Fraternizing 70

"WHERE IS SHE?"

He hadn't know he had such anger locked inside him. But now, with his claws sunk into Knockout's chassis, he found it. As Blades cackled in the background, RIGHTEOUS anger.

Knockout quailed. "I-I don't know!" he stuttered again, suddenly realizing he had stayed behind in what was turning out to be a den of enemies. "I--"

Nightfall shook him, his rage giving him the strength he needed to sling the mech that was bigger than him. "I know you're connected to her spark, no matter how little!" Nightfall snapped, almost spitting with anger. "Now tell me what happened to her!"

His wild optics shrank beneath Nightfall's glare. "She's alive! Primus, I swear she's alive! Just--"

Nightfall shoved forward with all of his might, and he slammed Knockout against the consol of the bridge of the NEMESIS. Icy cold optics bored into him, promising violence. "If you don't start speaking up with something useful soon--"

"I don't know!" Knockout pleaded again. He held up his servos in surrender. "She won't let me in! She won't answer!"

"Try HARDER," Nightfall growled, nearing the end of his patience.

"I am!" Knockout repeated, and he witnessed the mech's sight drop as he said helplessly, "I'm trying, but she won't let me in! She--She won't let me in . . ."

There was a pause of silence filled with Knockout's thin, panicked vents and Nightfall's ragged cycles. For one long moment, there was nothing said as Nightfall let Knockout have the chance to truly reach out to Nightstalker. He shook his head, optics dilating as he rasped, "She . . . She really won't let me in . . ."

The disbelief in his voice was pitiful, but it failed to move Nightfall's spark. With a sharp swear, Nightfall drew a fist back and let it fly with all the strength he had.

His knuckles collided with Knockout's jaw, splitting the mech's lip plating and sending him crashing in an unconscious heap in the floor. Taking a strained vent, Nightfall pointed a finger to Knockout when he began to stir with a groggy moan.

"Ultra Magnus, take him to the brig and don't let him out until he proves his use. Wreckers, Blades, scour the ship. If you find any straggling Decepticons, take them captive. Keep the ones who surrender freely separate from those still defiant. I'll show more mercy to the repentant."

Ultra Magnus reached down, hoisting the disoriented red medic to his peds. "Yes, Sir. Wreckers, Blades, move out."

They dispersed out the doors of the bridge of the NEMESIS, each dividing up as they gleefully began the hunt for surviving Vehicons, Starscream, and Shockwave. Nightfall already believed he had missed one of the lesser lieutenants because one of the escape pods had been activated. It irked him that they would have to hunt down the stragglers because it would impede on the peace if loose ends weren't accounted for.

Rubbing a palm against his helm, Nightfall looked up at the remaining bots in the room. His optics flickered. "Ratchet. You said the last you saw her was in the brig?"

The medic nodded. "Yes, Sir."

Nightfall jerked his head. "Then we'll start there."

Arcee moved to the nearest consol. "It'd be quickest just to check the security cameras. She could be anywhere at this point." Nightfall moved behind her, hovering with his wings perked stiffly in worry. The entire bridge was pretty quiet, First Aid and Ratchet moving around as they patched up those with wounds, each muttering under their breaths about how it really needed to be Nightfall receiving aid.

The empty brigs flickered up on the screens as Arcee navigated the computer. Nightfall's chassis puffed up with a tight breath. She clicked through each of the numerous cells, but the one she rested on was one with only a pair of handcuffs and wing cuffs laying on the floor.

Nightfall felt the pulse in his neck throb. "So where is she?"

"Cycle it back a few hours," Ratchet called from where he was patching up Dreadwing, pulling off glass that wouldn't be able to be salvaged and welding the cracks lining his chassis.

Arcee was doing as told even before Nightfall could order her to do so. He stiffened as he eventually saw the mech with her.

"MEGATRON?"

