Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hammering pain.

That was the first and only thing D-16 could register when he came online. The sharp, insistent pounding against his helm. Like it was crushed under several hundred pounds of soil in a tunnel collapse. But as the rest of him slowly came back to reality, it became clear he was not currently a surviving victim of a horrendous cave-in. His limbs could move, there was no excess weight or pressure against his frame. Shaking off the want to fall back into recharge, he forced himself to online his optics.

The first thing that startled him was the absolute mass of messages and warnings shooting across his HUD. All screaming urgently about damage he had apparently taken from whatever knocked him down. Fortunately, as he scanned through there wasn’t anything that immediately threatened his functionality. Once he cleared his vision from most of the messages, only half-acknowledging what was set off and where, did he register the second shock post-onlining: He was lying on his backplate, staring... at the sky.



He shot upwards, only to regret the sudden action as it shot his optics offline and made his equilibrium spin. He was somehow, some way, on the surface of Cybertron. That would be impossible-- and he didn't want to believe the visual he read. Much slower now, he shuffled onto his knees and onlined his optics once more. His initial visual proved true, he was sitting on the surface. A dark, star-speckled sky draped over slowly shifting mountains in the far distance. D-16's gaze pulled slowly from the overwhelming horizon to register where he currently sat, in a field desecrated by empty frames. His optics went wide with horror. What happened here?

The quiet frames sat in pieces: some with holes torn right through them, others still hissing with the release of heat from their broken engines. This was clearly a battlefield, only recently vacated. But who was fighting who?



And who won? 



D-16 stumbled backwards from the scene, limbs struggling to respond to the frantic commands from his processor to move. His servo slipped from behind him, causing his backplate to smack back down to the ground. Looking at his servo... it was now covered in a film of energon, and the sudden need to purge shot through his processor. He shifted to rest on his servos and knees, feeling the warnings flash that he was not going to be able to terminate the rapidly coming purge sequence. His optics shut again to ignore how the contents leaving his intake was mixing with the spilled energon.

Once it had run its course, Dee sagged. His helm only throbbed worse, now any movement shot sparking pain down his backstrut all the way to his pedes. He shuffled some distance away from the energon stained area, before falling prone again. Everything ached, and he couldn't seem to get the aggravating warnings off his HUD for long before they popped back up. How did he even end up in this situation? On the surface, in the middle of an empty battlefield, all the bodies... none of it made sense. Why was he here? He tried to recall anything that preceded waking up here-- but it only caused a sharp pain in his processor and any attempt to access his memory banks was aborted. It seemed he wouldn't be able to remember anything until this horrible helmache dissipated. He debated offlining his optics, but instead found himself stuck staring at the wide open sky.

It was night, the vast expanse of the galaxy beyond Cybertron's atmosphere peering down at him. An odd twinge filled him, it was like thousands of peering optics, watching his pitiful attempt at recovery, all knowing what happened better than him. His audials were buzzing and, annoyed, he offlined his optics once again. He just needed to let his frame heal itself, once he felt strong enough to walk he would get himself to the nearest station, or outpost, or... something. He groaned as his processor ran in circles, ending the thought with the decision that thinking about what he had to do next was not going to help him yet. He needed to recover, maybe even recharge more. His audials were only buzzing louder.

And louder... and louder...and that wasn't his audials ringing.

Something was making that noise, and getting closer.

He sat up, trying to keep the world from spinning again as he forced his optics to focus around him. He finally spotted it racing towards him, a bright blue transformer moving at an incredible pace-- straight towards him!


It appeared that the other wasn't expecting him either- a slight yell and the sound of skidding tires filled Dee's audials as he cringed against the inevitable impact. Fortunately, the transformer managed to cut to the left, rolling while transforming to catch himself on servos and pedes. He looked up, electric blue optics sizing up the unexpected appearance of a no-cog in the middle of a battlefield. D-16 was about to speak, ask the questions burning his processor that he couldn't answer. But before he could get a single sound out of his vocalizer, the blue transformer had drawn a weapon on him, pointing down at him with a warning clear in his gaze. "Whatisyourfaction?"



"What?" The question blurred past his audials, or was this bot just talking really fast? One of his servos came up to try and rub his helm, but the other reacted with a blast from his weapon into the ground in front of Dee. He balked, freezing despite his immediate instinct to run for his Primus-forsaken life. 


"I asked you, what is your faction?" The blue bot repeated, and this time Dee's processor could pick up on the question: what was his faction? What?



"...I'm a miner! Primus, don't shoot!" He kept his servos where the other could see them. This was just a horrible misunderstanding-- once the... officer?... saw that as a fact he would be sent off somewhere to recover, without a doubt.


"Do you think I was formed yesterday I wasn't formed yesterday I was formed a while ago so really don't act dumb to me." The transformer pressed forward, still not lowering his weapon. "I asked you for your faction now I want to know your faction and you better tell me."



"I-- I don't know!” D-16 could hardly keep the panic out of his tone. He had finally caught up with the other's questioning, if where he awoke was indeed a battlefield, then... was he fighting in it? He wasn’t a soldier... he didn’t even have a transformation cog. Surely, this transformer didn’t think he was a part of this. But, otherwise... how did he get here? He certainly was injured enough to believe he brawled something, but he couldn’t remember scrap. His optics flickered as he attempted accessing his memory banks again, only to have the forced closure of the sequence send a jolt of pain through his processor. “I can’t remember... I can’t remember anything!”


At that, the transformer seemed to believe him. Or at the very least, pity him. “Get up and do it slowly if you do anything funny and I mean anything funny I'll blow a hole clean through you do you understand okay okay so just stand slowly.” The way this mech spoke was really starting to get on Dee’s nerves, but he listened. His pedes kept stable beneath him, enough to get up. He felt dwarfed compared to the transformer in front of him, which didn’t calm him in the slightest.

The other took his time, stalking around Dee as if he was looking for something. Finally, he circled back to standing in front of him, optics narrow and the barrel of his blaster poking into his left shoulder, right into his Megatronus decal.“Ah-ha! I knew, wait... that's not quite right is that a Decepticon badge what is that it's a decal right a decal huh looks awfully like a Decepticon emblem.”

Dee sputtered, why was this mech so hostile? “It-- it’s a decal. For-- Megatronus Prime.” His intake felt dry as he forced the explanation. The transformer looked like he was going to push further, but a static noise broke his concentration and he leaned back. His optics looked off to the side, obviously distracted by something on his HUD. A private comm perhaps? He still kept his weapon pointed at D-16. Dee just stood there, servos stuck in the air and slowly aching more the longer he had to remain stone stiff.

After a few kliks, the transformer drew his weapon back. His optics still remained sharp, but it was a start. “Well I have orders to bring any survivors back with me to the base so I suppose you're coming in for questioning.” He gestured to the right, and Dee’s optics flicked to follow before returning to the transformer.



“Understood, sir.” Dee nodded, servos slowly lowering, clenching and unclenching to try and work some energon back into the extremities. Hopefully, wherever they end up will have someone with a processor calm enough to listen to him. Maybe even help him get back to-- he couldn’t really remember right now. He was sure there had to be somewhere.

The transformer looked off again, probably one last correspondence with whoever was speaking on the other side. He glanced down at Dee's chest, optics narrowing at the hole in his chest. "...now I noticed this earlier but where is your cog usually you'd have a cog no? Either way if you don't have your cog it's going to make it more difficult getting back to the base and you need to get back to the base I have orders to get you back to the base."



Dee stared for a moment, intake moving for a second before words could make their way out. "I... don't have one? Never have."

That actually seemed to shut the other mech up... if only just for a few seconds. But before long the torrent of words came pouring out practically tenfold. "The Pit is wrong with you and why would you lie about that of course you have a cog, gasp, or you had a cog I suppose that would be a better way to phrase that, but why would you lie about that it wouldn't make sense to lie about something like that, unless, there was something to lie about?" He muttered in away that made Dee's helm spin. "Now look I don't have time for any of this I'll just carry you on my back to the base because as I said I was ordered to bring you back to the base, and so help me if you jump off to run I'll chase you to the edges of Cybertron." He warned, pulling his arms back and shifting into his alt mode.

Dee was getting less and less confident this would be the rescue he was hoping for, but with little other choice he cautiously stepped over the hood of the transformer. "I don't even know where I'd run to." He grumbled, holding on to one of the wings along the back of the vehicle.

 He didn't get much else out to complain before the transformer took off, tearing up the ground beneath him as he shot forward. D-16's grip tightened, nearly flying off the back at the unexpected pace. Primus, this had to be faster than the trains back in Iacon-- wait. Trains?

As soon as the thought of a memory flashed across his processor, it faded back into inaccessible backlog. Dammit, he repeated the thought over and over again, "Trains in Iacon, in Iacon... Iacon."

That had to be something.

The speedy trip was simultaneously faster than Dee expected and far too long for his comfort. His servos were getting sore from gripping the transformer, and his helm still ached as he forced himself to focus on some kind of base-like structure appearing in the distance. As it grew closer, he could make out thick walls and rudimentary repairs to the exterior, and a wide door fit for transformers. He ducked beneath the open door on instinct, flinching as it shut behind them. Without a warning, they skidded into a rapid stop. Dee's grip failed him, and he yelled as he flew right off the makeshift ride and slammed into the floor. A servo went up to his faceplate, that didn't help the helmache...

He didn't get the chance to get up, a servo on his backplate already pulling him to his pedes. "Sorry about that I should've warned you I was planning to stop I just wasn't expecting you to fly off that was my bad now come on." The blue transformer pushed him forward, and he was about to relent to the gesture when a different voice cut the air between them.

"Blurr!"

The transformer, now revealed to be named Blurr, stopped. His hold on Dee's backplate dropped, and he turned his attention to the femme now in the mix. "Oh, Arcee, I expected you to be here it's good thing you're here."

Dee sized up this new arrival, trying to gauge what level of authority she might hold. She did manage to get Blurr to back off, so she would at least be equals to him. Her paint was a bold mix between bright pink and a deep royal blue, light grey accents filling in the spaces in between. Her light blue optics glanced from Blurr to D-16, and his backstruts seized with the urge to stand upright. "You're taking him to the medbay, right?" It was posed as a question, but her tone made it clear it the answer was not "no."

"We don't even know his faction, Arcee." Blurr complained, his tone taking on something less like the authoritative mech he was outside and more like a petulant sparkling. "You wanna bring him into the base unchecked? Doesn't that send warnings off in your processor like BEEP BEEP BEEP, bad idea?! And besides we're already low on stock as it is, do you really wanna waste resources on a non-Autobot once again that should really be sending warnings off in your helm like BEEP BEEP BEEP real bad idea?"

Arcee's glare didn't let up at his words, arms crossing over her chassis. "You call helping a fellow Cybertronian a waste of resources?"

Her accusation made Blurr back down, now looking off to the side and muttering, "We don't even know if he's a Decepticon or not and here you are going again making me the bad guy here." Despite his continued grumbling, he backed off, heading back to the exit. "Now I'm going to head out I still need to finish my survey and it's important I finish my survey so I'll just ask if Cliff is still here, right?" At Arcee's nod, Blurr flipped backward, body shifting into his alt form with an experienced grace before he left, tires squealing as he raced off.

Dee's attention left the retreating form of Blurr, now back to sizing up the femme before him. Something in his processor was wary of pissing off a femme in command for some reason or another, but instead of confirming his concerns she smiled down at him. "Please don't mind Blurr, he means well. He just can be a little... well, I'm sure you caught on." She bent over, mindful of the size difference between them. "I'm Arcee, nice to meet you," she said, extending her servo out towards him.

D-16 paused, before taking the offered greeting with his own. He pointedly ignored how his servo practically disappeared within the palm of the other, responding instead, "D-16. Thank you for your aid, this has been just a whole big misunderstanding."

Arcee blinked at his introduction, before getting that smile back on her dermas. "Oh, well, it's good to meet you, D-16. Follow me, I'll take you to the medbay." She walked off, before stopping and slowing her pace for his shorter legs.

They winded through a few hallways, in a silence that was broken up by the sounds of others working deeper in the base. Arcee's helm turned to D-16 after a moment of apparent debate. "May I ask what happened out there?"

D-16 broke his attention away from actually reading the warnings on his HUD to look at her, "You mean, outside for that... battle?" He guessed, and she nodded. He couldn't bring himself to keep looking at her, instead focusing on his pedes and how he had to take two steps for each one of hers. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea. I don't even remember how I got out there..."

Her face fell, and she stood back up to hide her expression. "Oh, don't apologize. From what I could gather, it was a rough one." Her servo went up to her chin. "Do you at least remember what happened to your cog?"

At that, D-16 stopped walking. His helm throbbed as he squinted up at her. "I- I don't have a cog." That was the second time one of these rescuers questioned his cogless status, but if he thought about it harder, he couldn't blame them. Even he wasn't sure what a cogless mech was doing out in a transformer's battle, and he was the cogless in question. If he didn't online in the center of that field, he wouldn't be believing himself either.

She paused as well, turning with a confused look. "Yes, I can see that. Did someone take it during the fight? We can possibly replace it..."

"I don't have a cog." He repeated, trying to hide his annoyance at her insistence. "I'm a miner, we don't have cogs."

At that, Arcee stopped talking. She even stopped moving, those bright optics widening at him with a clear expression of shock. It threw Dee's helm through another aching loop, did this femme seriously not know about nocogs? "You... D-16, what do you remember? Not just about the battle, but about... anything." Her question was slightly unexpected, like she suddenly hit a realization like a drill hits a gas fissure.

His intake opened, like he was going to respond with something, but... what could he even say? The truth? That was pretty much all he had, besides the prayer that she would believe him. "I... I don't remember much... of anything. I remember my designation is D-16, I'm a miner, I work in Iacon. I don't know how I got to the surface, I don't remember fighting, I don't even know what that Blurr guy meant when he kept insisting for my faction--" The more he explained, the more frustrated he got. This was just unfair. He was a decent mech, he did his work, he kept his helm down. Why was this happening to HIM?

He tried to access his memory banks again, aborting with a clutch to his helm as it shot pain across his processor again. He was faintly aware that Arcee's servos reached out to hold him steady, and her intake was moving. "--the medbay, now." He didn't argue, letting the femme carry him in a way that tried to keep his pedes on the ground for dignity's sake. His vision resumed being blocked by HUD warnings, and this time he really didn't feel like clearing them again.

They had made it, he believed, voices around him full of static as they reached his audials. He felt himself lowering on a medberth. Primus, lying down felt really good at the moment. He offlined his optics, the confusion, pain, and annoyance that filled him ushered him to the comfortable arms of recharge. Maybe when he woke, his helm won't feel like it was getting cleaved in two...

Chapter Text

His helm still hurt.

Not the same kind of pounding awfulness that plagued him when he last onlined, but the kind of deep ache behind the optics that made it clear he should just continue recharging. Unfortunately, his processor was not about to let him fall back under. There were too many questions plaguing him to go back under.

He sat up with a groan, detaching himself from the berth and taking in the room. Sterile and bright. Honestly, maintained a scrap-ton better than the medbays down in the mines...

His helm throbbed. There it was again, a fleeting memory of something familiar, only to re-submerge away from his chasing consciousness. His servo went up to rub at his helm, and someone else's servo touched his pauldron. He froze, attention shifting, before he relaxed at the sight of Arcee. That was her designation, right?

Her pink and blue frame jumped at his response, pulling her servo back. "Sorry, D-16, I didn't mean to startle you. Are you feeling better?" She murmured; voice thankfully low.

He grunted, "Mildly, my HUD's clear again..." His servo still rubbed against his helm, and Arcee's optics flicked between the movement and the expression on his face.

"That's good. It took Red Alert a while to get through everything, but all your components were repairable, nothing needed to be replaced." That was a good thing, Dee mused. He wouldn't be able to afford replacements, even if he could remember how much shanix he had saved...

"--your cog." The end of her next sentence dragged him out of his own thoughts. His optics fixed on her again, exventing inwardly. Did she already forget?

"Arcee, you really don't have to worry about that. I was formed without a cog, I can assure you of that fact."

She looked pained, servo reaching out to grab his. "D-16, I understand your memory is faltering right now, but--"

"If you dare say anything further, Arcee, I swear to Primus I'm going to dent your helm in." A voice jolted the pair of them. Arcee dropped Dee's servo right when a blue mech with red accents stepped into the room. He didn't even bother to look at them, focused instead to the datapad he was holding. "Are you trying to overwhelm him again?"

Arcee looked to the side, sitting back and putting a bit more distance between her and Dee. "I was trying to help..."

