Author's Note: I just finished a reread of this fic, and I have Feelings about my own work. There will be a much longer note at the bottom of the fic, but in short, my friends, we've reached the end. Not of this universe, but of this particular fic.

.o.

Sam moved around in the new suit, running through the obstacle course that had been designed for the bored NEST members. He had to get a feel for the defensive and offensive capabilities, as well as what his limitations would be. So far, it was slowing him down and was shaving off the edges of his periphery, but not enough to make him worried. Honestly, just having this suit would have helped him heaps in Chicago. He bitched about the limitations like any other mech after an upgrade as he ran and dove and spun around obstacles, getting laugher and suggestions from the observers. Flamewar herself was laughing the loudest at the clearly-Cybertonian trait.

She loved the little human Prime more than she had anticipated. There was a closeness between Sam and Megatron, and Flamewar would never take for granted the peace that the little mech gave his brother-Protectorate. They spent at least ten minutes a day around each other, even if it was only in silence. She was beginning to see the pattern of those moments; they would either be just after Megatron spoke with Smokescreen, or just before he needed to be at his most peaceful for a call or conference with any number of governments.

Sam was Megatron's touchstone to sanity in the wake of the Spark-transfer to his new frame.

It was the last few days before the launch, and there was a lot to get completed. At the same time, there was still a lot of waiting around and not much to do for some of the others. Initially, there had been some pushback from the American government about letting some of the humans travel up to Canada's Cybertronian Embassy, which was truly more along the lines of their own town. However, considering that many of those same people now held a dual-citizenship with the Cybertronian government . . . Well, considering that these were the first interstellar dual citizens with a Unified Cybertron, there wasn't much in the way of laws or restrictions yet.

Sam stumbled and shook himself out as he jogged his way out of the obstacle course to pause by the medics and engineers. Mikayla was tossing a screwdriver between her hands thoughtfully before she tapped the butt end of it against a table a few times in a row. "I don't like the way you're running in this."

"Me either," Carly added, walking up and taking a seat on the table beside the mechanic. "Personally, I'd remove portions of the exo-skeleton, but that framework apparently is necessary."

"Oh, it's necessary," Wheeljack replied, but was already working on a hologram "sketch" of what an upgrade with fewer pieces of metal framing along Sam's body. "Parts of his exo-suits and evac-suits will be attaching to those points." He paused, flipping open a hologram of the various attachments. "We designed the struts to fit your frame . . . hold up a moment." The engineer sighed and rubbed at his face. "I think we hit a point of exhaustion, Sam."

"What'd you do?" Sam asked, just as Mikayla sighed and facepalmed.

"Oh my God. We absolutely skipped over the part where Sam is human." Laughing, Mikayla tossed her screwdriver to First Aid, who caught it while she flopped down onto the ground with a sigh. "Okay. I didn't expect that I missed that entirely. Sorry, Sam."

Carly was quietly laughing, and even Sam looked amused at this. He grinned and asked, "So, what, did you expect me to just boom make the metal conform to myself the way that it does for you?"

"Yeah," a chorus of tired-but-amused replies came up.

Laughing, he paused mid-sound and frowned. "Huh. I mean, I could try, but that's something that I think I'd rather explore when there isn't any pressure on the outcome."

First Aid and Ratchet pinged the group from the medical building, prompting a quick transformation and several humans piling into the cars for the brief underground drive. Most of the buildings aboveground were for public access, training usages, and fliers. Megatron insisted on keeping the hangars comfortable, and really took that on himself while forced idleness stayed their takeoff. He had renovated three large hangars, insulating them. The first one, currently the relative smallest space, he had claimed for himself and his Trine. The second hangar had become four Seeker-sized single quarters.

Thankfully and happily, several of Flamewar's followers had progressed through their rehabilitation from their hack. Ratchet and Soundwave had released three in particular to the Canada location, because all three choosing to specialize in renovation, construction, and architecture. They were currently in three of those single-quarters, with Faustus taking the fourth room and generally giving the three older mechs a run for their money and the shocks of a lifetime.

The medbay was underground, as well as the operations center and some of the larger quarters. It should have felt cramped and crowded, but certain Cybertronian tricks were coming in handy with making the areas feel more open. Ratchet held the door open for the vehicles, his own body-language showing how tired he was. Once the humans had disembarked and the mechs were on pedes again, he sighed. "I apologize, AllSpark Prime. I—"

"You're mortal and exhausted. We've just finished a war, the third major war in your personal experience, Ratchet." Sam walked closer, indicating that he wanted to get picked up by the medic. Settling in the large hands at eye-level, he continued. "I can handle the limitations of this first model, since we're short on time and I don't expect to put it through the same rigorous amount of nonsense that I just did yesterday and today. I want it durable, not perfect, and that's exactly what you delivered. We can work on perfect once we're sure what sort of EVA suit will work for humans once we determine what my species' challenges on Cybertron will be."

Ratchet sighed, feeling the determination in Sam through the Cloud. And a stray thought made both grin. So the durable mech added for the benefit of everyone else, "And I'm looking at your EVA suit as if I was building a Sparkling frame. Pitfires, I think we all need some time to just rest."

