North Central Shopping Plaza was quiet, having just opened less than an hour before.  Shanygn paused between one step an the next, pulling Cathy, her shopping companion, to the side to glance at her alread-mangled mall map.  The complex was enormous, and had just opened less than a week before.  This was their first trip.
 "What are we looking for now?" Cathy asked, amused, as she watched her friend try to figure out which end of the map was up.
 "I have no idea.  Whoever designed this thing needs to be put out of our misery."  Biting her lip, she traced hallways, eyes nearly crossing.  "I vote we head for the food court that should be just down that hall," she pointed, "and get something to drink while we try and figure this thing out."
 "Sounds good to me.  Beats getting lost any day."  Cathy glanced over Shanygn's shoulder as she tried to fold the map, which had once resembled a brochure.  "Of course, that all depends on whether or not there actually IS a food court down there."
 Shanygn hit her in the arm with the ruined brochure.  "Don't remind me.  I love shopping, but this is turning into a nightmare."
 Cathy chuckled.  "We could grab something to eat and then just wander around aimlessly until we find our way back to the right exit."
 "With our luck, we'll be stuck here for the next century."  Still, Shanygn had to laugh.    "You can always make Roddy send Midnight to come get us."  They both snickered.  "Well, lead on, intrepid adventurer!"
 Shanygn grinned and led the way to the food court.

 Contentedly slurping at a blended fruit drink, Shanygn and Cathy pored over the well-worn mall map spread out on the table.
 "Well, this is...supposedly...where we are.  This is where we came from, so this end must be up," Cathy pointed out, turning the map ninety degrees.
 Shanygn nodded.  "That makes sense...I must have taken a wrong turn there."  Absently, she traced one finger up the hallway.  "And that is where we want to go."
 "Yep."  Cathy slurped the last of her drink noisily and tossed the empty cup into a nearby waste can.  "Ready?  There are seven bookstores and five art galleries you wanted to look at.  Not to mention that academics shop you pointed out from the ads.  And I need a few additions to my wardrobe while we're here."
 Shanygn grinned conspiratorily, looking forward to spending some credits.  "Lemme take a look around here and grab a snack to eat on the run first?"
 "Sure, no problem."  Cathy snatched the map off the table before Shanygn could have a chance to mangle it even more, managing to fold it back into some semblance of the brochure it had started as.  Smirking, she handed it back to her friend and ignored the mock-sulking expression.  "Your map, madam?"
 "Yeah, yeah."  Shanygn took it and whapped her friend with it again before moving to the edge of the dining area.  She scanned the signs rapidly, making her way towards the small bakery for a brownie.
 "Good choice."
 Shanygn turned to look at Cathy and grinned.  "You want one?"
 "Sure, I love them..."
 Shanygn nodded, glancing across the food court.  One particular solitary man caught her eye, short reddish-blond hair unkempt, face looking weary.  And somehow familiar.  Shanygn stopped, putting a hand out to stop Cathy.
 "What is it?"
 "I know him.  I don't know how, but I know him."  Shanygn nodded in the stranger's direction.  She paused, struggling for a name to match the face, anything to tell her why she knew this.  "Damnit, I can't remember.  I know I know him from somewhere!"
 Cathy looked alarmed.  "Don't force it...Maybe if you had a closer look?"
 Shanygn swallowed hard, nodding, letting Cathy lead her around the corner of the food court in the man's general direction.  "Please...I know him..."  Shutting her eyes, she tried to remember, mentally erasing the lines of fatigue that were obvious even halfway across the dining area, smoothing out the hair...
 Cathy turned back to Shanygn with a growing feeling of unease and fear as her friend stopped suddenly.  "Shanygn?"
 Shanygn's eyes were glazed, unseeing.
 "Oh, no..."