"If you'd like to help, make your aft useful and get Hot Rod updated on this." Red Alert still hadn't looked to the femme, but that didn't stop him from knowing exactly where to aim when he gently grabbed her helm to pull her off her seat and push her towards the door.

She left like a kicked cyberdog, and D-16 already missed the presence of someone who seemed to stick up for him. He didn't let that show, instead staring up at the medic with what hopefully was a calm expression.

Red Alert murmured, scrolling on the datapad. "So, D-16 was it?" He spoke in a gruff tone, which in Dee's experience was standard for all medics. Overworked as much as miners were, that was for sure.

"Yes. Are you--"

"Seems you're having a bit of memory troubles." He didn't let Dee ask his own questions, bullying forward with the conversation he wanted to hold.

"...apparently." Dee grumbled, fully sitting up now and letting his legs swing over the side of the berth. His pedes didn't even reach the floor. Obviously, this place was not intended for nocog repairs if they didn't have a berth for his size.

"Apparently indeed. Looks like you took quite a slam to the helm, surprised you didn't have a dent as big as my servo." He laughed and finally looked at D-16.

Dee didn't laugh along; it really wasn't as funny a concept when it was your own helm being referenced. Red Alert paused, clearing his intake with a small cough. "Well, regardless of your helm strength, it appears the connection between your memory storage and the rest of your processor severed in your injury. I'm sorry to say, but the best course of action would be to wait till your nanites reconnect to each other."

D-16 grumbled, rubbing the back of his helm. "Great, and how long will that take?"

"I am unable to say an estimate."

Dee froze, hand stuck mid-movement. "What do you mean by that?"

Red Alert rested on the seat that Arcee was sitting in earlier, trying to reduce the distance between their heights. "You took a significant amount of damage out there. While your body tanked the hits pretty well, processor injuries are different. What you're experiencing right now is called amnesia. While it's not life-threatening, your processor is too damaged to safely access your long-term memory storage. From what I could research, past cases of amnesia vary on recovery. Some mechs made full recovery in a few days, others could go their whole lives recovering only parts of their access, to a few rare cases losing access forever." Red Alert seemed to be trying his best to gently lay this bombshell on D-16, but he still felt the panic well up inside his spark chamber.

Forever. Every single aspect of his past, locked behind a broken wire. Anything he was, gone.

He felt another sequence start, begging him to purge, but he aborted it quickly. One of his servos gripped the sterile sheet wrapping around the berth. "How-- why-- can I do anything?"

Red Alert placed a servo on his pauldron, and a calming aura emitted from his EM field. "Deep vents. The last thing you need to do right now is panic."

Dee tried to focus on inventing and exventing, trying to take the sense from his words. He was right, panicking was not going to help him find his way back to where he was supposed to be-- if that was anywhere. The mines, right?

After a few kliks, Dee could feel the thrum of his spark reach a pace that he felt was slightly more normal, finding his voice again. "...what should I do, then?"

Red Alert removed his servo from D-16, moving attention back to his datapad. "What you need to do is recover. I repaired you to the best of my abilities, your nanites need to do the rest." He stood back up, fully engrossed in what he was reading. "I'd recommend you remain in the medbay until you can walk without exhausting yourself."

With that, Red Alert went back through the door he came from, leaving D-16 alone with his worrying processor. He waited a moment in silence, before attempting another memory recall. He immediately dropped it with a hiss and a servo pressed to his helm. He rubbed it for a second, before pressing his dermas together. Maybe attempting to force a connection to his memory was not going to help his recovery.

All he could do was lie back down and wait.

He must've slipped into a recharge at some point between fretting and planning what he could possibly do to fix this, because he onlined to the sound of voices bouncing between the walls.

"Is that right? I didn't expect them to be so--"

"Let's focus, Hot Rod."

"Yes! Yes. Sorry, let's see..."

D-16's optics flickered back on, focusing slowly on the small group of mechs that stood in the medbay. He recognized Arcee and Red Alert, but the absolutely garish nightmare that stood between them was unfamiliar. The bright paint job of red, yellow, and magenta burned into his optics, detailed with flames of all choices, and Dee found himself looking away to sit up without the assaulting visual.

Within a klik, everyone's attention was on him, and a part of him cringed away from their optics. Primus, it felt like he was a foreign creature to them.

The bold painted mech walked forward, putting a fast smile on his faceplate. "Glad to see you're awake. You must be this D-16 I've heard so much about."

Heard so much about... that didn't settle the unnerve in his spark. D-16 just nodded, still groggy from booting up. "Yes... you're right. And you are?"

The mech smiled further, if that was possible. "The designation's Hot Rod, I wanted to give you a formal welcome to the base."

Dee nodded slower. His initial assumption was correct, this was a base. He could only assume it was for whatever war that involved the battlefield he onlined in. That just left the question: what side were these mechs on?

Hot Rod kept standing there, servos on his hips. His intake opened like he was going to say something further but closed again. Instead, he glanced behind him and Arcee took the cue. "D-16," she joined Hot Rod, who quickly took a step back, "Red Alert and I were discussing, and we believe that it could be a good idea to record what exactly you can remember. We want to help you figure out where you're from as soon as we can." She beamed.

Dee let out a small exvent, dropping the question floating in his processor. It really didn't really matter what side these mechs were on, they seemed ready to help him. Frankly, they were almost overly helpful. Were they looking to get something out of it? He doubted there would be many credits in store for them wasting time helping a nocog with a broken processor. "That... I agree. I want to get back to where I was, as soon as possible."

Red Alert handed Arcee a datapad, the medic once again seeming more interested in a screen in his other servo than the interactions around him. No one else seemed to mind, Dee could only assume that was the norm. "You should take a walk as well. Your joints will get stiff if you keep laying forever." With that as his final goodbye, he trudged off, most likely to the next patient he had.

Arcee waved, although Dee doubted Red Alert even noticed. Her optics shifted between Hot Rod and D-16, "Want to take a short walk around the East Wing?"

He nodded, the doc said he needed to. Hot Rod was about to respond, but a burst of static from the intercom interrupted him, “Hot Rod, please report to the Security Office. Hot Rod, to the Security Office.”

"Sorry Arcee, D-16. That’s probably Cliff, I gotta go." He had already turned on his pedes, jogging out of the room.

Arcee waved him off too. "Tell Cliff I say hi," she called after his speedy exit. Which left Arcee being the only one with D-16. "Well, it looks like it'll be you and me."

Dee was perfectly alright with that. Her demeanor put him at more ease than he was expecting, more than he probably should be in an unfamiliar place. "Works for me. Not sure if I'll be able to tell you anything useful however."

Arcee chuckled, "Anything can be useful, don't doubt yourself." She held her servo out, and as embarrassing as it was, he accepted the help off the large berth. No need to hurt himself in the attempt to save face.

As they walked around a few of the halls, Dee couldn't help but take in the size of everything. Arcee clarified wasn't a massive place, according to her their base was "modest but well equipped." Still, everything was clearly designed with transformers in mind. Door scanners at his helm height, desks that Dee would need to stand on the tips of his pedes to reach. It almost made him ask about Arcee's earlier offer of a cog, if only to not feel so terribly out of place.

It didn't help that other mechs took a moment to stare at him when they passed. He could only pray the apparent novelty of a nocog passes quickly and quietly.

"So," Arcee finally directed their conversation to the task at hand, "Why don't you tell me everything you know about yourself? Anything, even if you've already told me. I will write it all down for you." She held the datapad Red Alert handed to her in one servo, the other poised readily over the runeboard.

D-16 took a deep invent, recalling the few things that came to him quickly and painlessly. "My designation is D-16, I am a mining class. I've been a miner for several cycles now, maybe… uh, nevermind, I can't recall..." He trailed off, before giving up on trying to remember the exact amount of time. Being perfectly honest, would he even be able to without the amnesia?

All the while, Arcee's servos typed as fast as he spoke. Impressive, she must've done this a lot, maybe it was related to her position? Dee pulled away from the distraction, trying to recall anything else. "And... I did remember that I used to take the train in Iacon, to get to work."

Arcee looked at Dee, servos still typing without missing a beat. "You're from Iacon? I mean, I assumed as much when you told me you were a miner, but still, it's great you can recall that." She beamed, looking at the embarrassingly short list of what Dee could recall.

Three short bullet points. That's all he had off the top of his processor.

She caught his expression; oh scrap was he making a face? He tried to reign in his disappointment, but she just placed a servo on him. "Hey, don't beat yourself up. I'm sure you will remember more. This is only your first attempt," she smiled, her confidence softly radiating off of her EM field.

With that, D-16 let another vent in and out. She was right, and he couldn't let this dissuade him from trying harder. That's what he did, he worked hard and he got to where he needed to go. No matter how many setbacks the universe wanted to throw at him, no matter how many times he was dragged into another crazy incident by--

He jerked as his processor flashed painfully again. One servo clutched his faceplate, and Arcee immediately jumped on his discomfort. "Are you okay?"

He waved her nervous servo away from him, shooting her a quick thumb’s-up. "Fine, just dug a little too deep that time."

"Did you remember something else?"

He paused, removing his servo and staring at his palm for a second. "It felt like I almost did. Someone I knew. Know?" He shook his helm, clearing the last dredges of the sting. "Someone annoying, that's all I got."

Arcee let out a huff and a smile, even if it didn't quite reach her optics. "I'll write that down." Her servo typed out, 'Knew someone annoying?' before dropping her servo to the side to just walk with him. "It's exciting you're from Iacon." She decided to shift the conversation, "I'm from there."

He looked back at her. "Really?"

She nodded, before leaning in a bit, "I actually used to be a miner as well."

Dee's face dropped. Arcee, a transformer, used to be a miner? That would mean... she used to be a nocog. That explained her helping him so much, thank Primus. But the question bubbled out of him before he could take a moment and think about it, "How did you earn your cog?"

As soon as the question left him, Arcee pulled back upright, and a wave of discomfort smacked Dee from her EM field. Scrap, it probably was a bad topic, the only way to earn a cog would be to receive one from an offlined transformer. He immediately tried to rectify his slip-up, "Don't answer if you don't want to--"

But her servo flew up, waving in the air like she was trying to clear away the awkward aura her EM field was leeching. "Oh, nonono... you're not wrong to ask. I was just trying to work out
what to say." She stopped walking, and Dee stopped as well, watching as she brought a digit to her dermas in obvious thought.

"Being perfectly honest with you, I do have this... let's call it a suspicion?" She clicked her glossa on the roof of her intake, pacing with her murmured sentences. "...I mean, just based off of your reactions and memory... I wouldn't want to assume this, but..." her optics slowly turned to him, digit pulling slowly from her dermas. "D-16..."

"Tell me... who's our leader?" Her voice was low, like she didn't want anyone else in this empty hallway overhearing them.

His browplates furrowed, her odd behavior causing his spark to beat unsettled. "...Sentinel Prime."

He watched Arcee's intake fall open a touch. One servo came up like she was going to hide that fact, but it didn't quite make it to her faceplate. "Oh, Primus. No... I mean, that's what I suspected, but..." She stuttered over her words.

His spark beat faster at the confirmation of what he was fearing. Did something happen to Sentinel Prime? Is this why there's a war? Did-- did he even successfully find the Matrix!?

"Arcee, what am I not remembering?" He couldn't control the fact his voice raised, even if he felt a twinge of guilt at how Arcee jerked at the sudden volume change. Her servos went out to him, twitching forward but stopping themselves before they touched him. "Please don't freak out--! Ohh, Red Alert is gonna kill me." Her response only further bothered Dee.

He tried to control the pace of his vents, but his processor was spinning. "Arcee." He fixed her a look, clenching and unclenching his servos. "What are you not telling me? Tell me." After another moment of her silence, he pressed harder, "Now!"

She stared at him, before her helm quickly flicked up and down the hall. "Okay, I'll tell you. Follow me... I think you'll want to sit to hear it all." With that, she started to walk again, a slower pace this time. All Dee could do was follow.

Chapter Text

D-16 needed to stop finding brand new helmaches to deal with, or he was going to lose it.

He was seated in a conference room, in a seat once again too big for him to be comfortable, and Arcee took the seat across from him. Her face looked like she wanted to be anywhere else, but she didn't hesitate to start explaining what he wanted to hear.

"I suppose I will start with the worst of it all. Sentinel Prime lied to us."

"How?" He had already strapped himself in for the worst. He told Arcee to not lighten any truths, he didn't care how hard it was to hear. He needed to know what was going on in the world... and maybe something will strike his helm hard enough to spark his own memories.

Arcee looked like she was trying to ingest unfiltered energon. "About the cogless, about the Matrix, and... about the death of the Primes." She let out a small vent, her EM field wavering before steeling itself once again. "... where do I begin?"

Dee's face fell further and further as Arcee explained, to the best of her ability, about the betrayal of the Thirteen by Sentinel, the truth about the cogless, even bringing to light Sentinel's connections to the Quintessons.

Dee felt ready to purge, or punch, or... something by the time she finished describing the worst of his actions. "You're telling me... I could've been a transformer..." he nearly laughed, but everything inside him burned white-hot. How? How could this be possible? How could Sentinel, someone they had dedicated their whole lives to, play them all like fools?!

D-16 glanced up after not hearing Arcee speak for a moment, and he immediately realized how he must've looked after seeing her face. He sat up, dropping the glare and feeling a little guilt sneak in alongside his anger. He didn't want her to think he was angry at her, he needed her to continue talking.

He sat still as stone as Arcee's servo slowly placed itself on his own. "You are a transformer, Dee."

His processor gave a slight twinge at the nickname, but he ignored that for now. His optics searched her face, trying to decipher if she was just attempting to make him feel better, but her genuine smile didn't give him an answer. "What do you mean by that?"

She pushed her smile even further, like she was trying to spread it from her faceplate to his. "Let me assure you, this won't be completely depressing." Her optics lit up as she continued, "Like an answer to our prayers, right when we needed him most, a new Prime rose from the center of Cybertron. Quite literally." Her servo left it's place on Dee's to clench excitedly in front of her. "His name was Optimus Prime. Baring the Matrix of

Leadership, he restored the flow of energon to Cybertron, and with that-- every nocog was reunited with their missing part."

It sounded fantastical, but Dee's servo quietly rose to the hole in his chassis, a twinge of jealousy sneaking around his gut. "Then why don't I--" Arcee grabbed his servo to pull it away from his chassis. "That's why I asked you what might've happened to your cog. I don't doubt you have one, but--" her browplates furrowed, "Red Alert said it's likely someone took it. It wouldn't be the first time something like this has happened. Decepticons don't always fight with dignity."

Decepticons, they must be the other side of this apparent war. "Decepticons... explain to me: why is there this... war? If Sentinel was replaced by this... Optimus Prime, shouldn't that have fixed everything?" His optics narrowed, watching her with an unbreaking stare.

Arcee withdrew from her excited stance, servos now coming back down to rest on the table. "Well... you can imagine some mechs were angry with all that was revealed about Sentinel. One of them was a mech who declared himself as Megatron. He killed Sentinel Prime, in the middle of Iacon for all to see..." Her optics dimmed, and D-16 could only imagine she was stuck reviewing her memories of the event. "From there, he declared that no mech should listen to the reign of a Prime, again." She finally pulled out of her own processor, looking at Dee. "As you can imagine, he didn't take the sudden appearance of Optimus Prime so well."

Dee stared at her, waiting with quiet vents, and Arcee continued, "After their battle, it was Optimus who stood victorious. He exiled Megatron, and all of his followers, from Iacon forever."

"So, this Megatron... he's the one that's exacerbating this war."

Arcee looked to the side, before nodding slowly. "He and the rest of the Decepticons want nothing more than to bring about the fall of Optimus Prime. They've been relentless for orbital cycles, rallying under the helm of Megatronus as a symbol for their destruction."

Dee's servo slowly traced over the decal on his pauldron. He could still feel the barrel of Blurr's blaster poking it, there was the explanation for his hostility at least. To know his idol was now a symbol for a group of warmongers...

"...Prime should've killed him."

Arcee stopped whatever she was saying, looking at him with wide optics before blinking away the shock and shaking her helm. "That wouldn't have been right, that's not what an Autobot stands for..."

"That's ridiculous. It's obvious that mech's a danger, I saw the aftermath of one of your battles." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, in the direction he could only assume to be the field where he came from. "If the Prime truly cared about the wellbeing of Cybertron, he would've ended the war before it even began."

Arcee still looked unconvinced, optics narrow and Dee could feel her discomfort pricking into him. "It wouldn't have been that easy. It's been said before, you cannot start a society with an execution..."