"I absolutely agree. Where's Swoop?"

"Mars," First Aid replied. "Should we call him in?"

"Yes. Ratchet, we are both healers in our own ways, but I'm pulling rank in this situation. Get rest. Get down to Texas or some sunny wasteland, bring your Protectorates, take Wheeljack, and just bask in the desert sun while we're scouting Cybertron. It's not like you're going to be leaving you out of the loop in any way." Sam's smile was gentle, and his hand reached out, almost as if to press against the sturdy medic's chestplate. Carefully, Ratchet embraced the little Prime, feeling that hand make contact and a rush of respect, love, and worry underlying the overall sensation of duty that prompted Sam's every choice.

:Can we speak in private, Sam?:

:Of course.: Sam turned and looked out at the rest gathered. "G'wan, get. We have a few things to talk over. Carly, I'll be back before dinner. First Aid, I'm going to have someone else contact Mars, so I'd say get some rest."

"Will do, Prime," First Aid replied with a smile, glad that there was someone who could pull rank on his overworked mentor and friend.

Carly reached up. "Can I stay? Will it help?"

Sam took a moment to consider this before looking to Ratchet. "Consorts okay?"

"Yes."

Everyone else filed out with cheerful chatter. Ratchet took a moment before murmuring, "I'm tired, Sam."

Sam could feel it. There was a strut-deep weariness and depression that clung to the hardworking mech. He hugged as much as he could across chestplates. Hearing Wheeljack and Carly talk behind him, he smiled as they came closer, gently caging the humans between them as they just stood and embraced. Ratchet's helm rested on Wheeljack's shoulder. "I miss when Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were small enough to do this."

"I miss the peace Cybertron had," Wheeljack whispered hoarsely, static lining his words. "I miss home."

Ratchet could only keen.

Sam's voice was strong, "How long have you been this depressed, Ratchet? I know your Spark is predisposed to depression, but how long this time?"

"Since before we had reached your system," the medic whispered.

Nodding, the boy pressed his forehead to the chestplates again. :Primes. I'm recalling Smokescreen from Mars until we're certain that Cybertron is stable. We all need him closer than a call.:

Rodimus took his duties seriously, and his youth and fresh energy really helped Sam face the weight of time that the other Primes and Protectorates didn't realize that they carried with them. :I'll get right on that, Sam. Who else do we need?:

:Swoop, so far.:

:Who do we want to send to Mars to keep our presence a little more active there?: Elita asked, the speed of her thoughts evident.

:I don't think that's something we need to worry about right now. Maybe see when that next shuttle is due and redirect them there? I thought Swoop said his brothers were coming,: Sam replied, feeling the soft tremble of keens that Ratchet both couldn't keep himself from voicing, and yet couldn't let himself voice.

Rodimus' voice was somber as he rejoined the conversation. :Update: Chicago wants us out. We've done all we can for reconstruction, and they want us gone. Official communication just came in. We have that location in Texas, but it's not something that we can really build into more than an outpost. On the other hand, I have been holding onto one specific possible contract that will suit us better.:

Optimus chuckled, his approval apparent. :Thank you for taking this responsibility on, Rodimus. I was always slag with this type of diplomacy. What do you suggest?:

Rodimus walked into the room to make eye contact with Sam, his gaze going up to Ratchet, his own Spark warm with affection towards a very tired, very broken medic. "Just outside of a little city called Portland, Oregon."

.o.

They'd said their goodbyes, boarded their shuttle, and now waited for the pre-flight checks to finalize.

Sam's leg was bouncing. He was the only human on the shuttle, but thankfully wasn't the smallest. Rattrap was strapped in across from him in his robot mode. The mech did not even seem a whit bothered as he pulled apart a weapon, checked and cleaned it, then stowed it again. And then pulled out another. And another.

Rhinox was sitting behind Rattrap, going over a datapad and taking the occasional note. Primal, clearly the Dad of the group, had his head back to catch a quick nap before they took off, jaw slack in recharge.

A growl and a soft push to Rattrap's knee came from the much-larger Dinobot to the little Maximal's left. "You're anxious."

"I wanna be prepared."

"The last one rattled when you put it away," Cheetor called absently as he checked his scopes. He claimed he "was no Bluestreak," but the young sniper was damn good with the eons of practice he'd gotten on Earth. Sam wanted to see a friendly contest happen between all of the best snipers who had survived the war. Someday, not now.

Rattrap huffed and pulled it out to check it over again. "It ain't rattlin', ya filty hairball."

"Hm. Maybe the refurb to your audios didn't take. Didn't you hear it rattle, 'Raz?"

Airazor, slight aerial and all femme, blinked from where she had been snuggling close to her Sparkmate, a slightly heavier-built version of Cheetor's ground-based frame-type. "I saw something fall out of the second pistol, actually."

Rattrap stared at his closest friends, then up to the Lord Protectors sitting behind Sam, then down to Sam himself. "They fuckin' wi' me?"

Sam grinned.

