewing a few more times before swallowing the gooey mess of food.

    “What’s so funny, Jerkwad?” She huffed, blue eyes meeting his eyes as he turned to her. She couldn’t believe him. He looked genuinely amused. Her stress from the idiot who had ambushed her earlier made her bristle at the sound of him think this was amusing.

    He smiled at her, eyes soft, and her defenses fell for a moment, just long enough for him to tell her, “I think you’re wonderful. You find passion in everything, even if you deny it.”

    She nearly choked on that bite of pizza, but restrained herself. She wouldn’t let him see how much his words affected her. So she moved back to the earlier topic.

    “Even if they aren’t technically a cyclops, or anything as weird as that, people who wear eye patches are weird, too! I mean, pirates, sometimes okay. Arg, and whatever, but according to my old biology teacher, they wore a patch so that if they had to fight belowdeck on a ship and there wasn’t any light, they could move the eye patch and they could see in the dark because the covered eye was already adjusted to it. How cool is that?”

    Optimus smiled as he turned back to his pizza. “Very 'cool', Filly.”

    Malakai apparently noticed some change in her, because he pulled his hand away, a bit of anger crossing his features, and she swore she saw a flash of red in those beautifully silver irises. She immediately shook that notion off. It wasn’t possible.

    “Don’t go . . .” She pleaded quietly, watching him, a bit of fear creeping into her thoughts that he would leave her. Worse, that he wouldn’t come back.

    Malakai huffed and raised an eyebrow at her. “Do I have a reason to stay?”

    Fay blinked, a few moments passing before she thought of something to say to him. “I’d like to kiss you . . .” She told him without really thinking the words through. He was a caretaker, she was a patient. That was a line she shouldn’t cross, though it certainly wouldn’t be the first time it had happened in society.

    A grin slid over his lips, and he got closer again, leaning over her, his lips a hair’s breadth from hers, his breath hot on her lips, tantalizing, teasing her. She swallowed in anticipation as their lips hovered there a moment.

    And then he pulled away, walking out of the room. Fay watched him go reufully, eyes drifting to the floor.

    So close. She’d been close to him and she’d let the opprotunity pass her by.

    But just as before, the longer she was without him, the more her thoughts seemed to clear up. She couldn’t imagine why she had so many issues with him and . . . all of this. She bit her lip, and a voice inside her whispered, ‘You’re in love, Idiot.’

    But another voice inside her whispered, instead, ‘Because you have no choice.’