 //Pain exploded in her chest.  Shocked, Shanygn glanced down, only to see a spreading crimson stain on her chest.  A faint whimper escaped her just before she collapsed, the agony overwhelming.
 Chaos enveloped her, surrounding her with shouts and cries, hands pulling at her.  Struggling, she opened her eyes to see the blurred image of a blonde man, a stranger, bent over her, his voice pleasant but incromprehensible through the haze.  His hand covered the bleeding wound and pressed hard.
 More pain, and then nothing.//

***

 Rodimus Prime gasped, mentally protesting as a wash of agony rolled through his Interface circuits.  [[Shanygn?!]]  There was no answer;  the Autobot was on his feet and halfway down the hall, running blindly, before his own memories caught up with him.  Relief left him gasping for breath, leaning heavily against the wall.  A few passersby asked what was wrong, concerned, but received no answer.

***

 //It had been several days since the attempt on her life, two days after she'd first awoken even.  She'd had few visitors outside the other Interfaces, her partner, and the doctors supervising her progress almost oppressively.
 "Shanygn?" Kimber's voice was soft, not wanting to wake her if she were asleep.  A quick peek into the hospital room confirmed her awareness.  "There's someone who wants to meet you."
 "Sure," Shanygn rasped.  "I'm okay..."
 A blond stranger stepped nervously into the room, his expression worried, solemn.  "Shanygn?"
 Shanygn nodded, vaguely remembering his voice.
 "I'm Jayce Harte...I was the paramedic at the mall when you were shot."
 Shanygn managed to smile at him through the lingering pain.  "I don't know how to thank you...you saved my life."
 Jayce's cheeks were stained with color and he ducked slightly.  "That's why I became a paramedic...I wanted to help people."
 Shanygn shifted, trying to sit up a little, her face losing all its color as her body protested violently.
 Instantly, Jayce was there, easing her back down to the mattress, soothing her with hands and voice.  "Don't...It's okay, I understand."
 Shanygn gazed up at him weakly, unable to answer him.//

 The memories faded, but Shanygn latched onto that face.  The hair was different now, deepened to a coppery red-gold, and his face deeply lined with pain, but it was the same, and aside from those lines, no older than he had been when she'd first met him.
 A cold pit of recognition knotted her stomach as she realized what must have happened to him.  Numbly, she started shaking her head, unaware of the motion.  "No... nonononononono..."  The litany dwindled, tears escaping the corners of her eyes.
 "Shanygn?"  Cathy's worried voice finally managed to penetrate.
 "Tell F/X to get Skywolf to come pick us up...we have a medical emergency here..."  Shanygn's throat was tight, making her voice rough.
 Cathy's eyes widened in shock as she stared after her friend threading her way through the tables and chairs.  "I have no idea what's going on...but if you say so..." she answered under her breath.  [[Fox?]]
 <<Hmm?>>  The Sentinel's mental voice was distracted.
 [[Shanygn says we need Skywolf to come pick us up, please...]]
 There was a moment of startlement which told Cathy she had her partner's full attention.  Then, <<What's going on?>>
 Cathy sighed. [[I have no idea, Shanygn recognized someone and freaked.]]
 <<O...kay.  I'll have him meet you at the entrance you two were dropped off at.>>  F/X's presence faded from Cathy's mind as he turned his attention to sending them help.