D-16 barely held back a roll of his optics. He could hardly agree. Yet despite everything, he had to begrudgingly hand it to Megatron. If there was one thing he wanted to do after hearing the truth... it was to get Sentinel back for everything he had done. To make him suffer as much as every miner who gave their life drilling for his deception... to be fully shamed and paraded as the false Prime he was.

A servo touching him dragged him away from those thoughts, "D-16?"

Based on her tone, she had attempted to get his attention more than once. He shook his helm, "Sorry, I... this is a lot to wrap my helm around."

Her optics turned down, taking her servo off of him. "I understand. Believe me, it took me more than a few cycles to really come to terms with everything. Just know, you aren't alone." She nodded, and tried to bring her bright smile back.

Dee nodded, smiling as well. He was certain it was less convincing than hers.

D-16 was released from the medbay the next day, his attention floating somewhere else as Red Alert gave him a quick rundown on recommendations for a better recovery. All kinds of menial, self explanatory tips: Recharge before you start depleting your reserve energies, consume adequate amounts of energon, supplement minerals for his nanites...

His processor still hadn't let go of that conversation with Arcee. Out of everything that was revealed in that conference room, the worst part he decided was that despite Arcee's detailed recount of events... nothing sparked his memory. And it became very apparent to him that being aware of what happened and remembering it for himself were two wildly different perspectives.

Hot Rod was standing off to the side in the medbay as well, which struck Dee as odd. Why did he need to know this business? And why was he paying better attention than Dee himself?

Dee pulled himself back to focus as Red Alert handed him a small pouch, likely some starting supplement he was supposed to take with his energon. He'll figure it out later. He

dipped his head in thanks, watching the medic walk off. He stood in place, unsure of what to do with himself.

If energon ran freely again, that likely meant that there wasn't a need for miners, and besides if everyone had a cog now they definitely wouldn't be looking for a cogless liability. He could head off to Iacon, and then what? He couldn't remember when he moved out of the miner barracks, did he even have a place to stay? He woke up on that battlefield, did that mean he was now a soldier? If so, where did he need to go to report back to doing that? But his cog--

"So, do you have a plan for what's next?" The question came knocking from the outside of his helm, and Dee pulled away from his unanswered thoughts to look at Hot Rod. He must've been pulling a face, because before he could get out any sort of lie about how he did have a plan, Hot Rod continued, "You're more than welcome to stay in the barracks here."

Dee had to give that a moment of thought. That certainly sounded like a pretty good idea: a place to recharge and remain safe. Besides, if his hunch was correct about being a soldier, he was right where he needed to be.

But, what about his memories? As much as having a place to stay was important to him, the weight of not knowing who he was pressed against his spark.

Finally, he shook his helm. "I have to go to Iacon. Thank you for the offer, but I can't just sit here and hope I remember who I am."

"Iacon?" Hot Rod placed his servos on his hips, thinking. "That's quite a distance. Do you think you can make the trip without a cog?"

D-16 nodded, trying to keep the unamused look he wanted to give to himself. He wasn't about to be dissuaded that easily. "I don't mind if it takes a while, I'm no stranger to using a transport train."

Hot Rod didn't shift from his pose. "You know, if you don't mind waiting a few rotational cycles, I'm leading a small team to Iacon. You can join us, it's safer that way. Especially with how aggressive the Decepticons have been recently." He let that last sentence slip out quieter than the rest.

Dee took an invent to buy a klik of thought. He hated to admit it, but traveling with others was likely the better decision. While his pedes ached to get to something potentially familiar as soon as they could, there's no point in leaving sooner if he never even made it to the city. "Fine. I'll stay until then, Hot Rod."

Hot Rod didn't even wait until Dee was finished with his sentence, moving to open the medbay doors with a smile on his faceplate. "Call me Roddy, if you'll be staying you'll be part of our team. Come on, I can show you the barracks."

Yep, this guy continued to be very zealous. Dee shook his helm minutely, hopefully he didn't regret taking this offer.

The barracks weren't far from the medbay. Dee even recognized a few of the halls Arcee had walked him through. The inside was... well, it looked like a barracks. The biggest difference he could gather from the scanny memories of the mining barracks and the base was the fact all the recharge berths laid horizontally.

He walked slowly though the area, noting how several of them were decorated, exposing the personalities of whoever owned them.

"Over here, Dee." Hot Rod called him back from his wandering, that nickname catching more than just his attention. His browplates furrowed again, it felt familiar. Was that important to him?

Hot Rod must've caught his look, because he immediately stood a bit straighter, "Is it alright if I call you that?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I don't mind it." Dee shook his servo, dropping his internal questioning once again. He focused instead on Hot Rod's gesturing to what appeared to be an empty berth.

"No one's using this one at this time, would this work for you?"

The berth, like most other things in this base, was still too big. Dee trailed his servo along the top, ignoring the fact that it rose halfway up his chassis. "Sure, thanks."

Hot Rod kept standing there, something burning in his optics as he stared at Dee. Dee opened his intake to question if there was anything else he needed, when Hot Rod broke the silence first. "Are you a fan of Megatronus Prime?"

Dee paused his train of thought, looking down to the decal on his pauldron. It shimmered beneath a holographic cover, and despite the necessary wear from time, he had obviously kept it well maintained. "I... suppose so. I mean, he was the--"

"Strongest Prime to have ever lived." Hot Rod interrupted the end of his sentence, and something in the interaction made his processor twinge.

He ignored it for now, brushing the tips of his digits against his helm to rub away the sensation. "Yes. There were plenty of times his strength was the only thing getting me through the day."

Hot Rod nodded at that, leaning slightly in like he was trying to get closer to the conversation. "Yes, I agree! Not many mechs like to talk about him, because of the whole..." He circled a digit in the air, before pausing and looking back at Dee. "...you remember the war, right?"

Dee waved him off, trying to play down the fact that he really didn't. "I've been informed, I know what you're talking about."

Hot Rod relaxed a bit. "Good, good! Red Alert's been concerned about that, you know? Forgetting everything, then having to relearn it all. I can't imagine, it has to be overwhelming."

D-16 decided his best response was to shrug and not mention the whole conversation with Arcee. "It's not anything anyone can change."

Hot Rod huffed, before placing his servos on his hips, standing up straight again. "I trust the Prime will lead us through this." He was still looking right at Dee, but his processor was obviously off somewhere else at the thought.

"...you mean Optimus Prime, right?" It was still strange for Dee to acknowledge a new Prime. Someone he had no memory of. It wasn't easy to suspend the disbelief that hung over him, that this Prime was as wonderful as everyone here seemed to think. After all, there was a time he held Sentinel in that same regard. And look at the state of Cybertron now...

"Yes!" Hot Rod definitely didn't pick up on his discomfort, still as starstruck as he seemed a moment ago. "I've only been in his presence once... but mech, he knows what he's doing. He has to have like a... a direct comm with Primus himself. He has this aura about him!" He waved his servos around in the air, making sounds as he struggled to put his thoughts to words.

Dee bit back a chuckle watching him. He could admit he was a fanmech deep in his spark, but Hot Rod seemed to be a fanmech . "You really think he's that great?"

Hot Rod seemed surprised at the question, finally catching onto D-16's skepticism. "Of course I do. Don't you?"

Dee crossed his arms, leaning back on the bunk again and looking to the side. "Well, I hate to admit it, but I'm not really sure. I mean, I don't really... remember anything about him. Just that he's Prime now, apparently."

Dee glanced back to Hot Rod to gauge his reaction, and wasn't expecting the other to look... sad. He felt the sudden urge to apologize, even if he didn't really have a choice on what he could and couldn't remember.

"You don't remember him?" The redundant question hung in the air before Hot Rod continued. "Would you like to watch some of his speeches? We have several of them saved."

It was an offer clearly made from a place of the best intentions, but Dee couldn't stop himself from bristling at the thought. The idea of hearing words of encouragement through a shimmering image sent the memory of Sentinel and a wave of disgust through his processor. He glanced at Hot Rod's excited faceplate, before looking to the side once more. "Uhh, maybe later. I think I want to get my pedes under me here before I go making myself remember stuff..."

Hot Rod's excitement fizzled, but thankfully he seemed to relent to the logic. "Absolutely, that makes sense." He shifted his weight, slowly heading off. "But if you decide you'd like to watch, feel free to ask. Or shoot me a comm. I'll try to keep myself available--"

A small ring of static broke their conversation, a loudspeaker Dee hadn't noticed earlier shouting, "Hot Rod, please report to the West PMV Entrance. Hot Rod, please report to the West PMV Entrance."

"Duty calls." The mech chuckled, even though Dee could sense a hint of reluctance in his EM field. "My offer still stands, Dee. If you need anything, let me know."

"Sure thing, Hot Rod-- Roddy." Dee corrected himself, remembering the insisted nickname from earlier. The other mech flashed a smile, leaving him with a quick wave and a run that revealed the call was probably more urgent than he was letting on.

Dee let out a small vent once the door to the barracks closed again. He looked at the too big berth again, absentmindedly tracing the edge as he tried to digest everything. Sentinel, war, the new Prime... it all swirled in his processor in a way that only made him feel sick again. What he was learning was so wildly different to the reality he remembered, how much time has passed between what then and now?

It only took him a little more effort than what he would've liked to get himself up on the berth, sitting down. He checked the date on his HUD, viewing the time he had to wait until

Hot Rod and his team headed out to Iacon. He ex-vented once more, he had to wait before he could try finding answers to the thousands of questions he was stranded with.

Hopefully it wouldn't take too long.

Chapter Text

D-16 laid on his assigned berth for a while, stuck between wanting to do something with himself and having nowhere to start. The only item he had on him were the supplements he received from the medbay earlier, and it didn't take long to read the instructions and place them on the small storage space next to the berth. He even checked his subspaces... apparently he kept nothing on him. Maybe past him thought it would be smart to keep his subspaces light when going into battle. Current him thought it was the stupidest thing he could've done. How blessed it would've been to have a photo, or a note, or anything he could've called his own?

Eventually he decided a good use of his time would be to learn the layout of the base. If he had to stay a few rotational cycles here, he could at least make sure he knew where he was going.
Keeping tabs on what turns he made and when, he made a crude list of directions to locations he stumbled upon: a lab, two exit hangars, the medbay, a ration hall...

He tried to keep to himself, staying to the edges of halls and letting others pass him if he came across anyone. He was still receiving strange looks, and he really hoped he wasn't letting others see how annoyed it was making him. Making optic contact and a quick wave was enough to convince most mechs to stop staring, thankfully.

He swiped open a pair of unlocked doors at the end of another hall, and it opened to a large, round rec room. He slipped in, quietly observing a few small groups of transformers who appeared to be on break for the moment, until a voice called out, "Dee!"

He glanced around, finally catching sight of Arcee sitting at a table with two other bots. He recognized one of them, the blue bot... Blurr? The other was someone he hadn't met. A broad-shouldered mech with a deep red paint job and twin horns on his helm.

He stood in place for a little longer, until Arcee's incessant waving beckoned him over. He shouldn't be rude to the ones helping him.

She had already pulled aside one of the stools at the table next to her. "I'm surprised to see you out and about, are you feeling well?"

He grunted an affirmation, using the rungs to pull himself up on the seat and trying to ignore the servo reaching out to help him. "Yes, I am, I was just figuring out where everything is."

A mutter from the red mech at the table drew his attention. Dee raised him a questioning look, and the red mech sent a stare back that explained nothing.

The tension wasn't missed by others. Arcee let out a quick exvent, "Cliff, cut it out."

Cliff didn't cut it out, instead turning his glare to Arcee. "He should have an escort with him."

"He doesn't need an escort, he's capable of walking by himself now I'm sure..."

"I'm not worried about his ability to walk, Arcee." Cliff crossed his arms, leaning back on his stool, "We still don't know who this guy is. I still haven't found anything attached to his designation--"

"That doesn't prove anything."

"That doesn't not prove anything."

The pair continued their back-and-forth bickering, and Dee glanced across the table to Blurr. Rather than uncomfortable, he appeared to be bored with the sudden turn in conversation. His optics made contact with Dee, and he pulled a thin smile. Dee could only assume that this wasn't the first time these two butted helms.

Finally, Dee piped up in the hopes it would drag them out of it. "You looked up my designation?"

Both Arcee and Cliff paused, now looking at him. Cliff leaned back again, still not dropping his guard but answering. "Yes, I did, it's my job. And there's nothing in the Autobot registry for a "D-16"." The accusation was thinly veiled at best, and Dee's back straightened.

Arcee cut in, "But you've already explained it could be he was registered under a different designation."

Cliff didn't remark further with that, looking away from the table. Arcee instead turned to Dee, "Cliffjumper is a security officer here, we had to run a background check on you just like everybody else."

It made sense, but that didn't quell the unsettling sensation in his chassis, "...and you didn't find anything."

Arcee shook her helm, but as per usual her chipper personality tried to be reassuring. "It could just be you go under a new designation now. A lot of mechs changed their designations right before the war started. Cliff did, he used to be--"

"C-127." He grumbled, still not looking back but finishing the sentence for her.

Dee nodded slowly, acknowledging the two of them. He looked back over to Blurr, expecting him to pop in with his own former designation.

Blurr was rather invested in getting imaginary dirt out from one of his servo's seams but caught the look and sat up. "Oh, me? Are you asking if I had a different designation, oh no. No, no, no I've always been Blurr, Blurr's the designation always has been always will be fits me you know?" He shifted forward, lightly slapping his digits on the table, "Anyways D-16, was it? Sorry, I wanna say I'm really really super sorry about meeting you the first time I wasn't trying to act like I thought you were a Decepticon I just have to keep my guard up when out and about I'm sure you understand because when you're out and about it's the most likely time you're going to be caught off guard so I have to keep up my guard especially when surveying on my own..."

Arcee leaned over to whisper while Blurr kept talking in circles in the background, "Blurr likes to talk. He just forgets to talk slowly enough to understand him sometimes."

D-16 nodded; he could observe that clearly enough. Arcee tapped Blurr to knock him out of the ranting loop. "Blurr, correct me if I'm wrong, but you've always been a transformer, right?"

Blurr cut off his previous sentence to launch right into a new one. "Huh? Oh, sure you're right, right on the shanix with that, formed and raised a transformer yessir, not that it means anything too much anymore but I will say I always had a cog and I've always been driving around, used to race before this, yep, I'm very good at what I do."

Blurr started going off a different tangent about driving, everyone else at the table slowly drawing some of their attention to other things. Dee kept looking at Blurr, not really taking in the quick flood of useless information spewing from his intake. Blurr, the transformer... Blurr the racer? He sat up.

"You used to race in the Iacon 5000."

Everyone else stopped what they were doing. It even got Blurr to quiet down, nodding. "Yes, I did."

"Dee, do you remember that?" Arcee's face lit up, scrambling to reach into her subspace and pull out the datapad with the list she was keeping for him.

D-16 rubbed a digit against his face, her reaction almost embarrassing him. "Yeah... I remember him now..." His browplates furrowed as he tried to get the random piece of information to make sense. He could see it now, Blurr's designation written out on the board that displayed all the racers' and their placements. It was the only thing he could see in his surroundings besides the track beneath them, everything else was lost between panic and thrill at the speed he was going. It was an insane idea, using jetpacks... the only reason he hadn't fallen off the track yet was because of his servo gripping tightly to--

He jerked as ringing pain shut down the connection again. "Scrap--" he swore beneath his breath as his servo clutched his helm. He could see Arcee reaching out to him again, and he pushed her servos away. He shook his helm, trying to clear the remaining sting as Arcee's worried voice finally registered in his audials. "--are you okay? Do you need to go to the medbay?"

"I'm fine." He assured her, now back to reality well enough to see Blurr's concerned expression and Cliffjumper's mildly confused glare. He let out an exvent, dropping his servo off his helm. "I'm fine, I just get a twinge when I remember something, that's all. You don't have to get worried about it."

Arcee didn't look like she wanted to relent, but she pulled back all the same. "What did you remember?"

Dee crossed his arms, recalling what just flashed through his processor. "I remembered seeing Blurr's name on the leaderboard for the race. And..." he hesitated, trying to make heads or tails of the next bit, "...I was racing too."

The pause that fell over the table was eventually broken by Cliffjumper giving a scoff. "I thought you said he was a miner." His attention went pointedly to Arcee, who jerked back in offense.

"He was! I'm positive that's what-- that's what you said, right Dee?"

Dee's own helm was spinning in an attempt to make sense of the random recollection. "Yes, yes I was. I was... why in the Pit was I there?" The concept of him racing sounded insane... there was no way he did that. And who was that next to him? That blurry mech he kept failing to pick out of the shady edges of the memory. Something told him that mech was the culprit-- the one who created the crazy idea.

