The Butterfly Effect

The Butterfly Effect

A servo raised and snapped its fingers twice.

“… Am I supposed to know what that means, Doc?” Wheeljack drawled, rolling his optics before glancing back over his shoulder.

His companion scowled. “How many times have I asked you to not call me that?!”

“Heh.” Wheeljack glanced back at the structural support he was adjusting, a small smirk on his face. “Sorry, but I lost track. Looks like I need to start the count all over again.”

“Ugh.” The other mech raised a servo to his forehead. “You just had to be the only excuse for an engineer we have, didn’t you?”

Wheeljack snorted. “If you want to try and even the odds, I can call Knockout back from his break. He might not be in too deep with his buffin’ routine, just yet.”

“That would be the exact opposite of evening the odds, and you know it,” the old medic grumbled, then he held a servo out. “Now, I was saying that I need the tool-kit.”

“We really hafta find another one of these things,” Wheeljack insisted, grabbing the kit from the ground and tossing it over.

Ratchet caught it, shooting an annoyed look at the Wrecker. “Maybe if you stop throwing it around, this one will last long enough for us to make do.”

“Sheesh.” Wheeljack shook his head. “You’re even crankier than usual, this mornin’—and that’s sayin’ somethin’.” He raised an optic-brow. “You’re not hungover, are ya?”

“Would you be surprised if I was?” Ratchet muttered as he picked out the tool he needed to start adjusting a control console. “It’s a wonder that I don’t drink more, dealing with all of the nonsense around here.”

Wheeljack blinked before glancing back. “Wait, what was that?”

“Nothing.” Ratchet looked up at him. “We should be just about ready to give it a test. How is the structure?”

Wheeljack knocked on the wall of the tunnel he stood in twice. “It would take about forty of my grenades to take out this beauty, and her wirin’ is a masterpiece.”

Ratchet raised an optic-brow. “You’re starting to sound like Knockout.”

“No, you just never hear me talk about this kinda work,” Wheeljack assured the medic. “But as long as the programmin’ is up and runnin’ and the fuel system works its magic, we’ll have ourselves one Autobot-built space-bridge.” He waved his servo. “With some help from a chatty Decepticon consultant, of course.”

“Of course.” Ratchet actually chuckled at the idea as Wheeljack joined him at the controls. “Knockout would never forgive us if we didn’t give him his due credit.”

“Eh, let ‘im have it.” Wheeljack shrugged. “He did good.” He blinked as his comm rang, then he raised a finger to answer. “Bulkhead?”

:Hey, ‘Jackie!: His fellow Wrecker greeted. :Ol’ Ratchet borin’ your processor to rust with the little science project?:

Wheeljack blinked again, then he put on a grin. “Oh, yeah. Good news is that, if this test goes well, we might finally be done.”

:That’s great news!: Bulkhead said, sounding elated. :With the tunnel and the remote, we’ll have a lot more free travel—and we can visit Earth more! You know Miko’s gonna be so excited!: Wheeljack’s grin softened into a warm smile. :Now, I’ve got some less-great news: we’ve got an hour before patrol, and you know how Ultra Magnus gets when you’re late. Don’t let Ratchet keep ya!:

“I won’t, I won’t,” Wheeljack assured his partner. “This test shouldn’t take long. Once it’s over, I’ll even meetcha down in the mess. I’m pretty much on my way, right now!”

The Wrecker held a thumb up.

Ratchet deadpanned and shook his head.

:Alright, buddy!: Bulkhead snorted. :Just watch out for any blown fuses—or short ones, if you know what I mean! Wouldn’t want any part of the science project to blow up in your face!:

Wheeljack rolled his optics as the call ended, then he glanced back at Ratchet. “Sorry ‘bout that, Doc.” He tapped his helmet twice. “Just remindin’ me of patrols.”

“You won’t be late, again.” Ratchet rolled his optics as he started typing at the monitor. “… Probably.” Wheeljack just shook his head at that, amused. “Now, I’m not going to be inputting any specific coordinates. We’re just going to see if it turns on.”

“Sounds good to me,” Wheeljack said, then he glanced at the tunnel and rested his servos on his hips. “Wonder if it’ll actually be ready.”

Ratchet looked at his companion. “There’s a good chance. We followed Knockout’s advice to the letter, and—conversational quirks aside—you are quite the engineer. I’m certain that, between you and me, we’ve accomplished-.” He saw how the Wrecker was looking at their work, and he blinked. “… Of course, adjustments will have to be made and we’ll have to run tests before I would ever even think about sending one of us through your ‘beautiful masterpiece’.”

Wheeljack huffed out a laugh and looked back at Ratchet, smiling. “Right. ‘Course.”

Ratchet smiled back and nodded, then he glanced at the space-bridge tunnel. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Wheeljack told the medic. “Let’s see what she can do.”

The first warning they had was the space-bridge not starting immediately.

The second was the color it had when it finally sputtered to life: a deep blue, as opposed to the familiar pale hue mixed with greens, purples, and the faintest arcs of gold.

Wheeljack stepped back, his optics narrowing, then he glanced at Ratchet. “Doc, something’s wrong. Shut it down!”

“I can’t!” The medic shouted as he desperately tried to regain control of the portal, then his optics widened as the whole room began to shake violently. “By the Allspark!”

“Yeah, that’s a problem!” Wheeljack ran over to the medic, and they both shouted and grabbed the edge of the control console as the swirling portal suddenly began to pull.

“Whoa!” Ratchet looked at his companion in alarm as they were suddenly lifted up, their legs dangling as they tried to anchor themselves away from the collapsing space-bridge.

“Hold on!” Wheeljack told him, then he glanced back at the space-bridge. “Frag it all. If we don’t shut this damn thing down, it’ll pull the whole Hall in!”

“If it stops there!” Ratchet agreed. “We need to cut the power!”

Wheeljack blinked, then he frowned—his optics searching. He knew which panel on the floor hid the power conduits…

There.

Wheeljack gritted his dentas as the pull only seemed to grow stronger, then he looked back at Ratchet. “Okay, I think I can do it!” He adjusted the grip of his right servo on the console. “B-But I have to-!”

“Don’t!” Ratchet shook his head. “The pull is too much!”

“And it’s only gettin’ stronger!” Wheeljack reminded him. “I take this risk, I might go in! I don’t, I definitely go in—with you and everyone else right behind me!” The medic was at a loss for words as the Wrecker looked back at the panel and braced himself for what he was about to do. “Frag… I’ll be fine, Doc.”

He hesitated, making sure that the grip of his left servo was iron-clad, then he released the grip of his left servo and let out a quick shout as he was sent swinging slightly sideways due to the pull. He could feel his right servo, arm, and shoulder just screaming at him.

“Mmph.” He cringed, then he shifted his right servo into a cannon and tried to aim it. “Okay… Okay.” He nodded. “I got the shot.” Just then, another violent shake wracked the lab and Wheeljack’s grip slipped. “Whoa!”

“Wheeljack!” Ratchet released the grip of one servo and reached out, then he yelped as he had to hold on for dear life with his other servo or else fall towards the portal as well.

The last thing he saw was Wheeljack toppling sideways and grabbing the very edge of the space-bridge tunnel with his left servo—still aiming his cannon…

Then, there was a blinding flash of light right before it all went dark.

…

“Ratchet?”

Someone was talking to him.

“Ratchet!”

Someone very, very loud.

“Ugh.” The medic sat up with a wince, then he blearily opened his optics. “Wha-..?”

“Ratchet.” Bumblebee was kneeling there, his optics wide. “Ratchet, what happened?!”

“Huh? I don’t-… Ugh.” The older mech raised a servo to his aching processor. “What do you-?”

Ratchet blinked, then his optics widened in disbelief as he looked around.

He was sitting on the floor of a destroyed room: the room he had selected for the building of the Autobot space-bridge, the room that had been his main workplace for quite some time.

No, not just his workplace…

Theirs.

“Wheeljack,” the medic whispered, then he looked up at Bumblebee as his spark began to pulse rapidly. “Where’s Wheeljack?!”

“Wheeljack?” The others were there, those who remained of the Cybertronian members of Team Prime—and Bulkhead was looking at the medic in confusion. “He told me he was on his way to the mess.”

Ultra Magnus looked at his fellow Wrecker with a frown. “And he did not beat us here when the explosion went off?”

“No, no!” Ratchet scrambled to his feet, and Bumblebee stood up and raised a servo in case he had to support the disoriented medic. “He was here! He-” Those final moments came back to him, and his whole frame tensed. “… No.”

“Ratchet, what happened?” Arcee asked him as he walked across the room to the destroyed space-bridge tunnel.

And Ratchet just raised a shaking servo to the four long lines that were dug into the scorched metal, evidence of one last desperate grasp for purchase that… slid… and failed…

“He-…”

“… Ratchet, where’s ‘Jackie?” Bulkhead asked, his optics widening—and the medic had no answer for him. “Where-? Where’s ‘Jackie?!”

“... I don’t know,” Ratchet whispered.

Smokescreen blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t know,” Ratchet admitted, unable to look away from those four lines. “He-…”

Knockout walked over and looked up at the lines as well, then he looked back at the Autobots with a grim expression. “… He fell.”

…

=+=

…

The whole universe flashed white and that dark and ominous blue, then he was surrounded by pale blue and harsh wind.

“Huh?” Wheeljack blinked as he looked around, then he gasped—his optics widening as he realized that it wasn’t wind rattling his armor but air-resistance. He was falling. “Whoa…. Whoa! Whoa!” His servos reached up frantically, grasping at nothing. “Ah!”

