"Redemption" - Part 3
by Ivy Bohnlein


     Rodimus was aware of Arcee's curious optics on him as the
Cybertronians passed through the doors of Iacon, but he forced himself
to push it to the back of his mind.  Every fiber of his body was
screaming at him to at least touch her, just to reassure himself that
she was real, but he had no confidence in his ability to control his
emotions.  He would have to hold her, and once she was in his arms, how
could he possibly let go?  Better to wait.  Better to say nothing at
all.  He steeled his nerves and avoided her gaze, moving further into
the midst of his clustered followers.
     As the doors closed behind them, Rodimus gazed around the central
hallway with a hint of nostalgia.  Abruptly, he felt a tingling
sensation crawl over his metal skin, and as he began to ask a question,
the doors to the meeting room slid open.  He caught a brief glimpse of
the Autobots beyond, then was forced to double over in pain as a wave
of agony stabbed through him.
     Gentle hands quickly gripped his shoulders, steadying him.  He
looked up weakly, already beginning to thank Whiz for her help, and
found himself staring directly into Arcee's concerned face.  Not now,
can't lose control, not yet...
     Dimly, he heard Whiz gasp painfully, "Bodies... get them... away
from us..."
     "You heard her," Ultra Magnus said gruffly.  "Get them into the
medbay, quickly."
     The pain faded as quickly as it had begun, but Rodimus found that he
was still frozen in place.
     "What's happened to you?" Arcee asked softly.  He had been waiting
for that voice for too long.  A lifetime spent locked in the dark
recesses of his own bitter memories, never fully recovering... and with
that simple, gentle inquiry, the floodgates threatened to break.
     Eight million years of pent-up emotion tore at his throat as he
forced a level tone.  "It's a long story," he grated roughly, forcing
himself to straighten to his full height - even pulling away from her
hands, although the gesture was almost more painful than he could bear.
 The look of faintly hurt confusion she gave him seared itself on his
neural net.  Guilt stabbed him, and the tortured memories came rushing
back unbidden...
     His mind wrenched him to the past once more, to the last time he had
held her in his arms.  He was on the battlefield again, rushing past
the smoking remnants of Syke, unaware of what he had done.  He had
lifted Arcee's body from the ground and desperately tried to hold her
to him, as if that could prevent the tiny spark of life from escaping
her, and he had screamed...
     "Arcee."  Even as he heard the strangled whisper escape his lips, he
clamped his mouth shut to prevent himself from saying anything further.
 He looked quickly away, almost ashamed of himself.  Later.  For now,
the mission is more important.  But later... later, he could tell her
everything.
     She squeezed his shoulder briefly before nodding quietly and
stepping away.  Rodimus slammed down a mental barrier, feeling a brief
tremor run through his frame as he fought down the overriding impulse
to take her in his arms; to hold her and never let go.
     He was dimly aware of the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over
the room. Outrun in particular was watching him with wide optics, her
expression clearly telegraphing her sense of apprehensive fascination
with the exchange.  Rodimus, not in control?
     "Don't embarrass the rest of us," Whiz broke in icily.  "There's
plenty of time for reunions.  After all, she'll still be alive for at
least two weeks."
     Firestar gasped sharply.  "Whiz!"
     The thought dragged him back to the present like a taser shock.  He
had only two weeks to save her.  Consoling himself with the inner
promise that he'd make them count, he reluctantly tried to force his
thoughts into some semblance of order. Arcee opened her mouth to ask
him something more, but Ultra Magnus cut her off.
     "You can question him later, Arcee.  Right now, I want to know
what's going on.  Where did all of you come from?" Ultra Magnus turned
his blue optics on the assembled Cybertronians expectantly.
     "Allow me.  Our leader's thoughts appear to be occupied," Whiz
interjected.  Without skipping a beat or even waiting for
acknowledgment, she continued.  "Cyclonus was telling the truth.  We're
time travelers, originating eight million years in your future.  In our
world, all of the Cybertronian races have united to fight against a
tyranny that began in this time.  A revolution is about to take place
here, on Cybertron, which will throw this galaxy into chaos and
eventually result in the destruction of most of our race.  We have
fought together under Rodimus' leadership for millions of years, but we
continued to lose ground.  As a last resort, we opened a time portal to
come here and prevent the Great Uprising from occurring."
     Chromia made a derisive noise.  "Time travel?  That's impossible."
     "Your perspective is limited by context," Whiz replied stoically.