He gave up trying to decipher it for the moment, coming back to reality to catch the middle of another argument between Cliffjumper and Arcee.

"We should report this."

"Report what? Cliff, sit your aft back down. It's a good thing D-16 is getting his memories back."

"Yeah, except he's remembering things that directly conflict with what he informed us earlier." Cliff's digit poked into Dee's chassis. "You've got something you're not telling us, I just know--"

"WAIT!" Blurr's voice shut everyone up, him standing off his stool and placing both servos on the table to lean over to Dee. "Oh, sweet scrap, holy smoke you're kidding me I remember now you raced and you were a miner no way there's no way No Way NO WAY!" His servos resumed rapping on the tabletop with a ferocious speed. "You remember me well now I remember you isn't that crazy we're both remembering each other wow I mean just wow-wow-wow!"

The rest of the table was still stuck in their surprised silence. Arcee was the first one to recover, "...Blurr, you know D-16?"

"Well I don't know him like know know him, no you know, but I do remember during the last Iacon 5000 there were two miners they snuck in the race and I do remember one of them had a total grey paint job and wow this is just crazy I can't believe you're alive you two were just incredible, I remember I was watching while racing which isn't really smart and now I know it's not smart because I drove straight into a wall while doing that but wow, I can't believe that I'm meeting you I thought you two offlined from injury! Don't you guys remember those two, the two miners?"

Arcee stared for a klik more, before she jerked like she was electrocuted and whipped her helm back to Dee. "SWEET SCRAPYARD--! Dee, I used to work with you!"

Dee practically jumped from her quick movement as Arcee pressed her servos on either side of her helm. "I completely forgot-- it's been so long it must've slipped my processor!"

Even Cliff seemed to shift away from his defensive pose, now inspecting Dee with a guarded curiosity. D-16 pulled himself to sit up straighter, glancing between the three that were now staring at him. "I-- maybe I was? I'm sorry, I really don't remember much beyond what I said..."

"I definitely remember you now, Dee." Arcee insisted, "We weren't in the same team, but we worked in the same sector."

Despite the slight discomfort, the revelation settled into a bubbling warmth deep in his gestation chamber. He wasn't nonexistent... there was the proof he needed. Proof that he didn't just fall out of the sky. Even proof as unreliable as a few mechs' memories felt enough for now. "You really know me?"

"Somewhat... I remember that it was you and... uhh... Orion! Yes, Orion, you two were like smoke and flame. See one, and you'll find the other."

Orion. The name echoed blankly in his processor, bringing nothing alongside it. He frowned, a strong suspicion within him said that had to be the designation of the blurred mech in his memory. He just wished he knew that for a fact.

Cliff's grumbling brought him back to the conversation at hand. "Fine, we figured out who you were, that's great and all. That still doesn't explain who you are now."

Dee hated to relent to that logic, but he was right. Arcee just shook her helm. "Let's take this one step at a time. Dee's recovering, a bit of patience and I'm sure everything will start making sense sooner than later."

Cliff definitely had a rebuttal lined up, but it was interrupted by a mech leaning over his shoulder, "How are we doing over here?"

D-16 waved, Hot Rod's paint registering who he was even in the corner of his optics. Everyone else followed suit, even Cliffjumper gave him a proper nod in acknowledgement. "Hey Roddy."

Arcee flipped the datapad she was writing in over to him, "Hot Rod, Dee and I used to work together, isn't that something?"

"You two did?" Hot Rod looked at the growing list, then straight at him. "That's a convenient coincidence." He grinned.

Blurr slapped his servos on the tabletop again, finally breaking from his best efforts to let others talk. "It wasn't just that, Dee was one of the miners that raced in the Iacon 5000! Don't you remember that? I remember that I remember that well but then again maybe you weren't paying attention to that I remember how excited you were for the race it was your first time racing for the Iacon 5000 wasn't it? If it was my first time again I don't think I would've noticed anything other than the race I mean I still remember you couldn't even recharge the night before you just kept going on and on and on and on which is why I still kinda blame you for my poor performance that day--"

"Blurr-!" Hot Rod interrupted him, before chuckling with a furrowed brow. "Yes. I do remember, actually." He assured the other, shaking his helm lightly. He handed the pad back over to Arcee, placing a servo on his hip. "You must have a pretty impressive track record behind you then, Dee."

Dee tried to laugh at what he could only hope was a joke, "Yeah, sure. If I get myself to remember it all."

Cliff muttered something that sounded very much like, "...full of surprises..." while Roddy just patted him on the arm.

D-16 took the opportunity to somehow get attention off of himself, "So, you used to race as well, Hot Rod?"

Hot Rod nodded while giving a half-shrug. "A little. Didn't have much time to before everything..."

"The war really tore up the track for everyone." Blurr butt in again, Hot Rod getting partially covered as Blurr leaned in to take the reins. "But you should've seen him. I mean, I'd argue that I'm the fastest bot here, but Roddy is a natural, very fast, and I mean like really really really fast, not quite as fast as me, but--"

"Blurr." This time there were several voices getting him out of the endless sentence.

He clamped his intake shut, shrinking back in his seat with a smile. "...in short, Roddy's fast."

Cliff chuckled, trying to keep a serious face as he spoke, "It's the flames."

Hot Rod shot him a dirty look, subconsciously swiping a servo over his detailing, and Dee struggled to keep his own smirk away. Hot Rod leaned to get in Cliff's faceplate, "Your jealousy is rearing it's helm again. Are you still mad I made you eat my dust last time?"

Cliff didn't back down, "I ate your dust? Pretty sure I was in front of you for most of the race."

Blurr launched himself into their banter, practically vibrating in his seat, "You know what we should race that would be fun!"

"Right now?" Hot Rod chuckled, the cocky grin only widening on his faceplate, "I don't know, I don't want to deal with anymech crying when I--"

"Hot Rod." Another mech called him from across the room, and he lurched to attention, "We need you over here."

"Be right there." He nodded to the other, before giving the group an apologetic expression. "Duty's calling, I'll grace you all with my presence... later." Two finger guns and a quick jog left the group a bit quieter.

Dee stared at his retreating form, that was the third time an interaction with Hot Rod ended with him being called somewhere. He tested the water with a short remark, "...he seems like a busy mech."

Arcee nodded, "That's just what happens when you lead base."

"Temporarily." Cliff tacked on.

"Leading, nonetheless."

Dee ignored them as they started another small squabble. Leader? Not trying to be mean to the guy, but he hardly seemed the type. He was... well... he was young, he definitely didn't fit D-16's view of what a leader should be. Then again, anything he knew about leaders has been flipped upside down recently.

"Really?" Dee cut into their arguing. "How'd that... I mean, how'd he earn the role?" He asked.

Arcee explained, dropping the argument, "Ultra Magnus has been training him to be his successor for a while now."

"Who's Ultra Magnus?"

A cold hush fell across the table, and Dee felt he shoved his pedes in his intake again. Arcee took a klik before explaining, "He's our base leader. At least, he normally is, he's just..."

"...he's been M.I.A." Cliffjumper went back to crossing his arms, leaning away from the group.

D-16 stopped looking at the others, now staring at his servos on the table. "I'm sorry to hear that."

The silence that fell again wasn't something Dee felt he could break, everyone else likely feeling the same way. Arcee was quieter now, "...I trust Hot Rod, he's going to be a great leader."

Silent helms nodded in agreement.

Chapter Text

The day had finally arrived. Dee sat on a crate, watching a few other mechs loading the transport shuttle they planned to use. Dee was initially helping the effort, but getting tripped over was a one way ticket to the sidelines. He tried to not let it bother him, standing hip height to everyone else it was bound to happen.

He leaned back, surveying the room. Hot Rod was busy holding a conversation with a much older looking mech. The talk appeared to be one sided, Hot Rod seemed barely able to get a word out with the other ranting to him. Based on body language alone, he was either getting a warning or getting chewed out. Dee huffed, after the past few cycles at the base he now knew that either option were equally possible.

"How are you doing?" He jerked, he didn't even hear Arcee walk up next to him. He covered the reaction with a small stretch, shrugging.

"Fine. Just waiting."

"All packed?" She joked, sitting down beside him.

"Yep. I was surprised I could fit everything." His snarky response was tinged with a chuckle.

She laughed as well, before leaning forward with a slightly thin expression. "Hey, you aren't... upset I didn't remember you at first, are you?"

"What?" He looked up, surprised. "No, Arcee-- I mean, that'd be rather hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?" He tried to joke.

It worked a little, her chuckle making a reappearance. "Yeah... it's just been, it's been vorns since I worked in the mines. I've tried to move on from all that." She busied herself by swiping a digit over her visor, clearing an imaginary smudge off the lens. She sat back up, looking straight forward. "I really haven't kept much contact with anyone from there. I mean, the last time I saw you was when I watched you and Orion racing the Iacon 5000."

That answered his suspicions: the mech still hidden in the shadows of his processor was Orion Pax. "...me and Orion, huh?" He murmured.

She nodded, "Yeah. Can't help but imagine he's worried sick about you. I doubt you two seperated after everything." She smiled, but her optics flickered to his face and she stopped. "What's wrong?"

He vented, one servo absently tracing the outline of his decal. "...I don't remember him."

She blinked, optics going wide, but her silence urged him to continue. "I... I sort of remember, someone. I think he was a pain in my aft, and he sounds slightly crazy," He huffed, "but I don't really *know* who he is." He stopped tracing the decal, tilting his helm up. "...my processor is coming back to me, but frankly it's taking too long."

Arcee watched him for another klik, before she reached into her subspaces to bring out a tablet. "Here."

He took it, brows furrowing, "You're giving this to me?"

"I figured we're all going to be busy, and maybe it would be better for you keep your own record." She explained. "Could do some good, get your sequences running. Maybe that's just the kick you need for the rest of your memories."

Dee stared at the datapad in his hands. It was pretty much empty of stored contents, beyond the basic functions and a file titled "D-16." He clicked on it, his short list of memories greeting him on the aqua screen.

"And besides, it could help you pass the time on the trip. It's going to take us half the rotational cycle to get to Iacon." Arcee's digit pointed to the screen. "The writing software only supports three sublayers, but I'm sure you can work around it."

His own digits cautiously explored the screen. Arcee's reasoning to give it to him made sense, but that didn't stop him from feeling a surge of gratitude. He clicked back to the homescreen, looking up to the femme. "Thanks, Arcee."

"Don't even mention it." She smiled and stood up, "and feel free to write what you want in it. It's yours now."

With that she walked off, and Dee was left sitting on the crate by himself again. The blank screen stared at him, intimidating as much as it was welcome. He reopened the file that listed his memories, regarding the short list once more. He added to it, small things he now knew about himself.

He was still typing away as they called for boarding, finally putting the screen in a subspace and walking up. Dee had a suspicion that Hot Rod personally decided who would be a part of this trip, he recognized each member of the team as one of the young leader's friends.

Blurr darted around him, saying something unintelligible other than, "...just gotta get by you cause I have to get..." and nearly bowled over Cliffjumper placing the last few things inside.

Arcee followed up, a lot slower, and finally Hot Rod came. The senior transformer was following close behind, and now Dee could hear Hot Rod was in fact getting a stern talking- to from him.

"...and you better bring her back in one piece, you hear me?”

"Loud and clear, Kup. It'll be my utmost priority."

Kup crossed his arms. "Don't sass me, youngling." His optics darted to Dee, catching his stare. "You, new one. Make sure this bolt head stays out of trouble, got it?"

Dee smirked, "Sure thing, sir."

Hot Rod made a sound like he was shot, "Don't side with the old lug nut!"

"This "old lug nut" is the one who decides if you get to Iacon on a ship or on your pedes. Keep talking."

Hot Rod brushed him off with a wave of his servo, which only prompted a wrench to be thrown in his direction. Dee feared it would've kept going until Arcee came back to the boarding entrance.

"Hot Rod, we're ready."

He took the escape as it presented himself, ducking into the ship and practically dragging Dee along. Dee allowed himself to be towed, now joining the others in the flight deck.

"Did you escape Kup with both your audials intact?" Blurr teased when they passed his seat. It only prompted a huff and an optic roll from Hot Rod.

Dee took an empty seat, staying out of the way for now. Hot Rod flicked a few switches in front of him, and Dee's servos gripped the armrests beside him when the whole ship started to rumble.

"Are we clear down there?" Arcee spoke into a mic attached to her station.

Kup's voice came through the static. "Humph, clear. And remember, one fragging scratch on her and I'll strip all your paints off."

"We got it, Kup. Launching."

The rumbling got stronger, and Dee decided he was in fact not a big fan of flying as soon as they took off. He tried to act as unbothered as apparently everyone else was, but he did not release his grip on the armrests until they were steadily en route.

For a while he busied with figuring out how his new datapad worked, letting the others in the room slip into background noise. Once he figured out how to write in the three sublayers Arcee mentioned earlier he clicked the screen off and took in his surroundings. Everyone else seemed preoccupied; Arcee relaxing and reading something while Blurr was quietly blurting a one-sided discussion to Cliffjumper.

Hot Rod however, he was still staring out the front windshield, digits absently tapping the steering wheel.

Mimicking a stretch, Dee quietly walked over, "Does this thing not have autopilot?"

It was hard to miss how Hot Rod flinched, still holding onto the wheel while turning to Dee, "No, it does. And it's on."

Dee leaned on the dashboard, crossing his arms and tilting his helm. "You seem tense."

"I'm not. It takes a lot to ruffle me." Hot Rod looked back out the windshield, Dee following his gaze. Nothing of interest outside, just the surface of Cybertron and a few energon rivers splitting across the scene.

"Sure." Dee remarked. He glanced back to him. "You know, I still don't know the reason you all needed to go to Iacon."

That at least got Hot Rod to release his grip on the steering wheel, leaning back in his seat. "Yeah, uh, right. I guess no one told you. It's nothing-- well it's not unimportant, but you don't have to worry about it. I just need to be instated for my position."

Dee blinked, nodding slowly. "...officially, huh?"

Hot Rod nodded back, smiling. But Dee could see how his shoulders tensed, how the expression didn't quite reach his optics.
"Well, I doubt anyone blames you for being nervous." Dee glanced at the crew, still preoccupied.

"It's not that-- I'm not nervous." Hot Rod insisted. At Dee's unconvinced expression he continued, "It all feels a little... fast." He let out a vent.

Dee watched his expression carefully, arms crossed and thinking. "Just taking a guess here... you're receiving this position because of what happened to Ultra Magnus."

Hot Rod looked away, servos now fiddling with the arms on his chair. "Nothing happened to Magnus...he's still out there. I'm positive." He frowned. "It feels wrong to replace him when I just know he's not gone."

Dee let out a small vent, uncrossing his arms. "...I understand." He glanced back over the team behind them. "Tossing my two shanix in, Ultra Magnus chose you for this position, am I right?" Hot Rod gave a single nod, not looking at him. "Then you're doing what he wants you to do. A team without a leader is as good as dead." The saying rolled off his glossa, that was one of the mantras of the mines. Always have a plan, always have a head. And always have two paths to escape.

Hot Rod finally looked back at him, "Thanks, I know you're right." His servo rubbed the side of his helm, still not quite looking assured.

"...and you're doing a good job." He watched for Hot Rod's reaction. Success, that finally seemed to knock the other out of his melancholy rut.

"You mean it?"

"No, I'm lying to you. Yes, I mean it." Dee crossed his arms again, leaning on the dashboard once more. "The whole time I've been here, all you've done is take care of whatever's been thrown at you." His optics focused back out the windshield, "I've worked under supervisors who didn't put a quarter of the work you've already dedicated."

Hot Rod's servos relaxed, now just resting on his seat. "I just want to do well."

"You are." Dee glanced at Hot Rod's face. He believed what he was saying: Hot Rod was nervous, young, and admittedly inexperienced, but it took a mech with the right characteristics to unexpectedly take on a leadership position like he was. And besides, he mused as he watched Hot Rod's expression, it felt nice to at least try to give back to the group that's spent the better part of a few cycles helping him.

Iacon was different than D-16 remembered. It had always been sheltered, hidden underground to protect the population inside from Quintesson attacks. But the guards, the reinforced entrances... those were new to him. Even past the city walls, the guilded city had changed. The towers spanning from the ceiling and floor still sparkled in the lights that filled the cavern, but scaffolding and hastily repaired sections exposed the wear of a war that thrummed beneath the proud exterior.
Dee found himself engrossed in staring out the window as they started their decent towards a landing pad. This was his home, to the best of his limited knowledge. But to see it again, it felt as disconnected from him as any other place.

