Too Late

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, all rights to it belong to Hasbro, not me.

When the Decepticon armies first rose out of the pits of Kaon in their conquest for power, it was not the Autobots who suffered the first blows of the Great War, but the Neutrals instead. One by one, from Altihex to Gygax, the Decepticons burned the cities to the ground and slaughtered their people without remorse. 'Cowards,' Megatron had called them. In his eyes, being considered a neutral who refused to fight, was by far worse than being called an Autobot.

Now Praxus lay in smoking ruins as the latest in Megatron's many victories. The fires were starting to die down and the Decepticons had long since left the field after picking it clean like vultures over a carcass. From her high vantage point, Elita-One gazed down sorrowfully at what little remained of one of Cybertron's most prosperous cities. With most of the Autobots still in Iacon, Elita was fortunate enough to be patrolling nearby when she caught a distress call on her frequencies. But it seemed that even that desperate cry for help came too late for whatever bot tried to contact help.

Sighing, the femme Autobot commander activated her scans for any trace of life from the wreckage below. She gasped with both relief and renewed hope when it detected several fragile sparks from below.

'Someone's survived,' She thought as she activated her comm-link.

"This is Elita-One, requesting access to the Autobot Med Lab." A moment of crackling static before a familiar voice answered her call.

"This is Medical Officer Ratchet. Are you alright, Elita?"

"I'm fine Ratchet, but there are others who will require immediate medical assistance. I'm at Praxus and my scans detect survivors. How fast can you deploy a unit here from Iacon?" Elita asked, allowing herself the briefest of smiles at Ratchet's personal concern for her.

"I'd say two Joors as an estimate. I'll send someone immediately. Elita, do not enter Praxus unless absolutely necessary. Decepticon patrols may return and I can not guarantee your safety if you go in alone." His words were clipped more with worry than authority.

"Thanks for the advice Ratchet, but I need to go in there. Some of those bots may be a few klicks from offlining for good. Send reinforcements if you have to but we've just lost the entire population of Praxus and I won't lose another bot's spark as long as I can do something to stop it. Elita-One out."

She cut the line on Ratchet's protest and transformed into vehicle mode. Slowly, but surely, she made her descent into the smoking crater of a once proud city.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Elita-One soon found it next to impossible to travel around the wreckage in vehicle mode and returned to her bi-pedalled form. She certainly hoped Ratchet was just overreacting about Decepticon patrols as she had now lost her advantage of speed. And with the recent defection of the seekers of Vos to the Decepticon Cause, she knew that an aerial assault would make her a sitting duck.

She tried to follow the soft beeps of her scans for life, but being this close to the devastation was making her search difficult. To really see the magnitude of not only the Decepticons' power but also their brutality was painful. Especially, when every now and again, under stacks of rubble she recognised an arm or leg, even a face. It was enough to make her want to offline her optics, but instead she focused on those survivors out there. Steeling herself to become more determined to bring them back alive to the Autobots.

She heard a loud bang nearby followed by crumbling rubble and was suddenly aware of how close she was to a strong, spark signature. Quickly, without hesitation she was in pursuit and jumped over a broken metallic blue pillar to see what was on the other side that had made the noise. Who ever is was, her scans showed them to be mobile and walking away from her. She pulled out her gun, just in case.

"Stop right there!" She shouted out when she finally rounded the corner of debris to see the bot for the first time. A pair of shocked golden optics widened at first in fear and then narrowed in anger. The bot was little more than a mechling, sporting a black and purple paintjob with silver highlights. He clutched his servo as energon from an unknown wound dripped down his face and over his clenched fist. He took three steps backwards away from Elita-One.

The Autobot femme lowered her gun and offered her hand.

"It's alright, little one. My name is Elita-One, I'm an Autobot, you're safe now. Will you tell me your designation as well?" She spoke softly in hopes of calming the distressed youth, but for some reason he growled and took another step backwards.

"Stay away from me, femme! I don't need your help and I certainly don't want it either!" the mech hissed. Elita-One lowered her hand in confusion.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she reassured. The mechling laughed bitterly.

