Stumbling Out of the Darkness

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers. They officially belong to Hasbro and Takara. I'm taking them for a short spin.

Kup stared down at the data pad in his hands. The casualty list grew longer with each passing day. The latest KIA included Elita-1 and Chromia. Scrubbing at his face, brushing away the tears, Kup subspaced the report, hearing Springer calling his name. The ancient mech stood, heading back into the rubble of what was once Alpha Trion's lab. Kup was overseeing the remaining femmes and Springer as they went through the place, scavenging anything valuable and downloading all the information he could find.

Some retrieved data was useful, some disturbing and dating back to both Quintesson wars. Most was corrupted, but Springer was excited by what he found.

"Hey, Kup, you might wanna read this," the young mech said, handing the elder a data pad.

"It's mostly historical garbage about an experimental project from the end of the Golden Age, but it includes a list of all of Shockwave's know energon stores, updated to within the past few weeks," Springer said.

"Good work, Springer," Kup said, clapping the green mech on the shoulder.

"Think this is enough salvage to warrant going back to Earth?" Springer asked. "I want to get back to Rodimus."

"So do I, kid," Kup said. "We'll have to go back for the funeral, anyway."

Kup flinched at the way Springer's energy field lashed out, then withdrew so tight Kup couldn't even feel his anger an annoyance anymore. But the look on his face said all he needed to know about how how the triple changer felt about the situation. His adopted brother and best friend, the former Hot Rod, now Rodimus Prime, was stuck on Earth cleaning up the mess the Autobots left behind when they headed to Cybertron to defend their home world from Unicron's attack.

"C'mon. There's not much more here we can do anyway," Kup said. "The stuff still here is important, but it can wait. I want to see Rodimus as much as you."

88888

Autobot City—Earth

The body of Optimus Prime lay on the berth where they left him in the med bay. Just up and left him alone in the race to defend Cybertron from Unicron. The former Prime was gone. Dead. His fault, if Rodimus Prime was looking for someone to blame. He should've listened to Kup—the fight was Prime's, and he shouldn't have interfered. Now he held the Matrix of Leadership, and was Prime. Something he should not be.

Hell, Prime passed the Matrix to Ultra Magnus, not him. Magnus was Optimus' chosen successor. And what happened in Unicron's head, hearing Optimus' voice, had to be a hallucination. But he was now Matrix-bearer, proof enough he was now Prime, chosen of the Matrix itself.

Still didn't change the fact Optimus was gone, and his cold, grey, dead shell was laid out just as they left him, arm still hanging off the berth from where he'd been trying to hand the Matrix to Magnus, and he just got in the way. Seemed to be a way of life recently, sticking his nose in where it didn't belong.

"I'm sorry," Rodimus said. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Kup was, as usual, correct in his assessment of the situation—it was your fight, not mine. Ironically, it's mine now. Karma, I guess, as the humans like to say. And I don't want this. The Matrix, being Prime, any of it. I'd take it all back if I could. I don't suppose the Matrix let somebody time travel, can it?"

He snorted. Yeah. If only it was possible.

"They're planning a big funeral for you and the others. Ultra Magnus said I have to speak. I told him to shove it. He can do the talking. I've talked enough the past few days, but no one wants to listen. Jazz is helping, but he's barely keeping it together because Prowl's gone. So's Ratchet and Ironhide and Wheeljack. . .too many. . .Yeah, the war's finally over, but at what cost? The city's a wreck, nobody's even figured out just how many we lost, and don't even get me started on Cybertron. . ."

He trailed off at the sound of footsteps and the now-familiar annoyed ex-venting of Ultra Magnus.

"You shouldn't be here," Magnus said. "You need to rest."

"Blow it out your aft," Rodimus muttered.

Another ex-vent. "Rodimus. . ."

"I can't rest," Rodimus said. "I can't do this."

"You're not the only one who's hurting," Magnus said, setting a hand on the other mech's shoulder. "Kup and Springer will be back sometime today. I thought you'd like to know."

"Thanks," Rodimus said.

"And you should try and rest," Magnus said.

"Can't make it an order now, can you?" Rodimus asked, a wry grin on his face.

"I could pull rank, but I'd rather not," Magnus said.

"I know," Rodimus said. "I just don't want him to be alone."

"I'll stay," Magnus said. He didn't add he couldn't recharge, either.

88888

The trip back to Earth was mostly uneventful. Plenty of time to go over the data pulled from the lab, and Springer wasn't in the mood to be bothered. Kup couldn't blame the kid. He'd just lost his sire, his best friend was in a situation no one envied, and he was just plain done. Kup understood, but his age and experience left him a little better prepared to deal with it all. Just barely.

His relationship with Ironhide had cooled before the Ark left Cybertron, and getting sparked in the middle of a war wasn't the best idea. Springer was the result of that relationship. But time and distance couldn't diminish the loss of Kup's old friend and lover. Also, his emotional state wasn't much better than Springer's, and getting worse as he read the information on the data pad.

He'd considered Alpha Trion a friend, but not anymore. Good thing the mech was dead, and with good reason. The mech had conducted unsanctioned experiments on subjects without their consent. Younglings. Just kids, not old enough for their final upgrades, or give their consent. Which was why they were chosen. Except Alpha Trion chose to overlook one tiny detail. One of his test subjects did have one living creator.

Kup slammed the data pad down on the console, earning a glare from Springer.

"What's wrong with you?" Springer snapped.

"Don't," Kup said. "Just don't."

Springer rolled his optics, going back to his flight telemetry.

Kup set his head in his hands. Why now? Because the universe was a fickle bitch and Primus didn't even have the back struts to wake up and defend himself and his children from the Unmaker?

Memories came flooding back, and it was almost too much. He'd made peace with these particular losses a long time ago because he had to. A bond mate and their only creation lost in an accident. Except now Kup knew it was no accident, and their sparkling hadn't died. He'd lived, and his Orion had been sold to the highest bidder.