     Ultra Magnus swept Rodimus with his gaze.  "She called you Rodimus.
But what...?" His voice faltered questioningly.
     Rodimus stiffened.  "The Matrix was... torn from me."  The
excruciating strain of just saying the words was evident in his voice.
     "Torn?" Ultra Magnus asked in disbelief.
     "Stolen." Rodimus shuddered, reliving the horrifying moment when Sky
Lynx's claws had raked open his chest and ripped out the Matrix.
Rodimus had strained so hard against the grip of the other Primitives
holding him down that the joints of his shoulders and knees had been
torn apart, but that physical pain couldn't even approach the agony of
his unwilling separation from the Matrix.  Desolation had crashed over
him as his broken body had been dropped to the ground and left for
dead, and the Matrix had been carried further and further away, until
he could no longer even hear its call.
     "That's why we're here to stop the Uprising," Springer added
smoothly, covering for his leader while Rodimus fought back the
memories.  "We can't allow those things to happen."
     Scattershot grunted.  "So why'd *our* Rodimus fall over?  And what
was all that about the bodies?"
     "If we were to do anything to harm our past selves, our own
existence would be in jeopardy.  Even talking to each other would
invite irrecoverable paradox.  So when two selves are too close in
space and time, they shut down to avoid complications.  We're protected
from those effects by special proximity buffers, but at extreme levels
of contact, we'll still feel discomfort and pain," Whiz explained.
     "It's torture, I tell ya! Torture!" Pak-Gor chipped in
melodramatically.
     Ultra Magnus looked blankly at the Junkion.  "Perhaps some
introductions are in order."
     "Ah do declai-ah," Pak-Gor drawled. "Y'all don't recognize li'l ol'
Pakky?"
     "P -- Pak-Gor?" Moonracer asked in surprise.
     He grinned in response.  "Often imitated, never duplicated!"
     Certiorarius shifted his tentacles uncomfortably as he switched to
his Diplomatic head.  "I am Certiorarius.  I assure you, you have
nothing to fear from me.  I am your ally."
     "And I'm Outrun!" the small femme piped up eagerly, almost before
Certiorarius had stopped speaking.  She beamed up at Ultra Magnus.
"I'm so honored to finally meet you sir, I've read all about you in the
databanks and heard so many stories but I never really imagined that
I'd ever see..."
     "Outrun," Firestar interrupted in a warning tone.
     The little Cybertronian ceased her litany and lowered her head
slightly.  "Sorry."
     But the damage had already been done.  Ultra Magnus looked down at
Outrun, slightly puzzled, then turned his optics on Rodimus.  "Read
about me?"
     Rodimus gestured helplessly.  "Magnus, I..."
     "I understand," Ultra Magnus told him, nodding somberly.
     "It was a warrior's death," Springer intervened, "and you saved many
lives in the process.  One of those lives was mine, and I never thought
I'd have a chance to thank you."
     "That's all I could ask," Ultra Magnus said gruffly.  He paused to
regard the travelers for a moment, then continued.  "Obviously, you
know that your story sounds improbable to us.  However, we don't have a
better explanation for what happened, and so far we have no reason not
to trust you.  For now, You're welcome here in Iacon."
     "Your trust is not misplaced," Certiorarius assured, dipping
slightly on his hoverbeam to approximate a bow.
     "*My* trust ain't so easy to come by," Scattershot growled.
     Firestar nudged Springer and muttered, "I didn't remember that
Scattershot had *always* been this grouchy."  Rodimus overheard and
smiled, but his amusement faded as he remembered the explosion that had
rocked the base on Phoenicia.  Scattershot, and everyone left behind...
     Ultra Magnus nodded to Scattershot, then turned back to the
Cybertronians.  "Stay within the base and don't explore sensitive
areas.  I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I won't
take foolish risks."
     "Understood," Rodimus replied gravely.
     "Wait a minute," Grimlock's gruff voice cut in.  "Me not get it.  If
Decepticons, Autobots, Junkions, and Quintessons all team up, who is
enemy? Humans?"
     There was an uncomfortable silence.
     "The human race has become extinct," Whiz answered, avoiding the
question.
     A gasp from near the floor caught Rodimus' attention.  He looked
down to see two humans standing near Ultra Magnus' feet.  At first, he
almost didn't recognize them.  By the Flame, they looked so young...
     "You."  Whiz must have heard the gasp as well, because she had fixed
Krystal Bryant with a cold stare.
