Onwards, to the review replies...!

3luv4eva3

Awesome chapter as always. Poor Talida having to put up with someone Miko. Haha! You have not meet me personally yet!

Totally agree with you, coincidence my ass!

Aw, thanks! I try... And I sincerely hope this is to your liking; Miko's guitar shredding is temporarily put on hold.

Haloangel21

We need more Pricee don't ya know haha xD Poor Bulkhead having to put up with the kids alone, specifically Miko. Aww. No wonder he hasn't suffered from her insane antics. I swear she has multiple personalities.

Looking forward to more

We all know he loves them deep down in that big softie spark of his.

Sort of.

Maybe just Miko,

A little bit.

A microscopic amount.

On a good day.

Plenty of Pricee here! BUY YOUR REAL FANGIRL PRICEE T-SHIRTS HERE! Sorry it took so long though... Feel bad about that. :(

IceGirl2772

Girl, keep them coming! You are writing this so well! Wonder how Arcee's gonna react to future events in the Darkness Rising five-parter...

PS: yes, it really is me. I just forgot to login

Arcee's got ton of good things, and... Other things headed her way.

Haha, never doubted you! Nobody can pull off a good impression of you. Your writing style (even if it isn't in a story) is too unique!

Autobotlover56

plz update soon

DONT HATE ME OH MY GOSH. IT'S BEEN SEVEN MONTHS I'M SORRY /3 I DID WHAT I COULD.

The already unbearable pain rattled her bones and split her cracked skull. Every bone within Talida's body was shaking as the vibrations tore through her, and she felt as if she would burst. The strong heart within her thrummed quickly, forcing her blood to race through her body violently, and the rhythmic beating flowed with the guitar music that made her pain much much worse.

All aspects of her scrambled to find some source of consolation, and her hands clenched into fists, grasping her hair desperately. As if things could not have resulted any poorer, an even louder, stronger pulse ripped through the mental defenses she had put up. Green light seared through her eyelids that were squeezed shut, but as soon as it had all started, the chaos ended, and her swift heartbeat slowed, even though panic briefly shot through her.

A large metal servo had scooped Talida up and placed her elsewhere, but it had taken her far too long to realize it. When her shoes had reached the ground, and she exhaled heavily, Jack, despite his rather scrawny build, pulled her towards him, and behind the mech's foot. The world spun around her, and her stomach threatened to expel its already minimal contents upon the floor, but she inwardly determined that she would be alright.

The base stopped spinning seconds later, and she sighed, looking at her three companions, not understanding. "Why are we-?"

"PRIME!" A furious man yelled, his already cheery personality identifying him as Special Agent Fowler, a real pain in the backsides of every Autobot and human he had come across. He was rude, judging the 'Bots without reasons, and lashing out at any and every Cybertronian he came into contact with.

It surprised the young designer that he had a job, what with his manner and whatnot. In her experience, cruelty was not a switch that could be flipped on and off, meaning that he either had connections that were miracles, or the U.S. government had made a rather large mistake.

She found herself hoping for the latter, even with the killer headache she possessed.

Her dedicated, sweeping strokes flew across the pages as pictures from within the deepest recesses of her mind were brought into reality, with several dresses, outfits, and other accessories were sketched out. The papers, though a mess in the eyes of any other, were neatly and cleverly arranged in such a way that would be apparent to any designer.

Talida was dying to sneak back into the school as soon as she could, for she desperately hoped that she could squeeze through the windows in the home-economics room for some late night stitching. But with Ratchet outside, and his stupid medic sensors, it would take a miracle if she was ever going to get her secondary line finished in time.

She sighed and threw her head back, hitting the the metal railing behind her but paying it no attention. A dull throb emitted in the back of her mind, and she turned to look at the scene behind her. Optimus Prime, despite his strongest reassurances, had been hurt fighting off what he had admitted was only a small portion of Megatron's plan. Fowler was still as unconscious as ever, though he occasionally burst into speech, the strangest things coming from his subconscious.

Perhaps she had been too harsh in her original assessment of the man.

After all, William Fowler had been loyal to the point where he was undoubtedly in pain, and though she had endured her fair portion of the world's cruelty, Talida winced at the mere idea of enduring the torture meant for durable, toughened, bitter, war-like robotic beings that could block out pain with a simple internal digital command. Her heart clenched when she looked back at Optimus, whose optics held an underlying story of pain throughout millennia, predating her mere existence by more time than humanity itself had been around.

