Okay so after the last chapter I thought it was best to offer a bit of light hearted, almost fluff like work to lighten the mood of the story again, before he turn down the cold road that this story will soon be taking.

The first section was written ages ago as a one-shot but it was never posted. So with a bit of alteration, I managed to incorporate it here.

Please read and review and most importantly enjoy.

I apologize that so much of my stories are non-dialogue. I have always struggled with writing dialogue as it always seems wooden and forced. But I'm doing my best to try and put more in.

Thanks to Sassbrat and Valkyra for your story alert adds

Thanks to Ruby650 and AMYLEE PRIME for your fav story adds.

Btw, I want you to see Barricade as a good guy in this story. You'll see by the end of the story how his ties to the deceptions come into play, and perhaps not in the way you would assume. Wink. Thanks to Sinead Rivka for letting me use Barricade this way. Her story 'Things we do not tell humans' is just brilliant. I strongly recommended reading it.

In Paradise

Chapter Four: The Only Exception

"O what a tangled web we weave,

When first we practice to deceive"

- Sir Walter Scott

Elita curled into Optimus's frame a little more tightly at picking up the tell tale whimpers that always preceded the –

"Aaaaaahhhhh" a high pitched wail ran though the quarters that belonged to the Prime and the Primes Consort. Optimus rebooted almost instantly, just as Elita did. There was a moment of stillness between the two as they lay on their berth, listening as there audio receptors whined at picking up that wonderful, albeit Primus forsaken sound.

Optimus gripped Elita pulling her closer to him, murmuring to her, "Its alright, I'll get him", as he smiled down at his sparkmate though half-awake optics.

Elita mirrored her mate as she smiled back as him. The femme locked her gaze with her mech, pouring her soft blue optics into his deep azure ones. She spoke softly but firmly, running her hand down his chassis and resting it over his spark, "no, I'll get him. You have a long orn ahead of you tomorrow; you need recharge more than I do". Optimus looked at her briefly but quickly conceded, nodding. There had been an unyielding tone to her voice. The highly decorated, well loved, somewhat battle-worn Prime may well have been awed for his grace, and feared for his power by every other Cybertronian on Cybertron, but this femme was dangerous when provoked. And disagreeing with her was classed as provoking.

Optimus was no fool when it came to his femme.

As another wail threatened to burn their audio circuitry, Optimus released Elita. The femme rolled out of his clutches but not before slipping a well practised digit under her bondeds armour plating atop of his chassis, and gently pulling on sensitive wiring connected directly to his spark case. Optimus released a low growl of anticipation as his optics darted accusingly at the rose coloured femme, who merely cast him an innocently playful look as she slipped off the berth.

She swept along the floor and over to the crib that stood in wait a little way off from the end of their berth. The crib itself was extremely well made, very strong, beautifully crafted and entirely too big for the tiny form that lay inside. That said, the little bundle of yellow wires was not yet even two vorns old. Elita knew one day he was likely to operate a frame larger than her own, but that orn wouldn't be coming for many decavorns. So for now, Elita and Optimus were more than happy to entertain the needs of there newly onlined sparkling.

Elita looked down and saw the tiny head and set of shoulder panels of the little mechling. The rest of his tiny body was lost under the pastel yellow thermal blanket that Elita, like every other sane creator and caretaker, had insisted on covering him with. There was no way she was letting her Bumblebee catch a virus because she had let his heating systems fall to sub normal levels, causing his internal firewall to weaken.

Bumblebee was keening - if possible - even more intensely than just a moment before, the blanket jerking with the harsh kicks and random lashings of arms and digits the sparkling was letting out.

Elita bent down into the crib and lifted the screeching infant into her arms; blanket an all, sending soothing and calming notions though their bond. She cooed over her child, "shushing" him as she laid him gently against her shoulder, while slipping out of the room and into the main quarters. There was no way Optimus would be able to recharge unless she put some distance between him and there crying sparkling.

Elita found a spot on the couch in the main living room that would hopefully be far enough away to let Optimus get some rest. She slipped her hand underneath the blanket that cloaked the little mech, and began rubbing soft circles into his back, sending all the love and devotion she had to her mechling though their bond. In less than a breem, the bright yellow sparkling began to choke in his keening, and though a series of stuttering clicks and shaky buzzes and chirrups, he managed to tell his femme creator of the night horror he had had.

"Oo, it's alright, little one. It's okay", Elita soothed, "No one is going to hurt you. Optimus and I are here to protect you".

Bumblebee shifted and looked at the femme with swimming baby blue optics, his vocal processor still releasing strangled sobs.

Click. Twitter. Buzz. Click. Click

She ran her digits over the back of his helm, and down over his tiny stained faceplates. Her gaze softened and she smiled lovingly as she sent out warmth though the bond.

"Of course I promise little one. You're the most important thing in the universe to me and Optimus. We'll always be there for you", Elita smiled, unable to keep a little humour from slipping into her own vocal processor. Then running her hand across his entire tiny frame, she held him tenderly and pushed her forehead into his. The sparkling cuddled her back in return.

