Author's Note: This fic makes reference to "Bright Spot," also on this profile.

Dead. I fell to my knees, not caring if sand worked its way into my joints. Sam – courageous, determined, destiny-driven Sam – was sprawled on the ground while his life drained away. The medics' frantic efforts ceased. Mikaela broke free from Will Lennox's cradling restraint to plead with Sam to live.

How many times had I done that? With my creator, with my friends, with Autobots who were complete strangers, even. Death didn't care. Or listen. Gone. They were all gone, now. And Sam…the last of his body's electrical energy drained away. Extinguished. I couldn't think, couldn't fight, couldn't do anything but listen to the sobbing that rang louder in my audials than even the weapons fire.

"Sam!" Mikaela gasped, and I looked up to see the impossible. Sam – alive! I'd seen him die. Gone. And here he was, alive and telling Mikaela he loved her and…and staggering to his feet.

/The Matrix of Leadership!/ I exclaimed as he stooped to pick it up. /It was a sock full of dust!/

Ironhide tersely ordered, /Bumblebee, report!/

I transmitted the raw data, too stunned to process it as Sam grasped the Matrix and it flared to life. He staggered toward Optimus, and my spark swelled in its casing with painfully-anxious hope. Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Let this be! Let this work! Today was a day for the impossible – let the Matrix bring them both back!

With a primal cry, Sam drove the Matrix into Optimus' spark chamber, and just like I saw Sam die, I saw Optimus' circuits surge to life. YES! Exultant, I scrambled to my feet and all but danced for joy.

The moments that followed were chaotic ones – The Fallen stealing the Matrix, Jetfire sacrificing his life for this planet, Optimus flying. Later, though, the most vivid memory was Sam, holding Mikaela, hugging his parents, moving, walking, breathing.

Optimus and Sam – alive! I didn't know how it happened, but all that mattered was that it did. I couldn't hug my human, but I reached out a finger and let it rest gently on Sam's back, needing that touch to confirm what my other senses were telling me. He was really, truly alive!

"What is your status, Bumblebee?" Optimus asked from behind me, his deep, steadying voice the same despite his resurrection and…upgrade.

I rose to my feet, taking in the sight of him. Our leader…our living Prime. If I thought for an astrosecond that I would get away with it, I would have bowed to him. Instead, I answered, /Alive and well. Managed to take down a couple of Decepticons in all the excitement. Not anywhere near as impressive as you, though. What is your status?/

He smiled, briefly resting a hand on my shoulder. "Pleasantly surprised."

I chuckled and watched him in open awe as he moved on through the ranks, greeting Sideswipe and Jolt on his way to speak with Ratchet again (if being berated and cuffed by the medic could be considered speaking with him the first time). Turning my attention back to Sam and Mikaela, I beamed at the attention they were lavishing on each other.

/Bumblebee./ My head snapped up automatically when Optimus commed me, and I looked over to where he was still standing with Ratchet and Ironhide. /Arcee is missing. Two of her components were offlined, and the third was last seen at these coordinates. Look for her./

My spark chilled at his words, but I automatically sent him my confirmation and made my way onto the field of battle. Scanners at maximum, I stood in the place where Ironhide last saw her alive. The ground was pitted and cratered, and I was getting Cybertronian alloy signatures everywhere. Bits and pieces of Decepticons and of Arcee.

/Come on, femme,/ I broadcast into the silence around me. /You have to see what I just saw. Optimus is back!/

Even as I thought that, though, another part of my processor recognized the chances of her surviving were almost non-existent. Ironhide wouldn't have left her in the field if there was any alternative. He barely made it out of the firefight, and that was with his insanely heavy armor. Add to that the air strike, and it would have been a miracle for her to survive. But this was a day for miracles and I wouldn't give up until I was certain. I would find her.

My sensors picked up a residual Autobot energy signature on some scrap about five meters away. It was the pink component – the part that I always thought of as the real Arcee, the femme I'd known since the War began. The other two components I thought of as being recent extensions, even though they were as much a part of her as my doorwings were a part of me.