Arcee jumped, playing it back, but Nightfall snarled, "No! Rewind it back! All the way!" Tensely, they waited as Arcee pulled it back until Megatron wasn't in the room, and Nightfall's wings twitched as he realized Cliffjumper had migrated across the room to stare fearfully into the screen.

"Audio," Nightfall ordered crisply when he saw Megatron enter the room, saying something, servos spread. For a split second, Arcee fumbled with the Decepticon tech before the speakers began to pour out, " . . . idiot did to you. I told him to keep you here so I could find you, not tie you up like you're a prisoner. You are one of us, and you are always welcome here."

"Liar," he heard Cliffjumper hiss beside him, and Nightfall stood impassively, crossing his arms and struggling to keep his panic in check as he watched the confrontation unfold. He could feel the optics behind him, all pinned to the computer screen, and he almost wished he hadn't done this so publicly.

"I need everyone but Ratchet, Dreadwing, and Cliffjumper to leave."

Arcee whirled with wide optics, stunned at the order, and while there was a general murmur through the room as they cleared out per the Prime's orders.

Even me?

Nightfall felt his spark clench. His wings fanned.

Yeah. You too, Aid.

And by Primus alive, while they cleared out, Megatron's WORDS. Nightfall felt sick to his stomach hearing that silver tongue weaving a web of lies and deception that embodied the very essence of the Decepticons.

"Ah. You're still angry with me over that last accident."

"FRAGGER!" Nightfall jumped, not having expected the outburst from Cliffjumper, and he glanced away from the screen, watching the anger rise in the red mech's expression. At this rate, his face would be flushed redder than his paint job. "Lying, disgusting fragger . . ."

Nightfall wasn't sure whose ire was worse--but both Ratchet and Dreadwing lingered behind them, fuming with rage internally with a might that could smother even Nightfall's anger.

It was depraved the kind of things he said. How he so carefully placed each word to make Nightstalker doubt herself. Nightfall's wings fluttered, terrified of where this confrontation was leading. He prayed she would resist. She knew better, he KNEW that she knew better . . .

It wasn't until Megatron told her he wasn't lying and kissed the back of her hand that Cliffjumper swore violently, absolutely shaking with anger. "Don't you touch her!" he hissed at the screen, as if it would make a difference. Megatron flicked away one of Nightstalker's scared tears, prompting another furious, "Don't you TOUCH her!"

"What do I have to do to get you to understand, Nights?"

His thumb stroked across her bottom lip. Ice chilled Nightfall's gut. Even Cliffjumper seemed momentarily wiped of words until he choked out a raspy plea. "Oh Primus no . . . Please no, Nights . . ."

"Please, Nights . . . Just one little kiss . . . Let me show you how much I want you back . . ."

He kissed her. Nightfall felt his tanks roll sickeningly, and Cliffjumper swore, turning and walking away, shaking with passion and fury and betrayal. When his knees wobbled, Nightfall had to lock them as he kept his optics glued on the revolting sight before him. She wouldn't. Primus, she couldn't fall for that again, she was smarter than that . . . He felt Dreadwing's servos lay themselves on his shoulders.

He almost didn't even notice Nightstalker beginning to hit him. For a minute, he just stared blankly as she began to thrash, and Ratchet straightened next to him. "Cliffjumper!" the medic snapped at the red mech. Cliffjumper raced back, all the way up until he was leaning on the consol, blue optics wide.

It took her a minute to detangle herself from him, but when she did, it was a glorious moment. "Let me GO! You don't care about me! You never have! You just used me! All the time!"

Nightfall's wings perked up. By Primus, Nightstalker! Elation slowly began to bloom inside of Nightfall's chassis. She was . . . He knew it! Sagging back in relief to his father, Nightfall felt the pride swell in his spark as Nightstalker laid into Megatron with enough fervor to make even Optimus impressed. She was free from him now, wasn't she? She had broken the chains that held her to him. Beside him, he could FEEL Ratchet's chassis puffing up.