"Really? Is that what you think? Well I got some slagging news for you femme, you already did," he retorted.

"What do you mean? I told you I'm a Autobot, the Decepticons were responsible for this," she attempted to reason with the youth. He was clearly traumatised by his ordeal.

"You just don't get it, do you? Autobots, Decepticons, what's the slagging difference! We're the ones that pay for it in the end!" The mechling doubled over and coughed, splattering red energon over the floor. Once again, Elita-One moved towards him to assist, her optics shone with pity; but the youth flinched away from her touch.

"We can have this argument later, you need to see a medic," Elita-One said sternly. Despite her genuine sympathy for the young mech and her desire to help him, his attitude was starting to grate on her nerves. Couldn't he see that she wasn't the enemy?

"I'd sooner have the Decepticons patch me up than you. A mech knows where he stands with them," the youth snapped so viciously it caused Elita-One to draw away.

"The Decepticons? They were the monsters responsible for this. Child, they destroyed your home and killed all these people," Elita-One said in open-mouthed horror.

"AND YOU AUTOBOTS TOOK MY BROTHER!" With a howl of agony, the young mech lunged for her with his one good servo. Unfortunately for him, Elita was a professional trained and programmed soldier. For a split nano-click, she forgot this was an injured, teenage civilian trying to attack her. All she could see now was a threat.

The youth was sent sprawling across the floor, landing on top of his injured arm. His screams filled Elita-One with shame that she used such unnecessary force on a mechling of all things. She approached him again, but he scrambled upright, wobbling unsteadily, and all the while glaring at the autobot femme.

"I don't care what happened to a city of nameless bots. They never gave me so much as a second glance when they were alive, so I'm glad that they're dead. But you Autobots. My brother signed up for your war and left his family to fend for themselves. He abandoned us! He abandoned me… And for what? He said he wanted to protect us, then why wasn't he here! We needed him here! And now look, MY WHOLE FAMILY HAS BEING OFFLINED BECAUSE OF HIM! BECAUSE OF YOU AUTOBOTS FOR TAKING HIM FROM US!" Despite the mech's obvious anger, he couldn't stop the tears streaming down his cheeks. He broke off his rant with a heart-breaking sob, as he covered his clouded optics with his one good servo.

"Tell me, who is your brother? I can take you to him if that's what you want," Elita-One offered, desperately wanting to reach out to the mechling who was so lost in his grief.

"My brother? No… He is Not my brother. Not anymore…. Just- Just leave me alone." The young mech turned and stumbled away out of sight; back into the twisted labyrinthian of burnt out metal. This time, Elita-One didn't try to stop him. He was beyond her help. Instead she checked her scans for other signs of life, only to find that of the several sparks detected less than a cycle ago, only two continued to pulsate. One obviously from the youth; the other was a good 900m west of her position.

In her spark, she wished the unknown mech luck that he would make it out of this hellhole alive, before taking off in the direction of the tiny spark still beating with life.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Shhhh. Hey, it's alright little spark, come out sweetie," Elita-One whispered as she tried to coax the sparkling she had found under heavy grey slates of rubble. A pair of watery optics stared at her from the darkness. Their owner emitted a few clicks and soft coos, but remained in the shadows, still wary of this strange femme trying to bring it out of it's makeshift shelter. The Autobot femme commander shook her head and sighed at her own vain attempts of pacifying a terrorised sparkling. She had no children of her own and was therefore clueless on how to interact with a sparkling. Being a soldier came first, and although she and Optimus had spoken before the War's outbreak about creating a spark together, that idea was lost in another lifetime now.

"Please little spark, I'll take you to a safe place with lots of nice and friendly bots to look after you," Elita-One pleaded, looking around cautiously for any sign of a Decepticon patrol.

"Baa?" The Sparkling squeaked, surprising Elita. She didn't think it was at any age to speak yet.

"Baa? Who's that?" Elita asked encouragingly. The sparkling crept forwards just a tiny bit.