Arcee – the real Arcee – was down. The single intact optic in her blown-open helm was dark and lifeless. My cold spark faltered at the sight but otherwise didn't react. No flicker of recognition like I'd come to expect. These were just spare parts in front of me.

Placing the grizzly helm on her torso, I gathered her into my arms and numbly walked back toward the triage. Like touching Sam, holding the pink-Arcee made the damage to her so much more real. Her armor was too hot in the desert sun; the circuits and oozing fluids underneath were too cold. Utterly lifeless. I solemnly laid her broken frame at Ratchet's feet, unable to look away from her. Even if she survived in her other components, in this moment Arcee was dead to me.

/Two more./

My gaze met Ratchet's for a fraction of a second. "Bumblebee, Jolt's damage is minimal…"

/Let his systems continue repairs. I was not damaged./

"The twins can – "

/I'll find her./

"Very well."

The red component was completely shattered, and the largest scrap was smaller than my hand. I gathered what I could – a mangled piece of spark chamber, half of a tire, an optic – and brought them back to Ratchet. /We'll need a truck bed to retrieve the rest. The component is in too many pieces,/ I numbly announced.

"I'll bring her in," Ironhide answered, rising to his feet.

"Get a human-built to do it," Ratchet grumbled. "Your chassis was on fire when I first got to you."

"I'll stay in alt-mode for the rest of the day," 'Hide retorted. "I have a feeling we'll need my carrying capacity more than my cannons. Now that the battle's over, anyway. We've got Jetfire's remains to clean up after we take care of the red component. And no human-built is going to carry him. Not while I'm functional. Not after they tossed Optimus' empty shell onto the tarmac like litter from a car."

Turning, I wandered back into the nightmare of sand and scrap. I'd found what I could by distinguishing between Autobot and Decepticon spark-signature stamps, so I switched to a light-spectrum search. Sifting through the layers of dust and sand, I scanned for anything blue. Nothing within two meters. Three meters. Four. Five. I started walking, continuing the scan. There. A flash of color. Striding forward, I found her half-buried under the remains of a 'con ten meters away. Again, there was no flicker of recognition in my spark. Under that brutally unforgiving sun, I felt cold. One of her arms was gone, but she'd kept her rifle to the last. It looked like she'd burrowed under the frame of the 'con, judging by how the sand was disturbed where she lay, but parts of the Decepticon had melted during the bombing. Her blue paint was scorched and bubbled. She had curled in on herself, futilely trying to protect her spark. Pushing away the blackened parts of my enemy, I pulled this last piece of hope into my arms. My scans confirmed what my spark had told me – she was dead.

I offlined my optics, resting my hand over where her spark once glowed, remembering.

"Let me help you…" Pulling her to her feet after Barricade shot at Prime and the rest of us on Cybertron.

"Don't mess with what's mine…" The time she killed two Decepticons my size – in one go – to protect me when I was badly injured.

"We'll both be dead tomorrow, so no court-martial, no regrets." The night before Tyger Pax when she offered me her spark and courage on what we thought was a suicide mission.

"We have a job to do – let's do it…What happens happens." My own words, so blithely spoken.

The memory of her gentle touch as she brushed the sand from my shoulder. Now she was the one coated with sand, that happy memory a sharp contrast to this moment.

Bringing my optics online again, I rose to my feet, still holding her close. Numb. Some part of me had shut down, leaving this dull, empty ache. My feet automatically brought me back to Ratchet's triage.

Prime had already moved on and was consulting with Major Lennox. Sideswipe was still there, hissing occasionally as Ratchet tinkered with his internals. "Slag," he murmured.

Ratchet looked my way and then focused on Sideswipe again. "Find some cloth and cover her remains," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I'll report her death to Optimus."

I wandered aimlessly through the chaos that was once our front line. Human figures were being treated, evacuated, or covered in sheets. I couldn't ask them for a covering for her. The material would be too small, and they had enough of their own dead to mourn. When we lost Jazz, Prime had not burdened the humans with our grief. I would follow his lead. Always.

