A/N: So "A Window Into the Past" is canceled. But I really wanted to do a fic with Sideswipe, and something different anyway. So here we are, my first part romance fanfiction! And with my favorite ship, no matter how different it is. I really want to do this fic because it's a bit deeper than my usual fare, and I want to explore romantic plots more as well. So here we go.

In this AU Arcee, Chromia, and Elita survived Egypt. Ironhide also survived the events of DOTM. And lastly, no AOE.

Thanks to my beta, sidekicks-anonymous, for her work on this chapter!

PAIRINGS: SideswipexArcee (main), OptimusxElita, IronhidexChromia

WARNING: Dark subject matter in this chapter and overall fic. We deal with "still birth" a bit in this and various chapters. So just be warned that this is the driving force for Sideswipe and Arcee this fic.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Transformers. That's Hasbro/Takara and Paramount/DreamWorks.

...

PROLOGUE
Tragedies

Sideswipe had tried to accept his sparkling was dead, but part of him didn't want to believe it.

He and Arcee had waited so long to have a child that the mere thought broke his spark. Sure, some had thought he was still too immature for fatherhood, but he'd been excited. He had been so ready to take that kid on crazy adventures, teaching him about the world, and getting him in on his and Sunstreaker's pranks. But Primus had decided it was not to be; instead he was only going to face sparkbreak.

He sat outside the medbay now, face in his palms, as he tried to take it all in. He'd sent Sunstreaker off, much to his twin's chargin, because he honestly didn't even want him there now. He could already feel the sadness in his brother's spark at the loss of his nephew and that was enough.

"Sides..."

Sideswipe groaned, not wanting to hear anything from Ratchet. He didn't need a creation bond to know how badly his adoptive creator was hurting. After all, he had been the one to have to deliver his stillborn grandcreation. "Go away, Ratchet. I don't want to hear it..." Sideswipe was silent after that. "I can't hear it."

Ratchet was silent, his soft blue optics staring at his adopted creation. "You need to be with Arcee right now, Sideswipe. Her spark is hurting..."

"I know that!" Sideswipe snapped. "I can feel everything, you know." His hands were shaking, his voice caught in his throat. He didn't want to believe that his sparkling was dead…but the more he accepted it, the more it tormented his fragile psyche.

"I understand... But I also know you're going to need each other to heal." Sideswipe looked up at Ratchet as he said that. "You'll have Sunstreaker and myself as well. But we can only do so much. This is a very personal matter you must deal with."

Sideswipe was silent for a moment. "What went wrong? Do you know?"

Ratchet looked as though he didn't want to tell Sideswipe the answer. But as he was stared down, he took a deep breath and finally sat down next to him. "Her spark chamber isn't strong enough to handle two sparks... It seemed healthy at first, but it didn't develop properly. So being outside of the chamber itself simply... killed it." Sideswipe could feel coolant moving up into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sideswipe. But this most likely means you two can't..." He felt his own voice caught now.

"It means we can't have sparklings." Sideswipe whispered.

"Not of your own creation at least, no. It's not impossible, perhaps in time if I could study it, things may be different. But it's a very low chance." Ratchet told him gently.

Sideswipe tried not to lose himself there and then. But he told himself now wasn't right. When they were alone, he and Arcee could grieve. But now? Now he was too numb to do anything but sit there in stunned silence. "Did you tell 'Cee?" He asked.

"Of course I did. She needed to understand that this was not her fault." Ratchet replied, his voice crumbling a bit. "Nor was it yours. Now Sideswipe, I need you to—"

"Ratch, I know you love me. But can 'Cee and I be alone? Just for a few minutes?"

He could see how much that hurt Ratchet, but his creator had to understand. This was too hard to talk about it, at least at this length. "Just a few minutes, Sides. She has to rest." Ratchet took his arm as the mech stood and rolled towards the door. "I mean that, Sideswipe. She needs time to recover, physically, and emotionally. Don't be long."

Sideswipe merely nodded before rolling quietly into the med bay. He was thankful that Ratchet had taken away the sparkling frame they had created. Seeing that would have made it even more real. But seeing Arcee laying on her side, staring with dead optics at the wall... Well, that was an image that Sideswipe would never get out of his head.

"'Cee..." Sideswipe rolled forward, sitting down, and took her hand in his.

"I can't believe we even tried." Arcee's voice was tight, her optics flickering to her sparkmate. "How stupid did we have to be? Thinking we could be parents to begin with? You're too obsessed with your pranks, and I'm too tough. We were doomed from the start."

Sideswipe shook his head. "Babe, that's not true. You'd have made an amazing carrier..."

Arcee shook her head, turning over. "Yeah, well, now we'll never know if you're right."

Sideswipe's optic ridge furrowed quietly, as he took a deep breath. He knew there were other options, but like Arcee, he had no desire to think about them right now. "It's gonna be OK, sweetspark. We'll figure it out, promise." Sideswipe told her. "Maybe Hatchet's wrong. Maybe you can have sparklings and..."

"SIDESWIPE!" Arcee snapped. "Shut up."

Sideswipe was taken aback by his mate's anger. Sure, she had called him out for saying dumb things in the past, or making dumb decisions. But never with the amount of rage that she'd just expressed. Even if he knew it simply came from the pain of what had happened. "Alright, 'Cee. I know you're hurting but just... Try to get some rest..." Sideswipe told her as gently as a mech like him could. "You're gonna need it."