"It must be nice to be back." Hot Rod asked, catching his look.

"Sure, it is..." Dee decided to not admit to his mild disappointment. Maybe he just needed a few minutes before things started to come back to him.

"Don't get too excited. We have a busy schedule here." Arcee interjected, standing from her seat now that they've finally landed. She scrolled through a list she was staring at, "We have to report to our lodgings in a jorn, so let's move out." She circled her digit in the air, leading with a purposeful march out the door.

"Who's the leader here, again?" Blurr elbowed Hot Rod with a smirk before jogging after her. Cliff waited till both D-16 and Hot Rod passed him, bring up the rear.

Dee felt a distance from the proceedings, watching everything blur around him like an uninvolved bystander. After reporting to their hostel, Arcee led them through a myriad of planned tasks: ensuring a supply order to their base, meeting with a few mechs who were apparently important for some reason or another, delivering some paperwork to a few different offices. All the while, D-16's gaze lingered on the different parts of the city they passed. Some parts were clear as day to him, certain squares or buildings giving him a familiar sense of direction as they traveled. Others parts just left him grasping at straws for recognition.

It was late in the day when everything was finally cleared off their plate. The group sat on the transport train through the city with silent stares and aching pedes.

"Arcee, let's get off at this stop." Hot Rod announced to the quiet group. Dee sat up as the other stood and walked to the door before the train had even slowed down.

Arcee seemed similarly confused, but slowly stood to follow. "I hope you don't want us to walk the rest of the way back..." She mumbled, before knocking Cliffjumper on the helm to wake him.

"No, no... This shouldn't be long." As soon as the doors slid open, he was out. The rest just shrugged, before trying to keep up.

D-16 followed as well, and his brows furrowed as he looked ahead. Hot Rod had slowed down to let everyone catch up, turning to stare at them, optics waiting impatiently for their reactions. In front of him, a large plaque stood at a height that even Dee could reach, and beyond that was a set of stairwells leading down beneath the city. Dee stopped in place, blinking a few times. Arcee and Cliff seemed to have a similar reaction, pausing as they took in where they were. The only one seemingly unaffected was Blurr.

"So what's the big idea here Roddy, aren't we all tired enough when we got through Arcee's obligatory list we were all hoping to get some recharge..." He burbled a complaint, but Cliff shushed him with a servo on his faceplate.

"I had the thought, it might be good for Dee to visit some familiar ground." Hot Rod quietly admitted, and stood back when Dee started to walk forward.

It was nearly overwhelming, taking in what was suddenly so vivid in his memory. He dragged his optics from the stairwell in order to read the plaque that he didn't remember being there before. The inscription was lightly worn, possibly from servos tracing the runes as hundreds read the following...

”The Mines of Iacon are dedicated to the preservation of a former era of Iacon's history. Inside these excavated halls lie the prayers of those sparks lost in the tunnels beneath, and the promise to never have such tragedy happen again."

Dee felt the air leave his vents, the sensation in his digits going to static as he absorbed what he read. A memorial...

"Optimus Prime had these barracks converted into a museum, it's the only mining sector still open for the public to enter." Hot Rod explained, placing his servo on Dee's pauldron. "I thought it might help with the memory. If you're up for it, we could go in."

Dee looked up from the plaque, staring at the stairwell that might as well have been a maw straight out of the ground. He clenched a fist, it made his spark chamber burn... but he had to go in.

"Yes, let's go."

The pair started to head in, before Hot Rod turned to see Arcee, Cliff, and Blurr sticking back. "Did you three want to join?"

Arcee shuffled in place, before shaking her head. "You two go on, I... I think I'm going to stay out here."

Cliff glanced at her demeanor before crossing his arms, "I'm staying."

Blurr tilted his helm back and forth, "I don't wanna be rude, nono, but mech I'm still pretty tired so really if you don't mind I wanna recharge..." He puttered out of steam, and Dee raised a servo to assure him.

"I don't mind if you'd all rather head off."

Hot Rod nodded, agreeing. "You three should head back to the hostel, Dee and I shouldn't be too long here."

They watched the group walk off, waving before turning back to face the entrance to the mines. Dee shook his servos, trying to will the nerves that ran through his fuel lines to calm down. This wasn't anything he hadn't done before... it would just be the "first" time returning after... everything. At least, the first time he remembered currently. Hopefully, his gestation chamber would stop churning enough to get through this.

Chapter Text

Their steps seemed to ring though the quiet halls, every step announcing their presence as they walked deeper... and deeper. Dee's attention drifted between the steps beneath his pedes and the plaques of information framed on the walls. Pages of designations, of dates, of drilling teams... all encased and commemorated. He wondered if his own designation was hidden in here, buried within the memories of other bots--

He banged into the back of Hot Rod, who stumbled forward. "Woah-- sorry!" He stood up, taking in the numerous paths to take at the bottom of the stairs. He placed his servos on his hips, taking in a vent before turning straight to the other. "I've... actually never been down here before. Which way should we go?"

"Uhh..." Great. Dee wracked his processor, hoping for anything, literally anything that could point him in a direction. Nothing immediately came to mind as he glanced between the halls, but something in his gut said, "Left."

He walked forward, letting his pedes lead rather than his processor. Hot Rod tailed close behind, ducking beneath low doorframes as they pressed on.

Down this hall... then another left. Get to the main room... then slight right. The directions his pedes took him felt confident, and the longer they went the more things started becoming familiar. Dee found himself completely distracted as he took it all in: the exposed piping rusting from disuse, the grating spanning between long drops that hinted just how deep the mines continued onwards, the occasional glimpse between walls that exposed shifting ground just beyond the metal plating.

They passed by other hush groups, other individuals giving respects to the empty halls. Dee hardly spared them a glance, pedes now moving with a muscle memory that was hard to deny.

Finally, the halls opened into a wide room, and his spark stuttered at the sight. Rows on rows of empty berths. The barracks.

Hot Rod entered behind him, letting out a low whistle. "You found it fast. So, this was your sleeping quarters?" He walked further in, hunched over from the low ceiling. "It's... uh, cool. Cool? No..." he muttered.

Dee didn't give him a response; his attention was pulled to each berth. Every single one had a small plaque, a designation. Each one that he read off triggered a blurry image: beaten, dirty, yet determined bots. His vents hitched, walking faster past each berth: R-44, Deadend, RoadHeader, TX-66, Jazz...

"Dee?" Hot Rod stumbled after him, bumping his head on a low-hanging pipe with an, "Ow."

He practically didn't hear the other, pedes now jogging past the different berths, no-- no-- no--

He skidded to the side to make a quick right, running down the aisle now. Two berths past the middle... two berths past...

He stopped. It hadn't changed much. The poster he stuck to the side vorns ago was paler than he remembered... and his belongings were tucked in closer to stay out of the walkway, but it was the same. Screwed into the back of the vertical surface, his own plaque.

D-16.

Hot Rod finally caught up, creeping forward to read it himself. He was quiet for a second, gauging Dee's face before murmuring. "This was yours?"

Dee's vocalizer felt disconnected, he just nodded. He stepped closer, reaching out to wipe some dust off a sticker, fused to the berth by time. The memories flooding back into his processor felt overwhelming, night after night after night spent recharging in this same place. A simple reality-- now tainted in his mind by the knowledge that it was all for a lie.

His gaze darkened and he didn't feel Hot Rod's servo rest on his pauldron. The world spun around him as more came back to him, the days spent working his servos off, close calls and cave-ins that left everyone wondering if this was the last day they'd trudge to work, evenings spent on aching pedes and struggling to get a moment of recharge. Even if he did find it, there was a good chance the cycle would get interrupted by--

He came gasping back to reality, now aware everything the room seemed to be moving because Hot Rod was shaking him back and forth with clear concern.

Dee stopped him by grabbing his servos, and his intake stumbled over itself to work out, "Orion."

"What?" Hot Rod thankfully let go of Dee, but he was obviously still worried about him. "What does that mean? You just-- went away for a minute there. Are you alright?"

"Orion Pax," he repeated, firmer and glaring at the other before moving around him, "...recharged across from me."

Sure enough-- his newly equipped memories didn't fail him. A berth a little more dented, a little less decorated sat on the other side of the walkway. It's plaque held the designation he was expecting, 'Orion Pax.'

He nearly let out a chuckle, "He... was my closest friend. As annoying as the fragger could be." He was murmuring to himself more than Hot Rod. "I swore he would be the death of me..." He started laughing now, glancing to the other berths. "Jazz. He was nosy, but reliable. Wheeljack, he could break a drill by looking at it wrong. Ironhide..." He couldn't stop himself from rattling off designations, events he remembered so clearly now.

The whole time, Hot Rod listened, quietly invested, before laughing along. "Ha-ha, I knew it would work! A flawless plan." He practically patted himself on the back, before knocking Dee on the helm. "What else do you remember? Do you remember the race?"

He pushed the servo away, settling into chuckles as he nodded. He was still distracted by revelations, "Yes. I do. And it was Orion's idea... the thought if miners ran the race he could prove that we were more than nocogs..." His heavy vents slowed, "...we came dead last. I could've killed him, we were lucky to only be slightly banged up."

Hot Rod stood back as Dee's expression shifted, the next memory less cherished. "Sentinal Prime visited us in the infirmary. He offered us an opportunity... to go to Prime Tower and continue proving miners could be more..." His processor burned as he connected a dot he missed the in the moment of that interaction, and his vision flickered as he realized, "He wanted to use us as propaganda."

Hot Rod browplates rose, taking that in before hesitantly asking "...did you accept?"

Dee shook his head, pressing his digits to the front of his helm, "No, well yes, but we never ended up going there... we... we..." He blinked, squinting in frustration as the rush of memories slowed to a trickle, until it felt he hit a wall again. No, no, no. "...I can't remember beyond that. We didn't go to the Tower... something else happened."

Hot Rod looked off, thinking as well. "Well, it was only a few days after the Iacon 5000 that Sentinel Prime was overthrown. Do you think that's why?"

Dee let out a vent. It made sense... but something nagged him that there was more to it. "Yeah. You're probably right."

Hot Rod stood back up, leaning and looking around, "But, hey, if you're remembering stuff around here, could you keep sharing? I've never been here before, after all."

The request was a good distraction, good enough at least. Walking from hall to room, little bits of his past left behind in uncleaned corners and whispers in the air. He found himself grasping at the memories... relaying useless information to Hot Rod's quiet nods and occasional joke.

He even convinced Hot Rod to pass through a restricted zone to show him the roof. Although, it really wasn't so much convincing as it was mentioning the idea and watching Hot Rod immediately agree.

He vented slowly in the cool air outside, watching a familiar view of the city passing above them. His optics flicked between moving transformers overhead. "...Orion would drag me here all the time, going on about his day or his newest psychotic plan of greatness." He murmured.

Hot Rod turned his helm down with a slight smirk. "You two sounded close. Real close." He nudged Dee with an elbow.

Dee just grunted, brushing off his tone. "We were friends, of course we were close." He kept staring up

at the city, until Hot Rod's persistent smirk dragged him back to the conversation. "We were just friends."

"Are you suuuure?" He poked the side of Dee's helm. "All night you've been "Orion this," and "Orion that..." hehehe- oww!" He cut off, bending at the waist as Dee grabbed the digit poking at him.

He resisted the urge to smirk back as he pressed it back in a way that made the other instantly regret his previous transgressions. "Just. Friends."

"Hey-hey-hey! Sorry- ow--!" Dee finally showed mercy and relinquished the digit. Hot Rod stuck it in his intake, trying to null the sharp ache left behind. "Primus, got it. Just friends..."

Dee knew he wasn't convinced, but at least Hot Rod didn't seem to want to keep trying his luck. He watched the transformer shake his servo, and he chuckled. "You remind me of him."

Hot Rod paused, "I do?"

"Yeah... you both have that..." he rolled a servo in the air as he worked out how to describe it, "that unrelenting optimism. You're confident, borderline arrogant... but you're only doing what you think is right." He exvented, falling into a short reverie.

Hot Rod stared for a klik more, before busting out a smile, more genuine than a smirk this time. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment." He nudged the other, "Any idea where Orion might be, now?"

Dee shook his head, "Still nothing." He looked down, he couldn't help the slight wave of worry that shivered through his backstrut. The lack of knowing was admittedly killing him inside, what if something happened to Orion? And if something did... would he even want to remember that?

Hot Rod must've felt it buzzing around his EM field, because a fisted servo rubbed the top of his helm. "We'll find him. I give my word."

Dee pushed the servo off him again, but it worked enough to relax him. "Your word, huh? I'm holding you to it."

They couldn't stay there all nightcycle, Arcee was probably already going to chew their audials off for staying as late as they did. They managed to sneak back into the hostel room without being caught, sliding into recharge berths for a few jorns of recharge.

A few jorns too little, Dee decided as soon as he came back online, optics still blurry and begging to go back under. He groaned and forced himself upright. He knew he wasn't about to get more, not with Arcee's perfect schedule packing.

"...how late did you two stay out?" She voiced the light accusation at the pair when she caught sight of them over their morning rations.

"Don't worry about it, Arcee." Hot Rod murmured, stifling a yawn with a drink from his cube.

"Don't worry? Roddy, you're presenting in front of the whole Senate today!"

"And I'll be awake by then..."

She started to rant on how irresponsible that was, but Cliffjumper interrupted her with a mumble over his own breakfast, "What's on the agenda today?"

Arcee composed herself, drawing out a screen to read out loud. "Roddy's presentation is in the afternoon but he has to report to the Senate before the meetings start, so he should've been out the door a jorn ago..." Hot Rod didn't bother to hide the next yawn as she continued, "and this morning Cliff and Blurr, you have the security debrief at the Tower."

Cliff nodded, "And you?"

She turned the screen off, "Well, I was thinking it's about time Dee gets a replacement t- cog. I was going to take him to get fitted."

Dee woke from his groggy stupor, sitting up with a furrowed brow. "Fitted?"

"That's a great idea, Arcee!" Blurr had already finished his energon, slapping a servo against Dee's back. "Not gonna be rude, no no no, but it'll be nice to see you back in action, yessir, no more cogless hole sitting in your chassis, frankly it's been a little unnerving. Like it's really distracting, kinda ugly, not going to lie to your faceplate, nonono.”

Dee bit back a grumble, staring with a blank glare to the other, "...thanks, Blurr."

"I agree, good idea." Hot Rod nodded, before downing the rest of his own ration and standing up. "I'm off, can't leave the Senate dangling forever. I bet they're dying to meet me." He chuckled, ignoring Arcee's mild groan as he left.

Dee wasn't really paying attention to the group, stuck in his own processor. They wanted to give him a cog... there was once a time in his life where that was an untouchable dream. Some silly desire that he would do his best to ignore.

But now that dream loomed over him, threatening to be reality. And now that it was in reach...

"I don't think that's a good idea, Arcee."

No bot seemed to expect that response, Blurr pulling a face and leaning to get a good look at him, "What?"

"I-- just think about it for a klik here. As kind as you all have been to me, none of you really know me. Pit, I don't know me. We don't even know if I really was fighting on your side before I woke up with this busted memory. You really want to give me a cog?"

Arcee looked poised to argue, but Cliff cut her off with his own gruff reply. "Get off your martyr's pillar, there's little chance you're a Decepticon."

Blurr leaned back to the red mech, surprise only growing more prominent, "What!?"

Arcee's face melted from her surprise to a hesitant grin. "Cliff... I didn't think you'd say that."

He rolled his optics and leaned back, "Yeah, get your excitement out now. I only say that because I've found no evidence otherwise." He tilted his helm to stare at Dee. "I kept log of you the whole time you were in base. Every move you made, every comm connected, I knew about it. And... it was boring."

"Cliff, seriously? You watched him?"

He ignored Arcee, continuing, "No one has even attempted to reach you. Either you were a nobody, or you have nobody to care about your disappearance. So... even if you were a Decepticon, would you want to go back?"

It felt weird to have Cliffjumper, someone he was sure did not like him very much, speaking up for him. Dee hunched in his seat, looking at his energon. Despite the discomfort, he couldn't disagree. He hadn't felt any pings, hadn't received any comms. Not even from Orion... the only friend he really remembered. That stung a little... but the hurt was overshadowed by worry. That didn't help settle the suspicion that something happened to him.

"That seems to settle it," Arcee clapped her servos together, getting right back into her excitement. "Dee and I will see if we can't get him a replacement cog, and you two will go to that security brief. We'll all meet up at the Senate Hall before the afternoon hearings begin."