There. Dull yellow cloth, billowing in a breeze so slight I hadn't noticed it. The parachute they'd used to cover Optimus – that would be a fitting shroud for Arcee. Gathering it up, I trudged back to Ratchet. He and Optimus stood a few meters away from where alt-form Ironhide and the twins were waiting. I knew 'Hide had the red component in his bed.

Ratchet was speaking in a low voice as I approached. "I don't understand."

"I cannot," Optimus answered, his optics darting toward me and gesturing me forward with a slight wave of his hand. "It's not my fate, my right. And I can't ask him, not yet."

The medic sighed heavily and took the shroud from my hands. "Thank you, Bumblebee." Turning back to Optimus, he said, "I can't hide it forever. How long?"

"A week. Or as long as we can. You have your orders."

Ratchet nodded with another sigh and then returned to triage. He folded the large 'chute several times and then he and the twins began unloading Arcee's parts onto it.

Optimus leaned closer to me. "Your sorrow betrays your spark, old friend. You grieve her more than a brother-in-arms would."

I hung my head, nodding a little, acknowledging he was correct in his guess. /I…I knew her spark./

"I didn't realize."

/We didn't want you to. She was my subordinate at the time – it was wrong. I'm sorry./

With a hesitant touch, he again laid his hand on my shoulder. "You two were always a good team, and I'm not surprised that extended beyond the battlefield. I am confident that, whatever the circumstances, there were no abuses. I am so sorry for your grief and for what I need from you now."

I looked up at him expectantly. Even in my sorrow, I could find it in me to follow Optimus. Always, whatever he needed of me, I would give.

"I have a difficult task for you, Bumblebee, one that will protect another person you care about."

/Sam?/ That dead part of me come back online – a reason to live, to move forward.

He nodded. "You saw what happened when he touched the Matrix."

/Yes. It activated./ Confused, I asked, /How did you know?/

He ignored my question. "Consider what that means, Bumblebee. He activated and used the Matrix of Leadership, technology reserved for the Primes."

My optics widened, realization dawning. /But that's impossible! A human Prime?/

He smiled ever so slightly. "Unlikely, but clearly not impossible. I do not fully understand what it means, and Sam and I will both need a little while to make sense of it. Ratchet has asked me to use the Matrix to restore Arcee to life, but I believe it must be Sam who uses the Matrix in this way. I will not coerce him into accepting the role of Prime among us. This must be his choice – without the weight of our grief to tip the scale. If and when Sam chooses to accept what he is, then – and only then – will I pass on Ratchet's request."

He was right, of course, even though I was tempted to pick Sam up and carry him to Arcee right then. We had to give Sam a choice. Even if it was his fate, we still had to give him a choice.

Optimus' hand on my shoulder squeezed just a little tighter in encouragement. "Go to the boy and stay with him. Focus on him and on hope."

I lifted my hand, resting it on the arm he'd extended to me, drawing strength from him. /I will./

…

I understood why Ratchet insisted on rebuilding Jetfire's remains into armor for Optimus before he'd even think about repairing Arcee's frames. Optimus was alive – again, still – and so protecting him was our first priority, but I just couldn't let Arcee's empty shells sit on a shelf like spare parts. I stood guard over her when I wasn't with Sam, and even when we were in lockdown, I parked under the workbench where she'd been laid out. I didn't care if another mech guessed what Arcee and I had done, had become. I just needed to be near her and hold on to hope like Optimus said.

Ratchet took pity on me and didn't kick me out of the med bay, and I was careful to stay out of his way. The long, quiet hours were…hard. I'd endured worse, no question, but the empty silence just drove home how good a friend she was and how much I missed her. Normally she'd keep me company just by being in the same room - we'd logged more hours on patrol together than modern English had been spoken. Even if Sam could to bring her back to life at some point in the future, I was lonely.

Instead, I was left to brood. Sam's words from the day before kept replaying in my processors. "Can't I be an ambassador without being a Prime?" It didn't make any sense. He was a Prime. It wasn't a career or title, it was who he is. It was like asking "Can't I stop being human?" How could he not see it? Even before I had a word for how he was different, I knew he was something special. I could understand how he'd be overwhelmed by the thought, I could even understand if he didn't want the responsibilities, but that didn't seem to be the problem. He was fulfilling the duties of a Prime for us already by being an ambassador.

