Author's Notes: Hello everyone, and welcome to my 50th Transformers fic! Yay! Okay, I should probably mention that the poll for deciding my 50th fic's subject only got 5 voters, so after much debate and soul searching I decided to not go with any of those ideas. Instead I wanted this story to be more personal, so I chose one of my favorite Autobots (Huffer) as the star, I chose the topic of one Transformer becoming another because it's reminiscent of my first TF fic (Another's Optics), and I chose Beast Wars as one of the two continuities in this story because it was the TF show I grew up watching. Hopefully this story will be great. At the very least it will be long. Thank you for checking out my 50th story, and I hope to write 50 more :)

Chapter 1

MIA, KIA, or AWOL?

A youngling mech stepped off his transport ship and entered the hallowed halls of the floating Autobot Memorial. It was a large ship that was designed to be the final resting place for those who had lost their lives in the final skirmishes that ended the Third Cybertronian War.

There were many tombs that lined the walls like file cabinet doors. Some of these housed deceased Autobots, while others merely displayed the names and had the few scattered remains of their namesakes nestled within. Some died during the battle of Autobot City, while others perished during Unicron's attack on Cybertron. There were only names for those that had been eaten by Unicron or otherwise killed on the moon bases. There was also a special room for the mausoleum and commemorative statue of Optimus Prime.

The youngling wandered the halls gazing respectfully at the different grave sites. The one year anniversary of the end of the Cybertronian War was next orn, but the youngling wanted to come early to avoid the crowds and take photos without interruption.

As he wandered into the room of those that had perished in Autobot City he noticed that there was already a visitor standing in front of the plaques and staring at them. It appeared that the other visitor was a minibot, and his expression was unreadable. The youngling didn't want to run or speak too loudly in such a quiet place, but he figured it would be nice to have somebody to talk to, so he decided to approach the stranger.

"Hello," The youngling spoke softly so as not to disrupt the stifling silence.

"Huh? Oh, hey," The minibot replied distractedly; startled that someone else was there, "Autobot Day is next orn, kid."

"I know, I decided to come early," The youngling replied, "My name is Thunderous. What's yours?"

"Look kid, I don't really wanna talk, okay?" The minibot replied in a world weary tone, "Just leave me alone."

"Um, but you're here early too," Thunderous continued, "Did you also want to avoid the crowds?"

"Yeah, and two's a crowd," The minibot groused, "What are you even doin' here? Shouldn't you be playin' with your jump rope or your game boing or whatever you kids do nowadays?"

"It's called a Game Boy, and that's an earth thing," Thunderous pointed out, "Say, did you ever get to visit earth? I mean, most of these Autobots were on earth when they died. Just think about it. These mechs were a part of a great moment in history. Now that the war is finally over, I mean...my sire was killed by the Decepticons. I've been on my own ever since, and I thought when I got my final upgrade I would have to join the fighting. I mean, I didn't want to, but I just accepted that I would have to. Now though, we're all free. I can be anything I want and live in peace; we all can. Sure, there are still Decepticons, but it isn't the same. Cybertron isn't at war with itself because the Decepticons don't live there anymore. It's over. We won."

"They didn't win," The minibot pointed out bleakly as he gestured to the plaques, "It ain't fair. The brave and the noble don't survive. The cowards and the lucky survive. You see that name there?"

"Um...It says Brawn," Thunderous read off curiously, "What about him?"

"He died from a shoulder wound. A fraggin' shoulder wound!" The minibot shouted in despair and rage, "He coulda lived too, since there was a medic onboard. Not just any medic either, but the best fraggin' medic Cybertron's ever known. Ratchet was right there, but he got killed too. I just stay up at night sometimes and wonder how long Brawn had to lay there and suffer while those slaggin' 'Cons flew the ship into Autobot City. I just wonder if he tried playin' dead at first, only to end up dead for real. I wonder if any of 'em tried to live long enough to stop them..."

"You...you sound like you knew this mech," Thunderous ventured to guess, "Was he someone you knew well?"

"He was one tough fragger and the biggest pain in the aft to ever walk on two pedes, but he was company," The minibot shrugged, "I had acquaintances among the ranks on earth as well as the moon bases. To be fair I don't think they liked me much, but they were someone to talk to. There's only one mech in this stinkin' silicon cemetery that I would call a true friend, and that was the big guy himself, Optimus Prime,"

"No way! You knew Optimus Prime? No way, you're lying!" Thunderous exclaimed in a combination of excitement and denial.