Everyone else at the table eagerly wrapped up what they were doing, but Dee took a little time nursing the rest of his energon. He was about to get a cog, he should've been trembling with excitement. Instead, he trembled with a churning in his chambers. He remembered so much more than when he first woke up... and yet the pile of questions in his processor only seemed to be growing larger and larger. Where was Orion? Who was this new Prime... and why did something in his subconscious scream in distrust at the thought of him? He now fully remembered being a miner... but what happened after that point of his life? Where was he the day Sentinel Prime fell?

And why was he scared to learn the answers to any of those questions?

Chapter Text

Dee still didn't feel comfortable when they all set off to their respective tasks for the day.

Arcee seemed too deep in her own processor to notice, visor sparkling in the light of the day and pes bouncing impatiently against the floor of the transport train. Dee watched it beat in a pace consistent with the agitated thumping of his spark.

"...you're excited. Have you done this before?" He finally decided to break the silence that was starting to suffocate him.

Arcee retracted her visor to get a look at him, "For me? No, I haven't. But I've seen the process and believe me, this is going to be great. Getting a cog is so freeing-- I know you probably don't feel like you're missing out, but once you connect to one… it's like you’re breathing for the first time." She took a long vent as if she was remembering the experience of her reconnecting with a t-cog. "Of course, it'll take a little to figure out how to use it, but you had one before. I'm sure it'll come back as naturally as walking on your own two pedes."

Dee made a sound like he agreed with her, even if doubt still lingered heavily in his processor. "...I'm surprised Cliffjumper agreed to the idea. Between you and me... I didn't think he liked me all that much."

Arcee let out a little laugh, but ex-vented. "I get it, I was surprised too." Her servos tapped on the bench they were sitting on, looking off. "He's always been a little rough around the edges, but ever since he took the role as security officer he hasn't been doing too well. And he only got worse after Ultra Magnus went missing." She pulled her servos onto her lap, collecting herself before looking back to Dee. "I'm just glad he's still in there, gruff and reliable as ever."

Dee let himself smile at her. He still didn't know much about Cliffjumper beyond the rude, distrusting persona he usually showed him, but if he typically acted more like what he saw during breakfast then Cliff had to be a good mech at spark.

He turned his attention out of the window of the transport car. The buildings they were speeding past suddenly cleared, allowing bright light to flood the car and reveal the city beyond. Dead in the center of his view stood Prime Tower. Dee frowned.

"It doesn't matter how many times I see it, it's still impressive." Arcee spoke, jarring Dee out of his glare. "The biggest beacon for hope for any Autobot.”

Dee crossed his arms, unblinking as he stared past the glass. "Do you think it's a bit... gaudy for just one Prime?" The question slipped out to test the water before he could stop it.

Arcee tilted her helm back and forth in a quick thought. "Maybe, but he's not really the one to use most of it. The bottom layers have been converted from what I've heard. Storage and medical facilities and such. Upper levels head most of the main strategic planning and communications for the war."

Interesting. He had to admit it, the Prime giving up the space reserved for his status to help the war effort was noble. Just noble enough.

"You might be able to see him later today, Dee. He'll be at the Senate hearing. I cannot wait!"

In the same room as a Prime. The was a point in his life where the mere thought of that was overwhelming, having it happen near caused his whole processor to short-circuit. Now, it just caused an uneasy sway to linger around his sparkchamber.

"...sounds exciting."

He fortunately avoided any more conversation about Primes by the announcement for their stop over the audio system. He followed Arcee, who practically pranced forward with a spring in her step. Mechs milled about in the busy city center the station dropped them into, and he focused on the large, blocky building that Arcee marched towards.

The facility was busier than Dee expected. Mechs and femmes with seemingly too much to do and too few to do it all flowed in tandem with each other. The conversations sprung at him in bits and pieces, he had to wonder how anyone held a conversation here at all.

Arcee didn't seem phased in the slightest, walking towards a crowded receptionist. "I have a walk-in."

The femme behind the desk was practically obscured by an overwhelming number of screens, servos dashing between them like it was second nature. Dee watched the light in her optics dim at Arcee's announcement, "Sorry ma'am, we are booked for walk-ins for the next few-- Arcee?!"

The femme stopped everything, waving her servo to swipe aside a bunch of her screens. "Primus, dear, you didn't tell me you were coming to Iacon," she purred, demeanor completely changing. Her elbows rested on the countertop, and Arcee giggled as she rested on it as well.

"Yeah, well it was a surprise to me as well. Hot Rod's getting a promotion, I had to tag along, the usual..."

"You're still chasing after racers?" The receptionist laughed at the face Arcee pulled hearing the tease. "I'm just pulling your pedes. That's big news, tell him congratulations from me."

The pair of femmes started going down a new avenue of conversation, and Dee stood awkwardly off to the side. His pes tapped the ground, arms folding as he watched the two chatter. If the receptionist said they were busy here, personally he’d be fine with just leaving…

A large pes nearly knocked him over, Dee stumbling out of the way as he looked up at the transformer attached to it. They jerked back in apology, tilting their helm to look around the stack of boxes in their arms, "So sorry there, didn't see you!" They stepped around him, but it was enough to bring the receptionist's attention to D-16.

"Oh wow, you weren't kidding. You actually have a walk-in."

"Yeaaaaaaah..." Arcee turned her helm to Dee, "Link, this is D-16. Dee, meet Linkgrab. She's top of the line when it comes to communications for the Autobots." Arcee looked back at Linkgrab. "Dee lost his cog in a battle recently. I was really hoping you might be able to pull a few wires and help..." She trailed off, pressing her servos in front of her in a silent plead.

"Hmmm." Link swiped her hand back out, reading screens so fast Dee had to assume she could read more than one at a time. "I don't know... we've been pretty busy here."

"You don’t have any free slots...?" Arcee pressed forward a little further.

"I didn't say that..." Link pushed Arcee's helm back to the other side of the counter. Her long digits typed quickly, sending something before a response pinged back. "DataByte can take you in for a quick visit. It's his break, so thank him. A lot." She warned.

"Ah! You're the best, I owe you one." Arcee stood back up, towing Dee along down past the desk.

"I'll add it to the other favors you owe me for." Link called after them, before resuming her rapid screen scrolling.

Dee and Arcee passed halls, the repeating structure creating a maze in Dee's optics. However, Arcee seemed to know exactly where she was going, turning at random with unfaltering confidence. He stared down the halls they passed, noting that none of them ever seemed empty, either occupied by mechs doing work or crates placed precariously like there was no other space for them. "What even is this place?"

"Oh, the Conglomerate. It's a lot of things, actually. Supplies, finance, parts, repair..." she listed different functions on her digits, "basically, you can call this the base of all bases.
They're the hub of communication for anyone outside of Iacon. If an outpost needs something, this facility has it."

She took a left, now entering a ward that was distinctly more medical than the previous ones. "I worked here for a while after leaving the mines. But I needed more action than this place could give me, so I took the first opportunity that presented itself to get onto the front lines.”

That explained why she knew where she was headed, at least. She slowed down, coming to a closed door and rapping her knuckles against the metal. "Databyte, it's Arcee."

The door slid open, and a tall transformer with the longest arms Dee had ever seen greeted them. "You're a lucky lump of steel, Arcee."

She was unphased at the mech's tone. "Missed you as well, thanks for taking us in." She stepped around him to get into the room, D-16 following behind with less confidence.

"Don't get it in your helm that I missed you for a second." Databyte grumbled, his arms stretching up far above his helm to sort through an expansive storage unit. "Who's the small one?"

"This is D-16, we used to work together in the mines. He lost his cog a while ago, and I was hoping you'd be able to grant us a replacement."

"How did you lose it?" He pulled down small bins, other appendages extending from his back to pick through the contents. Dee now could see it was bits and pieces; all organized meticulously by kind. One of the spindly, clawed tentacles gripped a few circuit boards, setting them down at his workstation as his arms set the bin back in its place.

"It was taken in battle, but the finer details are lost." She admitted, before pushing Dee towards the other bot.

He tensed as one of Databyte's appendages extended to him, and he had to fight the urge to slap it away as it's claw-like digits investigated the rim of his empty t-cog slot. "Hmm... weight class?"

"I don't-- uhh..." Dee stumbled over his words, caught between discomfort and the lack of knowledge on what his weight class was. He didn't even remember having a cog in the first place.

Thankfully, Arcee stepped in for him after noticing his expression. "We aren't sure, Databyte. It's this whole situation..."

Databyte finally faced Dee, leaning over to visually investigate him. "Hmm... go sit on the berth" His visor-clad face hid any thoughts he might've had on that new information.

Dee felt like a scraplet under a microscope, but he stepped up to the med berth and sat down. He tried to remain still as Databyte scanned him, one appendage handing him a cord connector to plug into his frame. Databyte operated as smooth as a dance, overviewing cascading data from the med-port connection and prodding D-16 much to his mild discomfort.

"Heavy class." He announced, Arcee leaning over his pauldron to try and gleam the information as well. "You're likely a tanker, your plating's thicker than most without a cog."

"Uh... thanks?" Was that a compliment? Dee fiddled with the cord sticking out of his chassis. It was a little crazy to him, how the information on who he was supposed to be was just slumbering inside his code, waiting for the final piece to activate and finally have function.

"However, it's impossible to pinpoint your exact, original form." Databyte leaned back, arms extending back up to the numerous shelves reaching to the ceiling. "What we'll do is sort by the weight class and see what you'll fit." He pulled a lever attached to the base of the shelving unit, and the bins rotated out, revealing more parts sorted and properly maintained. He stopped the shelving, the appendage moving to draw out a drawer that held a long line of stored cogs. It sent a jolt through D-16's systems, an instinctual reaction to the sight.

Unlike most other parts, which were able to be synthetically recreated and replaced through cycles of research, cogs had yet to be properly replicated. The amount of power a cog had to store and process far exceeded the limits their current technology had been able to achieve. Any cogs that operated as replacements had to come from a former transformer. And there were a lot of replacements in that drawer…

His systems didn't stop churning as Databyte set down a few on the workbench. Arcee turned her helm to look at him, beaming. "Come take a look, Dee."

Part of him felt unnerved to follow her insistence, but his pedes made their way across the room. Each one quietly pulsed with a dim light at its core, showing they still functioned despite their lost frames.

"Looks like you’ll even get a choice--” Arcee finally seemed to catch his expression, cooling her excited demeanor. "What's wrong?"

"...uh, nothing. I was just..." He couldn't tear his eyes away from the pulsing light, "...wondering where they came from."

"Donors." Databyte answered, not even bothering to face the pair. His back remained turned, focusing on whatever he was working on before they came in. "Now hurry up and pick, *you're wasting my time.*" The last part was muttered, but the words still crossed the room clear as day.

Arcee leaned over, "Ignore him," she murmured, before turning back to the cogs on the workbench. She reached forward, pulling a tag attached to one of them. Clicking a button on the end caused a small screen to project from the tag, and a Cybertronian face stared at them from the blue glow. The designation of "BassBoost" read off next to it, and below that sat paragraphs of information: weight class, formation date, offline date, even a small biography detailing the achievements made throughout his life.

"When the war first started, cog-stealing was unfortunately a common occurrence. To combat it, cogs were taken from fallen soldiers to provide replacements. It was a very controversial move, as you can imagine. So, a donor system was founded. When you join the war with the Autobots, you can choose to have your cog collected if you fall in battle." She lifted her forearm and pointed to a small rune engraved on the underside. "A lot of us signed up for it, I did too. If I have go down fighting one day, it’ll be a comfort to know a piece of me can keep on going."

Dee stared at her arm, peering at the engraving. It was a simple rune; one he recognized from some very old poetry he read a lifetime ago. *"Hero."*

Emboldened, he reached for a different cog's tag, clicking on the screen. A femme stared back at him, "WhirlyBird" reading right below her faceplate. His optics skimmed her biography...

"Whirlybird, affectionately known as Birdie to her close companions, was Captain of the Aerial Defense Force Squadron N77. Her immense size was beat only by her immense spark, known to be a compassionate, skillful, and selfless leader. Her actions in the Battle for Alpha 9, as well as her sacrifice, will never be forgotten."

His gaze rose from the screen, now focused back on the cog. The teal-green part sat as still as ever, the amber light within it blinking every so often. His systems still nervously twisted with the instinctual reaction that a cog outside a frame was wrong, but the information given settled his processor just enough. He went back to reading the rest of "Birdie's" biography, then reached for the next one. By the time he was finishing the last mech’s biography, he was tapped by Arcee.

"Sorry, I don't want to cut you off, but we're cutting it a little close on time here. Have you decided on a cog?" Even as she asked it, it was clear on her face she felt bad for rushing him.

Dee took in a small vent. His optics trailed over the line of cogs, settling on Whirlybird’s sitting right in front of him. Even as his servo cautiously brushed against the piece, he admitted, "No.”

He pulled his servo back, looking at her. “I'm sorry, Arcee. I know you really wanted to do this for me, but... I'm not really sure if I'm ready for this."

"Bah-- waste of my time. Still attached to your old cog, aren't you?" Databyte piped up, back still turned to them. He raised what he was working on up in the air, and Dee could see now he was replicating a small arm. "Go on, get out then. I got more important things to do than entertain two sentimental bots."

Dee puffed up in a quick defense, but Arcee placed a servo on his chest. "It's okay, Dee. You're not offending either of us." Her grumbled tone only encouraged another "Bah." out of Databyte. "Why don't you wait outside, Dee? I'll just be a moment."

From her expression, he decided he didn't want to stay and see what limbs Arcee might just chew off of Databyte. He excused himself out of the door, leaning against the wall and listening to the snippets of two muffled voices exchanging words for a few minutes.

Eventually, Arcee stepped out into the hall, letting out a huff before smiling at him. "Alright, let's get going. We can come back to this another time."

The ride to the Senate was uneventful, but Dee couldn't shake his nerves. Why was he so uncomfortable, he hardly could understand his reaction. He was starting to feel ridiculous.

The Senate Building was impressive... while the Conglomerate definitely beat it in size, the detailed exterior and air of importance were impossible to miss. Arcee led them up the front steps, passing between small groups of others heading in and out.

Blurr and Cliffjumper were standing outside the building; Blurr chatting in his usual rapid-fire style as the other kept glancing over the crowd.

"We've made it." Arcee gave a flourish with her announcement. Blurr cut off to nod at them, but Cliff's browplate raised.

"Where's your cog?" He pointed a digit into Dee's helm, "Don't tell me you couldn't get one."

"We're just going to have to go back at a later time." Arcee waved off the question, and Dee pushed the digit off of him.

Blurr blew a raspberry at the news, "That's disappointing, I was rather excited to see you all cogged up, you know, it'll be like meeting a whole new mech even though it'll still be you,
just you but bigger, yep." Blurr rolled a servo through the air. "But I suppose if you have to go back you just have to go back no other way around it, nope, and besides we have to head in now we'll miss the start." He turned on his heel, running in at a pace that almost knocked over a pair of minibots walking down the stairs.

Cliff grumbled watching the blue blur of a mech speed off. "You have no idea how hard it was to keep him in one place to wait for you two."

"Oh, I can imagine." Arcee chuckled, before knocking Dee on the pauldron and following Blurr's lead. "Come on, still can't let ourselves be late."

Chapter Text

Dee peered over the railing, pedes feeling light at the height they were seated. Blurr's speedy entrance managed to snag them seats in the front row balcony. Dee ex-vented at the fact he didn't have to struggle to see around the helm of every transformer taller than him.

Despite the slight tremors racing down his backstrut, he forced himself to take in the area below them. There was a crowd right below them, forming a wave of bright colors shifting impatiently in tandem with each other. Were all these hearings so packed, or was it just the chance to see the Prime that Arcee mentioned earlier? He pondered, moving his optics from the crowd to the empty, diamond shaped area in the center of the room. A short rostrum rose from the center, a place to stand while speaking to the Senate. On the far side of the empty space, opposite the crowd, sat a large, two-tiered bench, like what you'd find in a court of law. Along that were the seats for the current running Senate.

Dee watched a few of the Senators mill about during the recess. Imposing figures speaking words that were lost to the distance between them and the crowds. He almost chuckled, from this height they stood no bigger than his servo.

Arcee was also leaning on the railing, optics flicking from behind her visor across the crowd below. "I don't see him anywhere…" She muttered, and Dee followed her gaze to search as well.

"Who're you looking for? Hot Rod?"

“Hot Rod." She confirmed, not breaking from her scan. "He better be down there… ah-ha! Found him."