The elevator doors opened, and I was surprised to see Sam and Mikaela step out. It was still really early in the morning, especially for Sam. The more we spoke, the more...subdued he seemed. Like after Optimus died.

He asked for Optimus, and our leader answered, "I'm here, boy."

Sam said, "I'm ready," and then turned to me. "Take me to Arcee."

My spark surged with joy and I carefully picked him up and hurried back into the med bay. In my broken voice, I shouted, "Ratchet!"

I set him down on the table next to Arcee's broken frames, and as he talked to Ratchet, I recognized his strange mood for what it was. He was here to officiate as a Prime. Once again I was in awe that my young charge had grown to such greatness.

Almost as if reading my mind he added, "And knock that off! You guys don't worship the ground Prime..." He seemed to catch himself, "...Optimus walks on. I don't want you to treat me any differently than you did before. I'm still 'the boy,' okay?"

Ratchet answered, "If that's what you want, Sam," and then my human glared at me, too. Treat him like Optimus? Apparently Sam didn't know just how much I admired the mech. Still, I nodded my helm in agreement.

"Okay," he said, seemingly satisfied, "Optimus?"

The mech offered him the Matrix and it brightened in Sam's hand, just like when Sam had reignited him four days ago. I understood better what I was seeing now. My Sam was truly, undeniably a Prime. He hesitated with the first two frames until he decided he needed to reignite the pink one, and then I picked him up to get him out of Ratchet's way.

I could see Sam's worry, could almost feel it for myself, but I couldn't bring myself to doubt him. It was impossible for him to be a Prime, and yet here he was; he accomplished the impossible just by existing. If it was her fate - and my spark ached with hope that it was - then Sam would bring her back.

Ratchet declared the pink frame ready and Sam pushed the Matrix into her spark chamber. Instantly a bright spot in my spark flared to life. Even more than what my optics were seeing, more than what my scans were sensing, that response in my spark told me she was alive. Her spark took form and the bright spot swelled until it encompassed my whole spark for a shimmering astrosecond and I remembered again what I sensed in her spark when it touched mine: someone playful and driven and tempered by grief, someone with wisdom and a fierce sense of kinship and amity. She was beautiful.

Then her optics flashed blue and she focused on Optimus. "Aw, frag. I joined you, did I?"

Optimus laughed, the warm sound somehow making the moment perfect. "Yes, Arcee, you joined me, but in more than just death. We have the privilege of being the only two reignited sparks in existence."

She realized that Sam's plan had worked and touched his cheek almost reverently. The full weight of what I was seeing settled in my spark, then. I'd lost Sam when he went to college without me, and then Optimus was extinguished, too. Sam's death was but a moment and then he brought Optimus back to us, only for Arcee to die. I'd been grieving one or another of them for days and here they were, all three of them alive and...more than whole. Each of them had been forged into something new, something stronger and greater, especially Sam.

Then Arcee turned to me, her optics worried. "Hey, 'Bee. You okay?"

I reached for her, unable to stop myself. Though it had only been a brief, unexpected sharing of sparks, there was a part of me that would always be devoted to her. My fingertips brushed hers. /I am now. You died on us, femme, and you have really rotten timing, too. You didn't get to see it, Sam reigniting Optimus./ She hadn't witnessed her own return to life, either.

The light in her optics softened. "Well I'm back. Better luck next time."

I flicked her helm with a finger. /There better not be a next time or I'll follow you into the Well and drag you back out kicking and screaming./

She smirked in answer and I grinned back. Skids and Mudflap interrupted us, but Rachet shooed them away. Mikaela joined us and I eagerly brought her up to the table to be with Sam and Arcee.

I didn't care what Sam wanted me to call him, he held hope in his hands and the fate of our entire race pivoted around him like a supergiant star. He might still be "the boy," but he was and always would be my Prime.