Maybe she didn't truly understand these foreign beings, but she could always empathize, even if it was only in the smallest of ways. Her gaze fell on the femme-bot. Arcee, who almost looked forlorn, even though she had hidden any deep emotions in the furthest recesses of her spark. The blue femme seemed like she was fighting back something, though Talida couldn't be sure, and when the twenty-foot tall being glanced over at her, she quickly moved her gaze back to her drawings and sketches.

After the ground-bridge had closed, and the portal to the Darby home had been sealed, a sense of emptiness, something akin to what she felt after the deaths of both her partners, settled in her spark. It left a gaping hole in her soul, and though she knew it was undamaged, a lonely, high-pitched whine of discomfort echoed in her audio receptors, softer and weaker than it seemed.

Arcee felt as if all the optics and eyes in the room were boring into her processor, and tearing her thoughts apart. The tether that had kept her emotions in check was breaking, and she could feel it snapping apart faster than it had been woven together. It had taken years of effort from both Optimus and CliffJumper to heal her spark after the horrors she had endured, yet everything seemed to be unfolding, and her processor felt impossibly light as disorientation overtook her.

A pained look of distress appeared upon her faceplate, concerning her bondmate. Though as upset as she was, she did not uncross her arms, opting instead to tighten her grip on herself in something of a self-embrace. Optimus' baritone dripped from his perfect voice box, but it was nothing more than a distant echo. Nothing was making any sense, let alone connecting in her processor.

A servo rested itself on her shoulder, and she just about jumped out of her protoform, whirling around to face her would-be-assailant. "Cee, are you alright?" Bulkhead asked, a quizzical look enveloping his usual serious expression.

She nodded slowly, not trusting her voice box to refrain from shattering, or to give away any other emotions she was trying to hide; there were so many of them, and she had so little strength left. "Bulkhead." Optimus' commanding voice rung in their audio receptors, snapping the mech to some sort of attention, his posture respectful. "It is indeed late. Perhaps the children should embark for their homes in order to rest?"

Thought it had been phrased and spoken like a suggestion, it had the underlying urgency of a command, which had been intentional. He nodded, and the three mechs, surprisingly with no complaints on Ratchet's end, scooped up their charges, each of them taking their leave. It was obvious that the two bondmates needed to discuss something.

What their Prime wanted, he received.

"Sweetspark?" He tentatively reached out and stroked her faceplate, feeling the torturous turbulence within that she could not hide from him. Sad, tortured optics looked up and she fought back tears. "Are you alright?"

She stepped away, and kept wrapped her arms around herself in a weak self-embrace. "I don't know." The femme lied, shutting her optics and clenching her servos into tight fists, untamed emotions running rampant within her spark. She hated being out of control; it was why she demanded complete and total control of herself in combat, on patrols, when scouting ahead, and in situation such as this one.

Optimus vented, shaking his helm, attempting to understand his bonded fruitlessly. "Arcee, you cannot hold yourself responsible for the actions of others. The decision to not request backup was CliffJumper's. It is not as if you had any say in his actions!" He said firmly,

She vented deeply, spark aching, no longer attempting to comfort herself. "I could have tried harder to save him! I could have told him to wait; convinced him that he needed my help, or at least my company!"

His regal blue optics were stone cold, seeming angry almost, yet she desperately searched him for any signs of him surrendering in this interrogation. "You could have done nothing. The Decepticons would have slaughtered you, and then him, and I would have lost my bondmate and my soldier."

"I could have at least tried, Optimus!" She spat, tears that she could not fight flooding to the surface. "I could have tried to do something, even if nothing came of it." The femme felt herself weakening, and squeezed her optics shut in effort to at least somewhat pull her emotions together.

He remained silent as a slow realization was cast upon him. "This is not about CliffJumper… Is it?" The Prime asked knowingly, intaking the cool oxygen slowly, and releasing it equally as tersely.

His bonded shook and trembled, feeling the horror of the last few days beginning to settle, and stood before him in devastation. "No." She admitted, moving from him and gritting her denta as she backed away, forcing her tears away. The blue femme tore her servos violently across her faceplate, but she was stopped by her mate, her lover, whose optics pleaded with her as he kneeled before her, clasping her violently shaking servos. He held them in his steady, warm ones, looking at her with adoration that made her spark melt guiltily.