"You bet I knew him," The minibot replied, smiling for the first time since they started talking, "He was a good mech and a great leader. I met him after the Decepticons attacked a construction site I was workin' on. At the time I was a civilian, because back then there was still such a thing as civilians. Anyway, I woke up lyin' on a medical berth in an Autobot hospital, and who should I see checkin' on the wounded but the Prime himself. Now, I was sure he would just briefly check on us wounded guys and leave since he was so big and important, but he didn't. When he sat down at my berthside he asked me what happened, asked me how I felt, and didn't groan in frustration when I gave him an honest answer. We became friends after that, and I joined the Autobots because even though I thought we might lose, I figured I'd rather lose with a friend who cared about me than win with a cold-sparked tyrant like Megatron breathin' down my neck cables."

The minibot then walked closer to the files that read IRONHIDE, RATCHET, and HUFFER and leaned against it while he offlined his optics. Thunderous could see that talking about the past was weighing heavily on the older mech's spark, but to his surprise the old minibot continued.

"You know what the difference is between a leader like Optimus and a leader like Megatron?" The minibot asked, "There are two differences, actually. One is that Megatron was single."

Thunderous started laughing hysterically at that cavalier assessment from the minibot.

"It's true. Megatron looks like one of those undead zombies in a horror broadcast. I know I wouldn't date him," The minibot continued, and Thunderous continued to laugh, "Eh, seriously though. The other thing Optimus had over Megatron was that Optimus cared. When he made a decision he always factored in his troop's lives and limitations, and when he talked to you he could make you feel like you mattered no matter how worthless you felt before. What made Prime a great leader wasn't his height, or his big rifle, or his ability to take on Megatron by himself. No, it was that he cared. Megatron had power, but he didn't care about his mechs. That's why he could never be as good as Optimus, no matter what the 'Cons say."

"Wow, I wish I could've met him," Thunderous replied wistfully, "I'm gonna go see his statue and get a few pictures. You wanna come?"

"Nah, I just wanna be by myself," The minibot replied glumly despite their earlier conversation, "Thanks anyway, kid."

Thunderous gave the minibot a hopeful look before walking away. The minibot shook his helm. Fragging younglings and their youthful optimism. Despite it annoying the minibot however, he still hoped the kid could hold onto that feeling forever.

The minibot looked to make sure the kid had really left, and then opened the drawer to the tomb that read HUFFER. The only thing inside the tomb was a few lonesome pieces of scrap metal.

"Huh, I wondered what they put in there," Huffer said to himself at he assessed the contents of his supposed grave, "I wonder what these parts really came from. Maybe the turret? Eh, who cares? Just a bunch of reject parts...and to think it was so easy to mistake them for me. I guess that fits...reject parts. Worthless scrap..."

Huffer then closed the drawer and went over to the other plaques one by one. He didn't want to show up on Autobot Day because he didn't want to run into anyone that could identify him, but he still felt a duty to show up and pay his respects to the 'Bots he considered as close as a family. A large, annoying, dysfunctional family, but a family nonetheless.

"I'm sorry, Optimus," Huffer whispered into the expanse, "I know I let you down. I let all of you down. I hate myself for what I did, but you have to admit...I'm still alive and you're not. I don't mean to be disrespectful or anythin', but I just didn't wanna die on earth. I love Cybertron too much to die without ever seein' her again. How was I supposed to know what was gonna happen? How was I supposed to know how much you needed me? I'm so sorry everybody...I'm so sorry..."

It had all started a year ago in Autobot City on earth. Huffer was helping Arcee move boxes into Wheeljack's lab and they were having a normal conversation. Ultra Magnus and his crew had recently moved to Autobot City to regroup after the 'Cons had taken Iacon. Huffer had been relieved to hear Arcee was among the group of survivors. Even though Huffer and Arcee were about the same age she was actually his grandsire's sister, which made her his great aunt. Since Cybertronians could live for millions of years, it made their family dynamics a bit more complex than it would be for humans.

"Hey Huffer, I was just wondering, what do you think of Springer?" Arcee suddenly asked, though she didn't turn around to look at him as she situated items on a shelf, "He asked me out the other day, but I said I'd get back to him. I just...I don't know if I'm ready for a relationship yet or not, what with the war and everything..."

"Whoa, whoa, hit the breaks on this conversation Arcee!" Huffer exclaimed a bit too loudly for the mostly empty space they found themselves in, "Do I look like one of your girlfriends? Go ask someone else about this Springer thing."

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm the only femme on earth," Arcee pointed out sourly.

"Then you should be able to do better than Springer," Huffer replied half-jokingly, "I still don't see why you have to talk to me about this though. I don't care about your love life."