Bumblebee did not understand all, if not most of what his creator was saying, but her tone was calm and soothing and he understood their bond perfectly. His creators would protect him. They loved him and he loved them.

He scrambled to move himself directly over Elita's spark and when he found it, he buried himself in it, pushing himself as close to that bright spark at he could get. He wound his hands out of the blanket and grabbed hold of Elita's chassis. He wasn't letting go in a hurry.

And Elita didn't mind. The little bots whimpering had all but stopped, and the only sound was the quiet clicks he made to reassure himself. This spark was light and warm. It enveloped him. He liked that; it made him feel safe. Elita stroked the helm of her sparking with the end of one of her digits, and continued to send out calming signals to him. She began rocking slightly and it wasn't long before the mechling was coaxed back into recharge.

She looked down at the tiny bot and smiled. She shifted him slightly and re-wrapped him in his blanket, her paranoia creeping back, but she made no attempt to remove herself from her young ones grip. She simply stood up and walked back to the room all three shared in the private quarter. She slipped back in, closing the door silently.

She passed the crib and went straight to the berth she shared with Optimus. His optics were shuttered, but they came online dimly as Elita climbed back onto the berth. He looked over Elita before his optics fell on the recharging yellow sparkling in her arms that was clutching onto her dependently. He smiled at them both, pulling Elita into him. They wrapped themselves around each other, shielding their little one between their joined sparks; effectively sandwiching him between them.

But as Optimus spark came close to the mechling, one tiny hand undid itself from Elita and made to grasp for Optimus, feeling the power of the matrix draw near. At catching nothing, the motion caused the tiny bot to stir from the short recharge he had gotten.

Bumblebee turned he little faceplates up to the soft, warm ones of his mech creator. Groggy optics scanned the big red and blue mech and reached out to him again. Optimus complied and moved close enough to have his chassis against the sparklings back, while Elita's spark was touching his front. This seemed to make the little spark happy. He murmured and sighed sleepily and quickly fell back into recharge.

"Oh Bumblebee…" Elita whispered adoringly, pushing the blanket around the mechling a little more, "He's just so perfect", this she whispered to Optimus.

"I know Elita. I know", he replied, stroking Bumblebee's little helm, letting love flow freely though his bonds to him and Elita. He looked at Bumblebee's discoloured faceplates from the energon tears and listened to his soft clicking, along with the occasional small rev of his internal systems.

"By the way, I think we need to upgrade his language and converse packs. He's getting to want to communicate more", Elita said offhandedly.

"Hm, yes I was beginning to notice that as well. We'll do it in the morning. It will be one less job to see to", the Prime said, slight annoyance at the next orns task making its way into his vocal processor.

Then Optimus lent forward and pushed his forehead into Elita's, looking his mate straight in the optics.

~: I love you: ~ he sent. Elita smiled back, pressing her mouth plates into her mates.

~: Get some recharge. We have all those nobles to contend with tomorrow, and I have your brother to trick into sparkling sitting: ~ Optimus laughed at this.

~: Fair point: ~ he conceded.

And without words, both Creators engaged their recharge subroutines, knowing that few things would ever overcome the feeling of contentment that they felt at that moment.

oOo

(The next orn)

Megatron sat in the rec-room aghast.

His brother's accursed femme and his bodyguards bit on the side were standing in front of him, fussing over the sparkling they had placed in his lap.

Smokescreen and Hound were sitting on the couch opposite, hiding barely concealed laughter. The two mechs themselves were entertaining three of the younglings who between themselves were playing, fighting and arguing with each other. Barricade had yet to turn up.

Smokescreen almost always had youngling sitting on his off shift due to the fact that his little brother, Bluestreak, often got upset at being away from him for more than a few joors. He was still by no means over the death of his Creators.

Hound however, was becoming an increasing familiar face to the younglings. Prowl had insisted he have more time with them since the enforcer felt Hound was a better influence on them than…certain others.

But the two mechs and three of the four younglings had been most surprised at seeing Elita and Chromia come into the rec-room, considering it was early orn and they should be attending to their duties. But to see them hauling a flabbergasted Lord Protector after them, well… it had been an unexpected development.

"Why do I have to do this?" Megatron argued irritably, trying to push the little yellow mechling back towards his Creator. Not that Bumblebee needed the encouragement. He didn't like not being with his Creators. He didn't want to be left in the rec-room without his adults. Bumblebee was doing his upmost best to get back into Elita's arms and Megatron was all for helping him.

"No… nah… no go… Eta!" Bumblebee called uncertainly, clicking and buzzing his plea as well for good measure. He didn't quite know how to properly formulate words and nor did he know a lot of vocabulary. He found it difficult to use he vocal processor and clicking was much easier. But Elita wasn't listening to his protests. She was instead focused on the mech his Creator was trying to leave him with.

"Because", Elita started, scruffing Bumblebee and placing him into Megatron hands as the mechling tried to climb back onto her again, "You have a free orn. Myself and Optimus are greeting nobles, which might I add you should thank Primus you have gotten out of, and we need a sparkling sitter", Elita finished, giving the Lord Protector an unyielding stare as he let Bumblebee out of his large clawed hands without any opposition, as the sparkling made another attempt to get back to his Creator.