Rattrap stowed his pistols, bombs, and other "spy guy" gear before crossing his arms and glaring at his team grinning at him. Sam couldn't help it. "Look, we all got relegated to the 'kid's table' for takeoff procedures. Sorry?"

"Prime, you're the worst of the lot."

"Nah," Faustus laughed. "That'd be Terratron."

"Me?" the old mech laughed, drawing a dramatic hand to his chest and huffing in extravagant outrage. "This utter hubris of the youth!"

:Liftoff in one minute and counting,: Soundwave reported, startling Primal into waking with a start.

Everyone was tense.

Home was just out of reach.

Sam closed his eyes and rested his head back against the flight cradle. He'd been doing exercises with Faustus to both get him ready to break atmosphere. They actually broke atmosphere a few times to get him ready for the strain that his body would feel. His nanites had to be recalibrated after every trip, which meant that for a span of two weeks, he'd felt like he'd gone through four unique colds, each resolved within a day. He could trust Faustus to bring him to space, but knowing that Megatron and Optimus were joint-piloting the vessel was terrifying in a new way.

A large hand curled over his shoulder, and he felt his Protectorate's Spark bright and warm. Sam briefly, carefully, rushed into their brother-bond. ~I'm afraid this is going to blow up like the last one.~

~Starscream is dead by your own hand, Sam.~

~What if someone else is there?~

~That is why I am behind you and ready to transform around you at a moment's notice.~

~I'm scared.~

~So am I. But this feels right to me.~

Sam looked up at his Protectorate. ~It does. I think that's why I'm so afraid. This feels more right to me than all the years that I've spent on Earth, too.~

And then there was an eternity of liftoff, followed by weightlessness. Sam waited in the flight cradle until he could feel the slow draw back to the floor, then carefully got himself free. Soundwave started the post-takeoff updates. :Fuel levels: optimal. Course correction: necessary in one cycle due to debris. Artificial gravity and inertial dampeners: functional. Current status: lining up for slingshot maneuver around Sol-Three.:

The human Prime moved his way up to the cockpit, where Bumblebee and Barricade stood staring out at the stars behind Optimus and Megatron. He scaled the console between them along a walkway that was specifically designed for smaller mechs.

Samuel James Witwicky saw Cybertron, distant and bright.

He felt the rise, the draw, the drive to return from within himself. He could feel the need to be on that surface like nothing he had ever experienced in his life before. He'd never felt tied to sone place before. But this was it. And this was changing all the rules.

Sam turned to Optimus and Megatron, to Bumblebee and Barricade, to Faustus and Terratron. Soundwave and Flamewar were off to the sides to man other stations. There was balance here in many, many ways. This, he felt from the place where the AllSpark had merged with his Matrix's connection with the Veil, was how it should be among Cybertronian tribes. Balancing age, experience, and personalities in tandem with the needs and wants of all members.

Sam felt himself in a different way, felt his connection to these magnificent beings whose presence in his life had only brought him purpose, meaning, and determination to be a better person. He had seen Faustus grow prematurely, shoved into his place with a grace that he'd only wished he'd possessed as a college-age brat. He watched Bumblebee and Barricade rediscover themselves and brighten each other's lives since their reconnection and reassignment as Prime and Protectorate.

He'd met Optimus Prime as a tired mech ready to give up just so his people would stop killing each other. The strength and steadiness between their souls resonated and Sam knew that Optimus was ready to rise again, to rebuild.

He'd seen Megatron through his most insane, at this point of a hack that was going to kill him before he could finish the war as a puppet, a figurehead. The ice-blue optics were strong, steady, and sane, hands relaxed as he checked the various readouts.

Faustus' voice was soft. "Prime?"

Samuel Prime turned to his first brother. "Optimus Prime. It's time to go home."

Optimus and Megatron nodded once in unison.

"It's time we told the humans about what we are."

Faustus and Terratron grinned.

Sam turned to face the starscape just as Optimus turned to listen to Soundwave's instructions on recording a message. Brown eyes trained on the alien world before them. Their future.

"To the humans of Earth, we have not been entirely forthright with who and what we are as Cybertronians." And the majestic façade of the mech slipped away with a smile. He looked ahead at Cybertron, home. "It's time to end the secrecy."

.o.

Author's Note: I finished writing this just as the Revenge of the Fallen score finished playing "I Rise, You Fall." This has been quite the long journey for me. This universe has so much more to offer, but as we've come to see, we're moving into the next phase. I don't know what the next fic will be called, but have no doubt that it will happen.

To my Discord server, you have been so amazingly supportive. Thank you so much. For those who wish to join it, you can find us at discord . gg / h8cFxvw

I'm bittersweet at meeting this ending, and I don't want to get too deep into my emotions about this right now. I'm happy to finally finish this all, but sad at the same time. This is the last time that I will update Fanfiction-dot-net; the next stories will all be posted on AO3.

This is dedicated to all of you who have read this over the years, old and new readers alike. To the one(s) who kept printing out my chapters as I wrote them, I have plenty more fics that you can do that with as well on AO3. For all those who have been reading this since the beginning, you made this happen, and I would never have kept writing this monster child without your early encouragement.

Song is: "Matrix of Leadership" by Steve Jablonsky