     Krystal threw back the cowl of her cloak and stared at Whiz, her
eyebrows crinkling in confusion.  Her husband Edward noticed and took
her hand, offering her support.  He turned to face Rodimus and asked,
"Humanity is extinct?"
     Certiorarius shifted to his Scientists' face.  "Entirely
carbon-based lifeforms cannot survive for eight million years.  The
species must adapt or make way for a better suited one."
     "Earth experienced drastic changes in the aftermath of the Uprising.
 Unfortunately, humankind didn't survive," Rodimus explained.
     "No more TV," Pak-Gor moaned.  "Cliffhangers with no resolution.
Reruns, reruns, reruns."
     Grimlock stepped forward, his face clouding.  "You not answer
Grimlock's question.  Who enemy?"
     Springer took a step toward Grimlock, a partial snarl twisting his
lips.  "We don't owe you any answers, Primitive."
     "Who you calling primitive?" Grimlock demanded.  "You the one who
can't answer simple question."
     Firestar put a restraining hand on Springer's shoulder.  "Easy
there."
     Ultra Magnus frowned at the exchange.  "I think we're going to need
a few answers right away."
     Rodimus sighed.  "Not everyone.  We need to keep information about
the future as limited as possible, for obvious reasons."
     Edward Bryant stepped forward.  "I want to be included.  Perhaps
Earth can somehow be of assistance."
     "All right," Ultra Magnus nodded.  "Secretary-General, Chromia, wait
for us in the meeting room.  I'll gather the commanders here on
Cybertron..."  He checked the duty roster.  "Looks like it's just Sky
Lynx..."
     "Not Sky Lynx," Rodimus said sharply, unable to keep his voice level.
     Ultra Magnus regarded Rodimus intently.  "No Sky Lynx.  All right,
it'll be the four of us.  I trust your troops can take care of
themselves."
     "We have for a few million years," Springer grunted.
     Chromia shot a look over her shoulder, then disappeared into the
meeting room.  Edward Bryant followed, trailed by Ultra Magnus.
Rodimus halted in the door to look back at Springer.  "The rest of you
know what to do."  Then he, too, left.
     "I have readings to check," Whiz said.  "Plus, I might be able to
discover what's going on by checking some recent security reports."
     Springer nodded in agreement.  "Firestar, you show Outrun around.
Pak, Certiorarius, you're with me.  We need to circulate and talk to
the others, you know, spread the word about our mission."
     The crowd in the hallway dispersed, leaving a lone figure standing
in a shadowed corner.  Slowly, she slipped her cowl over her head and
moved off, following Whiz down the grav-lift and toward the commissary.
     She entered Whiz's lab silently and removed her hood, watching the
emerald-green Cybertronian.  Whiz was standing before a set of shelves,
staring at a cluster of framed photographs.  As Krystal watched, Whiz's
fingers gently brushed across a few of them, then closed over one and
picked it up.
     "Whiz?" Krystal asked softly.
     The Sci-Med commander spun as if she'd been stung, and slammed the
picture face down on her desk.  Krystal heard the splinter of the frame
breaking, and turned her eyes on Whiz's face.  "What do you want?" Whiz
demanded, her blue optics flashing coldly.
     "I thought we could talk."  Krystal stepped toward her friend,
holding her arm out in a gesture of welcome.
     Whiz glared.  "I don't want company, especially not yours."
     The human reeled back from Whiz's anger.  "What did I do to you,
Whiz?  Why..."
     She was interrupted by Whiz's humorless laughter.  "I don't have
time for telling stories."
     "I just want the truth.  There's so much bottled inside you, Whiz,
and you know that's not healthy.  Talk to me."
     Whiz turned and walked past Krystal, as if the woman didn't exist.
As she opened her door, she looked down once more.  "We said all that
needed to be said a long time ago.  In fact, you said much more than
enough.  I'm going to the security room to review recent incident
reports, and I *don't* want company."
     Krystal watched her leave, then took a deep breath to relax herself.
 The emotions that Whiz had been keeping in check were so strong that
they still reverberated in the air, jangling Krystal's nerves as she
walked over to the desk.  Cautiously, she turned over the snapped
picture frame and regarded the photograph.
     Whiz and Rodimus Prime stood side by side, with Krystal perched
cheerfully on Rodimus' shoulder.  Both Whiz and Krystal were grinning
and making bunny-ears behind Rodimus' head.  Rodimus himself was
obviously trying to affect a persecuted look, but failing miserably --
as shown by the wide smile on his face.