Then, Cliffjumper's wide optics, falling in love with her all over again when she showed her true colors, blinked as she came to the end of her tirade. "She kissed Optimus?"

As if in echo of his words, Megatron growled at her, "He KISSED you?"

Nightstalker's lip curled. "And kissed me better than you ever did."

Cliffjumper gave one laugh before the moment was shattered. He grabbed her throat, and every mech watching stiffened. Nightfall's vents thinned as Megatron's rage unleashed itself, and he shook his sister with such force that her legs swung, like a tiny rag doll.

"You worthless little whore! Throwing yourself around like a little play thing for everyone to frag as they please! Well tell me, did Optimus frag you good? DID HE?"

Cliffjumper shook his head, swallowing. "Optimus would never." He glance over in worry at the rest of them. "Would he?"

"Nothing happened," Ratchet replied in a clipped tone, squashing the doubts before they started.

Nightfall winced when Nightstalker was thrown across the room. Megatron's voice was so loud it shook the speakers. Then, he grabbed her face, and he dragged her from the brig.

Nightfall jolted. "Where are they going?" But he had already jumped to the consol, hurriedly flipping through different cameras to see where Megatron was taking her. His spark shivered in its casing at the way she screamed, the way she thrashed. Finally, it was Ratchet's voice that cracked out the answer.

"Nightfall, don't waste your time. Cut to the upper deck."

Nightfall's fingers froze. After a moment, he did as instructed, energon tanks clenching as they immediately saw the lounging, dozing form of the Predacon. It took a minute or so of tense waiting for Megatron to drag her to the deck. Cliffjumper was audibly praying, and Nightfall felt Dreadwing's servos squeeze his shoulders in a sort of wordless reassurance.

The doors whizzed open.

"This one has outlived her use. She's not much, but perhaps she'll be a tasty SNACK!"

Cliffjumper's voice broke. "Please no."

It was almost surreal, like watching TV while internally believing it hadn't actually happened. But the screams, her screams were so real, and they ripped across Nightfall's consciousness. Even to this point in his life, he STILL couldn't protect her . . .

Cliffjumper frowned suddenly when Nightstalker jumped for the ceiling. "What is she--"

"The air ducts!" Ratchet exclaimed without warning, pointing to where she was squeezing her tiny body into. "Bless you, Nights! Such a smart girl!"

As she disappeared into the air duct, Predaking battered at the ceiling and breathed his fire, but then it suddenly occurred to Nightfall.

"Now where is she?"

There was a pause. Then, Nightfall vented sharply and began the hunt again. This time, it was longer. He didn't know where she had come out, and even when he determined where she escaped the air ducts, she ducked beneath the walkways and was almost impossible to keep up with. And then, out of all the confrontations she could stick her nose in, it would be the one between Predaking and Megatron.

Dreadwing suddenly pointed his finger. "Nightfall. There."

Zeroing in on the camera, Nightfall opened it up, optics whirring wide as he saw Nightstalker rush Starscream, trying to throw the course of his missile away from its target.

His throat tightened. "What in the ever-loving slot does she think she's doing?" he rasped.

Dreadwing's servos tightened. "She's . . . defending him. Predaking."

Dread filled Nightfall's spark. The air lock sprang open; Predaking was shot out, point blank by Megatron's fusion cannon. And then, Megatron's back was presented to Starscream.

"Yes, Starscream! Why don't you HELP your daughter? This is your finest ultimatum! Show me where your loyalties truly lie, Starscream! Take the shot you prefer! The back of a tyrant, or the face of a whore!"

The stress was killing him. Knees knocking, Nightfall collapsed back into his father, rasping, "I'm going to be sick . . ."

Dreadwing didn't respond. The elder seeker was frozen at the sight of the screen, hate brewing up like a violent storm inside as he watched Nightstalker, the spitting image of her mother, screaming and pleading for help, only to get shot directly, blasted out of the airlock as Starscream chose his side.