"Huffer," Arcee sighed sharply, "I know you better than anyone else on the ship, and I need to talk to you."

Huffer knew that tone. It was a tone that said if he didn't listen to her now he would get an audial full later, and with more yelling. Deciding it was best to bite the bullet now, he sat down on a steel shipping crate and indicated he was listening, whether he wanted to or not.

"Well, it's just that..." Now that Arcee had Huffer's undivided attention she wasn't sure where to begin, "Well, Springer is nice and all, but he's just so grizzled and tough. I know this is weird, but I think I like Hot Rod."

"Hot Rod?" Huffer asked in revulsion.

"Yeah," Arcee replied without noticing Huffer's tone, "Though I don't think he knows I feel that way about him. It's just that he's so good with little Daniel Witwicky. I don't know. I just can't help but think about if and when the war ends. I never thought I'd want a family, but now that I'm older I find myself thinking about when the war ends and maybe having and bondmate and sparklings."

"With Hot Rod?" Huffer asked flatly, "Sorry to break it to you Arcee, but that loser ain't got no future. He's a reckless younglin' and he's gonna get himself offlined one of these days if he doesn't shape up and get with the program. Springer might not be much but at least he follows orders. Kids nowadays just don't listen to nothin'."

"Thanks for the daily dosage of grump," Arcee deadpanned as she crossed her arms, "Okay, you've convinced me. I think I will give Springer a chance. If it doesn't work out then I'll tell Hot Rod how I feel."

Huffer just sighed in relief at not having to discuss this topic further and went back to doing his chores. Arcee noticed the way Huffer was dragging his pedes and how his shoulder joints slumped. She knew he was a complainer, but lately he seemed downright depressed.

"Huffer? What's wrong?" Arcee finally asked when she couldn't figure it out for herself.

"The better question is what's right?" Huffer threw the question right back at her, "The 'Cons have Cybertron, and soon they'll have every energy producin' planet in the galaxy, includin' earth. I just don't see what the point is anymore. You talk about when the war is over, but it's only gonna be over when we're all offline."

"That's not true, Huffer," Arcee said consolingly.

"Isn't it?" Huffer asked rhetorically, "Sometimes I think Skyfire and Beachcomber had the right idea."

"Who are Skyfire and Beachcomber?" Arcee asked.

"Skyfire was a wishy washy mech we dug outta the ice, and Beachcomber was a wishy washy mech we frequently had to dig out of a ditch," Huffer replied bitingly, "A few years ago Skyfire left us when he decided he couldn't choose between fightin' on our side and not hurtin' his ex-best friend who just so happened to be Starscream."

"Starscream?" Arcee gasped, "Was this Skyfire mech a double agent?"

"I used to think so," Huffer admitted shamelessly, "However, I don't think he could've pulled that kind of scam off. He was a pacifist and wanted to go back to doin' sciencey stuff. Turns out he and our resident geologist Beachcomber had similar ideas when it came to nonviolence and the war draggin' on for too long. One day the two of them go into Prime's office and tell him that they're leavin' to go live on some random moon where the residents agreed to let them live and work on studyin' some weird lookin' rocks or somethin'. We ain't heard from either one of them since."

"Oh, were you friends with either of them?" Arcee asked in concern.

"No," Huffer snorted, "They were idiots. Skyfire was huge yet he'd get taken down in one hit, and Beachcomber would just walk away in the middle of a battle while his teammates were gettin' their afts handed to them. We're better off without 'em. At the time I thought they were traitors, but as it turns out...I don't wanna be here anymore, Arcee."

"I understand-" Arcee started to say.

"No, you don't understand!" Huffer interrupted her, his voice filled with pain, "You've only been on this planet a few weeks. I've been here for 25 slaggin' years! That's over a quarter vorn! I spent 4 million years in stasis lock! The Cybertron I knew is gone, and I can't even see what's left of my own home world! Earth is a disgustin' mud ball where organic goop gets in my joints, the weather is either too hot or too wet or too cold or too windy! Birds drop their waste on me if I take a nap outside in vehicle mode, and I'm stuck here while Optimus Prime and the others are fightin' for their lives on Cybertron! I wanna go back to Cybertron! If I'm gonna die I'd at least like to be able to pick where I do it!"

Huffer had yelled so much that he had to refill his intakes with air when he was done. He vented in and out several times while Arcee just watched him in silent shock. Finally, after realizing that he had yelled at Arcee pretty harshly, Huffer ducked his helm and shyly muttered a "Sorry".

"Wow, that's been building up for a long time, huh?" Arcee asked, trying to add levity to the moment.