 Shanygn made a beeline for Jayce's table, becoming more and more disturbed as he showed no sign of noticing her approach.  Instead, he sipped absently from a huge paper cup and stared vacantly into space.
 "Jayce?"
 There was no response, despite the fact that she was obviously speaking to him.
 Shanygn tried again.  "Jayce Harte?"  She rested her hands on the back of a chair as he raised his head, confusion and a slowly-dawning recognition crossing his face.  "Mind if I have a seat?"
 Jayce blinked at her, eyes devoid of emotion, speaking of a pain so deep he'd gone numb in the attempts to escape it.  "No one's called me that in over a hundred years."  His voice was rough, raspy.  "I recognize you...vaguely...my name's Scott McNeil now."  As if introducing himself for the first time, he extended a trembling hand.
 "Andrea Shanygn.  Call me Shanygn, please," she said as she clasped his hand in hers.  "And I think I know what's happened to you."
 A faint spark of hope flared in his eyes as he made a choking sound.  "Y--you do?"
 Shanygn nodded.  "You saved my life once...I'd like to repay that, if you'll let me."  A war between despair and hope battled in Scott's eyes.  "I really can help you, if you'll trust me."
 Scott swallowed hard, closing his eyes tightly for a moment.  Tears glistened wetly on his lashes.  "Please..." he whispered.  "Anything..."  His knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the table.
 Pained for him, she rested a hand on his shoulder.  "I already called for help.  We'll explain what happened to you and get you taken care of."
 Nodding weakly, Scott took her proffered arm, managing somehow to stumble to his feet.
 Shanygn turned around, only to be faced with Cathy's confusion.  "Cathy, Scott McNeil.  Scott, Cathy."  Continuing briskly without letting either of them interrupt, she asked, "Skywolf?"
 "Should be at the entrance we came in by the time we find it."
 Shanygn nodded.  "This way..."

 True to form, Skywolf was waiting, rotors spinning idly, as they left the massive complex.  Kyle stepped down the ramp as the trio approached, took one look at Scott and blanched.
 Shanygn took mental note of several of the curses Kyle spat out as he ran to meet Scott and usher them all quickly into the helicopter.
 Dazed, Scott took in the interior of Skywolf's alternate form.  "Would someone tell me what the hell is going on?" he demanded dully.
 "You've Interfaced," Shanygn stated firmly.
 "I've what?"
 "Interfaced.  It's when a transformer--usually a Sentinel, like Skywolf here--bonds with an organic partner.  The two share a telepathic link and increased abilities, and the organic partner becomes more or less immortal in that he or she stops aging."
 "Telepathic link..." Scott breathed, ignoring Kyle as the medic took a visual catalog of his condition.  "Would that include emotions?"
 "Absolutely."
 Scott's face tightened as he rocked back, closing his eyes.  The tears that had threatened earlier escaped, trickling down his cheeks.  "That would explain it..." he managed a long moment later.
 "Explain what?  What have you been receiving?"
 Scott glanced up to find Kyle's face less than a foot from his own.  "Pain...rage, grief, guilt, shame, loss...hatred...more pain.  Lots more pain.  Emptiness.  Loneliness."  Saying the words seemed to open him to those emotions; he scooted back on the gurney and pulled his legs to his chest, rocking himself slightly.
 "Jayce--Scott, it'll be all right.  I promise, it'll get a lot better once we find your partner."  'It has to,' Shangyn added silently to herself, leaning forward to lay a comforting hand on his arm.  She was unprepared for him to lean forward, burrowing, as if seeking warmth.  He'd been denied his partner for far too long; Shanygn wasn't about to deny him the comfort of human contact, and wrapped him in her arms, rubbing his back soothingly as he sobbed.
 [[Shanygn?!]]
 Finally able to focus on her own partner rather than the horror of what this gentle and compassionate man had been put through, she offered up a simple explanation.  <<Jayce Harte Interfaced when he visited Autobot City on Earth.>>
 There was no answer to that, for which Shanygn was grateful, and the rest of the ride back to Medbay was quiet.