Then, he hit something—hard.

SPLASH!

Wheeljack yelped at the impact, then his servos flew up to his mouth on instinct because slag, that was a lot of water!

The Wrecker clawed at that water as he started to sink, his servos again grasping at nothing as he flailed about—then, his servo grasped something and he held on.

It went up.

Good!

Using whatever that was as a lead, Wheeljack clambered up until his head poked out of the water and he was able to fling an arm up and onto a solid surface.

And he hacked up the water and gasped, then he sighed and rested his forehead on his arm as he sighed in relief.

“Fraggin’-…” His shoulders sagged after all that stressful effort, but he threw his other arm up to stabilize his hold on whatever was keeping him out of the water. “Ugh.”

After a few moments, he had enough of his wits about him to recall that he should probably check his surroundings—and he groaned before opening his optics and looking up.

And hey… That sure looked like a human city, didn’t it?

You know, the absolute last place an Autobot should be?

“Huh?” Wheeljack blinked. “Earth?”

He shook his head, then he quickly clambered onto the wooden dock he was clinging to and transformed into his vehicle-mode before anyone could walk by and see him.

Once he was disguised, Wheeljack checked his GPS—which took a moment longer to tap into than it should have, given that he should have automatically connected to the internet—and he huffed as it told him that he was over two-thousand miles from Jasper, Nevada.

Given the chaos that the failed science project had probably caused on Cybertron, he figured that he had a call to make if he wanted to get this all cleaned up as soon as possible—so, Wheeljack opened up his comm-lines.

“Hey, Miko? Funny story, kid, but I think I need a-“ He paused as he found that his commlink had not automatically tapped into the Unit E network. “… Miko?” No luck. “Oh, great.”

It looked like he would have to start driving.

Awesome day, Wheeljack.

Awesome day.

…

It had been a long… not even a whole decacycle for Optimus and his team.

They awoke from a fifty stellar-cycle stasis, their damaged ship still sheltering the Allspark, to find the native lifeforms of the planet they had been stranded upon struggling against some sort of organic-cybernetic creation.

They moved to help and managed to defeat the creature—but not before one of their own, Prowl, was badly wounded. They quickly brought him back to the ship, where his health rapidly began to deteriorate—only for him to be saved by a tiny organic life-form and her Key.

That tiny organic life-form’s name was “Sari Sumdac”, she was seven “years”-old, and she was a “human”—one of the dominant life-forms on “Earth”. And little Sari, despite her youth, had taken it upon herself to get the Autobots accepted by her people and to give the team a new home within the city of Detroit, Michigan.

The Autobots were being hailed as heroes as they rushed to help the humans fight off disasters, and they were followed everywhere by cameras and crowds shouting praises. They were invited to major human events used as opportunities to thank them for their service to the city, and everyone was always so… excited.

It was all so fast and overwhelming—for Optimus, at least. Prowl and Ratchet seemed to sympathize, wanting out of the spotlight.

Bumblebee, however, thrived under the attention—and Bulkhead didn’t mind, he only wanted to ensure that the humans didn’t just see him as a destructive force.

Optimus’s main concern was that the team—he, in particular—did not deserve this praise.

Being a hero wasn’t in his programming, after all. That was what Ultra Magnus said.

All the same, as little Sari trailed after the team and helped them acclimate to her world, she also seemed to look up to them—and Optimus didn’t want to let her down.

That was how he ended up in this position: carrying her around on his shoulder as she tried to convince him to have the team make a public appearance on behalf of her father, and quickly giving in to her pleas.

As he walked about the downtown, keeping an optic on his exploring Autobots, Optimus chatted with the child and felt himself wavering.

However, give that Prowl and Ratchet wouldn’t be thrilled with the idea, the very least he could do was put up a half-decent fight.

Sari seemed to notice that he was keeping up appearances, and her smile grew.

Humans were still an oddity to Optimus, but he was already fond of this little one.

SCREECH!

Optimus looked back, alarmed, as the harsh sound grated his audial receptors. However, he could not see the source of the noise—just a line of cars, parked next to the curb.

Strange.

"My dad would really appreciate it if you guys came," Sari insisted, snapping the young Prime back into their conversation. "I know you've gotta be sick of cameras by now, but he adores you guys! All of Detroit does!"

"Hm." Optimus shook his helm, smiling tiredly. It was so hard to say ‘no’ to that girl… "Alright, alright. We'll be there, Sari."

Sari beamed. "Thank you, Optimus!"

Suddenly, a car behind the young Prime and his human companion went off—its alarm blaring loudly and drawing attention.

Optimus and Sari looked back at the line of cars, confused—and once again, Optimus didn’t see anything amiss as he looked for what could have possibly triggered the annoying flashing and screeching.

He just saw that there was a white, gray, orange, and green sports-car that had been left empty but with its engine running loudly right in front of the car that was blaring.

Weird.

"Ha!" Bumblebee suddenly zipped over and pointed up at his leader with a big smirk on his face. "Nice going, boss-‘bot!"

"It wasn't me!” Optimus protested, his optics immediately going wide.

"Happens to everyone, Prime." Bulkhead walked over and patted his shoulder. Unfortunately, the well-meant gesture used a bit too much force and caused Optimus to lose balance. Luck was, however, on Sari’s side—as Bumblebee managed to catch her before Optimus fell flat on his face. “Oops. Sorry, my bad.”

"The sentiment is appreciated. Just express it a little gentler, next time—okay, Bulkhead?" The young Prime deadpanned as Ratchet walked over and helped him up, then he noticed Prowl smirking at him. "… Stop."

"I'm not doing anything," Prowl insisted, and Sari and Bumblebee both snickered.

Optimus sighed, reaching up and rubbing the space between his optics with his fingers. He could feel a processor-ache coming on.

“Alright, let's just... head on home." He stood up straight. "Autobots! Tr-“

"Transform and roll out!" Bumblebee and Sari jeered together.

Optimus looked at them in annoyance, and luck was again on Sari’s side. “Bumblebee!”

"It was her idea!" The yellow mech pointed to the girl, who looked at him with wide eyes.

"Sure, it was.” Ratchet crossed his arms, the field-tech looking just about as thoroughly unimpressed as Optimus felt.

Bumblebee looked at him in frustration. "Hey: butt out, Ratchet!"

"I'll butt out when I wanna butt out, you little-!"

Bumblebee and Ratchet started bickering while Bulkhead tried to calm them down.

Sari just seemed amused, as she often did—and Optimus and Prowl watched the scene in defeat. They couldn’t go an hour, could they?

“Truly, we are Detroit’s greatest heroes,” the cyber-ninja mused, then he glanced down at the wailing vehicle again as the owner finally arrived to hurriedly turn the alarm off. “… You didn’t touch it, did you?”

Optimus huffed. “No, I didn’t.”

“Perhaps it was the owner of that flashy vehicle.” Prowl gestured to the humming sports-car. “After all-“ He pointed out some skid-marks on the road which seemed to lead to where the white car had parked, and Optimus quickly connected them to the earlier screech. “They seem rather reckless.”

“They’d also have to be fast,” Optimus argued, crossing his arms. “I was right here, and I didn’t see a driver.” He shook his head. “Oh, forget it. Bumblebee will get bored eventually.”

“Only if you stop reacting to his comments,” Prowl noted. “And you are rather bad at that.”

Optimus crossed his arms. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought this was a team,” Prowl teased dryly, and the Prime rolled his optics. “… Yours, by the way.”

“… I’m not sure if that should make me feel better or worse,” Optimus noted, and the cyber-ninja just grinned.

…

…

Frag.

Frag, frag, frag, frag, frag.

If Wheeljack managed to get out of this mess, Ultra Magnus was going to kill him.

As soon as those tiny Autobots were gone, the Wrecker sped into an alleyway and transformed back into his biped mode because he needed a minute, okay? He doubted anyone could begrudge him that, after what he had seen.

His optics were wide as he braced his servos against a wall and stared at the ground, just trying to process everything.

A human society filled with floating blimps and helpful robots, tech far more advanced than what he had seen during his travels on Earth.

There was still no response from Miko or any other human member of Team Prime.

Prime.

That kid had called that young, blue and red mech who was just standing out in the open “Optimus”. And the others… there had been a “Bulkhead”, a “Bumblebee”, a “Ratchet”…

Oh, Wheeljack was so completely fragged.

He didn’t just get transported across the universe by a faulty space-bridge, he had actually managed to frag-up enough to transcend the multiverse.

This was another reality.

A whole other timeline with a whole different set of rules.

And Wheeljack was stuck in it.

And he needed to get unstuck, ASAP—which would admittedly require a bit of help, like Autobot help.

And yeah, the thought of reaching out to a group of “alternates” was making his head spin.

Then, he spiraled down a little further and started to wonder “what the frag is gonna happen if I start interacting with these guys?”.

Miko had once tried to explain something that she called the “butterfly effect” after a movie night back at Unit E.

He couldn’t remember the exact explanation, but the main idea was that the smallest change in conditions (like when a butterfly, whatever that was, flapped its wings) could have the biggest impact—sometimes with huge and unintended consequences.

Since he was from a whole other reality and decidedly not supposed to be there, Wheeljack figured that he was a pretty big butterfly.

And he was in trouble.

…

Oh, nevermind.

They were in trouble.

After getting his bearings back, Wheeljack quickly transformed to avoid being seen and set out to track down those little Autobots.

They were apparently going to make some sort of appearance at a major event—which, judging by the televisions in shop windows, wasn’t exactly a rare thing—so he followed the crowds.