"Yeah, I guess so," Huffer replied in a voice barely above a whisper, "Why won't they let me go home?"

"You know why, Huffer," Arcee said gently as she placed her hand on his hardtop, "For the same reason Ultra Magnus sent me and my team to earth. Only the most skilled mechs can handle Megatron now, and that's why only the senior command staff and the best frontline warriors went back to Cybertron. We were told to stay here until further notice, so we have to stay here."

"Yeah, I know," Huffer muttered defeatedly, "But it hurts."

Arcee gave Huffer a sad empathetic smile before going back to work. Huffer sighed heavily and went back to unpacking boxes for Wheeljack and Perceptor, who would have to share a lab now. The Ark wasn't safe anymore because the Decepticons had figured out how to get past their automatic defenses. Now they had to live inside Metroplex, a living city, and Huffer always felt a little more self conscious when walking around the place. He wondered briefly if being an inhabited city-former was anything like having turbo fleas.

It was later that day when Ultra Magnus ordered Huffer to go back to the Ark and retrieve supplies for Ironhide, Ratchet, Brawn, and Prowl. Those four Autobots were expected to return the following day with supplies from Cybertron and news about Optimus Prime's next plan of attack. Comm links could no longer be trusted, so the message had to be delivered in person.

Huffer did as he was told and drove to the Ark, but his spark wasn't in it. Brawn didn't mean to, but he always made Huffer feel bad about himself for his inferiority and pessimism. Truth was Huffer was a very physically strong minibot, but he was no warrior, unlike Brawn who lived for combat. Huffer might've considered Brawn a decent enough mech, but he really didn't want to see him.

Much to Huffer's surprise, he found he didn't want to see most of the old gang. He got sick of looking at haggard face plates that reminded him of their impending loss. He got tired of being dismissed by most of his own team every time he voiced a complaint or requested to be transferred to Cybertron like Brawn and Ironhide had been. In short, he was tired of the war, period.

Huffer transformed into robot mode and entered the Ark to gather their stuff. He knew Warpath was on duty guarding the old ship, but that did little to dissolve the feeling of loneliness in Huffer's spark as he entered the empty halls of his former home. He sighed for probably the ten billionth time in his life and trudged into the main living area into Ironhide's room.

Huffer gathered some guns for Ironhide since he knew the old warrior enjoyed shooting things. He searched for something to give Ironhide to make the new place feel like home, only to see the old 'Bot didn't really have much of anything left in the Ark. It made sense, Huffer mused, since a ship was never really supposed to be home in the first place. Like Ironhide, Huffer also kept most of his personal belongings in his subspace, just in case he had to bug out on short notice.

Huffer went into Brawn's room next and grabbed his things, followed by the medbay and then finally Prowl's office. He was surprised to see that Ratchet had more stuff than any of them, and it wasn't all just medical equipment. There were awards, old photo albums, drawings from the Dinobots, more drawing from random earth school children thanking the Autobots for their heroism, random things collected from earth, and schematics for two different models of toasters that were conspicuously marked with red and yellow highlighters.

Huffer laughed to himself since he knew no one was watching. Oh sure, Warpath had cameras, but they didn't have sound. Huffer found it strange that Red Alert would trust his security system to a mech like Warpath while Red Alert was in Autobot City. Then again, Huffer didn't really know enough about Warpath to know if he was proficient in security detail or not. As loud as Warpath was he didn't really talk about himself all that much.

In Prowl's office Huffer was greeted with cold sterilization. That wasn't news. What was news was that Prowl had a junk drawer. Huffer was surprised to see that the uptight Datsun allowed one small area of his world to be filled with clutter when absolutely everything else was spotless. Knowing this would be his only opportunity to snoop around, Huffer explored the contents of the junk drawer.

The first thing he noticed was a newspaper clipping. It was Chip Chase's obituary. Huffer sighed yet again as he sat in Prowl's chair and looked down at the small piece of paper. Everyone had been sad when Chip had died, but Huffer had no idea Prowl had felt the loss so deeply. Chip had contracted gangrene in his legs after a routine run-in with the Decepticons. It had started out as mere flesh wounds, but Chip couldn't feel the infection spreading in his legs since he had no sensation in that area. By the time he knew something was wrong, it was too late to save him.

Huffer scowled at the paper and shoved it back in Prowl's scandalously messy drawer. He would give Prowl his data pads and flash drives, but he wouldn't remind the SIC of that tragic event if he could help it. Prowl might've been a stick in the mud but he deserved peace as much as the next 'Bot.

