IMPORTANT Author's Notes – Please read:

This fic is being written in response to all those fluffy 'Arcee has a sparkling with Knock Out/Bumblebee/Optimus/insert-name-here' stories that have been appearing on this website in recent times. Whilst I acknowledge that people enjoy such stories of happiness and general cuteness in an age when every time you turn on the TV or read the newspaper you see death and destruction, I'm finding it increasingly frustrating that almost every one of those fics I've read follows the same path. Now, I'm not saying that such fics don't have a place in the fandom; if people enjoy writing/reading them, then of course they do and I for one will never tell someone not to write them. But, as I've already alluded to, the world isn't all sunshine and lollipops. So here I present an alternative, something for those of you looking for something with a bit of realism (as it applies to a fic about giant alien robots, of course), and that challenges perceptions to provoke emotions other than the ones that involve statements such as 'aww, how cute'.

And now to the really IMPORTANT bit. This fic WILL offend some of you, as it will explore topics that some of you do not support on moral grounds. I am not condoning or condemning anything in this fic; I am simply presenting an image that, just like life, isn't black and white. And so, I make this request. If you read something that offends you, or upsets you in any way, please STOP READING. While I'm always happy to receive constructive criticism about my writing style and plotline, I don't want to be flamed for 'condoning' things that you don't agree with (as I've already said, I'm expressing neutrality for the purposes of this fic; my personal ideals remain just that, personal) or otherwise upsetting you, as that is not my intention. Stated simply, if you don't like, don't read and forget I ever posted.

So, for those of you still with me, please, consider yourself warned and, I hope, enjoy.

Chapter 1

Carrying

Thanks to the Primus-forsaken Allspark, Arcee was what the humans would call pregnant. Or in other words: sparked. Carrying, baking a bun, knocked up...totally fragged.

And to make matters worse, she wasn't the sole creator. Oh no – if fate was going to screw her over, it was going to do it properly it seemed. Of all beings the co-creator could have been, there were few that could have been considered worse than the one that had been chosen for her.

Knock Out.

He was the one that had brushed up against it and set it working, raw energy crackling and dancing over its surface like lightning. But she was the idiot who had fallen and subsequently hadn't been able to pull herself free from it until the damage had been done.

She wasn't built for producing sparklings; she didn't like them for a start and she didn't have the motherly instincts for them either. And what the slag was she supposed to do with one in the middle of a fragging war anyway?

Another stupid mistake had seen her secret revealed; getting shot in the abdomen had required repairs and Ratchet's scans picked up the abnormality in her spark – and hey presto, the whole world knew she was carrying the saviour of the universe or some such scrap.

Frag that for a joke.

Arcee paced back and forth in the dark storage room, counting down the minutes until Optimus, or Ratchet, came searching for her, looking for a spark-to-spark talk. It seemed that all she had been doing those last few cycles had been talking – or rather, listening – about how wonderful the impending spark transfer would be, and how much her life would change, particularly when it came to pain, nausea and general suffering over the next 24.25 months, or thereabouts.

And then there were the non-stop questions from the others, ranging from the typical 'do you want a mech or a femme?' and 'what will it's name be?', to the more tricky ones – predominantly from the humans – such as 'so...explain this sparking thing to me again...'.

Oh yes, it was fragging wonderful alright.

But when it came down to the important things – like how the frag she felt about the fact that she was suddenly and unexpectedly carrying a sparkling – it seemed that no one was willing to pay attention. She, unlike them, wasn't excited. She wasn't looking forward to holding a useless lump of steel in her arms and forcing precious energon down it's greedy throat components, energon that was required to keep the army functioning because no, the war was not going to end because she was expecting.

And, more than anything else, she didn't want to become some helpless femme sitting on the sidelines simply because she was considered too 'valuable' to send out onto the battlefield. She was a warrior, and Second in Command, and no matter what Optimus and Ratchet said, they needed her.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside made Arcee pause in her pacing; perhaps whoever it was hadn't heard her and would just keep walking if she remained motionless for a while. But, much like everything else in her life at that moment, it seemed she wasn't going to get her way. The heavy blast door slid open with a long hiss and Arcee was greeted by the sight of Ratchet standing on the other side of the threshold.

"Ah, there you are," he said, inviting himself into the storage room despite the less-than-friendly look Arcee threw at him. "You didn't show up for your examination this morning. You know how important it is that we keep on top of your biochemistry levels; dealing with a sparking during an energon shortage isn't the best situation, but, if we monitor things closely—"

"Isn't the energon shortage exactly why I shouldn't be going through with this?" Arcee said coldly, interrupting they physician without remorse. "Not to mention the whole 'endless war' thing. I really—"

"Arcee," Ratchet cut her off, as was becoming the norm these days. "You need to stop talking like that. I know that you're still coming to terms with your sparking, but you shouldn't feel guilty about bringing a new life into the universe. We will make our energon supplies last, and with my research into Synthin progressing well, we should have a viable source of fuel available to us before you reach full term."