     Krystal ran her finger lightly over the spiderweb of cracks
overlaying the picture, then looked up at the closed door..  Her jaw set
in determination.  Somehow, she was going to find out what happened.
No matter how hard her friends tried to hide it.
     In the meeting room, Rodimus was doing his best to explain the
situation convincingly.
     "These... Primitives.  What makes them rebel?" Ultra Magnus pressed.
     "The true cause could never be proven.  Certiorarius tells us that
it might be related to a Quintesson plot that got out of control, but
he couldn't gain access to the files that might explain it.  And we
have reason to believe that, somehow, it all starts with Sky Lynx.
He's been their leader since the Uprising," Rodimus told them.
     "If this revolution is going to happen so soon, shouldn't we have
seen some of these Primitives preparing for desertion?  Stockpiling
weapons for battle?" Chromia asked skeptically.
     "No.  We didn't see it until too late.  If they're making organized
efforts to revolt, they're doing it in secret."
     "What do you suggest we do, then?" the Secretary-General asked.  "We
can't fight without an objective.  To make things worse, we don't even
know who's still a friend and who's become an enemy."
     "Whiz's theory is that the Quintessons did something to Sky Lynx's
body while we were trapped in organic forms.  If we can capture him,
examine him, and find out what the Quintessons are doing to urge him
toward rebellion, we might be able to prevent the Uprising altogether,"
Rodimus explained.
     Ultra Magnus nodded.  "Which is why you didn't want him here for
this meeting."  He called up the active roster and said, "He should
be..." His voice trailed off uncomfortably.
     "What is it?" Chromia asked, craning her neck to look.
     "His location is listed as unknown," Ultra Magnus said grimly,
punching a series of buttons.  "He was last spotted taking off from
Memorial Spaceport.  There's no flight plan on file."
     Rodimus slammed his hand down on the table.  "We have to go after
him.  He can't return to gather an army."
     "We can't possibly go on a manhunt through space, Rodimus."  Ultra
Magnus shook his head and frowned.  "We'll have to catch him when he
tries to re-enter Cybertron's airspace."
     "Not necessarily."  Rodimus punched up a schematic of the immediate
area.  "He can't have gone far, because he needs to remain in contact
with the others.  Plus, he can't afford to get trapped far from
Cybertron.  He's probably very near us, one of these small planetoids
or moons.  At least, it can't hurt to investigate them further."
     "You're right, Rodimus."  A surprised pride filled Magnus' voice as
he studied the map.  "We should begin our investigation immediately."
     "The EDC will probably be able to provide a few shuttle crews to aid
the search," Edward offered.
     "I'm glad to have your cooperation, Secretary-General."  Rodimus
smiled down at the human.
     "I am going to ask something in return, however," Edward told him
very seriously.  "I want you to join Krystal and me later tonight and
tell us what happened to Earth."
     "That's hardly a sacrifice," Rodimus told him.
     "I decided to go easy on you.  In the meantime, I'll see what help I
can muster for the big hunt," Bryant informed them, then stood.  "If
you'll excuse me."
     Rodimus stood too, ready to follow.  "I'll let you two discuss this
privately.  Let me know what you decide."  After receiving a pair of
affirmative nods, he left the room and stepped back into the central
hallway.
     Where Arcee was waiting.
     "Meeting over?" she asked, looking up from a data terminal.
     His jaw worked for a moment.  "I think so."
     She smiled softly.  "Then it's about time we talked.  Your office?"
     "I guess... sure," he faltered.  His hands curled into fists as he
steadied his nerves, then he looked back up at her face.  "Yes, my
office would be fine."
     She seemed amused.  "All right then," she agreed, then stepped onto
the walkway leading to the commissary.  Rodimus allowed her to lead the
way, following her through the maze of cubicles and into his office.
Once inside, she waited with a bemused smile as he fumbled briefly with
the unfamiliar controls, finally locking the door behind them.  Then,
as he turned, she put her arms around him and drew him into an embrace.
     It was too late to pull away as his arms moved around her in return.
 His emotions had been precariously balanced since he'd first seen her,
and now they demanded immediate release.  This was the 'later' that he
had promised himself.  "Arcee," he murmured into her shoulder, before
the ache of eight million years choked his throat.
     She merely nodded, holding him comfortingly until he could finally
let go.  "I thought maybe, in the hallway earlier..."
     He nodded in response, releasing her to run his hands loosely over
her arms.  As he took her hands in his own, he explained,  "I had to
wait.  I knew that I could never answer Ultra Magnus' questions if I
didn't."