They led him to the city hall, and before it sat a set of tracks with some sort of train on it.

The man in lab-grade clothing standing at a podium in front of the train called it a “fully-automated rapid-transit system”, capable of moving at three-hundred miles-per-hour.

Not bad.

He thanked the mayor, some “Captain Fanzone”, and Detroit’s “cybernetic superheroes” for their presence.

The little girl who had been hanging with Tiny Optimus was there, so the man at the podium had to be her father.

The Autobots stood there as promised, but they didn’t look thrilled and they spoke amongst themselves.

Wheeljack tried to imagine his own team in their place. They would probably have to rely on Bumblebee and Smokescreen to avoid looking like statues, on display like that.

The man at the podium then introduced the “Crimson Angels”, and Wheeljack was glad he was in vehicle-mode and couldn’t visibly flinch as six planes—identical and red, almost reminding him of Vehicons—flew overhead with fireworks going off in the distance.

But then, he noticed that a purple and gray jet of a different make joined the “Angels”.

Not a good sign.

The new jet split from the others and flew right at the stage.

Bad sign.

The new jet blasted the staircase and knocked the Autobots aside as the crowd scattered.

Really bad sign.

Wheeljack almost transformed right then, but something made him wait.

He wasn’t supposed to be there.

Maybe the kids could handle this.

Then, the jet transformed. “Greetings, Autobots! Mind if I crash the party?”

And that Decepticon was huge, compared to those tiny Autobots.

Tiny Optimus seemed to say something to his companions, and the ‘Con swiftly retorted: “The name is Starscream, exalted leader of the Decepticons!”

Oh, you had to be kidding.

“… I thought that was Megatron!” Tiny Bulkhead suddenly shouted, confused.

Despite himself, Wheeljack snorted. ‘Atta’boy.’

But that alternate version of Starscream sneered as he aimed his weapons at the stage once more. “Silence, Autobot filth!”

That was how one of the most one-sided battles Wheeljack had ever seen started.

One-sided in-favor of Starscream. In-favor!

The Wrecker’s whole frame screamed at him to cut in, to get involved—but that stupid thought about butterfly wings held him back.

What if he did more harm than good?

He wasn’t supposed to be there!

So, he made a deal with himself: he would only interfere if the city was about to explode.

Otherwise, he’d hang back and have faith. These were Autobots, after all—they could handle it!

…

They couldn’t handle it.

Starscream absolutely thrashed the tiny Autobots with minimal effort, and he even sent the really little black and gold one dropping through solid concrete.

And Wheeljack went on a high-speed chase as Tiny Optimus was dragged through the sky by a grappling-hook cable attached to the Seeker’s legs—because damn it, this Prime couldn’t fly!

Yet?

“Starscream. It just has to be Starscream,” he muttered to himself, trying to ignore his building panic. “It couldn’t be someone like Knockout. Ha! Knockout—one scratch to his finish, and he’s out for the count! Knockout—he gets a whole fraggin’ redemption arc, son of a glitch! But no, no—we get Starscream!”

And right then, Starscream cut the line and sent a screaming little Prime crashing into the roof of a van, which he promptly fell off.

Wheeljack quickly parallel-parked as Tiny Ratchet arrived to help his leader, and he then witnessed Starscream going on a little rant—typical—about how he had seemingly gotten the best of ol’ Megatron.

Yeah, like that happened.

He then demanded the Allspark.

The Allspark.

Wheeljack could barely look at that fragging thing back home, after he ferried it all the way back from Theta Scorpii just in time for it to kill his friend.

Now, it was the center of this scrap.

Excellent.

Tiny Optimus feigned ignorance, and Starscream retaliated “for no good reason” by firing upon the humans who were still taking cover on the stage: the mayor, the captain, and the little girl and her father.

The humans ran for the train, but the little girl fell behind and became the main target of fire—and yeah, Wheeljack started driving.

The rule always was “humans first”, right?

Deal broken!

Sorry, multiverse!

But someone beat him to the punch.

“Sari!” A yellow blur intercepted the blast, and the child screamed:

“BUMBLEBEE!”

The little ‘bot fell to the ground, his back blasted apart and smoking—and the girl tried to go to him. However, Starscream dropped down and grabbed the Tiny Bumblebee by his arm and flew him up into the air.

“Now, let’s try this again!” The Seeker brandished the Autobot in his grasp. “Bring me the Allspark, Autobot scum!”

Tiny Optimus stepped forward, his optics narrowed as he held up a fist. “My name is Optimus Prime, and I’m prepared to sacrifice my life to defend the Allspark!”

Wow. Idealistic kid didn’t even know what he was doing, did he?

Starscream raised an optic-brow. “But are you willing to sacrifice theirs?” The Seeker roughly threw Tiny Bumblebee onto the train, trapping the humans within as the little girl—Sari—scrambled for cover. “You Autobots and your pathetic heroics. You have one megacycle to bring me the Allspark!” Starscream flew over and picked up the whole train-car. “If not, this vessel and all its contents—human and Autobot—will perish!” He flew up into the air, his optics narrowed. “Then, I will tear this planet apart until I find the Allspark myself!”

Wheeljack was glad he did not have a jaw to drop as the Seeker set the train-car down on the roof of a high tower, then he sighed.

Of course.

Of course, this would happen. It was the sort of thing that always happened, textbook.

He could see what remained of the Autobot team regrouping, including the little girl.

Tiny Optimus was looking down despite Tiny Ratchet seeming to try and help, the tiny black and gold ‘bot casually crawled out of the crater Starscream had tossed him into and walked up to say something inspirational, then they all put their servos together in a circle.

Then, Wheeljack audibly heard Tiny Optimus let out a dry “no” before he picked Sari up off Tiny Bulkhead’s servo and set her down.

“Oh, come on!” The little girl protested. “It’s a good plan!”

“I have a better one,” Tiny Optimus insisted, then he pointed right at Wheeljack. “That car’s been following us, probably because of all the trouble you and your fellow humans have been in. See if they’ll give you a ride someplace safe.”

Oh.

Whew.

“Uh, no.” Sari crossed her arms, unimpressed. “I am not getting in some stranger’s car.”

Smart kid.

“Ugh.” Tiny Optimus’s shoulders sagged, then he sighed. “Hang on.” He walked over and got down on one knee beside Wheeljack. “Excuse me? Can you-?” He blinked. “Huh?”

Tiny Bulkhead raised an optic-brow. “What?”

“This is the same car from yesterday,” Tiny Optimus replied, confused. “And the engine’s still running—but the driver’s gone, again.”

Frag.

“Probably saw Starscream and turned tail,” Tiny Ratchet remarked dryly, crossing his arms.

The black and gold mech frowned. “Outside of their vehicle?”

“Humans are weird,” Tiny Ratchet insisted, and he ignored Sari as she huffed. “Come on, Prime. We’ll get the kid someplace safe while we’re thinking up a plan.”

Tiny Optimus stood, and Wheeljack watched as all of them departed.

Then, he quickly drove into another alleyway and transformed so that he could peek out and look at the Seeker circling the top of the tower.

What was he gonna do?

“Slaggin’-“ Wheeljack ducked back into cover, his optics wide.

Usually, his teammates managed to find a way out of this—but these weren’t his teammates, they were tiny and-

“Oh, frag—they don’t even have guns,” he realized, horrified.

New deal: he would only interfere if any ‘bots or humans were absolutely about to die.

That was pretty much the limit he’d found for himself, when he was driving towards those endangered people on the stage.

Death was the line.

And that was fair, right?!

Risking the multiverse for one fraggin’ life?!

His team would be behind that!

“… Ugh.” Wheeljack put his face in his servos. “I am so fraggin’ screwed.”

…

Wheeljack decided that he couldn’t waste time on a vehicle mode and picked out a building in the desolate downtown, climbing his way to the top and finding a decent lookout spot behind a rooftop exit.

That way, he could keep an optic on whatever went down between the tiny Autobots and Starscream and—if necessary—intervene.

Meanwhile, he was trying to rationalize a plan.

Life-threatening crisis or no life-threatening crisis, he would have to reach out to these Autobots eventually if he wanted to get home.

But hey, you can’t just walk up to stone one and say ‘hi there, I’m from another universe’.

Wheeljack needed a minute.

And some highgrade.

However, before he could even start to think about that too much, the tiny Autobots’ plan went into motion.

Tiny Optimus got Starscream’s attention from a rooftop as Tiny Ratchet and Tiny Bulkhead held some sort of container on the street, and—from what Wheeljack could hear—the little Prime actually threatened to use his little glowing axe to destroy the Allspark if Starscream didn’t release the hostages.

And Starscream bought it!

“Okay, maybe they really can handle this,” Wheeljack remarked dryly as he watched the scene, an optic-brow raised.

With ‘Cons that gullible, anything was possible.

Wheeljack could see the black and gold mech using boosters on his back to fly up to the train, holding what… kinda looked like Sari.

Why in the Pit were the Autobots willingly endangering a human, let alone a child that small and obviously a liability?!

“Amateur hour,” he muttered. “I got dropped into a reality where it’s fraggin’ amateur hour.”

These ‘bots were making it really difficult to feel bad about referring to those of them who were duplicates as “tiny” in his head.

Hey, he was rationalizing during a crisis. He had to make sense of all of this somehow.

The black and gold Autobot left the train behind, carrying three humans—not Sari, but the three adult hostages.

Where was the little girl?

One of the adults must have made a noise when their rescuer landed on a blimp, because Starscream looked back.