"You miss my point," Arcee responded, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't want to reach full term. I don't want a sparkling. How many times do I have to tell you before you'll start listening to me?"

Ratchet frowned, and approached the femme with an outstretched hand, looking to place it on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. Arcee shrugged it off immediately, her scowl deepening.

"It is quite normal for a new carrier to have reservations about what lies ahead, but trust me, Arcee, I will be with you every step of the way. You just need time to get used to the idea, that's all. When you're holding that newspark in your arms for the first time, you will forget all about those fears you have now."

"Fears?" Arcee spat as she pushed her way past Rachet. "The only fears I have, Ratchet, are the ones that involve you continuing to ignore me. I don't have time for your fragging tests right now because, in case you haven't noticed, we're still in the middle of a war and patrols still need to be carried out. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

The medic let out an irritated huff and followed the femme into the corridor. "Don't give me that, Arcee, I know you've been relieved of active duty as well as you do. Now, I really would like to exami—"

"No slag I've been relieved of active duty, Ratchet!" Arcee shouted, rounding angrily on the mech. "No thanks to your support too, I'm sure. Well, just so you know, there's nothing stopping me from leaving the base for a leisurely drive, is there? And if I just happen to spot some Decepticon activity while I'm out, well, I guess I can't help that, can I?"

"Arcee, don't be a fool," Ratchet snapped, losing patience with the femme. "It is exactly because of the energon shortage that you need to rest and maintain your fuel levels, which is why you've been relieved of duty for the time being. You're right, there is nothing stopping you going out for a drive every now and then, but seriously, Arcee, you need to be careful. Going out looking for Decepticons is only going to put you and your sparkling in danger, whether you find them or not."

Arcee scoffed as she turned away from Ratchet and stormed down the corridor. "And who says that's a bad thing?"

The sound of her own footsteps was the only response she received as she left the medic behind her, obviously stunned silent by her words. It wasn't that she wanted to hurt him, but she knew there was no way he would truly help her if he wasn't willing to hear and, more importantly, understand, her position.

And she hadn't been honest to him, if she admitted it to herself; she did have fears. She was scared about a future that seemed to be thrusting itself upon her without her consent. She was scared of becoming a burden on an already over-stretched army, she was scared of losing the independence she had fought so hard to win...

But most of all, she was terrified of becoming something she wasn't.

Reaching the main entrance to the base, Arcee transformed, disliking the slight strain it put on her systems. The hot afternoon air was not pleasant, yet the freedom it represented was welcomed anyway. Accelerating, she headed for the highway.

The sky had become an inky navy blue by the time Arcee found herself reaching the outskirts of Jasper. She hadn't intended on being out so long, but with the road stretching out so longingly before her it had been almost impossible to turn around. Not to mention the five hails from base that had each ended in her killing the line with a statement ending in 'off'. Didn't they realise she was old enough to look after herself?

It wasn't until her fuel levels began to drop significantly and a warning appeared in her HUD that Arcee finally decided that driving aimlessly into the night probably wasn't a wise idea – not because she was concerned for the sparkling, but because in the somewhat likely event that the Decepticons spotted her alone, she might not have the energy to fight off a whole battalion of the fraggers. Plus, she wasn't in the mood for another long lecture when she finally did return to base; it was going to be long enough as it was.

Had she not been in her alt mode, Arcee would have clenched her fists. Just a few months ago she could have driven aimlessly for days and still been able to scrap Decepticons. Now, she felt tired after just a few hours driving, and couldn't even do that without being constantly hounded by her comrades to 'return to base' and 'be careful'. Decepticons weren't even allowed into the equation anymore.

She felt useless, and it was only just the beginning.

Arcee drifted to a halt at the traffic lights, her earlier anger dissipating to give way to depression. She hadn't asked for any of this, and all she wanted was to put an end to it now, before the others got too attached to the idea of having a screaming, demanding, disgusting lump rolling around the base.

She scoffed at the thought; too late for that.

The traffic light changed, bathing her form in a dim green light as she stood motionless in the silent, empty street. She really, really didn't want to go back to base yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time before Ratchet blew a gasket and opened a land bridge in order to berate her in person if she didn't haul her aft back there pronto.

A rush of air forced its way through her vents in the imitation of a sigh. Rocking back and forth slowly on her tyres, Arcee contemplated her predicament. She couldn't go back to base, not if she wanted to stay sane, but she couldn't just drive around all night either. But, if she could convince Ratchet that yes, she was resting and no, she wasn't in danger, then perhaps he, and the rest of her Autobot companions, would leave her alone for a few hours. She sighed again, and turned left towards the Darby residence.

Granted Jack was becoming as much of a pain in the aft as the rest of them, but still, he was the lesser of two evils in that moment.

The mug in June Darby's hand began to tilt slowly downwards, threatening to spill the cold dregs of coffee onto the recently cleaned carpet. It was one of those rare nights where she hadn't been required to work, and without the company of her son it hadn't taken her long to fall asleep in front of the TV, the DVD menu repeating over and over again having completed its feature presentation 10 minutes ago.