Arcee gripped his hand a little tighter. "I want to see him one last time."

"Not a good idea." Sideswipe shook his head. "It'll just break your spark more. I don't want to lose you to a broken spark, too."

Arcee was silent, but Sideswipe knew that she would realize he was right. Whether she liked it or not, they were both better off not seeing him again. They'd already said goodbyes when they realized he was gone, and that had been bad enough. "Sides... What did we do wrong?"

Sideswipe was deathly quiet, but finally spoke up. "Nothin'. Absolutely nothin'." He kissed her forehelm quietly and then stood. "Get some recharge 'Cee. I'll be back in the morning."

"I love you."

"And you know I fragging love you too." Sideswipe said, saying it in a way only he would.

He pulled away from the med bay, and didn't give Ratchet another glance. No, for now, all Sideswipe wanted was to be alone with his sorrow. And so without another word, he transformed into his alt mode, and took off out of the base. He'd tear up Washington DC if he had to, if that made him feel better. He'd do just about anything to take away the pain they were both suffering.

But as he felt Arcee's pain over the bond, he knew it wouldn't go away anytime soon.

...

Charles "Charlie" Dale Ingrim woke up in pain.

He tried to breathe as best as he could, but his lungs were still filled with the smoke he'd inhaled. His mom, his dad, James, Christy, where were they? He'd remembered the bright flames licking the walls, he remembered screaming. He'd remembered the fire licking his own t-shirt and pants before he'd known just about anything.

But were they OK? He couldn't remember where they'd been, not at all.

Some fabric covered the entire left side of his body. And as he struggled to open his eyes, he could only see through it, his vision blurred as tall men in white coats, and two young women looked over him. "Patient suffered third-degree burns all over the left side of his body, but is slowly becoming conscious. Charlie? Charlie, can you hear me?"

"Mmmmm..." Charlie attempted quietly to speak. "Mmmm."

"Patient's responding. I want him in the burn unit immediately." The doctor spoke up loudly. "We need to treat those burns as quickly as possible, or we'll lose him. What about the rest of the family?"

Even though he was only ten, Charlie felt his heart sink in recognition of the way one woman shook her head. What did that mean? Where was his family? Where were they? He tried to move, but found that he'd been strapped down, his ability to move hindered.

There was another voice. "Charlie, Charlie baby, try not to move."

But Charlie couldn't answer anymore, he felt his eyelids dropping quickly. His body gave in, and again, he was in the darkness.

...

When he woke up, his whole life had changed.

He'd already known the part the doctors had started out with. There'd been a raging fire in his home, though they had no idea what started it. And though a man—his social worker, he'd been told—had tried to break it to him gently, there was no gentle way to put it. His entire family was gone, dead before help had even arrived on the scene.

Charlie remembered now, vaguely, that he'd managed to make it to the door with his dad's help. He remembered the crash then, and the screaming. That's when the fire had consumed him too, when his left side had become so numb. A mystery which was also answered for him.

They'd given him a mirror when they'd told him about that. He'd been on fire, they explained, and while they were able to put it out, it'd not been in enough time. His face was scarred, charred, and horribly burned. A sentiment that as he looked down, was shared with the rest of his left side too. They'd explained to him gently that while the burns would eventually heal, he would never look the same.

Some people, when they thought he wasn't listening, called him "disfigured."

He spent many weeks recovering, as well as hoping they were wrong. But by the time he was released, the burns had done their work. Though they'd healed, the scarring was horrific. The left half of his face was misshapen, with scars up and down it. While the rest of the left side of his body looked very much the same, he had very little hair left on the left side of his face. As a result they'd shaved his head, though they assured him it would grow back.

But now, instead of going home, he was going somewhere else.

His parents hadn't had any family he'd known about. At least none that could take in a ten-year-old boy, the doctors had said. And now? Now he was going into something called foster care. They'd talked to him about it for a little bit, mostly telling him he was going to live with nice people. People that they hoped would take care of him until he had a permanent home.

He'd broken down into tears at that, realizing what it meant.

He'd lost everything in that fire, that horrible raging inferno. His parents, brother, and sister were dead, their funerals being attended to by the family's friends who were unable to care for him. He was damaged in a way that could never be reversed. And everything that they could recover from the ashes had been placed into two trash bags in preparation to take him to a new home.

Because he no longer had one.

"It's going to be okay, Charlie." His social worker, who he now knew was named Titus, spoke up from the front seat of his car. He met the boy's dull blue eyes in the rearview mirror. "You're going to live with good people, I promise."

But sitting between the two trash bags, Charlie doubted it, though he wouldn't say anything. He hadn't said much since learning what happened, anyway. What could he say? And how could he, at only ten years old, express his grief?

The only way he could do so was to let tears fall down his face. He let himself take in the sadness, and let it escape for the millionth time. He hardly noticed the sympathetic look that Titus was giving him. He'd seen enough of those lately, after all; he didn't need it.

He barely looked up as they came to a stop in front of a home. Not his home, not anything that he recognized, but the "home" they'd assigned him to. The door opened a minute later, and Titus looked in on him. "C'mon, kiddo. They're expecting us."

As Charlie silently stepped out, he only wished he knew what to expect.