Wheeljack cursed as the ‘Con flew up towards the train, while the black and gold mech set the humans he had rescued onto a tower balcony before using his boosters to give chase.

He threw something—shurikens?—at the Decepticon, and a small yellow figure emerged from the train to attack from above.

How was Tiny Bumblebee back in action?!

That shot to the back was brutal, but the young mech seemed to be faring well enough.

At least, until Starscream fired his blasters at the train and destabilized it—forcing both the black and gold mech and Tiny Bumblebee to disengage and grab it.

Because Sari was in there, wasn’t she?

“Oh, for cryin’ out-“ Wheeljack stood up and activated his cannon, resting his arm on top of the rooftop access and using that leverage to take aim at the seeker. However, he didn’t move fast enough to stop the second blast that knocked the train free. “Scrap!”

Below, Tiny Optimus had reunited with Tiny Ratchet and Tiny Bulkhead and gave them orders—and they transformed and drove towards the tower while the Prime picked up the box… and ran with it.

On foot.

Wheeljack really, really hoped that the box was empty and this was a diversion—because if that was the real Allspark, he was going to go and jump into the river.

“Yeah, of course!” Wheeljack muttered as he deactivated his cannon and turned to start running and leaping across rooftops, trying to keep up with Tiny Optimus and the aggravated Seeker chasing him. “Of course, he handles this alone. It’s a classic from the Prime Playbook!”

Tiny Optimus wasn’t alone for long.

After he managed to use some sort of magnetic weapon to catch the train and set it down, Tiny Ratchet caught the container when the Prime tossed it at him before throwing it further.

Tiny Bumblebee had transformed with Sari ending-up in his front-seat, and he somehow transformed only part of his frame so that he could stick his arm out and catch the container.

As the small ‘bot drove off, Wheeljack blinked before smirking. “Heh. Well, whaddya know? Keep Away, by way of Cybertron.”

Miko would think that was funny.

Tiny Bumblebee threw the container to the black and gold mech, who placed it in the bed of a truck and kicked the vehicle down an incline. When the truck veered and crashed, the container flew towards Tiny Bulkhead—who fumbled with it, accidentally allowing Starscream to fly over and snatch it. However, when the Seeker started to monologue about his victory, Tiny Bulkhead struck him with a wrecking-ball on a cord built into his body and retrieved the container.

The tiny Autobots came together and Tiny Optimus took the container into his servos, seeming relieved. “Nice teamwork, ‘bots! Now, let’s get the Allspark somewhere safe before-“

The sky turned pink.

A massive pink blast struck the ground, shaking Detroit and shattering windows as the Autobots were knocked to the ground.

Starscream scowled, hovering in the air as he continued to raze Detroit with the power of his combined blasters. “I have had ENOUGH of toying with you PATHETIC AUTOBOTS!” As the ‘bots on the ground tried to recover, Starscream flew down and snatched the container before soaring back into the air. “At last! The Allspark is mine.”

Because of course that would be the real Allspark.

Well, Wheeljack wasn’t too concerned.

Those tiny Autobots could still get it back, and it wasn’t as if the Allspark was some sort of super-weapon or-

The container started to glow, and a beam of energy blasted a bridge apart and created a widely-expanding dome of destruction.

Starscream grinned. “IT’S MORE POWERFUL THAN I EVER IMAGINED!”

Wheeljack’s mouth fell open as he stared at the scene, and he raised a servo to his forehead. All he could think of was… ‘Yeah, it sure is.’

This was way above a Wrecker’s pay-grade.

But when Wheeljack glanced down at the street, her saw Tiny Optimus turning and running off by himself. Again.

Because of course, he would.

It was Optimus Prime, after all—and he would never stand back and watch this happen, whatever the consequences.

Wheeljack blinked at that line of thought, then he huffed out a quiet laugh.

Whatever the consequences.

“… Damn it,” he murmured, shaking his head, then he stood up straight and looked out over the ruined city.

Enough was enough.

Frag the butterflies.

…

…

As Optimus clambered up the side of a building, he was aware of several things.

One: his teammates left behind, at a loss on the street below. He hoped that they were still protecting Sari in this nightmare.

Two: the Allspark in the hands of Starscream, a Decepticon so vile that he claimed to be the one truly responsible for Megatron’s death.

Three: the city, in the midst of being blasted with beam after beam of Allspark radiation.

How many humans had already been hurt?

How many had already been killed?

Four: as the leader of the team, a Prime, he had a responsibility to stop this and save the Allspark—hero or not, his life be damned.

However, in the midst of these thoughts, there was something he wasn’t aware of.

Years later, when he would be telling this story, he would blame the other mech’s experience or all of the other noises covering his own—and Wheeljack, he would just laugh.

But in Optimus’s defense, who could have ever expected this?

“Hey,” a voice greeted, and the young Prime looked up in alarm.

A few meters away, clinging to the side of the same building, was another mech.

He was large, closer to Bulkhead’s size than Optimus’s yet much more streamlined—like a war-frame, or a Decepticon. But at a glance, Optimus could see a crimson emblem on his chest: he was an Autobot.

But he was a strange Autobot, all sharp edges and scars on his face. There were strange glowing lines on certain parts of his body, and even his optics—which were the strangest Autobot optics Optimus had ever seen with all of those lines within the design—seemed to glow a bit, brighter than most. He seemed to carry weapons on his back, and there appeared to be some sort of grenade at his hip.

No one on Optimus’s team looked like that.

In fact, Optimus doubted that any member of the Elite Guard looked like that—at least, not since the time of the Great War.

But he seemed too young to have been involved in the Great War.

Again, Optimus was drawing similarities to Decepticons instead of Autobots—but even after their brief encounter, Megatron seemed to have fewer sharp lines.

Who was this mech?

A quiet sound disrupted the Prime’s racing thoughts. “Heh.” The strange mech smirked at him, and he raised a servo with two fingers pointed and gave a little salute. “Thought you could use a hand.”

Optimus blinked, then he frowned. “Who-? Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through, hopefully,” the mech said rather unhelpfully, then he looked at Starscream with a glare. “But I’m not one to pass up a chance to knock ol’ Screamy down a few pegs.”

Optimus raised an optic-brow, then he took another long look at this stranger: his size, his armor plating, his battle-scars.

He truly had never seen an Autobot like him, not even in his history docs.

But he wore the emblem, and he was ready to fight. That said something.

“You’re a soldier.” the young Prime decided.

“Ugh.” The other mech actually rolled his optics before looking at Optimus in annoyance. “Don’t say that. You sound like my commander.”

A loose-cannon, but still a soldier.

Optimus climbed up to properly face him. “How long have you been here?”

His new companion glanced out over the city, his optics narrowed as he observed the devastation. “Long enough to see that you’re in way over your head.” He lowered his voice, but Optimus almost thought he said: “And decide to potentially break a few universes. My bad.”

The Prime raised an optic-brow. “Wait, what was that?”

“Heh.” The other mech put on a grin. “Nothin’. Probably.” He glanced up and started climbing higher. “Come on, kid.”

“It’s not ‘kid’,” Optimus insisted as he started climbing as well. “It’s Optimus, Optimus Prime. And I don’t think-“

The other mech rolled his optics. “Alright, alright. Sheesh. Touchy.” He looked down at Optimus with a raised optic-brow. “… You’re not hungover, are ya?”

Optimus’s optics widened. “What?!”

“Sorry, sorry!” The mech waved it off with a chuckle. “It’s usually the first question, where I’m from… My first question, at least.” They arrived towards the top of the building, above where Starscream was blasting, and the other mech looked down at Optimus again. “Listen up, Optimus Prime—here’s what we’re gonna do.” He pointed at a passing aircraft. “I’m gonna toss you onto that blimp-“

Optimus blinked. “Wait, what?”

“And then, I’m gonna give you an openin’,” the other mech went on. “We’ll cover the details once we’re in position. But one rule, one very important rule. You follow this rule.” He gestured to his chest. “The Allspark goes nowhere near here. You understand?”

Optimus glanced at Starscream, then he looked back at the strange Autobot. “He’s managing.”

“He’s different,” the other mech pressed, then he rested a servo on Optimus’s shoulder. His expression was grave. “You keep that thing away from your chest. Got it?”

“… Got it,” Optimus decided, growing a little wary, then he took a deep vent. “Now, let’s talk about you tossing-“ His optics widened as the other mech’s grip on his shoulder tightened slightly before he was suddenly moving and up in the air. “ME!”

Optimus landed on the blimp and quickly clung to it like a lifeline. A moment later, the whole thing shook as he was joined by his strange new companion.

“Well, that was fun,” the loose-cannon Autobot joked, clapping Optimus on the back.

The Prime shook his head, still holding onto the blimp with an iron grip. “I’m not hungover… but you’re definitely drunk.”

“Heh.” The other mech shook his head. “No, just experienced.”

Optimus glanced at him, frustrated. “Your neural circuits are fried.”

“Debatable,” the strange Autobot said, then he glanced over the side of the blimp. “Okay, now: listen to me, again.” He gestured. “Old wartime trick of mine. I’m gonna jump ‘im and see if I can direct his flight-pattern towards that roof.” He pointed. “See it?” When Optimus nodded, his companion continued. “When I get close, you jump and go for the box. Then, I clip ol’ Screamy’s wings and crash all three of us down on that roof.” He glanced at Optimus. “It’ll hurt, but we can shake it—and a downed Seeker is a lot less to worry about. We can take ‘im.”

Optimus frowned. “What if we fall?