"Baa! Bruvver Baa!" The child seemed insistent and agitated, bouncing up and down in the darkened rubble.

"I'm sorry little spark, I don't know where your 'baa' is," Elita-One said sadly. The sparkling seemed unhappy with this answer and chattered to itself loudly. Suddenly, with a loud shout, the child burst out of the hole and darted past the Autobot femme.

"BAA! BAAA!" it screamed out to the world around it. Elita's optics widened at the sight of the sparkling. In the dark it had been difficult to see what it looked like, but in the light she almost gasped at the child in front of her.

The sparkling was a mech, with a blue and cream colour scheme and little door wings on his back indicating he would be a racer when he matured out of his protoform. But it was his optics that caused her a great deal of surprise. They were gold, and similarly shaped to the mechling she had met only klicks ago.

"Sweetspark, is this bot your 'brother?" She asked, as she conjured a miniature scanned image of the angry, young mech in the palm of her hand. The sparkling cooed in delight and reached up for the hologram.

"Baa-Cade!" the little Cybertronian gurgled in confirmation. Elita-One smiled in spite of herself. This little one was starting to grow on her.

"Come on then, I know where your brother was last, maybe we can find him together, little spark." Elita-One held out her hand, her smile softening even more, when the sparkling grabbed hold of one of her fingers, and stuffed the thumb of his other hand into his mouth. "What's your name then, huh?"

"Bluestreak," the tiny bot chirped as he nuzzled closer to his new protector.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Almost there now, little one. Careful! Don't go too fast," Elita-One said warningly, guiding the sparkling down a particularly steep slope of rubble. Cautiously, Bluestreak followed her advice and slid down the ramp onto the dusty floor below. The tiny mech looked back up at Elita, who followed behind him, watching his uneasy progress with wary optics.

"Lita." Bluestreak pouted and lifted his arms for her to pick him up. The Autobot femme couldn't help but laugh softly.

"I'll be down to get you, don't worry. Just give me a nanoclick," She reassured him, but for some reason the bot turned his head away, ignoring her. "Bluestreak?"

"Baa? Baa! Baa-cade!" The sparkling screamed excitedly, pointing frantically to his left. Being an only creation herself, Elita-One had heard from bots with siblings that a family bond existed between them through their sparks, and could often sense things like their location, or whether or not they were hurt. It seemed to be a remarkable gift to have, especially when Elita checked her scanner and found nothing within a 50 metre radius. 'Perhaps sibling bonds stretched much further than I realised,' Elita-One thought to herself.

"We'll find your brother Bluestreak, just hold on and-" But before she could finish, the sparkling, in his eagerness to be reunited with a Brother that could be miles away by now, took off like a shot and disappeared from Elita's sight.

"BLUESTREAK! NOO!" She shouted, forgetting to watch her footing and instead, jumped down after and sprinted after the little mech. Catching up to Bluestreak wouldn't be much of a problem for the Autobot femme commander; it was the fact that he was small enough to fit into the crevices amongst the rubble and lose himself in the maze beneath their surface. She tried to pin point his exact location so she could dig him out if need be, but unfortunately, the rubble's energon coating interfered with her tracker and infrared vision. Elita knew it would do her no good to panic in this situation. If being an autobot had taught her anything, it was to keep a cool head and assess all possible options before her.

However, on this occasion, she didn't need to sit down and think about what to do next. Her answer came in the form of a terrified wailing scream.

"Bluestreak! I'm coming!" She said more to herself than anyone else. The Sparkling's energy signature flickered back to life on her tracking system, confirming that the little mech was no longer under the debris, but was certainly still in danger. Elita-One sprinted towards the screaming. An uneasy feeling settled in her spark. What could have frightened him so? Is he just hurt? Or… She gasped at the thought that just crossed her processor: 'Could he have run into a Decepticon Patrol?' No, that can't be right, she would have detected their signature as well.