If it wasn't for how tightly Dreadwing was gripping his shoulders, Nightfall would have sank in a broken heap on the floor. His lips trembled as he rasped, "Knockout said she was alive. She's alive. Wherever she is, she's alive . . ."

The feed played, but no one was paying any attention to it anymore. Finally, Ratchet broke the silence.

"I'll leave Megatron to you," he rasped. "Starscream's mine."

"Get in line!" Dreadwing snapped. "You can have a piece of him, but I'll be the one to crush his deceitful little spark."

Cliffjumper scoffed. "Fine. But I want a piece too since I didn't get the chance with Megatron."

"Bumblebee hogged him," Nightfall muttered. "There's gotta be a piece for me. I call his wings."

The red minibot snorted. "Fine. Then I get those stupid stilettos of his."

"His arms and glossia," Ratchet said, cracking his knuckles as his optics sparked in anger. "That way his weapons can't hurt anyone anymore, and I'll finally silence his lies once and for all."

Dreadwing flexed a hand, claws already envisioning taking apart the rest of the seeker. Nightfall's wings fluttered. Finally, the Prime muttered,

"So where is she?"

The mechs glanced at each other. "We'll have to have Agent Fowler check his sources," Ratchet finally said. "If Nightstalker fell from the NEMESIS, she's probably grounded somewhere. Hurt. He can help us find her."

It took Nightfall a second to get his bearings back. He was still reeling with what Nightstalker had gone through. What she had fought through. What COURAGE she had possessed. He hadn't known she had it in her. He had never seen her so fierce, so defiant, and to MEGATRON of all mechs, the very one that had terrified her most. And, if for a brief moment, she had looked him in his optics, fearless.

The rest of the day was . . . long. Tedious. Nightfall had to go back down to the Omega Lock and fetch his weapons and the Star Saber. Actually, Dreadwing fetched the Star Saber. If Nightfall was truthful with himself, he knew he couldn't really pick it up. They cleaned up bodies. They put the rest of the Decepticons in the brig until Nightfall would be ready to deal with them. They landed the NEMESIS on Cybertron's surface near Kaon to search for a place to be able to hole up and begin rebuilding.

Wheeljack found the high grade. The day did call for celebration, after all. Didn't it? Nightfall allowed it. After all, Megatron was dead, the war was over, and he was reunited with his brothers-in-arms. The Protectobots relished in his company again, and they let him tell his story, alternately laughing at his talks with his human friends or grimly listening to what happened to him, his sister, and the struggles they had gone through. First Aid cuddled with him and held his hand all night long. Nightfall was careful not to drink too much, knowing he couldn't hold his weight in high grade, and instead watched as the rest of them enjoyed the drink and atmosphere. Even Bumblebee finally got his first taste of high grade. A warrior. They would have his ceremony in a few days.

It was when Nightfall didn't see Dreadwing anywhere that he excused himself. He combed the area and the ship for him, but didn't see him. He passed Ratchet on the way who had a cube of high grade for himself, sitting by himself, alone in a random room in the NEMESIS. It was merely a stroke of luck Nightfall found him. He settled by the distraught medic for a time, waiting, listening. Ratchet spoke a little, but it was basically what they already knew. He waited more. That the medic was pushed to drink bothered Nightfall. Ratchet never drank. Said it messed with his system and made his hands shake. Nightfall fanned his wings slowly, glancing over at the medic again.

His optics shuttered in the dark room, a dim blue lighting the area. His cube was empty now, and Nightfall felt bad he didn't have one for him. He needed another. Or, at least, he wanted another. His knees were hitched up, and his elbows rested on them. His servos shook, and finally, he buried his face in his palms.

"Nightfall . . . I've lost too much in this war. I've sacrificed too much, given too much, seen too many die . . . And now I'm losing those I care about most."

His vents seized on a breath. A shudder passed through his systems. Nightfall closed his optics, unable to see the medic's raw passion, but he heard it. His plating rattled softly when he trembled so hard. His in takes were staggered. Tears thickened his voice, and despair made his vocalizer crack.