Huffer didn't even bother to say hello to Warpath as he left. He just drove back to the Ark in silence and went about his job placing the items he collected into their respective guest quarters. He hated this slagging war. He was getting tired of fighting and getting tired of watching friends and acquaintances die. He wanted to do more than just survive. He wanted to live again. He wanted the shining metallic embrace of Cybertron. Even if it killed him, he wanted to go home.

You could, you know... A voice in Huffer's memory banks spoke to him from a time gone by. What are we even fighting for anymore? You could come with us and start a new life on Titan. I'm sure Prime would let you. He's a cool dude like that.

Huffer scowled in disgust at his own thoughts. Those had been Beachcomber's words when Huffer admitted he wished he could leave. Of course at the time Huffer yelled at Beachcomber and called him a traitor, but now he wondered if Beachcomber and Skyfire had been right all along. Did he really want to keep fighting just to die on this chaotic organic marble?

Huffer sighed again as he thought about this. Even if he left, where would he go? Back to Cybertron obviously, but so much of it belonged to the Decepticons. Where could he go where neither Autobot or Decepticon would find him? Also, how would he get there?

There's a small transport shuttle on Deck 9... Huffer thought; tempted by the idea of finally being free. No! Stop it, Huffer! They're countin' on me. Well, maybe countin' on me is a strong word. I mean, when was the last time I was actually sent on a mission that mattered? It's always 'Huffer fetch this' or 'Huffer do that'. Face it, I'm an errand boy in this stinkin' unit. They won't miss me. What's one little minibot in an army of big tough 'Bots anyway?

His processor still dwelling on the matter, Huffer went into recharge and barely managed to stay offline as his warring thoughts plagued him. To leave, or to not leave? Did they need him? No. Would they miss him? No. Would he be happier away from earth? Yes. Would he feel guilty if he left? Yes. Could he live with that? Hm...now that was the question that kept him up that night.

The next morning Huffer got out of his berth feeling stiff and stressed. Not a good way to wake up, but Huffer was used to it. Today was different however. Today the Autobot shuttle was coming in carrying his four comrades, and today was the day he had made a decision regarding his life. He decided that he wasn't going to be there to greet them, he was going back to Cybertron, and the Autobots were on their own.

Huffer went down the halls with a purpose to his step not normally observed from the purple and orange minibot. He was going home, and he was kissing earth goodbye. As Huffer made his way to Deck 9 to take the shuttle to freedom, he got a comm signal from Ultra Magnus.

/Huffer, report to gun turret 3 for sentry duty,/ Ultra Magnus commanded.

/Seriously, commander?/ Huffer whined, /The Decepticons would be idiots to attack Autobot City. This is the most fortified sector of our defense network. You don't need me mannin' some fancy show cannon./

/That was not a request Huffer, and I will not tolerate your gear-grinding today,/ Ultra Magnus replied sternly, /Now, get moving./

Huffer growled under his vocalizer as the connection was cut off. He was so slagging tired of Ultra Magnus acting like he ran the show. Who did he think he was, Optimus Prime? Well, Huffer wasn't about to alter course today. Turret 3 could collect cobwebs for all he cared. 25 years of earth was more than enough, and he was going home no matter what the consequences may be.

The tiny ship wasn't in great repair. It was one of Wheeljack's junk restoration projects, but it would do for Huffer's purpose. He packed some extra fuel for the shuttle and for himself, took one final look at Autobot City, and climbed inside the ship that would take him back where he belonged.

He knew this was wrong. He knew he was deserting the Autobot cause and betraying his friends. It was only temporary though. He would find Optimus back on Cybertron and explain his situation. He would volunteer for whatever scrap assignment he was given so long as he could stay on his home world. Optimus was his friend. He would understand.

Yeah, Optimus might've understood...if he lived. Huffer left the memorial and got into his tiny ship; the same one that took him away from his duty and his old life. He never let the old clunker go because it was all he could afford without a job. It was also built by Wheeljack, another 'Bot who was immured in that floating cemetery. Huffer felt it was only right to keep something that had belonged to such a kind and quirky spark. Huffer didn't even realize how much he liked Wheeljack until he was gone.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that was true of a lot of the Autobots that had been lost in the battle. Huffer felt guilty for deserting, but at the same time he also felt strangely grateful for surviving. He still cared about the Autobot cause with all his spark, but at the same time he knew he would no longer be welcome in the new Cybertronian society if anyone knew what he did.

Huffer turned on the autopilot and set course for Tarn, a city on Cybertron where empties gathered by the truckload and no one asked you where you came from. Too many Cybertronians had traumatic stories they didn't want to talk about. What was one more?