Elita-One rounded a corner and stopped short in amazement as she stumbled upon a empty clearing with a pit of some kind. She looked down, to see a tall imposing figure standing in the middle of the pit with one servo aloof. Rage spread through her circuits like wildfire, when she what or rather who the figure was holding in his hand by his fragile helm. The now sobbing Bluestreak struggled helplessly against the bot who's servo he was dangling from. Elita held her ground for a moment. Long enough to make out the dark purple emblem of the Decepticons on this mech's chassis. She drew her gun and jumped down from her hiding place into pit with the unknown mech.

"Put. Him. Down. Decepticon!" She aimed her pistol directly at the mech's head. She heard a low chuckle in response but didn't lower her gun.

"I take it then that this one belongs to you, femme? Surely, an upstanding Autobot such as yourself wouldn't dream of shooting a bot with a Sparkling in his servos, would you?"

Elita-One cursed at the comment. It wasn't as if he needed to use the sparkling as a shield to protect himself. With all the dust and smoke still swirling around them, it was difficult to see who she was about to fight. All the femme commander could see was the faint outline of the mech's wide grin.

"Despicable. Using a sparkling to protect yourself. And here I thought Decepticons prided themselves as being warriors, not cowards," She was quick to retort. With the right sort of provocation, the mech might just let Bluestreak go and focus his attention on her alone. The grin in the smoky outline of the Decepticon vanished. Instead, he growled and started to walk towards her. He was no longer holding Bluestreak above his head, but still kept a tight hold of his helm. Stepping out of the dust, Elita-One was able to see her opponent for the first time, and although she had never met him, she had seen his face a thousand times. There was no mistaking it. The mech before her was indeed:

"Megatron," she breathed, visibly stunned to find the leader of the Decepticons alone in the middle of this destroyed city.

"Surprised? If I were you, I'd be careful who you call a coward next time, my dear. Not that there will be a next time," he sneered.

"I have reinforcements coming soon to aid me, there's no way you'll be able to fight all of us. Let the little one go and just walk away," Elita-One said, clearly.

"Walk away? A strange thing to say to the enemy, especially the leader of your enemies. Just think, with one bullet, you could end this war before it truly began, and avenge all the sparks we've already extinguished," Megatron taunted.

"Why would you say something like that? Do you want me to kill you?" Elita asked, perplexed.

"That's irrelevant. I know you won't shoot me, no matter how many terrible things I've done. You'd rather take me alive for a brand of Cybertronian justice. To be judged before a council for my crimes. And it's that kind of attitude that makes you Autobots weak. If this was reverse, and one of my soldiers was facing off against your Prime, you'd be damn sure that he would try to kill Optimus Prime once and for all," Megatron drawled with all the haughty arrogance of mech in power.

"Don't you dare speak of Optimus like that. Autobot or not, I will shoot you where you stand," Elita-One snapped. But Megatron simply laughed at her reaction.

"I see. I take it then that you must be the great Elita-One, the Autobot's femme commander. Only a mate of Prime would defend him so vehemently," Megatron noted, his brow raising in interest.

"I've had enough of your mockery. Put down the sparkling, and surrender now!" She ordered.

"You want the brat. Fine. Catch!" Megatron threw the helpless Bluestreak, directly at Elita-One. Gasping, she dropped her gun and reached forwards to pull the wailing sparkling into her chassis before he hit the ground. The Autobot femme, fell to her knees cradling the traumatised mechling. She went to pick up her gun, but just as her fingers wrapped around the grip, Megatron's foot came slamming down out of nowhere, crushing her hand. The Decepticon leader smirked as she glared up him, only to draw back when he pressed the barrel of his own gun to her forehead.

"I expected more of a challenge from the mate of Optimus Prime. How disappointing," he sighed in disappointment.

"You wanted a challenge, then you should have fought me mech to femme, instead of using such a dirty trick," Elita-One said, trying not to let her anger show.

"My dear, I'm a Decepticon," Megatron reminded her.