Her digit pointed to the bright orange and yellow helm sticking out of a small cluster on the side of the center space, and Dee chuckled as he watched her wave insistently at him.

"I don't think he's going to pick you out of this crowd."

She stopped, rolling her optics, "He could." She didn't start again however, now sitting back in her seat.

Dee was going to respond, but a sudden hush across the crowd stole the words from his intake. The whole group perked up as two large doors opened from behind the Senate's seating, and in walked Optimus Prime.

At least, Dee assumed that was the Prime. He held an unmistakable air that caught the attention of every mech in the room, several Senators standing from their chairs to greet him. He waved a single blue servo, dismissing the attention with a nod.

Of course, that didn't mean the Senators dismissed him. Several continued their attempts to talk to him, the Prime's finials flicking back as he listened and made his way to a seat at the center of the bench.

Dee couldn't seem to tear his attention away from the scene, optics flicking about the Prime. Long legs placed him nearly a helm's length higher than most of the other mechs around him, and his boxy build conveyed a sense of agile strength in his frame. One servo held a datapad to his chassis, hiding the contents in front of a pair of semi-transparent, dark panel panes. If he peered closer at the two glass details, Dee could practically see a bright, blue-white light pulsing within.

Optimus retracted his battle mask, revealing the cordial smile he was trying to give to the persistent Senators. His dermas were marred by a single scar, tracing from his left cheekplate all the way down to the right side of his chin. Despite that, Dee couldn't deny the mech's face was as regally commanding as the rest of him—

Dee's browplate creased at that unexpected train of thought, and he shook it off lightly. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the realization that he still didn't have any recollection of the mech. The only thing he could note, his optics narrowed as he tilted his helm, was that he shared a vaguely similar paint scheme with Orion.

Arcee had leaned over in her seat to speak to him again. "—something caught your attention?"

Dee jerked, not expecting her voice right in his audial. "Ah— what? I mean, I guess. Just trying to remember him." He crossed his arms, browplates going right back to their furrowed look. The Prime still hadn't managed to shake the talking Senators, it was almost humorous to see such a large mech start to look overwhelmed.

Before they could encroach any further on him, a femme marched over to direct them with a firm point back to their seats. Her pink plating reflected with obvious care, and her stern expression was incredibly similar to—

"Elita-1?" He sat up, servos grabbing onto the rail again. That had to be Elita-1, right? He blinked, watching the femme talk with Optimus. Her mannerisms were exactly how he remembered the tough-as-nails hardaft.

Arcee caught his surprise, nodding. "I know, right? She's a commander now." She watched the other femme hand something to Optimus, "Let's be honest, with her work ethic she deserves it."

"With her work ethic, I can only imagine how much more of a helm-ache she's become." He hummed, smiling when he heard Arcee's light snort.

The murmuring of the crowd finally hushed for good once the lights dimmed and Optimus Prime sat up in his seat. Dee mimicked the motion, optics widening to watch.

"Thank you everyone for your attendance. There are plenty of subjects taking the floor today, and I have no doubts that each one deserves the time it needs to be properly presented. Before our proceedings can begin however, there has been an update in the war efforts that I need to address." A quiet murmuring rolled across the crowd, settling as soon as Optimus lifted his helm from a quick glance to his notes. "It has now been confirmed by several sources of ours that the Decepticons are currently without visible leadership."

A much louder, more incessant murmuring took ahold of the room, and it took a few moments of Optimus raising his servo to regain control. He took a light vent, resuming, "There has been no communication or sighting of Megatron for nearly two decacycles. Intel from inside the Nemesis has revealed that a majority of Decepticon orders are currently being received from the Second-in-Command, Starscream."

Optimus glanced over the Senate, making it clear his next words applied to them more so than the crowd further out. "It should be clear that this is not our assumption that Megatron is offline. The only fact confirmed for us is that he is absent from his position as leader. In response to this new information, the floor will open for discussion on how to move forward." He finally settled back in his seat, giving up any attempt to keep the room as quiet as it was for his speech. "Senator FloodBeam, you may proceed with the agenda."

The hearing turned into a blurb of unimportant sound as Dee ingested what was just disclosed. Megatron was missing. He only knew of the mech from what Arcee explained to him a while ago, but that didn't stop him from understanding how shocking that news was. And even if he didn't understand, the expressions of Arcee, Cliff, and Blurr cued him in.

"Missing… he's missing…" Arcee repeated, hardly even moving her intake to speak.

"…that explains why their attacks have been more frequent lately… with luck the glitch is offline for good." Cliffjumper responded.

Blurr was also mumbling in disbelief, but the words all blended between his yammering speed and his low tone.

The group eventually reached an unsettled quiet again, focusing now for Floodbeam's update for the frontline positions, areas lost and areas gained that flew completely over Dee's understanding. At least it sounded positive for the Autobots?

The conversation started to flow in a circle between the Senate, opinions on where to take the majority of the frontline focus being shared with a barely cordial respect. Dee's optics flicked around, following the same loop as the talking Senators while his browplate grew more furrowed by the klik.

This felt like a complete waste of time. He placed a servo on his chin, leaning forward. There were quite a few opinions all butting helms against each other down there...
"We can always remain on our current trajectory…"

"—but with an opportunity like this, we should be storming Kaon the first chance we get—“

"We don't know the current positions of the Decepticon's forces. For all we know, this could just be a ploy for them. Megatron has attempted plots more elaborate than this before…"

Dee turned his focus from the voices slowly starting to clamor over each other to stare at Optimus Prime. He just sat there... letting them talk in incessant circles. It was like he didn't even care to direct the conversation, wasn't he supposed to be in charge?

"What do you think?" Arcee's hushed question drew Dee back to his group. It made him pause… what did he think?

Cliff's optics flicked around the Senate below. "I think the Decepticons are up to something. As much as I'll pray to Primus that Megatron is rotting somewhere in the Pit, the chance he's just waiting for us to make a move is too high to risk playing into his servos."

Blurr nodded rapidly, giving a silent agreement to the opinion. Now, Arcee glanced at Dee. "What about you?"

"What do I think?" Dee sat up, pulling his servo off his face to cross his arms instead. “I think this is a waste of time."

Their silence let him continue, "Doesn't the Prime have a plan already? Why is he just letting them all talk for so long while not going anywhere with it? It's wasting the time we could be spending actually doing something in response."

Arcee blinked before leaning back and crossing her own arms, "I'm sure Optimus has an idea on how he would want to respond, but he wouldn't just hijack the whole meeting to say it. He listens to all of the Senate's perspectives before any movement to vote happens. There's value in hearing other opinions."

Dee let out a short vent. "…still takes up more time than it should."

“That's the trade off if you want to hear all perspectives." Cliff rolled his optics.

"I think it's a good thing." Blurr chimed in, a random mech giving him a quick shush before he continued, softer. "Believe me the Senate works really fast for a Senate, really works fast comparatively, I mean, it's not fast like speedy or zippy or even punctual but still much better than how it operated under Sentinel." He placed a servo on Dee's pauldron, rocking him back and forth. "Are you just impatient because it's your first time here? I was the same way when I first sat through a hearing, indeed and undoubtedly for sure, yep!"

He pushed the servo off, shaking his helm. "No, I just— you know what? Sure. I guess I just don't have the patience for this sort of thing…"

Arcee waited a moment, like she was trying to decipher his reaction before giving an attempt to smile. "That's understandable. You always were a "work now, ask questions later" sort of mech in the mines."

Their conversation died out right when one Senator banged a gavel lightly in front of him. "Has a general consensus been reached?"

There was a short round of nods. Another spoke for the whole group, "The opinion of the Senate is to continue normal operations for the front-line approach, but the backlines will be directed to stockpile and regroup for the possibility of taking advantage of Megatron's absence."

The Senator with the gavel nodded slowly, then turned his attention to Optimus, and waited. Dee shook his helm imperceptivity. Seriously, they wasted this much time talking to even get to this compromised, middle-ground plan, only to have to wait for the Prime's approval to even move forward?

He should really just start the meeting saying what he wants… he pushed the thought from his processor. His opinion on how the Senate ran was as good as a scraplet's opinion on energon, he had to remind himself. It wasn't like he was the leader here.

Optimus Prime nodded, "We shall set that into motion, then. Thank you, Senator Floodbeam." His servo rubbed against his chin, looking between a few different datapads placed before him. "I believe the next order to be brought forward…" he trailed off, stuck searching for a moment.

One of the Senators sat up, noticing the Prime's trouble. He picked up his own datapad, and his arm extended all the way across the Senate bench to hand it over.

"Ah, thank you Senator Longarm." Optimus accepted the datapad, skimming it quick, "We have a few Autobots with us today prepared to be sworn into officer duties."

The group in the balcony leaned forward now, this was the part they really cared about. "Ah, I can't wait." Arcee tapped her digits together.

Dee watched as a minibot stepped forward, holding a datapad and a self-important smile on his faceplate as he called out the first designation.

Primus help him… even this part was going to be a drag. His servo went back up to his faceplate, pressing his thumb and a digit on either side of his olfactory ridge.

Arcee just snickered at his reaction, and he felt a light pat on his pauldron from another, he didn't see who. He was just glad they didn't mind his reaction, a part of him was almost embarrassed at how he was acting. But the louder part of him was just tired and quite finished with all of this. It bothered him that he couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

He eventually started visually picking apart the Senate below as the proceedings dragged on. There were thirty mechs seated altogether, not including the Prime in the center. Including Optimus made it an odd number, good for tie breaking votes. Visually, each mech varied wildy from one another. Dee could pick out two different racing frames, but those were the only mechs that shared a function it seemed.

A diverse group of mechs… clearly, they were looking to get the largest possible pool of opinions. Dee wondered how this group even earned their positions.

Before the meeting he would've guessed the Prime himself hand-picked those who are supposed to be his supporting advisors, but after seeing how Optimus ran the Senate his best guess was now that the Senators were voted in.

"Hot Rod, appearing today to accept the role of Captain for Outpost MG-665, formerly held by Captain Ultra Magnus." The minibot's voice called out for Hot Rod, and Dee stopped his mindless pondering to focus back to the proceedings.

Hot Rod stepped up from his place on the sidelines, walking towards the center podium with a wide smile. Despite the air of confidence that he was putting forward, Dee could see how tightly his servos were clenched at his sides, and how Roddy's optics flicked around the room rather than settling on any single faceplate before him.

As soon as his pedes planted firmly on the rostrum, one Senator to his left spoke. "Hot Rod, you are looking to assume position of Captain. It reads here, you were nominated for this position by your superior, Ultra Magnus. Are these statements true?"

"Yes." He responded, fists only clenching tighter. His back was turned to the crowds, and Dee could no longer see his expression. He could only presume Hot Rod kept up his confident smile.

"Have you completed the training expected for a mech assuming this position?"

"I— my training was not fully completed before Ultra Magnus went MIA; however I have taken over a majority of his duties the past few decacycles. The exception to waive the requirement has been approved by Senator Y-33." He gestured to a Senator on the right, and the femme nodded once in agreement.

 "Very well. The Senate waives the requirement." The first Senator marked something on the datapad before him, before sitting upright and holding it up over his helm.

Dee watched Senator Longarm reach out once again to take the datapad off his servos. He was mildly intrigued at how far his reach could stretch. "Are you ready to take your oath?" Longarm's voice was softer than Dee expected.

"Yes." Hot Rod answered, before clenching his servos again.

Longarm nodded, motioning with one servo over his chassis. "Place your right servo over your spark chamber, left servo raised next to your helm."

Hot Rod followed the order, his backstrut straightening as Optimus Prime sat up in his seat.

The Prime's attention focused on the smaller mech. "Hot Rod. You have been selected by a superior to take on this role due to the qualities you show as an Autobot. As Captain, do you swear to uphold those qualities not only in yourself but your team as well?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to protect Cybertron from all enemies, organic and inorganic, remain loyal to the Autobot cause, and willingly serve in your new position, until all are one?"

"I do."

Dee watched the brightly colored mech stand at attention, failing to hide the fact his servo was trembling while held in the air beside his helm. And despite the annoyance he felt earlier at this lengthy process, he let a smile slip on his face. He only knew this group for the better half of a stellar cycle, but he couldn't ignore the rush of pride that ran past his spark chamber at the sight of Hot Rod down there. He could be immature and a little cocky, but Dee knew he deserved the position he was entering.

"Then, from this moment onwards, you will be recognized as Captain Hot Rod, leader of Outpost MG-665." Optimus smiled down at Hot Rod, the mech standing at attention practically exploding on the spot before he gave a short bow to excuse himself off the podium.

A polite ripple of applause sounded for Hot Rod, as they did for the others that were promoted before him. However, Dee jerked at the sudden yell in his audial, "WOO! That'smyfriendRoddyrightthere!"

He had to rub the side of his helm, sending a look of warning to Blurr, but the other was too caught up in his own excitement to really notice or care.

Arcee laughed, before joining in. "Congrats, Roddy!" Even Cliffjumper banged his servos together, smirking.

Dee was more reserved as he clapped alongside them, feeling his faceplate heat up at the amused attention turning to them from their cheering.

“Hot Rod!" Arcee yelled again. This time, the mech down below paused to look up. Bright blue optics finally caught sight of the group, and he lit up with a smile. His arm waved right back, before mockingly throwing them a self-impressed flex. Dee chuckled at the show, and Arcee elbowed him with a grin.

"See, told you he could pick us out of the crowd."

Dee rolled his optics, but his face still stayed smiling. Of course Hot Rod found them, their crew was shouting loud enough to gather everyone's attention. He watched Roddy walk off to the side again, still waving to them and trying to communicate something with large arm movements. Dee huffed and shook his helm, before leaning back and taking in the room again.

The next promoted mech was walking forward, and the Senate had now turned their focus to them. Dee was thankful the attention moved on quickly, his optics scanning the Senate's bench. The last thing their group needed was to be kicked out for disturbing the—

Dee froze.

Amber optics locked on blue ones, and Dee's breath caught in his throat.

A slow, freezing sensation washed over his whole frame, digits twitching at his sides. He couldn't even get himself to blink and make sure his visual wasn't fooling him.

Why was Optimus Prime staring at him?

Chapter Text

No, Dee tried to assure himself. He was blowing this out of proportion.

The cheering just drew his attention. He might've just caught the Prime's optic; he still didn't have a cog after all. That could be it.

He glanced away at the others to see if anyone else had noticed the attention, but it appeared they were still too busy trying to figure out what Hot Rod was saying. He looked back and Prime was looking down at the datapads in front of him once again. Dee let out the breath he didn't even know was stuck in his chassis. He was definitely overreacting.

That didn't stop him from periodically glancing at the Prime throughout the rest of the hearing. Optimus never once seemed to look at him again, seemingly no different to how he was acting before the moment their optics met. At one point he quietly signaled Elita to come over, the femme standing beside him as he leaned to speak to her.

Dee watched Elita's pauldrons raise, and her helm flicked to the side for a moment before Optimus waved a servo in a calm fashion. In the end, she just nodded and marched off with some kind of purpose.

Dee felt the beat of his spark pick up pace. There was nothing concerning about that interaction, there were a million things he could've said to her in that short exchange. It most definitely was not about him. And yet… every ounce of him wanted to leave, now.

Of course, he couldn't just tell the others they needed to leave. What would he even say? "As nice as this is, I made optic contact with the Prime for a fraction of a klik and now I am inexplicably uncomfortable. Let's leave." Yeah right.

Instead, he took a deep breath and decided he could tough it out. There was nothing wrong, and even if there was a moment where the Prime stared at him, what was so upsetting about that?

He followed along quietly as the others rushed down from the balcony, seeking Hot Rod out of the crowd. The flame-detailed mech was practically preening himself once they approached, attention fixed to the badge that was given to him after the ceremony. Blurr was the first to race over to him, circling him fast before grabbing both his pauldrons.

"Roddy! How are you feeling, do you feel any different? I think you look different, did you grow a bit? All high and mighty in this new role, aren'tcha?"

He just laughed, pulling the other off of him. "Very funny, Blurr. Thank you."

Cliff snorted, "So it's official now. Can't wait to watch you run the base to the ground."

"Oh yeah, that's my first order of business." Hot Rod placed his servos on his hips. "And being Captain means you now *have* to follow my orders."

Cliff rolled his optics, and Dee watched the group tease each other with familiarity before pitching in, "Well, congratulations still, Roddy. You should be proud of yourself."

Hot Rod turned, still smiling but his brows furrowed, and he leaned over to Dee. "Thanks, but— I thought you would have your cog by now. What happened? Don't tell me you got cold pedes."