"Precisely. I have a free orn, when does that ever happen? Once a vorn if I'm lucky, and what makes you think I want to spend it looking at my brother's bratling" Megaton spoke aggravated as the little yellow monster was put back into his hands yet again. But seeing both femmes' faceplates, he didn't let Bumblebee go this time; he valued his aft too much.

"What makes you think Bumblebee wants to be with you?" Chromia snorted, indicting to the way Bumblebee was struggling desperately to get out of Megatron's grasp. Megatron grunted. All three knew that wasn't why Bumblebee was trying to get back to Elita.

Most of the time, Elita and Optimus managed to keep Bumblebee with them, and he didn't need to be looked after by others. Bumblebee didn't like being separated from his Creators, and at such a young age it was unsurprising. But Megatron could generally put the little spark at ease better than most, which was a truly incredible thing in itself. Most bots took one look at the Lord Protector and made a bee line for the nearest exit. Megatron wasn't Bumblebee's favourite non-creator mech by a long way. Ironhide had beaten Megatron to that position almost as soon as the mechling had been sparked. But Ironhide was always busy seeing to the Prime. He was never in a position, like most of the mechs and femmes Bumblebee had taken a strong liking to, to sparkling sit.

That was the real reason why Elita had chosen Megatron to look after Bumblebee. The sparkling got along very well with the Lord Protector. And even though the big brute would never admit it, even under the threat of unending torture in the lowest levels of the Pit, would he ever admit that he too liked spending time with the curious yellow mechling.

"Why can't those two look after him?" Megatron argued, pointing at Smokescreen and Hound.

Not that the two mechs noticed. Hound was too busy trying to pry Sunstreaker's personal datapad he used for drawing out of Sideswipes hands, after the little trickster had stolen it and pressed the reset button, changing all of Sunstreaker's preset codes. Smokescreen was holding onto a scruffed Sunstreaker who was getting angry, which was never a good thing. And Bluestreak was stood on the floor staring at his caretakers and the twins and was starting to get upset at all the commotion. And all that before Barricade had even arrived.

Elita and Chromia looked at Megatron purposefully.

"I think they have enough to contend with. Four younglings will keep they busy enough without a sparkling to watch as well" Elita said without hesitation.

"Actually there is only three" Megatron pointed out, "and this thing" he indicted to the starting to cry sparkling, "is in recharge seventy percent of the time. They won't even notice he's there", Megatron justified, holding the sparkling by the scruff bar at arm length as he began to wail.

It was at that point that Jazz walked though the rec-room door with Barricade at foot. The ever energized youngling needed no telling were to go. He hugged his creator's leg before running off to join the mayhem the other younglings were creating.

"Bye Jazz", he called over his shoulder. Jazz waved him off, before smirking at the unfortunate situation Smokescreen and Hound seemed to be in. He was about to turn to exit when he caught sight of Megatron, the femmes and little Bumblebee. He cracked a smile.

~ Tough luck dare' Megs ~ he laughed over a private com line.

~ Get out or I'll set Prowl on you. I think he would take great enjoyment in fragging you to oblivion again ~ Megatron snarked, un-amused.

Wincing at the memory of that regrettably unforgettable interfacing session, Jazz left the rec-room without another word, unconsciously rubbing his chassis as he did.

"Now there are four younglings", Chromia pointed out, just to annoy the already annoyed Lord Protector. He sneered at her, but Elita wasn't listening to the banter.

Instead she sent out reassuring signals to her mechling and placed a hand affectionately over his helm.

"Bumblebee? Don't cry little one, I'm not going to be gone for long", Elita soothed.

"No go!" Bumblebee's high voice called out. He clicked and warbled as well to make sure his Creator understood she was not to leave without him.

Elita bent down when Bumblebee started to struggle in Megatron hands and the sound of gears grinding reached her audios. Though she stayed far enough away from her sparkling to prevent him from simply latching onto her.

"I need you to be a good sparkling for Megatron, okay? You like Megatron. He'll play with you and look after you until I get back" Elita spoke calmly to her keening child before sending a stern look to Megatron, "Won't you Megatron", she ground out, a sharp glint in her optics.

Megatron flinched at her look. Slaggin femmes.

"Yes Elita", Megatron grumbled begrudgingly, drawing the sparkling to him and wrapping an arm around the little fiend in defeat.

"Good", she said looking back to the whimpering sparkling, "See, you'll be fine. You be a good little bot, and if you ask nicely the younglings will let you play with them", she spoke, easing Bumblebee into a calmer state. "Okay?"

Bumblebee nodded, though energon tears still rolled down his faceplates and his mouthplates quivered slightly.

The two femmes took the sparkling's semi-subdued state as their cue to leave. Elita smiled at Bumblebee one last time before she and Chromia stood and left. At seeing his Creator moving away, Bumblebee moved forward in Megatron's arms and reached out towards her, tiny digits straining for his Creator. But when the doors quietly hissed shut behind them, Bumblebee's arms dropped limply by his sides and more silent energon tears coursed out of his optics.