"Decepticon, Autobot, that doesn't matter! Fight me like a mech!" She retaliated, watching his face carefully. Despite the anger across his features, his optics betrayed him as he contemplated her words.

"You think you're a match for me, femme? Very well, it's been a while since I fought in the arena, and considering where we are, it only seems appropriate to in fight unarmed combat," Megatron said as he withdrew his gun and gestured at the area around him. It was only then at his comment, did Elita realise that wasn't just a pit at all. It was Praxus' former Gladiator arena. It was closed down many millennia ago, when the council tried to ban the sport. However, despite the law, Kaon continued these bloodthirsty battles to the death in poor secrecy and the council was powerless to stop them. Even when it was a common fact of what kind of illegal activities when down in Kaon, no one ever went in to stop them.

Elita-One couldn't help but wonder, if someone had acted and established law in Kaon, would Megatron be the same mech that stood in front of her?

"Let's go, femme," he snapped impatiently, waiting for her to get up and fight him. Elita gently placed the Bluestreak on the ground and stroked his helm reassuringly as he cooed with worry.

"It's alright, go over there and hid, I'll get you when this is over," She said kindly. The sparkling darted off and disappeared behind a large boulder.

"'I'll get you when this is over?' You say that as those you expect me to let you live after I defeat you," Megatron snorted derisively.

"You're overconfident," Elita-One muttered, darkly.

"Even if you are Prime's femme, you don't stand a chance," Megatron replied.

"Before we start I just have one question," the Autobot femme said, causing Megatron to relax his fighting stance slightly.

"Be quick about it then," he growled.

"Why are you here on your own," Elita-One asked.

"Why are you?" he countered.

"You didn't answer my question," she frowned at the Decepticon leader.

"Neither did you. Talk is cheap, you challenged me femme, you will fight me now." Megatron shot forwards, going in for a swift knockout punch. But Elita swept his arm aside and countered with her own fist. The Deception took the punch to his face and smirked. Spitting out a few drops of energon, he seized Elita by the throat and threw her backwards across the arena. She landed heavily on her aft wincing and she tried to get up. But Megatron had other ideas. He charged at her once she was on her feet again, pulling back his fist for a full on collision. Elita-One dropped to the floor, causing Megatron to smash his clenched fist into the wall behind her, severely crushing it. The Decepticon leader looked down in surprise before Elita-One's foot came smashing into his unprotected face, as she kicked upwards from her position on the ground. He staggered backwards clutching his nose, giving Elita enough time to scramble back to her feet.

The fight seemed to last for hours, but if that were true, Ratchet and his crew would already have found her by now. Even so, Elita and Megatron were both exhausted and battered quite badly. They were both too well matched in different ways. Megatron's sheer size and brute strength would give him quite the advantage over most mechs, but as a femme, Elita had speed and flexibility that came from being physically petite in comparison. Just when one was about to win, the other came back better and more determined than before.

"Not bad… Femme. No wonder Prime chose you," Megatron said, catching his breath. He was no rush, as Elita was in the same condition as he was.

"Stop… Talking about Optimus … You don't know him… Like I do," Elita-One choked out.

"I wouldn't want to know him like you do… I'm far more interested in you," Megatron laughed between breaths, making Elita's faceplates heat up.

"I didn't… mean it like that," She said, dismissively.

"I know what you meant. Though i have to say, I'm a little jealous of Prime right now. This is the first time a femme has been able to kept up with me," Megatron replied.

"Do you always flirt with your opponents?" She scowled at the Decepticon leader.

"You would have to be the first," Megatron grinned. Whether it was genuine or not, Elita-One didn't care to find out. She was bonded to Optimus after all. Megatron must be toying with her so that he can win this fight. It was the only logical conclusion.

"Let's finish this," She spat as she readied herself to continue fighting.