     She chuckled softly, the sound draping over him like music.  "Well,
now you have to answer mine."  She gently guided him over to take a
seat, then settled herself beside him.
     He waited for a moment, just savoring the knowledge that she was
there.  Alive, and smiling, and content just to be with him.  "What
questions did you want to ask?"
     "What's happened to you?" she wondered, repeating her earlier
question.
     He sighed.  "Well, you know how to get to the point."
     Her eyes held concern behind the laughter.  "I've never seen you
like this before.  And earlier, in the corridor, you were acting so
strangely.  What's all of this about?"
     Rodimus considered his approach, and decided that he should answer
her directness with some of his own.  "I haven't seen you for almost
eight million years," he told her gently.
     She gasped.  "But..."
     He nodded.  "You were one of the first victims of the Primitives'
treachery.  That's part of why it's so important to me to stop it."
     Her blank stare seemed to look through him.  Carefully, he covered
her hand with his own, and she focused on his face again.  "Who?" she
finally asked.
     A twinge of conscience made Rodimus shift uneasily.  They had agreed
to share as few details about the future as possible.  If the mission
succeeded, the whole timeline would change, but knowledge of what *had*
happened could result in anger between friends.  Others might react
with overconfidence in the face of danger because they thought that
they knew how they would die.  He couldn't allow that to happen to
Arcee.  "I can't tell you.  I can just make sure it doesn't happen."
     Temper touched her voice.  "You can tell me that I *died*, but not
how?"
     He shook his head, telling her grimly, "I avenged you.  That's all
you need to know."
     She drew in a shocked breath.  "What kind of statement is that?
What did you do, go hunting down Primitives until you were satisfied?"
     His jaw ground, and his hand unconsciously tightened over hers.  "I
killed the one who murdered you.  As for the rest of them, I'll never
be satisfied."
     He was abruptly left with empty air in his hand as she drew back.
"I've never seen you like this."
     "They did this to me," Rodimus said passionately, gesturing to his
chestplate.  "They took away everything and everyone who ever mattered
to me, beginning with you.  They ripped the Matrix out of my chest.
They gunned down my heroes and friends.  Even as we left for this time,
they destroyed our base behind us and slaughtered everyone left behind.
 They forged me in *pain*."
     She shuddered.  "So you want to kill them all."
     "No." He looked into her eyes, willing her to see.  "I want to
prevent them from becoming Primitives.  I've been trying to kill them
for too long, and all that's happened is more death.  I want to keep
that from happening."
     "So you came back here, and left everyone else?" she asked.
     He winced.  "It wasn't an easy decision.  I knew that I could muster
the Autobots' support better than Cyclonus or Springer could alone."
     She studied him carefully.  "Couldn't you have found a way to bring
them with you?  Couldn't you have tried *something*?"
     Why was she pushing him like this?  Why didn't she just put her arms
around him and say she understood, and let him forget?  "There was no
time, Arcee.  As it was, I barely made it through the portal."  He
remembered standing in the lab, spellbound by Sky Lynx, and the way
Whiz had to pull him through the shimmering silver rift behind her.
"Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made, when the survival of others
depends on it.  They understood that."
     "So," she said disgustedly.  "The ends justify the means?"
     "Arcee, if we succeed, they may never have to die.  They may never
have to watch their friends be torn apart.  Everyone agreed that a new
future would be worth the risk.  Nobody stayed behind unwillingly," he
explained softly.  The absence of warmth in her voice was beginning to
drill a hollow hole through him.  "Why do we have to keep talking about
this?"
     "Because I'm trying to get to the Rodimus Prime that *I* know.  He
must be somewhere inside you," she said seriously, gazing at him as if
she might be able to see into his soul.
     Pain ripped him like a physical wound.  "I'm not Rodimus Prime.  I'm
only Rodimus," he said achingly.
     "Well, maybe you should try to be more like him," she told him.
     "I'm the same person, Arcee.  I'm older and smarter, but I learned
all of my lessons the hard way.  I wasn't fighting to win, I was
fighting just to survive.  I had to make harder choices and become a
leader without the Matrix.  I've changed, but I'm still your Rodimus."
He shrugged helplessly, searching for the right words. "I just... I've
gone back in time, but I can't go back to being him." He clamped his
mouth shut over his unvoiced agony at not being what she wanted, but
his optics mirrored his faint hope that she'd understand anyway.