"Eta gone?" Bumblebee hiccupped up to Megatron, lifting an arm again at the door, unsure if he was using the right words.

"Yes, Elita's gone", the large, still grouchy mech agreed.

Bumblebee shimmied back towards his caretakers chest and curled into it, finding some small manner of peace in doing so.

"You no gone", Bumblebee pleaded, "You stay…please?" the scared little mech appealed to the huge, hulking Lord Protector. Megatron looked at him, meeting the sparkling frightened gaze.

Every time Megatron looked at Bumblebee he couldn't help but feel there was something special about little bot. He just couldn't quite put a digit on what.

"I'm not going anywhere" Megatron reassured Bumblebee, tucking the sparkling closer into his own frame, "I couldn't go anywhere if I wanted to", the last part he grumbled more to himself. He still couldn't believe he'd been trapped into sparkling sitting on his orn off. Maybe he was getting soft. He didn't ponder the thought though. He merely picked up a control unit that was on the couch next to him, and flicked on the media screen to his side.

Bumblebee could feel Elita getting further away. He could feel Optimus even further away in the direction his femme creator was heading. He wished he could understand why he couldn't go with them. They had tried to tell him, but he didn't know what a noble was. Were they dangerous? Were his creators in danger? He didn't know. It made him scared. He stuck out one hand and fixed it firmly around the pointed edges of his caretaker's upper thigh armour. Megatron would keep him safe. Megatron would look after him.

But even that knowledge didn't stop him thinking about Elita.

Maybe he should go and play with younglings, like Elita had said. Bluestreak was great to play with, and the twins and Barricade were always fun to be around. They taught him all the best places to hide in the rec-room, and how to get away from their caretakers. They played all these pranks on the adults and sometimes he was allowed to help them if there was something he was strong enough to do, which sadly wasn't very often. Still, they never left him out. They always made sure he had a good place to watch the fireworks from. And one time, the fireworks were actually real.

All of a sudden Bumblebee wanted to go over to the younglings badly. His fear at being left by his Creator vanished. Now he was excited. He didn't often get the chance to create some havoc of his own.

He let go of Megatron and gave the massive mechs arm a good push as well as clicking at the Lord Protector a few times to get his attention.

"Down", Bumblebee demanded, pointing towards the brawling twins and the caretakers doing their upmost best to pull them apart. Megatron took one look at the animated Bumblebee and then one look in the direction he was pointing. He smirked. It was surprising Bumblebee didn't get whip lash from changing moods so quickly. He scruffed the mechling and carefully placed him on his feet on the floor, honing a sensor on the sparkling as he did. Elita would have his aft he didn't keep tabs on his brother's little yellow eye sore, or worse she'd set Chromia on him and she'd have his aft.

'Yeah right' Bumblebee thought. He buckled down onto his skid plates almost as soon as he had been placed on his feet. Stupid adult trying to make him walk all the time. He couldn't go more than five or six paces without falling over. Crawling was much easier and not to mention much faster. He took off on all fours with as much speed as his joint motors and gyros allowed him to.

"Blue!" Bumblebee called to the sitting youngling who was holding a datapad up an also sitting Barricade.

"Cade look, Bee can talk" Bluestreak exclaimed, dropping the datapad and letting it clatter to the floor before getting to his feet and going over to their little friend, Barricade hot on his heels. The twins seemed to notice that Bumblebee was coming over to play and stopped their squabbling to go and join the threesome.

"Sunny! Sides!" Bumblebee screeched in delight as he pushed himself back into a sitting position and clapped his hands. He'd seen adult clap their hands when they approved of something so he assumed it was the right thing to do. When the Bluestreak laughed at his actions, he stored the information in his CPU that yes; clapping was the right thing to do.

Hound and Smokescreen sat back down on their couch, venting air. The five began twittering between themselves, half talking properly and half speaking sparkling gibberish for Bumblebee's benefit. It would be some time before the young sparkling fazed out of the clicking stage. He was still under two vorns old after all. It was surprising he was talking 'like a big bot' at all. Most sparklings were well into their third or fourth vorn before their communication packs were upgraded. But then there was something different about Bumblebee. He was unnaturally intelligent for his age, and considering he had only that orn had his language packs upgraded, he was more coherent than he should have been. He might well have still been all but welded to his Creators, but most sparklings were for there first few vorns. Certainly Bumblebee was special, but nobody seemed to be able to say why.

But there were four creatures that didn't have any queries about the curious sparkling.

After half a breem of chattering, Barricade and Bluestreak went off to retrieve toys from their caretakers, who happily sub-spaced a bag of them if it kept their charges entertained. Even though they were a bit basic for the younglings, they were more than complicated enough for little Bumblebee. Bluestreak, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe all plugged in game chips before syncing up and competing against one another, while Barricade showed Bumblebee how to put certain shaped blocks though certain shaped holes, so they would fall into the box they had come out of.

For some reason, Bumblebee couldn't understand what he had done wrong when he had taken the lid off the box and put all the blocks back inside in one go. Barricade was very insistent he had done it wrong but all the blocks were back in the box weren't they?