"Fine by me. It's being a good fight," the mech answered with a chuckle. At the same time, Megatron and Elita-One ran head on at each other with their final attack, determined to end the battle here and now. Bluestreak, trembling from his hiding place watched as the two bots smashed one another with a mighty crash. Dust that had settled, exploded around them at the sheer force of their power. For a few moments, everything was still; and then with a cry, Elita-One sank to her knees coughing and clutching her chassis in pain. Megatron was in no better condition, but unlike Elita, he remained on his feet, the obvious winner. Bluestreak gave a whimper of despair and curled up in a ball, hoping that Megatron wouldn't find and kill him as well.

"My victory, femme. And to the victor goes the spoils," Megatron tried to smirk, but was in too much pain to do so. It had been a powerful attack Elita-One had unleashed on him, and if she had aimed her fist an little to the left, he would be the one writhing in pain at her feet.

"Go on then. But please… make it quick," Elita managed to choke out, bracing herself for death. She only hoped that Ratchet would make it in time to save Bluestreak. Megatron knelt down beside her and drew his sword.

"Now where's the fun in ending this quickly. I want to savour this moment," the Decepticon leader laughed. Elita cringed his disgust and offlined her optics, so that he wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing that she was afraid.

But instead of the pain of a sword cutting into her metallic body; Elita-one felt a soft brush against her lips. Her optics onlined and widened in shock as Megatron kissed her passionately, cupping her face in his hands and tilting it backwards.

For reasons she couldn't explain, and that she would later claim to be from the heat of the battle. She tentatively returned the kiss and wrapped one of her servos around his neck.

When they finally broke apart, they stared at each other for a moment before Elita trusted herself to speak.

"But why? I don't understand." Megatron shrugged in response.

"I was going to kill you to begin with. But now, I just don't feel like it anymore," Megatron said coolly as he stood once again and put away his sword. "Besides, you were right about those reinforcements. They'll be here soon, and my cloaking device was designed for scanners not optics." Then he turned and walked away, leaving her with his kiss still warm on her lips and one final parting goodbye:

"Farewell Elita-One. Pray we never meet again on the battlefield. Next time, I might just offline you after all."

And then he was gone. Ratchet and Red Alert showed up a nanoclick later; buzzing with questions that Elita could barely hear. Her only output was to point them in Bluestreak's direction and ordered them to help him first.

When she arrived back to Iacon, Optimus rushed to her side in the med-bay as soon as he heard the news. Seeing him here, so concerned over her wellbeing made her spark jump with guilt at returning Megatron's kiss. As he held her in his tender embrace, Elita-One distracted herself by looking over his shoulder at another touching reunion, as the normally cool and professional Prowl came storming into the Med-Bay and went straight to Bluestreak's berth. Scooping the sparkling into his arms and kissing his little helm in obvious relief. After his out burst of emotion, Prowl hesitantly approached Elita's berth and thanked her profusely before asking if she had found any trace of his 'other little brother.'

"His name is Barricade. Is- is he still alive ma'am?" The look of desperate hope on the mech's face made Elita bite her lip and answer with a lie.

" didn't see him Prowl, I'm sorry. But Bluestreak thinks he's out there somewhere, so he must be alive," Elita replied. What else could she say? Sorry Prowl, I your brother despises you and everything you stand for and ran off before I could stop him? At least this way, Prowl could hold on to some slither of a chance that his brother would come back to him.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

As the years passed, and Cybertron was slowly torn apart by conflict; Elita-One would look back on that day when she first met Megatron when he told her that she could end the war before it began. Sometimes, she regretted not taking the shot, as she watched the world she loved fall into chaos and destruction around her. But most of the time, she remembered the warmth of his kiss; so that whenever she saw the twisted, monstrous tyrant he had transformed into, she could still look back and recall a time when she might have fallen in love with him, if Ratchet had been another joor too late.

Finis

Authoress Note: Just a quick, 'I'm still alive sort of one-shot fanfic. It was posted on my DA page as a gift to Lecidre, but then I decided to add it here too. I was surprised, at how quickly I was able to write this, which means maybe I'll be able to write more chapters at a faster pace for my other fanfics. No? Ha! Probably not. Anyway, as per usual:

Please enjoy and please review. Preferably in that order. Ciao