     His hopes were disappointed.  Arcee only narrowed her optics and
said, "That's no excuse for throwing away the lives of the people who
trusted you."
     "I'd only be throwing away their lives if I didn't do everything I
could to be sure that this mission succeeds.  As much as I hated it, I
did what I had to do.  Maybe that's not a decision that I could have
made when I was younger, but it was the right one.  This Rodimus, the
one you know..." He faltered, trying to read her face. "He couldn't
have survived as long as I have.  Losing the Matrix robbed me of my
idealism, but it left me a stronger leader."
     She gasped in indignation.  "How can you say that?"
     He spread his hands helplessly.  "It's true."
     "*My* Rodimus would have *found* a way to save all of those people,
or he would never have left them behind.  You've lost your caring and
named it a strength.  You're too willing to let others 'sacrifice' for
you instead of trying to save them.  I don't even know who you *are*,"
she accused.
     "But Arcee, you don't *understand*," he protested.
     "I don't *want* to understand!  I don't want to know how a gentle,
caring leader like him changed into you, and how you can look around
you and be proud of it!" she said vehemently, rising to her feet.
     He stood, reaching out to her.  "You asked me what had happened to
me.  All I did was tell you the truth.  What did I do wrong?"
     She stared at him, looking him over from head to toe.  "I don't
know," she told him, with an element of pity emerging in her face and
voice.  "But it happened a long time ago, for you.  Too long ago for me
to make it go away."  She walked to the door.  "I hope your mission
succeeds, Rodimus.  For your own sake."
     She was walking away from him.  He had never expected this; never
planned on this.  Something deep inside him slammed shut, and he
replied coldly, "Your concern is noted."
     Her face crumpled slightly.  "You're starting to sound like Whiz.  I
don't even want to ask what happened to her."
     Surprise rose in his mind.  "We've never known," he replied,
wondering why Arcee would make that connection.
     "And never bothered to find out," Arcee added for him, sounding
disappointed.  "I suppose I should have guessed as much.  Goodbye,
Rodimus."
     He looked after her helplessly as she unlocked the door and stepped
out.  "Goodbye, Arcee."
     And the door slid shut over his dream, silently and without remorse.
     Rodimus stared at it for a long moment, then sat back with a sigh.
Tracing the conversation in his mind, he couldn't identify where things
had begun to go wrong.  Maybe he should have hidden the truth from her,
but that went against the grain.  Plus, she knew him well enough to
know when he was lying.  At least, he'd thought she did.
     Now she didn't know him at all.
     He couldn't sit still, or he'd keep reliving the pain.  Instead, he
walked over to examine the shelves.  Everything still seemed so
familiar, though it had been alienated by the passage of time.  As he
looked through the collected belongings of his past self, he felt oddly
like he was rifling through the possessions of a stranger.  A large
binder caught his eye, and out of curiosity, he pulled it from the
shelf and opened it.  Photographs.  Now he remembered - Whiz loved to
take pictures and develop them physically instead of putting them on
photo disks.  Always said they seemed more immediate that way - and it
was easier to pass around the embarrassing ones.  He put the binder on
his desk and absently lowered himself into his chair.
     There were hundreds of them, interspersed with articles from Terran
news media and other small items.  Some seemed to be captured from
security tapes, some - the off-center ones - taken by hand, and some
collected from other mysterious sources.  A reflective smile crept over
his face as he leafed through the pages.
     Standing atop the observation tower with Firestar, both of them
covered in fire-retardant foam, and grappling with her while a
foam-obscured figure pointed and laughed...
     A newspaper clipping about him saving several people from a building
that the Decepticons had destroyed with a bomb...
     The Bryants in wedding attire, smiling into the camera.  Rodimus was
beside them in trailer form, covered in streamers and other
embarrassing baggage that they had convinced him was a traditional part
of the ceremony.  He sighed, considering the image.  As much as he had
complained about the trailer, it was something he could never have
again...  He shook his head and turned the page.
     Whiz and himself in human form, he holding a water bottle and
laughing as a very drenched Whiz vowed revenge...
     A very exasperated-looking Ultra Magnus speaking to him, while he
did his best to look innocent...
     Rodimus dozing in human form, tucked protectively under the
feathered wing of a peacefully sleeping gryphon...
     He stopped, amazed.  That was Sky Lynx.  He ran his fingers over the
picture, remembering when he and the Primitives' leader hadn't been
such bitter enemies.  It was so long ago that it felt like a different
lifetime.  A different Rodimus.

[cont.]


 
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