"And now . . . If I lose Nightstalker on top of Optimus . . ."

Thin, terrified sobs caught. Nightfall opened his optics, and his spark hurt seeing the tears trickling from between his fingers. He reached over and grasped his shoulder, and he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing but a crack materialized. What could he say? The same fears plagued him. Nightfall sucked in an airy vent.

"Ratchet . . ." His throat shifted, and his fingers tightened on the grieving medic. He forced the words to squeeze out of his tight throat, saying some of the hardest things he ever had to say. "She's going to be okay. Th-This is my sister. She's tough."

"She's frail," Ratchet rasped back without looking up at him. "I've put her together myself, Nightfall. She needs protection."

Nightfall's wings fluttered. For a second, his lips trembled without words. "So she's small. Some pretty big things come in small packages. I mean . . . Primus made me Prime. And I'm frail." He took a breath, neck cables tightening. "Bots can't be judged on size alone."

Ratchet winced, his words reminiscent of the Prime that came before. He didn't answer this time, and Nightfall shook his head. "S-She'll be all right, Ratchet." He swallowed. "We've been in worse jams than this. We'll find her. I know we will."

Ratchet's body language caved in on itself even more, twisting into himself. "Please." His voice rasped, a trembling breath. "Leave me."

Slowly, Nightfall got to his peds. But he looked down on Ratchet, seeing his sister's father broken and grieving. With a soft vent, he bent down, put a small kiss on the side of his helm, and he squeezed the back of his neck comfortingly before making himself scarce.

He stood outside the door for an uncertain minute. Then, with a troubled sigh, he headed back down the halls of the NEMESIS. His peds clicked a steady, lonely sound that echoed down the halls. Eventually he made it to the lower decks without getting lost. Typing in the pass code on one of the brigs, the door whizzed open.

The soldiers were edgy even in their sleep. Visors looked up, red lighting up in numerous places. A pair of optics flicked on, and they met Nightfall's.

The Prime pressed a hand against the doorjamb. "My sister . . . She's still alive?"

Knockout blinked back at him. Despite what they had done to him, he obviously saw something in his optics that tempered any aggression. He nodded. "Yeah. She's alive."

Nightfall felt his shoulders sink in relief. "Thank you."

He turned, letting the door lock behind him again. Rubbing his face, feeling a bit haggard with years beyond his age, Nightfall reached out with his spark.

Dad? Where are you?

Outside. At the top of the nearest, tallest building.

Nightfall followed his instructions, and he left the ship to find his father. Transforming, he flew to the heights of the obvious building, and he found Dreadwing sitting on the edge, legs dangling as he looked up into the night sky.

Nightfall sat down next to him. Leaning back as his father did, he felt his spark dip again at the sight of the moon large in the sky.

"You're looking at Mom again, aren't you?"

A deep-set rumble of agreement met him. "You don't know how many times I've wished to change the past."

Nightfall looked sideways at his father. Then, he crawled over, climbing into his lap, and he immediately picked him up, letting him cuddle at his chassis. Resting his helm on Dreadwing's chassis, Nightfall looked back up at the moon. "What do you miss most about her?"

A melancholy laugh rose up from the great mech. "Everything," he replied softly.

Nightfall's cheek twitched with a failed attempt at a smile. "That doesn't answer the question, Dad."

"On the contrary," he murmured, "that answered the question perfectly." There was a pause. Dreadwing sighed, and his arms tightened around Nightfall. "I miss her smile, first and foremost. I miss the way she could lift my spirits with just a touch on the cheek. The way I would slide my fingers on the underside of her wings, just to feel her shiver. The way she would laugh and never be able to stop. Her fidgeting. The way she kicked me in her recharge. Pressing her servo against mine."