Dee knocked his servo back, "Yeah, you and everyone else. It'll come, just couldn't pick one today."

"Well, that's disappointing." Hot Rod leaned back, before smirking again. "And here I was preparing myself to see you walk in twice my helm-height."

"Har-har." Dee rolled his optics, before Arcee jumped in, "He totally could be, Roddy. The med-scan said he's heavy class."

"Really?" The attention of the crew went back to Dee, and he stiffened just slightly. He folded his arms across his chassis, hiding his initial reaction with a smirk.

"Were you expecting anything else? Of course I would be in a strong class. Databyte predicted I would've been a tank."

"Well… if that's the case," Hot Rod hummed, tapping a digit to his chin, "then I should enjoy the moments while I'm taller than you…"

Dee suddenly did not like the expression Hot Rod had adopted. "…what does that mean?"
Hot Rod didn't say anything to respond, but the answer came very clearly to Dee when his servos launched out to grab him. Dee flailed as his pedes left the floor, kicking in the air, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

"You're heavier than I expected!" Hot Rod teased, ignoring how Dee kicked at him.

"Put me down, Hot Rod! You're a Captain now for Primus's sake!" Dee could practically feel his faceplate melting off his helm. Other bots in the area had turned to stare at them, a few laughing at the show.

"I say as your Captain, you should let me do this."

"You are not my Captain. You're lucky I barely consider you a friend!" The words leaving his intake didn't hold too much weight, and the rest of the crew seemed well aware of that with their amused onlooking.

He continued his attempts to kick Hot Rod's arms until a tap on his back knocked his concentration. He turned his helm the best he could, legs going limp as he noticed the servo, following it up to a lengthy arm, just to end up staring at a tall mech with a grey and teal paint job. His flat face smiled at them, the blue green in his optics practically a pale white, which offset the deep red circular lens in the center of his forehead. What was that, a sensor? A third optic?

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything here." His voice was familiarly soft, and now Dee recognized the mech. He was a lot bigger than he looked down on the Senate bench.

"You're not interrupting anything, Senator Longarm." Arcee answered, seems she recognized who he was as well. Hot Rod placed Dee down as fast as he could, trying to pull back into a persona that better fit the title of "Captain."

"Is there something we can help you with, sir?" Hot Rod stepped forward, but Longarm just smiled wider and shook his head to set them at ease.

"There's nothing to be concerned about, don't worry your helms. I wanted to give you congratulations. You've made quite a name for yourself, it seems." He nodded, clasping servos behind his back.

Hot Rod stood a bit straighter, the smile on his faceplate only turning slightly smug as Longarm continued, "I've been tasked to hand you an invite." His servo stretched over, handing a small passcard to Hot Rod. "Your Prime has asked for an audience."

The whole crew froze; all optics now focused on the passcard.

"My Prime? You mean, the Prime. Optimus Prime?" Hot Rod clarified, his optics not once leaving the passcard.

Longarm looked like he was holding back a small laugh, just politely nodding. "Yes. And he insisted your crew join you. I suggest you don't pass up the opportunity." With that, the Senator gave a nod to end the conversation and walked off.

"Primus…"

"I…"

"Unbelievable!"

The other three crowded around Hot Rod, each practically looking to grab the card from him.

"Well— do we go?"

"Are you crazy of course we're going absolutely positively undoubtedly this opportunity doesn't just fall out of the sky no never I surely doubt it!"

Hot Rod slipped the card into his subspace before recollecting himself with a smug shrug. "Yeah, Blurr's right. We have to go, after all, how disappointed would Optimus be to send an invitation only to be stood up? You heard Longarm, he asked for us, no doubt he's heard incredible things."

"Like how you nearly exploded four transport ships in a high-speed chase against a group of Decepticons?" Cliff chuckled, but it slowed to a stop as Hot Rod's face paled.

"…oh Primus. You— you don't actually think that's what this is about, do you?" Hot Rod's confident pose faltered and Cliffjumper stiffened.

"Uhh— no! Of course not, Roddy. You heard Longarm, he said this is nothing to be concerned about. It's definitely something good… right Dee?" Cliff elbowed D-16 for support.

Who was definitely the wrong mech to turn to. Part of his processor registered the fact he should speak up, say something along the lines of, "Yeah, agreed," but the panic sequence that currently flooded the rest of his helm restricted the ability to respond.

There was no way this was related to that look from earlier. Optimus Prime was asking for Hot Rod… they just happened to be invited along. This was about him— besides, he hadn't done anything wrong. Right?

"Dee? Cybertron to Dee, come in D-16." He finally managed to purge the panic running through his systems, giving a quick nod to Cliff and the others.

"Yeah? Yeah! This is— this is great news, Roddy. I'm sure it's— yeah, good." He stumbled over a response, running a servo down the back of his helm.

Watching Hot Rod's face, his answer did a shoddy job at trying to make him less nervous, but Roddy let out a quick exvent. "Well, what are we waiting for then? Card says third floor conference room." He pointed a digit into the air, circling it like he was gathering troops. "Let's roll out!"

The walk was full of attempts to start conversations, everyone in the crew mumbling half- sentences as they entered a lift to head up. Dee didn't really catch any snippets of the conversation, back to quietly panicking inside his own processor.

He hadn't admitted it to anyone, but ever since hearing about the betrayal of Sentinel Prime, the truth about the life he could remember, the mere concept of the Primes sent shivers of disgust through his plating. Who decided a Prime had the right to rule? Primus?

He couldn't even feel the comfort of believing in him! If Primus cared so much about the good of Cybertron, how could someone like Sentinel even rise to power? How could Primus rest beneath their feet and allow hundreds... maybe even thousands of Cybertronians live and die believing they were formed broken, lower than others?

The unfinished conversations slowly died off as they drew closer to the conference room. A guard stood next to the door, the blank stare in his optics homing in on the approaching group.

Hot Rod quietly fished the card out of his subspace, coughing with the volume of someone clearly attempting to be confident. "We were called for by Optimus Prime."
The guard spared barely half a glance at the passcard before stepping aside. Obviously, Dee mused, they had been expecting the group's arrival.

Hot Rod swiped the card across the door's sensor. The heavy sound of the locking mechanisms releasing told the group, "Too late to turn back now…"

Dee couldn't stop his spark from spinning in panic. He struggled to have enough control over his EM field to not let anyone else sense it. Hopefully, they were all too wrapped up in their own nerves to pay attention.

He found himself almost hiding behind Cliff as they all walked in. He tried to pass it off as just being short as he cautiously peered around the other to look at their host.

Optimus stood quietly at the other end of the room; servos folded behind his backplates as he stared out a window at Iacon. He didn't turn quickly, but once he did his optics took in their group with a soft expression. Perhaps it was intended to put them at ease to start the meeting, but all it did for Dee was fill him with dread at the prospect of a false sense of security.

"You called for us, Optimus Prime?" Hot Rod started, folding his servos behind his back in a similar fashion to his leader.

Optimus nodded before waving at them all. "I did; you can be at ease. Please, take a seat." He did so himself, settling in one of the conference chairs circling around an ovular table set in the center of the room. The crew gave each other a glance with still nervous optics before following suit, all sitting down on the opposite side him.

D-16 found himself staring at the tabletop, pretending to find the empty surface fascinating. He didn't dare to let himself look up, lest the crawling feeling he was experiencing down the back of his neck was in fact from the Prime staring at him.

He held back a visible reaction as Optimus spoke. "Well, to start, I want to congratulate you once again, Hot Rod. I've heard more than a few stories about you and your actions out in the field."

Hot Rod sat up a bit straighter, servos resting uncomfortably on the table, "Listen, Optimus— sir, if this is about that one time with the transport ships, I swear it was a mistake that I have learned from—"

Optimus laughed, cutting him off. "No, no, you're not here under reprimand. Believe me, I've caused a crash or two in my day." He recollected himself with a short vent as the others slowly relaxed in their seats. "Besides, from the debrief I received after the fact, it was clear to me Ultra Magnus was thorough enough in reprimand."

"Then… may I ask why you called us?"
Optimus's smile faltered just for a klik, back so fast that Dee had to wonder if it was his imagination playing with the corners of his vision.

"I—" Optimus started, before pausing like he was planning his words. "I… suppose there's no way I can approach this gently. D-16… what are you doing here?"

Dee's optics widened, feeling his tanks drop to the floor. He could feel the others staring at him, but their gazes were minuscule when he was pinned under the heavy, blue stare of the Prime.

His intake opened, the urge to respond still partly drilled into him. This was a Prime, no matter what his opinions were on them he was still a superior. He had to answer— why couldn't he get his intake to work!?

Arcee spoke up for him, leaning on the table. "We found him, sir— after the battle at Quadrant DX-7. Is there something wrong?"

Optimus pulled back, blinking like he hadn't meant to stare so hard. As soon as those optics were off of him, Dee felt like he could breathe again. "I… well, I hope not." The Prime murmured.

"Optimus Prime, I'm sorry, do you… know Dee?" Hot Rod sat like he was poised to stand at a moment's notice, ready to jump up and start defending… something.

The Prime took a moment before nodding. "Yes… you could say we were old friends." His gaze went back to Dee. "But it's been a long time since I've seen you like this."

"We believe he lost his cog to a Decepticon; we were working on getting him a replacement." Arcee chipped in again, the conversation slowly blurring to static in Dee's audials.

Old friends? He was… friends with a Prime. Not just a Prime. The Prime. A mech he had been struggling to remember the moment he awoke. His processor screamed that the fact just didn't feel right, but— how could he say it wasn't? He had no memory of who he was after Sentinel Prime fell. But, Optimus… Optimus might.

Blurr leaned over to him, and Dee's audial could pick up his quick whisper to him, "Hey buddy pal friend mech this is just crossing my processor but like is there any reason you didn't tell us you knew Optimus Prime? Because I gotta be honest with you that seems pretty severely and positively important information to know…"

"Yeah, Blurr… the reason is called amnesia." He hissed back, but a small ahem from Optimus pulled them both back to the conversation around the table.

Optimus stared down at Dee once again, but this time his optics were more confused than before. "Do you not remember me?"

Dee could feel his audials ringing, and now he could feel the weight of everyone's stares on him. He pulled his pauldrons back, attempting to sit up before he lost his nerve again and looked back to the table's surface.

"I don't. I'm sorry if you were expecting me to, I've… been having processor troubles since the moment I woke up."

Arcee nodded, placing a servo on top of his to give quiet reassurance. "When he woke, all he could really remember was his designation. He's really a fighter though, more and more keeps coming back to him." If Arcee was as uncomfortable as Dee was at this moment, she hid it well behind her cheery tone.

"It has?" Optimus covered his intake with a single servo, pressing them together in thought. "How much do you remember?"

Dee still couldn't bring his face up, quietly admitting, "I only remember my life as a miner. Anything beyond the last Iacon 5000 is… lost."

"Currently." Arcee jumped in again, "Red Alert said there's a chance it'll all come back to you. Don't get discouraged now…"

Optimus sat quietly. Dee chanced a glance towards the larger mech. His servo still hadn't left his faceplate, pressed deep in thought like he was stuck on the situation presented to him.

"Is anyone else here stuck on the fact that they know each other, or have we all skimmed past that point already?" Attention diverted to Blurr, who seemed to have no problem speaking up when everyone else was caught in their awkward silence. "Thinking critically about this and I think critically usually almost all the time but if what Optimus Prime is saying is correct, and I duly believe it to be so, Dee was Optimus's friend. So why wouldn't we be aware of that fact before this moment? Obviously, a friend of the Prime is a pretty big role I'd say almost overwhelmingly big, humongous, slack jaw, astounding—" he had to break and take a gasp for air, "…so why did we think that Dee was a nobody for so long?"

Dee slowly turned to Blurr, blinking with just the slightest twinge of offense. "…you thought I was a nobody?"

"What Blurr's trying to say," Hot Rod butt in, "is that this is completely unexpected. Wouldn't we have… possibly recognized him in some way? Or at the very least we should've heard that someone close to you had gone missing, sir."

Optimus nodded, "Yes, you two have excellent points. However, Dee— well, Dee and I parted ways a while back. I don't believe I've seen him since… since the beginning of the war, I'm afraid." His attention went right back to Dee, glancing over him. "You can imagine my surprise to spot you today, I'm sure."

Dee shrunk under the look. It was so… fond. Like Optimus considered gazing at Dee to be profound. He wasn't sure if he really liked it. While Optimus might remember him, near and dear to spark… to Dee he was just a stranger. "…I can try to imagine, sir."

Optimus balked, before resuming his gentle look with a light exvent. "There's no need to be so formal, Dee. Just Optimus would be fine."

"Optimus, then." He corrected himself, hiding the way it made his browplates scrunch. Friends with a Prime. He was friends with a Prime… it just didn't sound like him.

Worse part was… it didn't not sound like him. He still didn't really know who him— he was supposed to be.

"I suppose I can't keep you all here forever, I'm certain there are duties to be done." Optimus stood, the rest of the room following suit. "However, would you mind if I steal your friend for the rest of the afternoon? If that's alright with you, Dee?"

It was not! "I… don't see why not." He glanced at the others, praying the plea hiding in his amber optics was picked up by any of them.

"It wouldn't be a trouble at all, Optimus Prime." Hot Rod answered with a grin, and D-16 could've cursed the leader's starstruck expression straight to the Pit.

The rest of them agreed, each nod deepening the sinking feeling in his spark chamber. He watched the crew excuse themselves, assuring him that they'll see him at the hostel later. He waved back, but it felt detached to him.

Once the door slid shut once again, Dee forced himself to glance over to Optimus. The large mech had walked back over to the window, and although his helm faced out to the city Dee knew he was still focused on him in the corner of his optic.

"…I have a hard time believing you don't remember much, D-16."

The words sent a chill down his backstrut, and he subconsciously took a half step back before realizing and stopping himself. There it was, he knew there was something wrong. The gentle tone Optimus held throughout the group conversation had melted into this accusation. And now, he was alone with the giant mech. How in Primus's name did he ever allow himself to get into this situation?

"You think I'm lying?" He asked, fists clenching at his sides.

"It's just difficult to believe, that is all." Optimus turned his face back to Dee, optics flickering over his frame. "I want to believe you, trust me with that."

"Then why don't you?" Beneath the nerves, or perhaps because of them, Dee could feel an anger heat inside his spark chamber. He wanted to believe he was faking this? Pretending to not know who he was? Like he enjoyed wandering lost in a city that should be familiar to him?

Optimus didn't respond to the question, sitting back down with a tired exvent. Dee watched his posture flicker between exhausted and on edge, both mechs clearly uncomfortable with the silence that followed the two accusations.

Eventually the silence pushed Dee into speaking again, unable to withstand it any longer. "…you claim to know me before the war."

Optimus nodded slowly, no longer looking at Dee. It was his turn to stare at the table's surface while he responded, "I did. We were very close."

That still didn't make any sense. Even if his processor continued to be shoddy, he didn't think it was likely an entire mech was just omitted from every memory he could recall. If what Optimus was saying was true, however…
"Then… you must've known Orion."

That caught the Prime's attention. Dee watched his helm lift, optics finally meeting Dee's with a furrowed browplate. "I'm sorry?"

He doesn't know me. I knew it… Dee matched the stare, now feeling slightly more confident against the other. "Orion Pax. He and I did practically everything together. You can claim to know me all you want, but if you don't know Orion then I think you're the liar here."

His processor finally caught up with his intake, and he cringed at the fact he just accused the Prime of lying to his faceplate. And seeing the gentle shock on Optimus's expression… he might've just landed himself in hot oil.

"I mean… I didn't mean for that to be—" He stammered an explanation but stopped upon the near silent chuckle from Optimus. His processor froze any further attempts at mitigating his offense. He was laughing. Dee couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

Optimus sat up, leaning slightly forward and his expression turned from its shock to an unsure smile. "You really don't remember…"

"I— why'd that cue you in?" Dee shifted, still undecided whether he was going to be fine or be crushed under a giant servo within the next few kliks.

Optimus stood again, walking over with a smooth gait. Dee leaned back as Optimus crouched in front of him, still a fair bit taller. "I'll admit I know that I've changed over the cycles, but I didn't think I was that different. Am I, Dee?"

Dee's optics squinted, staring at Optimus Prime as the Prime stared back at him. Up close, he looked tired, in a way that recharge couldn't remedy. The scar on his faceplate stretched strangely while he smiled, but the friendly dermas still looked familiar enough to jolt Dee's systems. His optics flew wide open, and he couldn't stop himself from making a sound of surprise through his choked vocalizer.

"Orion!?"