***

 Shanygn paced restlessly, rubbing her arms in a futile attempt to rid herself of the aching cold that had seeped into her bones since her chance run-in with Jayce Harte-now Scott McNeil.  She could only thank whatever powers there were that she'd been able to talk him into leaving with her, and letting Kyle check him out in exchange for some kind of explanation.  Shanygn only wished she could get one herself.
 [Roddy, how could anyone deny an Interface this long? It's been centuries since we last saw him, and I'm not even exaggerating!] she sent, starting another round of the same line of questions.
 [I don't know, Shan, but we're going to try and find out.  Maybe his partner didn't know.  Or didn't know they could?]
 Shanygn stared sightlessly at the wall.  [How can you not know you've Interfaced?  The only ones who can are the Seekers and Sentinels, and he wasn't around when we first allied with the Seekers...it has to be a Sentinel!  And they all know the signs!  How could they -do- this to him?!]
 Her partner's voice was weary as he replied, [I don't know.  I can't give you those answers, but we'll get them.  We'll find out the whys and wherefores, I promise.]  After a long moment of silence, he ventured a question of his own.  [How is he?  Really?  I know he's probably still getting checked out, but...]
 Tears burned Shanygn's eyes and she swallowed hard at the mental image.  [Miserable.
Underweight, exhausted, almost gaunt.  His clothes all but hung off his frame.  His eyes...Those eyes have seen Hell and lived to tell about it.  Jill asked him...about foreign emotions he couldn't account for.  Rage, pain, terror, guilt, shame, loss...I don't think whoever he's partnered with is a very happy individual, Roddy.]
 [Well, there's one Sentinel who certainly fits that description.  I'll talk to Midnight about it,
although I'm sure he's already thinking about how he can possibly pin Dagger down long enough to confront him.]
 [I'm only afraid of what might happen if Dagger -isn't- his partner.  Back to square one with nowhere to go.]  Shanygn wrapped her arms tightly around herself, again trying to ward off the cold.
 There was a long silence.
 [I'm sorry for interrupting...again, Roddy.  I know you have work to do...we can worry about this later.]
 [I'd drop everything if I could...but this is Midnight's jurisdiction, at least until we figure out who Scott's partner is.]  Rodimus sent a mental hug, then carefully extracted himself and went back to his paperwork with a sigh.
 Shanygn nodded to herself and wandered to the doorway, fighting down the urge to press her nose to the window with sheer willpower.  Hearing footsteps and faint scufflings behind the door, she backed away just in time to give Kyle room to leave and was surprised as he dimmed the light until the room was cloaked in near-darkness.
 "How is he?" Shanygn prompted, expecting the worst at Kyle's grim expression.
 "Dangerously underweight and physically exhausted.  Repeatedly traumatized in ways even he can't explain, and I'm almost positive we can I.D. his partner just by comparing medical histories.  His immune system is depressed to the point that I started him on a round of antibiotics just to be on the safe side."  Kyle smiled humorlessly.  "All in all we have one sick, depressed Interface."
 "So why haven't you I.D.ed his partner yet?"
 Kyle shook his head.  "Not that easy.  Scott's changed identity so many times in the last two centuries or so it's going to take some time just getting access to them all, much less patching them together and comparing them to the non-Interfaced Sentinels' and Seekers' records.  We'll try Jill's hunch and put him and Dagger together and see what happens while we try and pull some strings."
 Shanygn sighed, closing her eyes for a moment in sympathy for the human who would be suffering while they tried to figure out his future.  "And in the meantime?" she whispered finally.
 "I gave him a mild sedative and put him on a glucose drip.  Jill's working on a high-calorie diet and light exercise regimen to help him get back into some kind of shape, but again, that will take time.  For now we're just going to have to watch and wait and hope."
 Shanygn grimaced.  "That's what I was afraid of."