He took a deep breath, and his helm dipped, wings sagging. "Watching her try to dance. Listening to her lull you back to recharge. Simply looking at the curve of her body as she bent over to kiss your sleeping cheek. Our quiet time. Invading her space. Even when she frustrated me to the point of wanting to shake her. I miss everything."

Nightfall sighed. He leaned against his father, and his wings dipped down. "Yeah?" He vented slowly, feeling every last pain from the previous battle pulse. "I miss her picking me up. And playing with her. She always made me laugh. Always made me happy. I miss hearing her sing." Closing his optics against the tears, Nightfall curled up closer. "I miss her a lot, Dad."

They sat in silence for some time, and Nightfall felt himself rocked slightly when Dreadwing shifted positions slightly, sitting up more. Then, quietly, he heard his father's voice begin singing.

"Nickle, iron, cobalt, chrome . . . hold me tender, fly me home . . ."

Nightfall's wings twitched. His throat thickened. "Oh Primus, Dad, don't do that."

His servo rubbed his shoulder, but he didn't stop. "Nickle, iron, cobalt, chrome . . . Watch me part and see me roam . . ."

He squeezed his optics shut. "Dad, don't do that . . . please, you don't have to . . ."

A slight laugh caught in his father's chassis, and Nightfall felt him nuzzle the side of his helm. "Where I got from here, I cannot say . . . But I shall return home some day . . . Though vorns will pass and time shall fly . . . I shall never say goodbye." The vibrations of his father's deep timbre tickled through his body, and Nightfall felt his spark bursting with wistful love bathed under the pale moonlight. "Wander far though I may . . . Hold me close again one day." He cradled Nightfall close to his chassis, rocking him softly, as if he was a sparkling again. Tiny tears trickled down Nightfall's face.

"Nickle, iron, cobalt, chrome . . . Hold me tender, fly me home . . . Nickle, iron, cobalt, chrome . . . Embrace me here, carry me home."

***********
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Predaking seemed to fly forever.

He didn't seem to stop for anything that day, flying far and wide as he restlessly covered ground. Nightstalker couldn't tell whether he was curious or not, or if he was just lost. He zigzagged. He soared up high. He floated and glided. They steadily dripped energon, and it finally took Nightstalker being so close to passing out that she had to get Predaking to land.

He roughly bent her wing back so it was close to straight again. It had been painful, and she had screamed so loudly her voice had echoed across the empty planet. He gave her a minute to recover, and when she did, she took out the last of her field kit, sighing at the lack of proper tools left, but made do with what she could. At least, she was able to stop the bulk of his bleeding, and he oddly returned the favor.

Then, because the sun was setting and the night was chilling, they settled to sleep. At first, separate. But the night was cold, and Nightstalker's systems could feel the toll. Her little body convulsed a little against the chill, systems dipping, so she scooted closer to Predaking. He exuded heat. And because of that, she scooted closer. And closer. Until she was just shy of his helm. One optic opened lazily, yellow and huge, and there was a puff of hot air and thin streams of smoke. Teeth picked her up by her good wing, slung her in and plopped her near his belly. He then opened up a wing, shielding her from the cold winds and curling up again, tail and head nearly touching as Nightstalker curled up into him for warmth.

He woke her the next morning, picked her up again, and began flying. She wanted to ask where he was going, but she honestly didn't think he knew where he was going. The second night was . . . a lot more eventful than the first.

Nightstalker cried out in her sleep. She perspired, shaking and panting. And then, she arched, whimpering. She didn't hear the transformation around her, deep in sleep. She cried out again. Her fingers clawed the ground.

"Cliff!"

The great mech grumbled, shaking her awake. For a minute, the touch only excited her more, and then, her optics snapped open to reveal a very confused mech.

Predaking frowned. "Are you all right? You are emitting . . . mating pheromones."