“Don’t,” the other mech insisted. “Don’t you fall. If you hit that pavement from this height, you’re scrap.” He glanced down at Starscream again. “Whether you get the box or not, you aim for that building. You don’t get another chance if you’re a splatter.” He looked at Optimus, an optic-brow raised. “Now, you got that?”

After a moment, Optimus shrugged. “It’s better than any idea I’ve got.”

“What were you thinkin’?” The strange mech asked, seeming curious.

Optimus gave an awkward smile. “Uh, when I actually was thinking? Well… Throw my axe into his wing, jump on his back, hope for the best?”

“Oh, for-“ The other Autobot rested a servo on his head, sighing. “That’s how you die, kid.” He saw the annoyed look on Optimus’s face and huffed. “Sorry, sorry.” He removed his servo from his head and gestured idly. “Okay. You don’t like ‘kid’.” He smirked, raising an optic-brow. “Even though you are clearly way younger and far less experienced.”

Optimus rolled his optics. “Ugh.”

“I’m just sayin’,” the other mech retorted, then he sighed. “Wow, this is a weird day.”

Optimus looked at him, frowning. “Look, I only ever let my field-tech call me ‘kid’—and only because of the earful he’d give me if I made any comment about it.”

The strange Autobot snorted. “Yeah, that sounds like Ratchet.”

Optimus grew surprised. “You know him?”

“Uh…” The strange Autobot looked like he had been caught doing or saying something he shouldn’t have. “In a sense?” He quickly waved it off. “I’ll explain, later.”

“You better,” Optimus pressed, then he glanced down at Starscream. “Now, you’re absolutely certain you can steer him?”

The other mech shrugged. “If I can’t, I’ll just clip him and you can dig the box outta the slag.”

“You’re joking,” Optimus remarked, but there was no reply. “… You’re not joking.”

The other mech hesitated, then he glanced at Optimus with a frown. “If I wasn’t willin’ to take a risk here, I would’ve stayed in vehicle-mode.”

Optimus raised an optic-brow, then his optics widened. The other mech was white, gray, orange, and green.

He knew that color scheme.

“You’re-..?” He stared at the strange Autobot, but the other mech turned his gaze back on Starscream. “… Seriously, who are you?”

“… Someone who has seen one too many ‘Bots like you meet that thing while tryin’ to protect it from ‘Cons like him,” the Prime’s companion said quietly. “You kids won’t be next, not on my watch.” He turned those strange optics back on Optimus. “Okay?”

“… Okay,” Optimus decided, unsure of what else to do.

“Hm.” The other mech nodded, then he put on that cocky grin of his again—like they had not just been discussing life or death. “Heh.” He looked down at Starscream again. “Here we go.” He snorted as he must have heard the speech that the Seeker was in the midst of giving. “Pro tip: you wanna catch ‘em mid-monologue, so the arrogance haunts ‘em even if they survive.”

Optimus blinked. “Wait, what?”

The strange Autobot wasted no more time.

He jumped.

“Whoa!” Optimus shouted, his optics wide as he gazed over the side of the blimp.

And the strange Autobot? He landed on Starscream’s back and immediately put the Seeker into a headlock.

“Hey.”

Starscream looked back. “What are you-?!”

“Doin’?” The mysterious mech raised an optic-brow, grinning slyly. “Well, the short answer is teachin’!”

And that strange loose-cannon Autobot grabbed one of Starscream’s wings and leaned his whole body-weight in order to make the two of them shift.

“Ah!” Starscream started thrashing in the air, but—given the hold the mysterious Autobot had on him—that only succeeded in moving him closer to the target area. “Get off of me, you overgrown imbecile!”

“Nah!” The white and gray mech shook his head, looking like he was having way too much fun with all of this. “Lesson’s just gettin’ started, ‘Screamy! YEE-HAW!”

Optimus shook his head, stunned. “Okay, that settles it: he’s lost it.”

“Ha!” The strange mech glanced up at Optimus. “You comin’ or not?!”

The Prime blinked. “Oh… Right!” Without wasting anymore time, Optimus jumped off of the blimp and grabbed Starscream’s wing as he dropped—the same one that the other Autobot was directing. “Oof!”

From where he was, though it was precarious and his spark was racing, Optimus was able to reach over and get a grip on one of the Allspark container’s handles.

“Good aim!” The other Autobot commended him with a clap on his back. “Stay right there, will ya?” He reached back and drew a sword from his back, and he glanced back at Optimus with a wicked grin. “Here we go!” He raised his blade. “And clip!”

The sword took the tip of Starscream’s wing right off, and the Seeker wailed as he spiraled down towards the target roof. “You miserable-!”

CRASH!

When Optimus came back to his senses, he was laying sprawled on a cracked rooftop—with the Allspark just sitting there, a few meters away. Starscream was nowhere near it.

And the strange Autobot groaned as he sat up next to the young Prime. “Ugh. Ow, that hurt...” He looked at Optimus with a grin. “Heh. But what did I tell ya?”

“I can’t believe that worked,” the smaller Autobot admitted as his companion stood up, then he blinked as a servo was offered before talking it. “Thanks.”

The other mech pulled him to his feet and nodded. “No problem. Now-“ He walked over to the Allspark and picked it up, holding it in two servos and looking down at it warily. Then, he sighed as he walked over and offered it to Optimus. “I think this was in your care.” He suddenly pulled it back when the Prime reached for it. “Ah-ah-ah.” He raised an optic-brow. “What’s the one rule?”

Optimus, who had gone tense, blinked… then, he gave a small smile and raised an optic-brow in response as he held his servos out. “I swear, it’ll go nowhere near my spark chamber.”

“Atta’boy.” The larger mech deposited the Allspark in Optimus’s servos like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Heh. That thing’s almost half as big as you are.”

Optimus rolled his optics. “And here, I thought I was just starting to like you.”

“That was your mistake,” the older mech joked, and Optimus let out a little huff of a laugh.

This other mech was still very strange, but… not in a bad way, it seemed.

No.

Not at all.

“Hm.” That new Autobot looked back when they both heard a groan. “Still kickin’, huh?”

He picked up his sword from the rooftop as he casually approached the fallen Starscream, who was on his back but starting to recover.

The Decepticon blinked as he found a blade aimed at his chest, then he scowled. “Autobot filth. You don’t have the bearings.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” the white and gray mech noted. “See, you just blasted apart a city… held several humans and an Autobot hostage… shot a pretty young-lookin’ mech in the back while he was tryna protect a kid… and nearly killed a small child, all with that stupid grin on your face.” His optics narrowed. “And you’re Starscream, King ‘Con’s right hand.”

That riled the Seeker up. “I’m the leader of the Decepticons! The leader!”

He went still as the sword tapped his chest.

“The leader,” the strange Autobot repeated, nodding. “Okay. So, tell me…” His optics narrowed. “What makes you really think that, even on my worst day, I wouldn’t have the bearings to take your head off? ‘Cause, see: from where I’m standin’, it’s not exactly the moral dilemma of the millennia—now, is it? More like a public service.”

Optimus was honestly taken aback by how easily that was said. It almost seemed like the white and gray Autobot was serious.

“Whoa.”

And he saw the other mech tense, as if his presence had only just been recalled.

“… Heh.” The strange mech glanced back, smirking. “See the look on his face?”

Optimus shook his head. “You’re terrible.”

“Yeah, I know.” The new Autobot spun his blade before gripping it again, then he used the sword to gesture back at the Seeker. “Seriously, though: we should probably deal with him before-” He suddenly spun around, raising his blade just in time to deflect a pink blast. “Yeah, that.” He stepped back as Starscream raised his blasters and stood. “Get behind me, kid!”

Optimus huffed, but—given that he was holding the Allspark—he obeyed the instruction. “For the last time, I am not a kid!”

“Young and not dyin’ on my watch!” The other mech snapped. “That makes you a kid!”

Optimus blinked at that, surprised.

What?

Then, the strange Autobot drew his second blade and crossed both swords before his chest just in time to deflect a powerful blast.

It soared across the rooftop and up into the sky, and the white and gray mech looked back at Starscream with a glare as he gripped both of his swords and made sure that Optimus was fully shielded by his own body.

“Impressive, Autobot.” Starscream smirked at the scene. “You might actually be a challenge!”

…

…

Wheeljack was having a stressful day.

Having decided that the multiversal balance could go frag itself, he had gotten involved.

And now, he was protecting a young and inexperienced Optimus Prime… holding a super-weapon Allspark… from an alternate version of Starscream that was less scheme-y and more level-a-city-for-kicks…y.

“Prime!” The Wrecker shouted as he continued to deflect pink blasts—and Primus, did saying ‘Prime’ sting. He ignored that as well as he could. “Start climbin’ down! Get that thing outta the city, away from the humans!” He glanced back with a glare. “And-!”

“Nowhere near my spark!” The young mech replied, annoyed. “I know! I heard you the first dozen times you told me!”

Well, this Optimus certainly had a bite to him.

Younger and more rough around the edges.

This would be interesting.

“Not just luck, then,” Starscream mused, lowering his blasters. “You’re a warrior.” The Seeker’s smile was twisted, even more than Wheeljack’s reality’s version could be. “Heh. Do you really think you can protect them?”

Wheeljack scoffed, gripping his blades. He really hated this guy, regardless of universe.

“Watch me,” he insisted, then he stabbed one of his blades into the rooftop and activated a cannon.

Starscream had just enough time to look surprised before Wheeljack put a hole in his already-damaged wing.

“Agh!” His servo flew to the wound, then he looked back at Wheeljack with a sneer. “You accursed little-!”