"Beloved, do not burden yourself! Let me help you," he implored her, feeling his own spark clench in writhing agony at her burdening pain. "Please, love. You cannot continue to endure this, not as long as I am online and functioning."

"Optimus, there's only so much you can do." She protested weakly. "You have obligations to the faction, to the Matrix, to-"

She was cut off when he smothered her quivering lips with his own, dipping her helm back as several tears slipped past her closed optics, touching his faceplate. The cooled energon splattered to the ground meaninglessly, and she whimpered, molding his tender kiss into something fiery. Her spark crackled aggressively; she felt terrible, and as a result, her subconscious was pushing for as much closeness as physically possible between her and Optimus.

He reluctantly broke away, even if it was hardly at all, allowing her already working cooling systems to catch a break. "I have a responsibility to you, above all other things. You are my bonded, my other half, my soul mate, my femme, my second in command, and the only reason I fight at all." She shook her helm, digging her unsteady digits into the back of his neck and bringing herself as close as she could on her own.

"Your pain…" he began, squeezing his optics shut and moving his helm to whisper in her audio receptors lowly. "It is agonizing torture to me, Arcee." He said, not allowing her to respond. He lustily stole her away again, and she trembled as he lifted her off the ground, digits resting on her thighs, gripping her tightly. She would not escape him once again. "Tell me, Sweetspark, Please tell me."

She bit her lower lip tentatively, internally warring with herself, a feeling of self disgust emerging. How could she be so selfish as to almost allow Optimus to carry yet another one of her burdens? "I can't," she insisted; her venting halted abruptly. Arcee shied away, shaking her helm repeatedly, and trying to wriggle out of his embrace. "You don't- I can't- She's not- Mmmmm!" The fighting femme could not speak; she would not speak while her mate kissed her.

He was intoxicating, addictive, loving, tender, and perfect in her optics. How could anyone have given her Optimus Prime? She most certainly felt unworthy, and undeserving in all reality. "Talida?" He finally pressed, having sifted through her wall of emotions to uncover the source of all her emotional turbulence, and she nodded insistently, unwilling to continue fighting him any longer.

"It's just been too long since we let her go. I never thought we would see her again." She nodded pecking him briefly, to hopefully distract him. "It's nothing though, I'm… fine." The femme lied, blinking away the roaring wave of fear rampaging through her spark as she remember exactly how they had lost their daughter. "She's safer now, right?"

Her worry, though not-unreasonable, set free a long contained worry within him, and he vented, kissing her back for some form of consolation. "She is. But I want her back with us as much as you do, love. Do not doubt that."

She knew him well. "But-?"

Too well. "But the war was, and is still not a proper scene for raising and nurturing any youngling of ours." he reminded her. crushing both of their hopes, even if he wanted anything but to remind himself of the bitter truth. "She may be in this endless conflict as of right now, but she is safer when all are oblivious to the wonderful truth. She is our creation, our daughter, our Talida… but she cannot be with us as such a person."

"I know."

Optimus vented, nuzzling his bondmate softly, something of a sly grin upon his faceplate. "Sweetspark?"

She leaned her helm towards his warmth, enjoying every moment of close contact from the Prime. "Yes?" He nipped at her wiring, and her optics shot open briefly until they closed in utter bliss once more. "Care to finish the job?" She mused aloud, sounding just as tired and strained as she felt. "You never did seal the deal this morning."

A deep, throaty chuckle had her shiver despite his abundant warmth, and he growled at her while his servos went back for her aft once more. "Berth, femme." She squeaked, moving in his strong arms as he lifted her, surprised.

"No, Optimus, wait! I didn't mean-!" He cut her off with knowing lusty dark blue optics, and she shook her helm, rolling her own optics with an irritated look. "Fine. I did-!" Arcee shrieked, realizing that she was nowhere near the ground. "I'm not some fragging play-thing, Optimus!"

Ignoring her, he purred, the sound alone making her shiver violently as they ventured down the hall, her squeaks muffled by his demanding kisses, and the two ducked into their shared quarters, not to be seen again for some while.