They went on playing until the younglings were taken off for lessons, and their caretakers had gone off for an on duty shift.

As Bumblebee watched the younglings leave, he crawled his way back over to Megatron releasing a tired whirl of air from his vents, after his cooling systems fought to return his internal temperature back to normal after so much playing.

Now it was just Bumblebee and Megatron. The rec-room was more or less deserted save for four or five aerials playing chips on a far off table and of course, the imposing Lord Protector and his little yellow charge.

"Hungry…" Bumblebee mumbled reaching up to his caretaker while he balanced precariously on his knee joints. Megatron huffed again wondering just how he had found himself in this situation. Scruffing the tired-looking infant and sitting him on one of his broad armoured thighs, Megatron produced a small bottle of glowing blue sparkling grade energon from what appeared to be nowhere.

But Bumblebee didn't care where it came from, he just cared that it was there. He flapped his multi hinged arms at the bottle.

"Ah, ah, mine!" he shouted at Megatron as the unlucky mech shook the energon. "Mine!"

"Impatient brat" Megatron groused, pushing the soft silicon nozzle into the eager mouthplates of the mechling. He tipped the little bots head back, keeping a firm hold of the bottle, to ensure the fluid ran easily down into the child's tanks. The last thing he wanted was the little runt purging all over his recently buffed armour because the thing had sucked in too much air while feeding.

Bumblebee lent himself against his caretaker's torso and suckled happily regularly squeaking and clicking in contentment. His tilted head caused him to look up brightly, albeit though drooping optics, into the dark blue orbs of the Lord Protector. Megatron's hollowed face softened and was embellished with a rarely seen, small and somewhat reluctant smile. He had his back to aerials; it wasn't like anyone could see him. But still…

Megatron disliked the way he felt so attached to his brother's kid. He felt destabilized by his emotional involvement with Bumblebee. He felt vulnerable and weakened, and they were feelings that were so foreign to him. He knew his brother and his sparkmate had become susceptible to a mental attack because of their connection to Bumblebee. He was also aware that the likes of Ironhide and Chromia, Jazz and Prowl and such likes were also falling in line on that dangerous road. But he never imagined that he would become exposed as well.

It wasn't long before Bumblebee felt his tanks becoming full and he pushed the practically empty bottle away. The bottle disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and not for the first time did Bumblebee wonder just how adults did that. Megatron clasped the mechling's scruff bar and lifted him to his shoulder. In a very un-Megatron fashion, he gently rubbed the lower back panels of the tiny sparkling, ensuring that all the runts' tank connecters were engaged and properly pulsing the fuel around the tired little frame.

For the first time since the younglings left, Bumblebee became aware of how worn-out he was. His frame was limp like a rag doll. The little sparkling clutched an arm around his caretaker's neck, and felt his head fall weakly onto broad and dwarfing shoulder armour. He clicked and sighed sleepily and could faintly hear the irritated groan of his caretaker.

"Little bratling…" Megatron grumbled to himself as the mechling fell into slumber in quite an uncomfortable position for the Lord Protector. He produced a thermal blanket from his subspace that Elita had given him, along with a few other things such as the sparkling, low grade energon. He wrapped in around the tiny frame clinging to his neck and shoulder panels in recharge, before turning his attention back to the media screen.

At least it would be quiet for the next few joors, Megatron thought wryly.

oOo

(Later that orn)

"Thank Primus they're gone" Elita muttered as the party turned back in the direction of the city buildings. Chromia nodded her head once in agreement. In her opinion, there were far too many of the nobles who had there chrome plated helms stuck too far up their gold plated afts.

"Until we meet agen ya lil' glitch sticks!" Jazz waved his hand at the entrance gates the nobles had just left though in forewarning.

"You say that every time they come and you never do anything", Chromia mocked, moving to shadow Elita more closely. In the open they would become easier targets.

"Neither do ya. Ya all hate 'em as much as me, so dunna give me dat slag" and Jazz was right. They did all feel that way, but it didn't change that fact that none of them could physically do anything about the nobles.

"Jazz, you shouldn't talk about them like that. They're Cybertron's aristocracy. They are programmed to follow the values of the Cybertron of old to ensure the old traditions do not die out. It's not their fault that they act the way they do", Prowl rattled off, the information coming straight from his battle computer. Jazz made to contradict him but was beaten to the punch by the Prime himself.

"Actually, I am in agreement with Jazz". The other four bots turned to face their leader. It was not like Optimus to condone such comments, even if the rest of them did agree with Jazz's statement.

"Ya are Sir?" Jazz inquired, incredulous.

"Much as I respect and can understand the value of the old Cybertron, our world has progressed. If the nobles do not learn that there is no longer a place for their straight forward thinking and plain society ways of hierarchy, there will soon no longer be a Cybertron for them. And I do not wish for that to happen" he sighed. Elita came to walk beside him, understanding his never ending struggle to try to appease everyone. Unfortunately, they were both well aware that though they may win some battles in that area, they would always lose the war.