For one horrible moment, Nightstalker contemplated, and then, she pushed him away, gasping as the heat scorched through her body. She ducked behind the first building she found, shaking with the urge for overload that had so been teased at in her dream. She dropped her face in her hands, spark clenching and full of static, so desperate for Cliffjumper that she couldn't see straight. When was the last time she had overloaded? Too long, too long, she had never needed him like she did now, at the brink of an overload.

Did she dare torque herself off? That wouldn't be considered cheating, would it?

She heard his heavy steps bring him close. "Are you--"

"Leave me alone!" she managed to say, voice cracking a little. "I need my privacy!"

She heard a perturbed sound from the mech before his steps receded back. Shivering and biting her lip, Nightstalker opened up her spark chamber, so desperate for the overload that she was shaking.

She barely had to do anything to reach her climax. She went over almost too easily, crying out his name and momentarily regretting going with Predaking.

Then, overload satiated, she had to go out and face Predaking. Which was mortifying because she knew a mech of his kind of hearing would have heard her REGARDLESS of if she screamed or not. After hesitating one last time, she sucked it up and went out to him. Predaking looked up when she came into sight, and he stood, a frown of confusion on his face.

"I . . . thought . . . Cliff is a name, not a landscape. You have a mate."

Nightstalker blushed at the very thought. Heaving a deep vent, Nightstalker flushed out all the hot air and managed a tight, "Yes. He's my mate. So . . . Yeah."

What was she supposed to say to that? Predaking looked down, DOWN on her, towering above like a colossal giant. The great mech's optics narrowed in thought, and finally, he said, "You should not have come. You desire your mate."

"You asked me to come," Nightstalker reminded him. She rolled her sore shoulder, trying not to wince at the combination of relief and pain it gave her. She could only comfort herself that it had been Starscream, not Megatron that had shot her. If she had taken Megatron's fusion canon like Predaking had . . . she shuddered. She most definitely wouldn't be living. The shot would have torn right through her.

An ominous growl rumbled out of his chassis. "And against your better judgement, you came."

Nightstalker frowned at the sudden aloof nature he showed her. "And why wouldn't I?" she asked. "You asked, so there must have been a reason."

She watched his lip curl slightly. He abruptly turned away, a gust of hot air hitting her as he vented sharply. "Whatever reason it was, it does not exist anymore. Leave me. I no longer desire your company."

Her brows shot up. That was it? "Hey, wait!" She trotted after his longer strides, and she pulled on his leg when he refused to stop. "Is this about Cliffjumper? You brought me here because you thought I . . . You thought that I cared about you like THAT?"

"No!" He whirled, shaking her off his leg, and Nightstalker frowned sharply, yanking her hands back from his slightly kicking ped. He leered down at her with anger smoldering in the depths of his optics. "How could YOU care about me? I know what I am. And I know what you are, AUTOBOT."

Nightstalker's jaw popped open. "You can't be serious." But he was already walking away again, apparently finished with her, and Nightstalker ran after him to catch up. "Predaking! Predaking, stop! Can you really hold an entire faction accountable for what only a few of us did? It wasn't all that long ago I was a Decepticon!"

He whirled on her so suddenly she almost ran smack into his leg. She quailed at the rage that bubbled up. "Decepticon?" he all but hissed at her.

Her spark skipped. Wrong thing to say. "I left the Decepticons because I was being used," she blurted out quickly, hoping he might sympathize with that. "The Autobots took me in and . . ." She quickly decided not to elaborate on her reception. "And I guess you could call me one of them since I'm wearing the emblem, but I'm hardly Autobot or Decepticon."

His lip curled again. "You merely seek to avoid my rage," he growled lowly.

Nightstalker shrank, backing up some. "Well, if I can avoid being lunch, then yes," she nearly stuttered out, wings fluttering rapidly as the fear began to bubble up again. "You asked me to come with you, though. You know I care, so why are you being an aft all of the sudden?"

Predaking's servos clenched, and she instinctively took another step away at the small show of aggression. "My reasons are my own," he snarled back. "You are an Autobot. I will never forgive your kind for killing my brethren, and I will never forgive the Decepticons for their active deception. Show your face to me again, and I will kill you."