She murmured quietly and shifted slightly on the couch, the movement just enough to send the mug sliding from her long fingers and falling to the floor, where it landed with a dull 'thunk'. June woke with a start and, taking a few moments to gain her bearings, realised she'd just made a mess on the floor.

"Ahh, damn it," she muttered, pressing her fingers to her temples in what had become a habit in place of swearing. The woman pulled a tissue from her pocket and mopped up the spilled coffee as much as the fragile paper would allow. It didn't take long to realise she needed something more heavy duty.

Making her way into the kitchen, June was surprised to hear the garage door opening. She glanced up at the clock and confirmed her suspicions – it was way too early for Jack to be home from work, he'd been asked to cover the late shift and wasn't due back for at least another two hours. Not to mention that his boss was driving him home, so there was no need for him to come in through the garage anyway.

She frowned as she took hold of the paper towels, a dozen thoughts of things that could have gone wrong with Jack's night flooding her mind cruelly. Yes, he was sixteen, but that didn't make him an adult and really, being out so late was just so dangerous. Anything could have happened to him, especially since Arcee wasn't around as much as she used to be.

Why hadn't she offered to pick him up from work?

Filled with fear and uncertainty, June headed for the door that led to the garage. She hesitated as one hand reached for the doorknob, the other clutching the paper towels to her chest like some strange form of comfort.

A scuffling sound could be heard from the other side of the door, leaving no doubt in June's mind that Jack was home and something had indeed gone wrong. Taking a deep breath, the woman opened the door.

The sight that greeted June was definitely not what she had expected to see, and she couldn't help the look of surprise that coloured her features.

"Arcee," she said, approaching the robot that sat hunched in the corner of the unlit room. "What are you doing here? If you're looking for Jack, I'm sorry he's—"

"Oh...hey June. No, I...ah...I wasn't looking for Jack. I just...I don't..." the femme hesitated, looking down at her clenched hands. "I was just looking for somewhere to rest for a while...I don't know...if you want me to leave, I..."

June frowned slightly, confused by Arcee's unusually frazzled demeanour. And then it dawned on her, the news that Jack had delivered to her just a few weeks ago.

That robot before her was...pregnant.

As shocking and unbelievable as the news had been – and still was – June recognised the look of despondency on Arcee's face. She had seen it on the faces of so many young women passing through the Emergency Room doors, and she had seen it reflected on her own face sixteen years ago.

"No, that's ok, Arcee, you're welcome here any time," she said, placing the paper towels down on the bench and moving closer to the femme. "It's good to see you again. And I hear that congratulations are in order—"

Arcee visibly cringed at her words, and June immediately regretted them.

"—or not. Is everything okay, Arcee?"

The motorcycle's frown deepened and she closed her eyes, the pale blue light they offered disappearing and sending the garage back into darkness.

"I'll take that as a no. Do you want to talk about it?"

Arcee's eyes opened again, and she regarded June with a look that seemed to scream both yes and no at the same time. After what seemed an eternity of scrutiny, she responded: "Not really."

June sighed, and smiled warmly up at Arcee. "Well, if you do ever want to talk, you know where I am. Now, I'm sure you're wanting a bit of space, so unless you need anything, I'll leave you."

"Thank you."

June nodded once in acknowledgement and retreated; the door was almost closed behind her when Arcee's spoke again.

"Actually, June?"

The woman wasn't surprised to hear her voice again, that scrutinising look Arcee had given her had told her there was something the motorcycle was desperate to talk about. But whether she would actually open up to her or not was uncertain.

"What can I do for you, Arcee?" she replied, re-entering the garage.

"I...could really do with some company right now, if you're not busy."

June switched on the light, and waited for the fluorescent bulb to flicker noisily to life before responding with a smile. "Of course," she said, pulling herself up to sit on the bench and bringing herself slightly closer to her companion's eye height.

The pair sat in silence for a while, the sound of the occasional mosquito buzzing past or a moth banging stupidly against the window as it tried to reach the light the only noises that interrupted their uneasy thoughts.

If she admitted it, June had a million questions she was dying to ask the Cybertronian woman – ranging from the inane to the rather intimate details of how her pregnancy was even possible – but more than anything else she wanted to know why Arcee looked so...defeated.

Was it that she was simply scared? Or was there something more to it?

Whatever it was, however, she wasn't going to pry. One thing she had learnt from her years of working in a hospital was that if someone didn't want to talk, you didn't push. It only ended in disaster.

"June?" Arcee suddenly said, disturbing the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," she replied, smiling with reassurance.

Arcee's eyes remained fixed on her hands. "When you were sparked with Jack... Did people treat you like you no longer existed, like it was only the sparkling that mattered?"

And there it was, laid out before her like a written statement. The Cybertronian hadn't said as much, but June knew from experience exactly what she was getting at.

She was having second thoughts.

To be continued.

A big thank you in advance to all of you who read and review this fic, your comments are always appreciated. And an especially big thanks to Taipan Kiryu, for answering all my tricky questions and providing such precious advice.