"Does Optimus have any more duties to attend to this orn Prowl? Bumblebee has been left with Megatron far longer than I had intended and the younglings will still be in lessons with their academy teacher. I dread to think what those two have gotten up to while we've been away". Chromia gave a crooked smile, knowing that Elita had been thinking of the mischief her own young ones had created in their early vorns when they had been separated from their Creators.

"Unfortunately yes" Prowl said. "As you know, today been the combat induction of successful new recruits into the Autobot forces. Ironhide is seeing to it, which is why I am here with Optimus instead of him" Prowl explained. Elita hadn't actually given any thought to why Ironhide wasn't present but now it did make sense. "It has been left to Ironhide and his subordinates to handle, but it is required for the Prime to give a small address to those who have not be sent back to the previous training sector to congratulate them on their progress", Prowl finished monotone.

There was a collected gusting of air though vents, as all frames began to advance in the direction of the training arenas.

oOo

The femme was incredible. They way she moved; the way she wielded her weapon, it was both magnificent and horrific all at the same time.

She was the sort of bot Ironhide hoped every time a combat induction was held, he would find; the brute strength, the refinement, and the shine in the hardened optics that held the killer instinct. It was a similar style of fighting that had drawn him to Chromia the first time he had laid optics on her on the day of their combat induction so many decavorns ago. This femme wasn't quite like Chromia. She wasn't as sharp with her movements and nor she didn't have the same feline agility, but she was head and shoulders above all of the other recruits. It annoyed him slightly to have gone though the entire orn, finding nothing but just above average abilities and then to come to the last fight of the day and find some real talent.

This femme had shown good skills the last time Ironhide had seen her when they evaluating the recruits target awareness. This had basically meant taking them all down to the firing range, handing them all a level two marking rifle and telling them to shoot a hollow frame from two hundreds yards away. She had hit the dead centre of the target - the empty spark case - almost every time.

But anyone could shoot at a hollow frame. It didn't move and it didn't fire back. In Ironhide CPU, only a combat induction proved how good a bot's natural fighting abilities really were.

They had been in teams of four, one team against the other. The objective was to neutralize only, but none of them were actually allowed to use weapons. In other words, in was a test of a recruit's hand-to-hand combat ability.

And this femme was picking them off one at a time. Her teammates didn't have to lift a digit. As soon as the starting bell had rung, she was taking them down in a flurry of red and gold. It was a striking paint job. It caught a bots attention before her sharp, pointed frame did, or her coarsely shaped but not the less enticing faceplates.

"That one has potential", Ironhide said to mech beside him, as he they looked across the training field to observe the match. Hoist nodded in agreement. The one hand medic had had little to do up until that point, but he could see from barely unchallenged attacks the femme was thrusting on her opponents, that he would soon have more than a couple of dents to knock out. He sent out a message over the com lines to First Aid, telling him that he would need his assistance as soon as he could get to the arenas. Sure he could bang out dents and do field patch ups as well as the next medic, but ruptured energon lines and possible on sight surgery from the ways things were going, were not his speciality.

"She reminds me of someone", the medic half-joked, giving Ironhide a cheerful rise of his optic ridges. Watching the femme fight, Ironhide opened his mouthplates to reply but shut them again briefly to give the medic a thin smile.

"Chromia has more style" he disagreed.

"I wonder how you would have replied to that had you not been able to feel me approaching and coming within audio range", Chromia asked as she came to stand beside her mate, her hand running over the plasma cannon mounted on her mate's right arm.

~: The same way: ~ he replied truthfully.

Chromia's hand stopped over a heat extractor on the cannon. She snatched it between her digits and squeezed it, crushing small dents in the sides. Ironhide's whole arm tensed as he grunted in discomfort.

~: Good: ~ Chromia replied sweetly, squeezing a little more tightly before releasing him.

"So, Ironhide, ad a gud orn beatin da slag out of unsuspecting recruits, an messin with der impressionable minds" Jazz asked, choosing like the rest of them to ignore the exchange between the two mates. After all, he had not yet become suicidal.

The titanic weapons specialist grunted again. So that was a yes.

A conch horn blew, signalling the end of the match. The femme immediately halted her attacks and drew back towards her own team.

Four mechs lay groaning on the floor, rubbing their damaged wiring and stinging gyros, trying to get to their feet to the protest of their aching frames.

Hoist was across the training field as fast as mechanically possible; his programming as a field medic taking over. He had a small scanner in hand and was being to process the injuries the femme had inflicted on her ill-fated opponents. First Aid came though the entrance doors as Hoist began to rattle though the damage report. First Aid inclined his head to his superiors first before going over to Hoist.

"Those two", Hoist indicated to the mossy green mech who was clutching a large gash on his left arm plating, and the navy blue mech who was still on the floor that had his hands covering his lower left leg armour. Both sets of hands had a slow stream of blue energon seeping out between them. "Are sporting partially spilt secondary energon lines in the fomented areas. He", Hoist turned to point at the dark indigo mech standing to one side, "has a full set of broken right wrist gears, with possible neural circuit damage from the small laceration on the back his helm, but has minimal energon loss so is in better form than expected. And that one" Hoist pointed to the last and smallest of the four. A silver mech who was one his feet and scowling profusely at the femme who had beaten him, "has a cracked left cheek plate and two partially loosened right optic bolts, with one optic to main processor connector fuse blown. But other than the malfunctioning optic nerve receptor, he had escaped this little escapade with nothing more than a scratched paint job and the odd bit of dented armour", Hoist finished off happily, glad the damage wasn't in fact as bad as he had thought it would be. But it was bad enough.