He fired a blast at the roof at Wheeljack’s feet, and the Wrecker let out a “whoa!” as he was suddenly flung back.

“Ah!” The back of Wheeljack’s head struck the raised edge of the rooftop, and he cringed as he sat up. “Yeah, that’ll leave a mark…”

“Hey!” A voice shouted, and Wheeljack glanced back to see Tiny Optimus holding onto the side of the building beneath his head and looking up with wide optics. “Are you alright?”

“What are you doin’?” Wheeljack asked, his optics narrowing. “Get outta here!”

“No!” Tiny Optimus climbed up a bit rather than down. “Look, I don’t know you—but you stuck your neck out for me!” He shook his head. “And I’m not leaving a fellow Autobot behind.”

“I’m fine!” Wheeljack insisted, pushing himself onto one knee. “Just-!”

His optics widened as a pink, gray, and orange blur suddenly dove off of the roof and lunged at the young Prime.

Starscream grabbed onto the side of the building and used his free servo to snatch one of the Allspark container’s handles, trying to yank it away from Tiny Optimus.

“Oh, slag.” Wheeljack aimed his cannon at the Seeker, trying to get a good shot amidst the pair’s tug-of-war. “Hang on, kid!” He huffed. “I mean, Optimus.”

“Trying my best!” The young Prime retorted, frustrated.

Starscream sneered. “Let go, Autobot!”

“Never!” Tiny Optimus snapped, holding on tighter and pulling back. How he was managing to be a match of strength to a Starscream that big when he was that small for that long was beyond Wheeljack. “The Allspark is life!”

Starscream scowled. “Then, let it end yours!”

He tugged on the container, and it opened.

The Allspark shone blue, and Wheeljack stood and stepped back—his optics wide—as the little Prime and the Seeker were lifted into the air.

“Okay, what the frag?” The Wrecker managed, then he stepped forward. “Prime!”

The Allspark released several blasts of power, sending blue circles expanding across the sky.

Starscream -well- screamed as everything Wheeljack could see was consumed by light…

Then, it was over.

Starscream was gone.

And that tiny Optimus Prime was screaming as he and the Allspark fell from the sky.

Wheeljack dropped to his knees and held a servo out, even though the rational side of his processor was saying it was no good.

“Kid!”

There was a horrible crash.

Dust flew into the air.

And Wheeljack stared down at the crater in the pavement far below, and the broken young mech laying motionless in it.

“… Kid?”

‘Not dyin’ on your watch, huh?’

…

By the time Wheeljack had made his way down to the street, the rest of the tiny Autobot team had gathered around their leader.

Sari was there.

A little kid should not have been watching. That was a mercy of how Wheeljack’s Optimus had gone out, none of the kids saw it.

None of them ever had to see a friend die.

Wheeljack kept his distance, not willing or able to intrude upon what was happening. He stood in an alleyway, his arms crossed.

And he could hear.

“So, this… is what it feels like… to be a hero,” the tiny Optimus managed, then his optics closed and his cracked frame faded—the colors just draining out and turning gray.

Wheeljack’s optics widened, and he raised a shaking servo to his mouth.

Again.

It happened again.

It happened again on his watch, because of the fraggin’ Allspark that he helped get.

History repeating itself.

Wheeljack should have minded the butterflies.

The tiny Ratchet checked his leader’s vitals, and they flatlined. “… There’s nothing we can do, now. His spark’s extinguished.”

The little black and gold mech got down on one knee and rested a shaking servo on the Allspark container. “He went saving the Allspark.” His voice was strained. “That’s what matters.”

“No.” Sari’s eyes were tearing up. “He can’t be gone.” She shook her head. “He can’t!”

“I don’t think that leaking thing’s gonna help you get what you want,” Tiny Bulkhead told her sadly, and she blinked.

Then, her eyes narrowed as she stood up a little straighter. “But I know something that can!”

Wheeljack blinked as the little girl climbed up onto Tiny Optimus’s chest, and he watched as she ripped some sort of key-shaped pendant off of her neck and pressed it to the Prime’s chest. His chest glowed blue, and it opened.

“What the frag?” The Wrecker muttered.

Tiny Bumblebee frowned at her, and he tried to be gentle. “Sari, there are some things that can’t be fixed.” He glanced at pendant, which was glowing. “Even by your Key.”

Sari was not deterred. “Prime didn’t give up, and neither will I!”

And she plunged that Key of hers into the Prime’s chest and turned it.

Wheeljack squinted as he heard a strange sound, then he gasped and stepped back as a beam of light shot out of the Allspark and struck the Key in Tiny Optimus’s chest.

“Okay, what?” He asked no on in particular.

There was a flash, and… it was over, again.

But this time, the young mech lying in the crater was free from injury and bright with color—and as Sari removed her Key, his chest closed and he… looked fine. Better than fine.

And he gasped and opened his optics.

“Is this… the Well of Allsparks?” He managed.

“No.” Sari giggled even as tears continued to race down her face. “It’s Detroit.”

The little girl then hugged the Prime’s face.

And Wheeljack just shook his head.

Don’t get him wrong, he was relieved—but this universe just kept getting weirder.

“No fraggin’ way,” he finally managed.

“Hey.” Tiny Bulkhead seemed confused as he gestured to the girl. “I thought you only did that leaking thing when you’re sad.”

Sari looked up at him with a grin. “You guys have so much to learn about humans.”

Tiny Ratchet helped Tiny Optimus up, and the Prime sighed before looking up.

And his optics met Wheeljack’s.

Uh-oh.

…

…

Optimus blinked when his optics met the strange mech’s.

The other Autobot was keeping his distance, standing in an alleyway with crossed arms and watching over them.

He looked just as surprised as Optimus felt, seeing him again after all of that.

Honestly, Optimus had never expected to see anything again—other than the Well.

“You,” Optimus spoke up, and the rest of his team and Sari followed his gaze and saw the mysterious Autobot. The stranger had a look of alarm on his face at all of the sudden attention, and Optimus quickly said more: “Thank you, for-“ He nodded. “For your help.”

The other mech blinked, then he nodded in reply. “‘Course. Don’t know how much help I was, but… I wasn’t gonna leave ya hangin’.” He blinked again, then he glanced away from the Prime awkwardly. “Uh, no pun intended.”

“Who’s this?” Ratchet asked, and Optimus shrugged his shoulders.

He still didn’t know.

Bumblebee rested his servos on his hips. “You know, you could’ve helped us out a little sooner. What kept you? Dramatic timing?”

“I wasn’t sure if it was the brightest idea,” the mech replied, frowning. “See, I-… I need a hand myself, but I did a double-take—realized that I could do more harm than good.”

Prowl raised an optic-brow. “With a Decepticon flying around, you actually thought we could use one less Autobot?”

“Well, uh…” The stranger raised a servo to the back of his neck. “It’s complicated?”

Optimus frowned. “You told me you would explain later. Well, it’s later.” He pulled away from Ratchet and stepped forward to face the peculiar mech. “… Who are you?”

“Hm.” The mech frowned down at him, then he sighed. “Name’s Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack?

“Sir!” Bulkhead and Bumblebee responded immediately and saluted while Prowl tilted his head yet noticeably straightened his posture.

‘Wheeljack’ just blinked. “Uh…”

“Wheeljack?” Ratchet’s optics narrowed. “Now, I happen to know Wheeljack—and you, kid, are not him. Now, what are you playing at?”

“Wow.” The stranger raised his servos. “Easy, Doc-‘Bot.” He cracked a grin. “Heh. You’re just gonna be cranky no matter what version of you I’m talkin’ to. It’s either you or me, but I’d like to be optimistic and think I’m not that annoyin’.”

Optimus raised an optic-brow. “Version?”

“Yeah. Uh…” The stranger pressed his servos together. “Funny story. Y’know how I just said that it was ‘complicated’? Well…” He cringed, seeming uncomfortable. “It’s very complicated. See, I’m not from around here.”

Bulkhead frowned. “None of us are.”

“No, I mean-“ The mech groaned in frustration, raising a servo to his forehead. “This is gonna be-“ He lowered his servo and looked at the other Autobots with a frown. “Hm.” He glanced down at Sari. “Hey: if you had to prove to a bunch of people who look like kinda you that you’re not just like them, what would you do?”

The little girl blinked. “Uh, probably show them something only I could do. Why?”

“Thanks,” the mech told her, then he looked back at the rest of the Autobots. “I saw some of your transformin’ earlier. Real fancy stuff.” He raised his shoulders. “Now, about me not bein’ from around here… Let me put it to ya like this.”

He suddenly transformed, and—while Sari stayed put, seeming confused—the team immediately stepped back.

The way this mech transformed, it was loud and so… different. His parts did not fuse or come apart at all, he just shifted and went back together like a strange puzzle—everything having its own place, unchanging.

That was not normal.

“Whoa!” Bunblebee shouted.

Optimus nodded shakily. “That was-“ He watched as the stranger transformed back, all of those shifting parts moving and coming back together swiftly but… how did that not hurt? It looked like it hurt! “You-…”

“Hm.” The strange Autobot raised his shoulders and his optic-brows. “I’m not from around here, as in… not from around here.” He crossed his arms. “Like, any ‘here’ that you fellas can think of.” He sighed, finally seeming so fed-up with his own poor communication that he just spat it out. “Frag it all, I’m from another universe—and I could really use some help gettin’ home.” He saw the looks on their faces, and he put on a straight face as he nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re joking,” Optimus decided, and the other mech looked at him. “… You’re not joking.”

“Really wish I was, but yeah.” The stranger shook his head. “Not jokin’. So, again: name’s Wheeljack.” He raised a servo. “Hey.”