***

 "So now we have an Interface and no robot partner.  Not one we can positively identify, that is."  Skywolf narrowed his optics at the report from medbay.
 "Apparently so.  Any suggestions as to how to get Dagger to stay put for more than five seconds?"
 The Sentinel medic was silent for a long moment.  "Midnight, I told you my feelings on this before...Dagger may have the range of feelings this Scott McNeil described, but most of it's just plain anger.  I have my doubts about this supposed partnership, but if you insist on trying it..."  He shrugged.
 Midnight sighed.  "Dagger is the only option, the only obvious one at least.  None of the other Sentinels-or Seekers as far as I know for that matter-come close to fitting Scott's descriptions.  I don't even want to think about Dagger -not- being his partner, though how they managed to Interface to start with, and Dagger managed to hide it this long, I can't account for in the slightest!"
 "He wouldn't have to account for it if he didn't Interface."
 Midnight stood abruptly, pacing the length of his office.  "But that puts us back at square one.  None of the Autobots or Decepticons can Interface, and the Venerakkin are all Bonded with their partners anyways."
 "Except Firefall."
 Midnight snorted.  "Firefall is, always was, and always will be, an anomaly.  Sometimes I think she does it on purpose just to be different."  The bitterness in his tone was understandable, but still harsh.
 "Yet she does have that range of emotions, and near constantly, Mid.  I would put her at the top of the list of possibilities."
 "I'll keep that in mind, thanks."
 A faint hint of irritation crossed Skywolf's face at Midnight's thinly veiled sarcasm.  "You can't blame her for everything, Mid.  She did the best she could and she lost everything in the end.  You know that better than most."
 'She doesn't deserve to Interface.  She deserves Gaelon's death after everything she did!' a tiny voice inside him hissed.  Unable to answer either himself or Skywolf for the moment, he swayed slightly on his feet, letting his mind turn over the possibilities.
 [Get your head out of your afterburners, Midnight!  If it IS Firefall who Interfaced, she deserves it more than anyone else I can think of!  For Primus' sake, she should damn well be sainted for what she managed to pull off for Cybertron and the Alliance, whether or not the immediate results were disgusting, or painful!]
 [Steve-] Midnight started, his own temper piqued.
 [Oh, no, you don't, Midnight.  The Council has already fucked with her life enough without denying her her Interface...if she was so lucky.  And -she- is not a Sentinel and wouldn't know the signs or what the hell to do about it.]  Steve's presence was a white-hot flame of focused anger.  [There.  One neat and tidy explanation of why Scott didn't know and the Interface wasn't either acknowledged or completed.  And why the hell she's been so depressed and isolated these past decades.]
 [We don't know that it's her.  It could be Dagger.  Or someone else altogether.]
 Skywolf, sensing his leader in a telepathic discussion, remained silent.
 [My money's on Firefall, Mid.  Just talk to her, damnit!  If you can't do it for her, then do it for Scott.  He did save Shanygn's life once upon a time, you know.  We owe him his.]
 Midnight sighed in defeat.  "All right, all right," he said aloud for Skywolf's benefit.  "If Dagger turns out not to be Scott's partner, I'll go talk to Firefall."
 Skywolf nodded acknowledgment.  "I'll see what I can do about tracking down Scott's records.  There may be some clues there."  He turned and strode to the door once Midnight waved a hand in dismissal, grumbling to himself.  "Maybe Soundwave can lend a hand..."
 [Thank you.]  Steve's mental voice was relieved.
 [Buzz off,] Midnight answered, thoroughly annoyed.
 [Aye-aye, sir!]
 Midnight groaned at the mental image of Steve saluting him he received in answer, then again as he tried to imagine teaching either Dagger or Firefall about the ups and downs of Interfacing.  "Hell, I don't know which one would be worse."

***

 In the end, Midnight chose to use the only ploy he could think of to get Dagger to agree to see Scott for any length of time-the truth.
 Dagger didn't take it well.
 At all.
 "You're telling me that you think I Interfaced some two hundred years ago, then not only did not acknowledge that Interface but hid it from everyone for those two hundred-odd years?  Are you crazy or just plain stupid?"  Dagger's voice carried up into a range that could either be hysterical or incredulous.  Midnight hoped it was the latter.
 "It's only a theory, Dagger."
 "Pretty impossible theory, if you ask me."
 "Ok, I'm asking you.  What do -you- think happened to him?  He's physically the same age as he was when he saved Shanygn's life.  Which means he either found the fountain of youth or Interfaced."
 "He obviously Interfaced, but it wasn't with me," Dagger bit back sharply.
 Midnight wondered at the vehemence in his denial and waited a moment.  Then, "Since you're certain, mind talking to him for a few minutes?"
 Dagger shrugged.  "Makes no difference to me.  It won't change anything.  I'm NOT Interfaced."
 'Too strong, that denial is way too strong to be true.  He's hiding something, but he's telling the truth about Scott,' Midnight thought to himself, a feeling of dread creeping over him.  This meant tracking down Firefall and talking to her.  Civilly.  'Not my best skill...'  Outwardly, he nodded.  "I'll have Kyle call you tomorrow afternoon.  Scott's not expected to wake soon anyways."
 "Fine.  I'll give him my respects then."  Smiling sarcastically, he gave Midnight a mock salute, unknowingly imitating Midnight's Interface, and left the office before its owner had a chance to say anything more.
 "Why me?"  The Sentinel was hard-pressed to keep himself from banging his head on the table out of frustration.