The two medics helped the wounded out of the arenas in silence as they went to meet the Hatchet for the first time. One had to pity them…

Another three mechs stood staring at the femme that had, thank Primus, been on their team. She had taken all the opposition down and she hadn't even fully engaged her cooling systems. Overpowering four mechs, three of which had been quite considerably bigger than herself, had apparently barely even crossed though her processor. The three hadn't even engaged in the fighting for fear of getting in her way. She might not have been wielding an actual weapon, but those claws looked mighty sharp.

The red and gold femme stood straight and rolled her shoulder joints as she did, relaxing tense connectors and smoothing a slightly dislodged piece of chest armour. But other than that and few superficial scratches and the odd dent, she had taken next to no damage.

"Impressive", Chromia spoke to the femme, as all four of the recruits stood to attention as their superiors came over. "Not many new recruits could take on four mechs almost singlehandedly and take as little damage as you have" Chromia analysed as she walked around the femme, inspecting her well armoured frame with a critical eye. The femme kept her face void of emotion, but spoke in the fashion that recruits were taught to speak when talking to ranked officers.

"Thank you ma'am", the femme courteously replied. Chromia regarded her. There was something she didn't like about this femme. Chromia inspected the chest amour plate that was still slightly ajar, but the femme didn't react in any way. She was so blank she reminded Chromia of a drone. Chromia raised her optics ridges a little as she turned back to face her mate.

Ironhide tilted his head back in understanding.

"The Primes address is to be postponed until all recruits can be present. Dismissed", Ironhide rumbled. The four recruits on the field and a dozen more from the far viewing bar inclined their heads to the Prime and began to filter out. "Not you", Ironhide called to femme who was in the process of turning towards the exit. A glint of trepidation passed though her optics but it was quickly locked away behind her emotionless mask. Instead the femme stood to attention again until only herself and Autobot commanders remained.

A moment of silence passed.

"You have quite the temperament", Elita observed as she like Chromia had done, walked around the femme, examining her.

"It's controlled ma'am. I only release it on my enemies", the femme looked straight at the Prime Consort, not being in intimated at the actions both Chromia and Elita had used. She was proving to be a hard one to crack. Usually recruits were easily influenced and submissive to their superiors, but this femme was clearly unfazed by both Elita's and Chromia's attempts at putting her in her place. It wasn't that they didn't like her attitude, but rather soldiers who at this stage weren't bending over backwards to appease the higher ups could prove to be dangerous in war combat. This was mainly because they had a tendency to go against commands should they feel that there way of addressing the situation was better than what had been ordered.

Soldiers like this could get bots killed.

"You see the other recruits as your enemies?" Elita questioned her gaze hardening seriously as she attempted again to break though the femme's wall. She must have succeeded on some level for the femme faltered in her blank look and hesitated before answering.

"They were my opponents' ma'am. I treated them as such", she replied slowly.

"Yeah, we saw dat", Jazz said, moving out from behind Prowl to get a good look at the femme for himself. Prowl moved with him, unwilling to let his bonded wonder too far.

The femme turned her head slightly in Jazz's direction, but was careful to keep her focus upon Elita out of required respect. She gave a small nod with a polite shutter of her optics to acknowledge his words.

"Where did you train?" it was Ironhide that moved to speak this time, addressing the femme as he loomed over her.

With a small smirk she answered with sly undertones "Here and there Sir. I've been around, seen a lot of our world. There are bots in the lower levels of the cities that are more than just unsavoury. A fair few of those bots see it as a kill or be killed world. If you didn't know how to fight then they would extinguish your spark with little thought and use your frame for spare parts and scrap metal".

"So you learnt to fight as a means of self defence" Chromia asked coolly, still studying the femme before her.

"Yes and no ma'am. I learnt to fight out of necessity, not for any one reason in particular".

There was another moment of silence as CPU's processed information and analyzed the current situation.

Optimus, who had remained silent up until now, decided to track the femme down a different path.

"What is your designation?" he asked casually, optics warm and oddly welcoming. Unlike the rest of her superiors, he seemed to be the only one that was at perfect ease around her.

"Flamewar Sir. My name is Flamewar" the femme answered with a small smile. "And if I may say My Lord, it is an honour to meet you. I hope to one day be able to help bring justice to the people, under the banner of your name", she spoke with honest empathy.

Optimus considered her with kind and knowing optics, but he said nothing.

"It says in your files that you're originally from Centurion Traxes, correct?" Prowl asked after taking a clip board from Ironhide with all the recruits' credentials.

"Yes Sir"

"Sparked via the Allspark?"

"Yes Sir"

"Creator bond instilled straight after the initial sparking?"

"Yes Sir"

"Are your Creators still alive?"