“… This planet just keeps getting weirder,” Bunblebee decided, sighing.

“At least you’re in the right reality,” Other Wheeljack remarked, then he looked at Ratchet in exasperation. “You apparently know your Wheeljack.” He gestured to himself. “Look at me. Imagine my day.”

“Huh.” Ratchet raised an optic-brow… then, he nodded. “Fair enough.”

Prowl glanced at him. “What?”

“It’s fair enough,” the field-tech insisted.

“Thank you.” Other Wheeljack sighed, then he rested his servos on his hips and hung his head—looking exhausted. “Ugh.”

Optimus raised an optic-brow. “So, you didn’t help us earlier because-?”

Other Wheeljack looked at him and raised his shoulder again. “A friend of mine called it the ‘butterfly effect’? I dunno, somethin’ about how causin’ a little change in someplace you’re not supposed to be can have huge consequences.”

“Oh.” Optimus blinked. “You’re not from around here. So, when you got involved-“

“I might’ve just fragged-up your reality, yeah.” The strange mech nodded. “Sorry ‘bout that. Feel free to retract the ‘thank you’.”

“… No.” Optimus shook his head. “No need.” He took a deep vent, trying to process this… huge alteration to his perception of reality. “… You did what any Autobot from any universe should do, Wheeljack.” He met the other Wheeljack’s gaze again. “All actions have their consequences. And ‘butterfly effect’ or no, I am grateful.” He gave a small smile. “And though I’m not sure how we’ll do it or how long it will take, I promise you that my team and I will help you get back to your home.” He stepped forward, and he held out a servo. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Hm.” Other Wheeljack just looked at him, then he sighed. “Thanks, k- Prime. Ahem.” He righted himself after the adjustment, his expression briefly seeming to become sad. Why did Optimus feel a strange sense of loss at the change? “… But how about you get some stasis, sleep off the-..?” He glanced at the crater. “… Yeah, that.” He met Optimus’s optics again and gave a little grin. “Before you go and make any big promises to folks you just met.”

“Heh.” Optimus found himself smiling a little wider at that. “Yeah, rest sounds good.” He kept his servo extended, leaving it open. “But I think I’ll be keeping that promise.”

“Stubborn,” Other Wheeljack decided, then he looked down at Optimus’s servo. “Hm.” He hesitantly raised a servo, then he sighed and placed it in the Prime’s. Then, he glanced up—and his optic-brow raised. “And… they’re all just starin’ at me. That’s fun.”

Optimus chuckled, glancing at his team and Sari before looking at the mech from another reality again. “Yeah. Yeah, they’ll… do that, for a while.” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s not every day you meet someone from another reality—and you’ll probably be bunking with us until we can get you home, so that’s… also big.”

“Heh.” Other Wheeljack grinned. “Fair enough, I suppose. This is… big. Yeah.” His face suddenly fell, and he glanced away as his servo dropped away from Optimus’s. “Hm.”

Ratchet noticed the shift. “What is it?”

“Nothin’, I just-…” The stranger shook his head, trying to shake it off. “Heh. It’s stupid, really.”

Bulkhead frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Other Wheeljack glanced at him, his face still lacking any of the mirth or focus Optimus had seen since meeting him.

He looked… lost.

“… It’s all been happenin’ so fast, I only just remembered,” Other Wheeljack admitted, keeping his optics on Bulkhead. “I-… I kinda told my best friend that I’d be meetin’ him.” He shrugged. “That I was pretty much on my way. And… it’s been hours, now.” He shook his head, his shoulders raising. “I-I didn’t even notice, in all the chaos—but-… Heh.” He gave a little smile at the absurdity. “I’m late. And late for patrols, again. My commander, he-… He’s gonna have my head, when he sees me again.”

Optimus knew what it was like to be lost. His whole team did, really.

But… that much loss? The loss of one’s entire reality, in a single day?

That was unbelievable.

And this mech, this other Wheeljack, had put processing that loss out of his mind to focus on helping Optimus and his team.

He worried for them before himself.

Any doubt that Optimus had about helping this stranger melted away.

He was going to help, no matter what.

“Sorry, I-…” The other Wheeljack’s voice broke Optimus out of his thoughts. “I told ya, it’s stupid.” He was still grinning. “Heh… Oh, they’re probably scratchin’ their heads at my little vanishin’ act right now.” He looked around the city, and he let out a long whistle. “This is gonna throw ‘em all through a loop.”

Bulkhead frowned. “Don’t you think they’re worried about you?”

“Meh.” Wheeljack looked at him again and shrugged. “They know I’ll be back.”

Sari just watched this, then she glanced up at Optimus. “… Yeah, we’re keeping him.”

The Prime looked down at her. “Sari.”

“Hm?” Other Wheeljack shifted his gaze down to Sari, snapped out of his own thoughts, then he put on a new smile. “Heh. Right.” He got down on one knee to look at her, draping one arm over his knee and bracing the other servo on the pavement. “Now… that was some magic act you just performed, pipsqueak.”

Sari blinked, then she ran over to look up at the new Autobot in fascination. “Do you have swords?!” The strange mech reached up and drew one of his blades just enough to show her a bit. “Ninja swords?!” Sari grew confused as Other Wheeljack let his blade drop back into place. “But when you were fighting, you yelled like a cowboy. You’re a… ninja-cowboy?”

“And a scientist,” Ratchet added, then he glanced at the new arrival. “Right?”

“Well, uh…” Other Wheeljack glanced away awkwardly. “I built the faulty space-bridge that went supernova and launched me here.”

Ratchet blinked, then he looked at Optimus. “… Yeah, that’s definitely a Wheeljack.”

“Hey!” The white and gray mech complained.

“Wait.” Sari squinted. “So, you are… a giant, alien robot from another universe who is also a… space-cowboy ninja-scientist?”

Other Wheeljack grimaced. “Alright, that’s a headache.”

“That’s you!” Sari protested.

“Yeah.” Other Wheeljack nodded. “It’s still a headache.” His face lit up when Sari started laughing. “Heh.”

Optimus could see the rest of his team starting to relax in the strange mech’s presence, more curious than guarded.

Even Prowl, who was always hard to read, seemed to ease up.

Then, Optimus looked back to see the other Wheeljack setting a servo down on the ground so that Sari could step on.

“Whoa.” The Prime held a servo up. “Easy.”

Ratchet nodded. “She’s fragile.”

“What?” Other Wheeljack stood up, still holding Sari on his servo. She didn’t so much as stagger as he kept his palm flat. “I’ve held a human kid before. They aren’t covered in armor platin’, but they’re not made of glass.” He glanced at Sari, raising an optic-brow. “Right, kid?” He grinned when the girl nodded, then he glanced back at the other Autobots. “… How long have you fellas been here, exactly?”

“Out of stasis?” Prowl looked at the strange mech quizzically. “Less than a decacycle.”

“A week,” Sari supplied.

“A week,” Other Wheeljack repeated, then he closed his optics and sighed. “Oh, slag… Well, that explains why your fightin’ in an Earth-based urban environment could definitely use some work—if you’re gonna do it at all.” He opened his optics and glanced around the damaged city again. “But sheesh, five Autobots against ‘Screamy—even when he’s got size on ya and you don’t seem to be packin’ any blasters—shouldn’t have been that bad.” He looked at the team and raised an optic-brow, curious. “You mentioned that you were in stasis. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you fellas are a little rusty?”

Bulkhead blinked. “Rusty?”

“Yeah.” Other Wheeljack gestured with his free servo. “Been a bit since you fought any ‘Cons?”

Ratchet tilted his head, then he grew surprised. “… Oh, you think-“ He stopped himself. “Mm.”

Other Wheeljack frowned. “What?”

“Uh…” Optimus was honestly at a loss for words. “Heh. Um… You’re a soldier?”

“I'm a Wrecker,” Other Wheeljack told him. “We’re the guys who take the missions you don’t really follow the rules to finish.”

That explained a lot.

“Uh-huh.” Bumblebee started tapping his index-fingers together anxiously. “Yeah, um- We’re-… Uh, heh… We’re a maintenance crew.”

Other Wheeljack blinked, then his expression dropped. “… I beg your fraggin’ pardon?”

Ratchet shook his head. “Oh, boy.”

“You-?” Other Wheeljack pointed to the field-tech, his optics wide. “And you-?” Bulkhead. “You-?” Bunblebee. “And you?!” He pointed to Optimus, stunned, then he looked down at Sari and shook his head. “Kid, hit me. I wanna wake up so that my team can yell at me now, thanks.”

Sari crossed her arms. “I’ll break my hand.”

“Scrap. Right.” Other Wheeljack looked back at the Autobots. “You’re jokin’.” No one said anything. They had nothing to say. And Other Wheeljack knew it. “… You’re not jokin’.”

Bulkhead shook his head. “Nope.” As always, he was proud. “We’re a space-bridge repair crew!”

“… Oh, for Pit’s sake-“ Other Wheeljack shook his head, then he pointed up with a completely serious expression. “If that’s ‘Screamy, the other ‘Cons are gonna eat you alive.”

Bumblebee deadpanned. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome,” Other Wheeljack told him, giving a strained smile.

Optimus huffed. “Oh, for-!”

Ratchet rested a servo on the Prime’s shoulder. “He’s had a day. Let him have that… Especially considering that one of us just died.”

“… Ugh.” Optimus closed his optics and hung his head. “… Fair enough.”

…

Once Sari was returned to her father and the Autobots—Other Wheeljack included—had promised to help with the rebuilding of the city, the team returned the Allspark to their ship and returned to the Plant for the night.

