The streets were lively, every bot saying a friendly 'hello' if they had the time to. The skies were filled with Aerial bots, Seekers and Predacons, a few touching down on the landing strips made above the smiling, happy inhabitants of Cybertron. No one knew of the previous war that rattled the galaxies. Earth hasn't seen our kind in nearly three millennia, and no one on Cybertron has ever heard of it. Those who do have been sworn to silence, or are offline.

The great Prime and what's left of his team (his second and his medic being offline, one of age, the other of an unchecked wound) work beneath the cities. Optimus guards the Allspark. Bumblebee, Vector Sigma, and the rest are scattered elsewhere either as guards or as maintenance. They give no complaint. They are well cared for and have digital means of contact. Arcee mentions wanting to see the outside world, but there is a reason I keep them hidden away from the glowing cities, besides my ever present hate for them. It's compassion also.

We've seen war, all that precious energon spilled, sparks snuffed out like low flames, something the new masses will never see, something they do not need to see. The Autobots would feel like strangers in their home. A select few with a knowledge and way of life that no longer applies. Even I know what that feels like, and they understand, even in their distrust of me. The Prime put it very simply:

"For the sake of the masses, we will not intervene."

Everything has gone so smoothly ever since.

"Your brooding has become a concern."

Sighing, I tried to stand, but to no avail, and Shockwave had to pick me up from the cushioned seat, a luxury rarely seen.

"I'm getting worse, Shockwave," I told him.

"Yes," he confirmed, placing me on a cushioned berth, his always gentle touch leaving me so he could sit in a chair not to far away, "but your spark has sustained no change."

"Meaning?"

He was silent for a time.

"Meaning it has not failed you as your body has."

I already knew this. Old news that has been repeated since I couldn't lift up a datapad. A truly sad existence I've found myself in. Yet those who I thought would care less have made it so that the sadness isn't quite as bad. The bots I rule over show a constant concern, they'd hate to see me leave them, claiming that Shockwave's and my rule keep them from war. But the vehicon's reactions are the most surprising. They send gifts, small 'get wells', little letters that warm the spark when you read them. They never gave up their way of reproducing, so I receive small childish drawings, the most from Carriers who bore sparklings much like me, but none have ever been quite as fragile, from what I hear. Of course, the only thing that doesn't surprise me is the silence of my Carrier, who fumes at the guards who watch her in her cell. I always find it funny when the Autobots ask of my condition, and it's true concern, but it doesn't change the steadily growing weakness.

"You are brooding again."

A hard sigh erupted from my derma as I glared at him.

"Well what else can I do? I'm bedridden all the time with little to do. I can't even read to the sparklings anymore!" I could feel the tears start to rise as I lamented. What could I do? I can't go out and see anyone, nor can I attend any form of meeting, I become too tired to even speak. I refuse any sort of vehicle to haul me around, a leader should not be seen as weak. Yet here I am.

"Your core temperature is dropping."

I noted this, realizing that I was letting the darkened bond resurface, the despair attaching to my angered and frustrated state.

"Thank you..."

He wiped my optics of the lingering tears, and my mood left with them as I stared at his optic. We've been together for so long now, and it's been an amazing adventure. I will admit my favorite parts were adopting sparklings who were handicapped, ones that weren't wanted by their creators. Oh how joyous it was to hear little pedesteps running in the halls. I can hear a few now, their giggles softening as they peered in.

Shockwave helped me up to greet the sparklings, three in all. One had no optics, a blank slate of metal with no indication of the essential parts ever being there, the one who helped his brother (by adoption) had one arm fused to his side, never having quite separated in his carrier's holding tank. The last was Shockwave's favorite of who we've adopted so far. She couldn't process emotion, and when she could they were heightened, a simple scuff on her armor could be taken as a possible life threatening wound. In order, their designations are Kup, Fixit, and little Strongarm.

"Did you tell her? Did you-did you?"

Fixit left his brother with me as he waddled to Shockwave in his excitement, fused digits twitching. Strongarm stayed behind as she held a small metal doll, it's joints loose as it sagged in her arms.

"Not quite yet," he answered in his usual monotone, "her brooding hasn't given me a chance."

The youngling giggled as he looked to me and Kup, who gingerly touched my pede to make sure he was facing the right direction before he spoke.

"Brooding isn't healthy for you mum-a," he stated.

"I know little one," I sighed, placing a servo on his helm, "sometimes my processor wanders to what I used to be able to do."

"You're... sad?"

I smiled at the success of Strongarm's guess, her helm tilted as she thought hard, just to make sure she was right.

"Yes dear, I'm sad."

"Not for long! Shockwave wants to-"

"I thought this was my surprise?"

Fixit shied away with a sheepish smile, hiding behind the bigger mech.

"Oops?"

"What surprise?" I gave a small chuckle, a few moments lingering as Shockwave motioned for the trio to leave, and I waved weakly as they said a soft goodbye.

My attention turned to Shockwave as he shifted the metal chair closer to me, his optic staring into my two. It was silent. His single servo cupped my cheekplate, earning a soft sigh from me, leaning into the euphoric sensation. He's always so gentle.

"Your body is failing you, but your spark is as strog as it was three millennia ago."

"Shockwave, your vagueness is concerning..." I told him, optics closed as he brushed his thumb digit across my derma.

"(Y/D), I have come to the logical decision... that it is safe to bond."

As a vehicon, it is my duty to do my best at any task given, but I was different. My task was to survive, to prove myself worthy to simply walk the halls of the Nemesis. Then it was to thank Shockwave for his kindness, and refusal to pity me. Even this task was completed and replaced with the want to win a war that wasn't mine in the first place. Then it transformed into a fight for my life. Thank Primus I had a bond to help me through the toughest of times.