Her optics popped in shock at the way he suddenly pushed her away, and then, his transformation unfolded, and the dragon's wingspan spread wide, nearly knocking her over. Nightstalker yelped when he took off, leaving her behind.

"Hey!" She ran after him, anger flushing her cheeks. "You can't just leave me here! You're avoiding the question!" Jumping and attempting her own transformation to catch him, she spasmed and hissed when her wing refused to snap into place, still crooked from where Predaking had damaged it on the NEMESIS. Huffing in irritation, she glared at the dragon flying away. She shook a fist at him.

"Fine! Go then! Stupid dragon! I bet you broke your welds open again and are just going to leak to death!" Of course, she didn't get an answer, and when she didn't, she huffed and crossed her arms. "Stupid dragon. Last time I'm sticking my neck out for you, you stubborn, grudge-holding mud-slogger . . ."

Her wings fluttered again in her agitation. Fine. If he wanted to go, she'd let him go. She belonged with the Autobots anyways. Back home.

Her chassis warmed at the thought of home. Then it dropped. Where WAS home? She looked across the barren landscape of Cybertron, the wind howling ominously through the creaking buildings. Great. Now she was all alone, it was the middle of the night, and her heater had left. She narrowed her optics. Fine. She'd insulate herself for the night, and the next morning, she'd be on her way back to the Autobots.

Where WERE the Autobots? Hopefully she'd be able to see the NEMESIS in the sky if she got close enough . . . Or maybe they would land it to save energon. Yeah. That sounded more like the Autobot thing to do. They were masters of preserving energon by now.

But where would they go? Presumably they'd go to Iacon . . . Nightstalker bit her lip as she looked around. She didn't even know where she was! By how run-down it looked and the markings, it had to be Decepticon territory. Vos? Tarn? She swore slightly under her breath. She'd been cooped up on that fragging NEMESIS all her life! She'd barely gotten out, and because of that, she didn't know any territory outside of Kaon. Regardless, Iacon was north. All the Autobot territories had been north. She'd start there.

After standing for a minute, letting her anger cool off, Nightstalker felt her irritation fizzle out, and instead, her spark dropped. Grudge-holding. She looked back to the sky. She really couldn't blame him for holding a grudge, could she? She shook her head, and to enforce her thought, she consciously said it out loud.

"You owe him nothing, Nightstalker."

Of course she didn't, but she hadn't owed him anything when she tried to stop Starscream from shooting him. In fact, she should have left him to his fate instead of trying to help him. Nightstalker gritted a frustrated sound through her teeth, and she reached up, letting her claws dig into her helm.

Primus help me, I am not going after him.

A tickle of a lost thought rose up in the back of her processor, the thought of a mech she hadn't thought of in a long while. Would Optimus let him go? Let him fester all alone? He was hurt, both body and soul. He was alone. So what if he was being a fragger? She had dealt with worse from the Autobots when she met them, so why was she running out on him?

Nightstalker groaned and dropped her face in her hands. Compassion, Optimus had said. Compassion would reach them.

She made another unintelligible, indistinguishable sound. She was going back, wasn't she? She was going to go after that stubborn, angry, butt-hurt dragon, and she was going to put up with his crap the way she had put up with the Autobot's crap, and all the other crap she had always put up with all her life.

Nightstalker growled at herself and began to stomp off in the direction Predaking had flown, muttering all the way.

"Nightstalker, you must have the patience of a SAINT to put up with all this slag. Cruddy dragon, acting like a child . . . Frag it all, he IS a child, isn't he! Fragging Primus, he's just a child! A big baby in a grown mech's body . . . ! Primus I bet you think you're funny, making me feel compassion and pity for that mech! Fragging gods and their sense of humor . . . I've got the patience of a saint for putting up with YOU too, Primus! You hear me? The patience of a SAINT!"