"No Sir"

"What happened to them?" Prowl queered frankly, as he had with all his questions.

"Offlined in the Great Kaon Uprising Sir" Flamewar couldn't help it as her voice took on a bitter tone.

Prowl looked at her with his own ever stoic blank expression. He had succeeded were his partners had failed; he had managed to elicit an emotional response from the femme.

"How old were you?" Prowl pressed on.

For the first time Flamewar couldn't hold his gaze. She dropped her optics to the floor and after some deliberation replied quietly, "Eighteen vorns Sir".

"Sparkling or youngling?"

"Sparkling Sir"

"Where you approaching upgrading?"

"Yes Sir"

Prowl looked content with his answers until his battle computer churned out a very good question.

"Were your Creators offlinned by Autobots?" he questioned, pinning her down up his stare. The others seem to bristle around him, though the Prime remained unmoved.

"No Sir. They were extinguished in the initial rioting before the Autobots arrived" Flamewar said never hesitating, meeting his stare.

This sent even more alarm bells going off in their processors. Was this femme here to get revenge because the Autobots hadn't been able to save her Creators? Did she blame them? Was she looking for an opportunity to assassinate the Prime and/or Prime's Consort? Or would she try to use Bumblebee to cripple the Prime instead?

"Why do you want to be an Autobot?" Optimus asked suddenly.

"Because Sir" Flamewar began, "the Autobots save people. I want to fight to protect others instead of just fighting. I want to make a difference. Like I said Sir, I've been around. But I can't change anything on my own. The Autobots can affect the bigger picture. I want to be a part of that. I've been wandering the planet for too long. This isn't the first time I have become subservient to another Sir. I will follow your orders without question. I believe in your cause. I do not betray those whom I have sworn to serve Lord Prime".

"Then I look forward to seeing you progress", Optimus said kindly, but his spark twisted slightly. "But I will warn you, here in the Autobots, we work together. You will not be trained to be a sparkless killing machine and we fight as a team", he chided. "I think you would do well to remember that". Optimus gave Flamewar a meaningful look.

"Yes Sir. I'm sorry, Sir, for my earlier actions", Flamewar replied.

"Don't apologize for what you did. You fought very well. But rather you should consider how you fought on your own and not as part of the team you were in. Understood?"

"Yes Sir".

Optimus seemed satisfied with her responses.

"Dismissed" he ordered, optics never leaving the femme as she bowed and left. Looks were shared but Optimus just kept looking directly at the exit that Flamewar had left though. As soon as she was gone though, his mask of kindness dissipated, and he unwittingly sent worry though his bond to Elita.

~: Optimus… are you alright? : ~ Elita queered with concern and she came beside him and slipped her hand into his. He didn't answer her. Instead he turned back to his commanders, all warmness from his face gone. Instead it had been replaced with perilous disapproval.

"Watch her", he ordered his tone and mood taking on graveness. They nodded in affirmative, saying nothing at the Primes disparaging commands. He moved with Elita to head back in the direction of the rec-room to pick up their mechling.

~: Optimus, what's wrong? Your spark is pulsing oddly: ~ Elita pushed, worry and concern for her mate echoing down their bond.

~: It's nothing to concern ourselves with just yet, Dearspark: ~ Optimus said with finality. Elita recoiled a little. It wasn't often her mate was so closed with her.

But Optimus wasn't doing so out of malice towards his mate, oh no. But he didn't want to tell her about what had just happened to him when he had met the femme. The matrix had pushed against his spark, clouding his processors for an astrosecond before the past Primes began whispering words of warning into the still young Prime's CPU.

"Beware of the painted black soldiers,

That drone on the violet stare,

Beware of the fire before you,

Beware, young Prime, beware"

And if Optimus was being honest with himself, he could have sworn he heard a fading high pitched cry shadowed behind their words.

Curse the Primes chanting their riddles. Did they not know the meaning of a straight forward warning or answer?

It had been a credit to his self control that he had been able to remain calm and natural towards the femme, but it took even more to stop his spark alerting Elita to the danger. He didn't want them to know. What could they do? Flamewar had done nothing as of yet. And for all Optimus knew, the Primes weren't even speaking about Flamewar. For now it was best to watch.

Yet that did little to soothe his frayed nerve connectors, as the Prime played over the whispering like a mantra.

'Beware, young Prime, beware, Beware, young Prime, beware…'

So I wasn't really very happy with this chapter. It just didn't seem to flow very well when I was writing it. I'm sort of in the middle of going from where I was, to where I want to be so please bare with me.

Most of this chapter is fluff, but it also has a purpose. I needed to get Bumblebee talking, and I needed to show the relationship Megatron holds in regard to Bumblebee. You might say only the last section of this chapter is really relevant but hey-ho what's done is done.

The song for this chapter is "The Only Exception" by the "Glee Cast" as there are three definite different tones to this chapter, the song reflects the largest section which is the one in the middle with Megatron and Bee. It's supposed to try and reflect how Megatron feels about Bumblebee.

Thought it would be cool that instead of the past Primes just answering Optimus like they do in a lot of the fics I have read, why not have them being mysterious and prophetic. Tell me what you think.