Other Wheeljack had passed upon the tour of the ship, instead standing at the edge of the water and waiting. Optimus just figured that he needed a moment alone after the day he had and all of the developments made.

He seemed tired.

And Optimus really needed to stop referring to him as ‘Other Wheeljack’ in his head.

It was just Wheeljack, strange as that was—and he would be living and working with the team until they figured out how to help him.

Protectors of the Allspark, Heroes of Detroit, and haven for those lost in the multiverse.

It hadn’t even been a decacycle… ignoring the fifty stellar-cycles of stasis, of course.

Optimus was wondering if Oth- if Wheeljack was right. How much trouble were they in?

That night, he did a quick round to check in on his teammates. He told himself that it was procedure, but really? He was just reassuring himself that they had all survived the day.

Funny, given that he had been the one who-…

Well, everyone had some close calls.

Finally, Optimus came to Wheeljack’s room.

They had let the ‘Wrecker’ take his pick of the free room, and Optimus was surprised when the Wrecker chose one that was on the interior of the Plant and lacked windows.

Ratchet had told him in private that it was a security thing, and he left it there.

Ratchet’s room didn’t have windows either.

Optimus paused in the doorway, and he glanced inside to see the strange mech examining his blades with a frown.

The room looked like a cell, no windows and just a berth. It made Optimus uneasy.

“Hey,” he spoke up at last, and Wheeljack looked over at him with a raised optic-brow. Those optics of his were still somewhat unsettling. “I, uh… I hope this is alright.”

“It’s fine,” Wheeljack assured him. “Better than what I’m used to, actually.”

After Optimus had made the comparison between the room and a cell, that didn’t exactly make him feel any better.

“… Are you going to be alright?” The Prime asked, and the Wrecker blinked.

Then, he put on a grin. “Yeah, ‘course. It’s just an adjustment, that’s all.” He sheathed his blades. “I’m good at adjustin’.”

Optimus frowned. “No one can be this good.”

“Hm.” Wheeljack glanced away. “I’ll be alright. It’s just… a lot to process.” He looked back at Optimus. “… How are you holdin’ up?”

Optimus blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Wheeljack stood to face him, then he sighed. “Look: I am tryin’ to be delicate, here. I'm not good at that.”

“I’m not-“

“You died, today,” Wheeljack said bluntly, and Optimus tensed. “… Folks can be good at adjustin’, but no one’s that good.”

Optimus just looked at him, then he crossed his arms and looked away. “… It really hurt, then I just closed my optics and opened them a few moments later… and it didn’t hurt anymore. It was nothing.” He glanced back at the Wrecker, shrugging. “Really.”

Wheeljack crossed his arms and raised an optic-brow again. “Hm.”

“Really!” Optimus insisted, then he scoffed and looked away. “Ugh, you’re worse than Ratchet.”

“Frag, I really hope not,” Wheeljack said, and Optimus glanced at the Wrecker as he put on a little grin. “… That’s me talkin’ about either one of ‘em, just to be clear. He’s always like that.”

“Heh.” Optimus was glad of that, for some reason. He couldn’t imagine Ratchet… or anyone… any differently than how he knew them, not really. “But I’m thinking things are still pretty different, here. After all that worry about it, the Allspark saved me.”

Wheeljack’s smile dropped. “… It was due.”

That put a chill up Optimus’s spine.

“… It’s a different universe,” he said, a little unsteady. “A lot of rules might be different.”

“Yeah, I’m sure plenty are,” Wheeljack told him. “But that thing blasted apart a city, today. We’re lucky it was feelin’ charitable, after.”

“… Fair enough,” Optimus decided, the reality of those words hitting him hard. Then, he sighed and looked away. “… Do you think that I was supposed to die?” He heard a shift, and he glanced up to see that the Wrecker’s whole face had fallen and his optics were wide. “I mean, with your whole butterfly effect… What did you change, by coming here today?”

Wheeljack just looked at him for a moment, then he sighed. “It could be that I came here and made things worse. You might not have fallen at all, without me here.”

“My plan was to just jump on him and wrestle the Allspark away,” Optimus argued. “I don’t think you made me any more likely to fall by telling me that was a stupid plan.”

“All plans are stupid plans until they actually work,” Wheeljack said, then he glanced away again. “… As long as you got the Allspark back, they would’ve been able to patch you up. I’m sure your team would get managed with or without me, and Sari’s Key-“ He blinked, then he chuckled. “Frag, that Key… Still gettin’ used to the idea of that doohickey.”

“Me, too,” Optimus admitted, then he shifted uncomfortably. “… But what if I didn’t get it? What if they wouldn’t have been able to get it, Wheeljack? What if I was supposed to die?”

“Personally, I doubt it,” Wheeljack told him. “I mean, if this is anythin’ like my reality-“ He paused. “… Besides, the ‘butterfly effect’ is just a theory. I was probably overthinking.” He shook his head. “And even if it is more than ‘theory’, that theory isn’t laid on the grounds of supposed. It says that the smallest actions can have huge consequences.” He shrugged. “Me bein’ here, that’s big—but I don’t think it played on any ‘destiny’ scrap. There’s no ‘destiny’, no ‘supposed’. Natural forces caused by other natural forces, choices—those are what make things happen, that’s how it goes.”

Optimus sighed. “But-“

“And let’s pretend for a moment that destiny did exist and that the universe had it out for ya, that your head was on the choppin’ block,” Wheeljack proposed. “The multiverse dropped some idiot in on you anyway, and then you didn’t. Whether or not one thing caused the other, we’ll never know. It just… happened.”

Optimus just looked at him, a little surprised by how quickly the Wrecker had changed tune—from dark and fatalistic to… encouraging?

Then, he realized that it happened after he had changed his own tune. It was a reaction.

An adjustment.

And Optimus smiled. “Heh. Some idiot?”

“It’s an accurate description,” Wheeljack told him, then he smirked as he narrowed his optics. “But I better not hear anyone else sayin’ it.”

“Hm.” Optimus shook his head. “My lips are sealed.” He looked at the Wrecker again, and he nodded. “Welcome to the team, Wheeljack.” He turned and started making his way towards the door. “Good night.”

“G’night, Prime,” Wheeljack replied as Optimus left the room.

He still wasn’t saying “kid”, anymore—the habit had been broken, somehow.

Another adjustment?

Optimus still wasn’t sure if he was happy about that or not, after what Wheeljack said during their fight with Starscream.

It was… different, having someone in his life that saw him as a leader or Prime last and someone to look after first.

And even after he left “kid” behind, he was still acting the same way—so his perspective hadn’t changed, even if the title was gone.

Optimus wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He wasn’t a sparkling.

He would just… have to adjust.

The Prime took a few steps towards his own door before he paused, and he hesitated before straining his audio-sensors.

He could hear footsteps.

“… Heh. Prime.” The steps moved towards the door, and Optimus grew worried that Wheeljack would peek out and see that he was listening in. “Hm… G’night, guys.”

The door slid shut.

Optimus’s face fell, and he sighed.

No one should have to “adjust” to this.

There had to be a way.

…

=+=

…

The sun set, and Ratchet was still desperately trying to get anything working again—the fried monitors, the scorched control console.

After the first hour, Knockout had quietly moved to start helping him—but it was clear that he didn’t know where to get started.

No one did.

And nothing was working.

That much, everyone could tell.

So, Ultra Magnus broke the frustrated silence. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ratchet,” he spoke up, and the medic looked back at him. “… One of my soldiers is gone.” He braced himself. “Is there nothing you can do?”

“… No.” Ratchet shook his head. “No, no, no… He’s gone, but I will do everything in my power to bring him back.” He glanced back at the commander, his optics narrowed. “We will not lose anyone else. I won’t allow it.”

The medic got back to work, with Knockout moving to continue his assistance.

And slowly, the crowd in the room disbursed.

Arcee kept her head up, though her servos were in shaking fists at her sides.

Smokescreen just kept shaking his head. His quiet murmurs of “he can’t be gone” petered out into silence hours before.

Bumblebee briefly rested a servo on the wall to brace himself, then he kept moving. Odds were that he was going to try and find more work to be done, and bury himself in it.

And Bulkhead practically stormed out of that laboratory, his head hung and shaking.

So, Ultra Magnus went after him.

“Bulkhead?” He caught up and rested a servo on the green mech’s shoulder, halting his fellow Wrecker in his tracks. “Bulkhead.”

“… I gotta call Miko,” the large mech said softly.

Ultra Magnus blinked, then he nodded. “Of course… May I join you?”

“Yeah.” Bulkhead nodded, then he shook his head again. “He’s fine… He’s fine.” He started moving again. “And he always comes back. He-… He always comes back.”

Ultra Magnus watched the green mech go for a long moment, then he sighed as he glanced back towards the ruined laboratory.

Just a few hours before then, at the team’s first refueling of the day, his two soldiers had been seated with him—and the smallest mech was being his usual self, smirking over a canister of Energon as he made annoying remarks.

War and travel through the depths of space had taught Ultra Magnus how loud silence could be.

He never thought he would hear this silence.

Wheeljack had a tendency to distance himself, even depart… but he was never actually gone.

Bulkhead was right.

Somehow, that stubborn mech always found a way and came back.

“… Hm.” Ultra Magnus found himself giving a small smile. “It would take Primus himself to claim that spark.” He regarded that ruined space-bridge… and those four scratch-lines… with a solemn nod. “Be safe, soldier.”

The commander turned and kept walking.

Miko was waiting.