***

 Scott looked marginally better the next afternoon when he woke-only marginally.  The rings under his eyes had faded somewhat, and there was a little color in his skin and the barest hint of sparkle in his eyes, but he still looked like death warmed over.
 Even Dagger could see that much, and against his own nature he felt sympathetic for this lost Interface.  "Midnight seems to think you're my Interface."
 Scott smiled wanly, but it didn't reach his eyes.  Dagger hadn't expected it to.  "Theoretically, anything's possible."  Closing his eyes, he bent his head, seeming to search inside himself for something.  With a sigh, he gave up and shook his head.  "We might as well give him the bad news.  We both know the truth, however much we might want it to be true."
 Dagger nodded slowly.  "If it means anything to you...I'm sorry.  Sorry this is happening to you, and sorry I can't be the one you're looking for."  Was it just his imagination, or did Scott sit up a little straighter at that, relax a little more?  "I can take care of telling Midnight, if he doesn't already know.  You just concentrate on getting better."
 Scott smiled at him, not much, only a twitch of his lips, really, but it was real this time.
 Dagger could only think that whoever this man's partner was, would be a very lucky robot indeed.

***

 Midnight was waiting for him outside Scott's room in Medbay.  "He's not your Interface, is he?" he said as Dagger closed the door behind him.
 "No, he isn't."  Dagger's voice was unusually quiet.  "As much as I could wish it were true...he's not my Interface."  Suddenly seeming to be pained by something, the grey robot looked away, lips pursed.  "He -is- Interfaced, though.  And he will die if we don't find his partner."
 "We?" Midnight prompted.
 "We.  This isn't just his problem, Midnight.  He needs help.  And since I seemed to be the best possibility you could come up with on short notice...how about making this a Council matter?"
 Midnight made a face.  "I have one more person to talk to before I take it that far...though I am not looking forward to it."
 "And that would be..."
 "Firefall herself."
 Dagger straightened as if he'd been a puppet and his strings were pulled.  Midnight thought he was going to burst out in anger, but the other robot stopped, mouth open, a quizzical look on his face, then drew back in confusion and shut his mouth.
 "What?"
 "That actually makes sense."
 "What, talking to Firefall about Scott?"
 "Yes."
 "Why?  Just because she has the same range of emotions Scott seems to have been on the receiving end of?  She's a Venerakkin, Dagger..."
 Dagger shook his head.  "Doesn't matter.  Wouldn't even matter if she hadn't lost Gaelon in the Tji war."
 Midnight stared at him in sheer disbelief.  "You can't be serious!"
 Dagger smiled bitterly.  "Ironic, isn't it?  Me, doing research on a race that wants nothing to do with us and only tolerates us because of a debt they believe they have to the Autobots."  He shook his head again before continuing.  "Their Bond with the Veneran aren't on the same level as an Interface.  Nowhere near it.  Use different areas of the personality core and some such.  I don't know the particulars, but that's basically how it was explained to me.  But the 'kkin were born with the ability for..."  He trailed off, searching for the right words.  "...enhancements, I think it was."  Dagger snorted.  "Enhancements!  I can see them calling an Interface a major enhancement."
 The Sleeper was staring at Dagger as if he'd grown another head.  "Why were you researching them, anyways, if you don't mind my knowing?"
 "It was not some long-suppressed scholarship, I can tell you that much."  Dagger shrugged.  "Self-defense.  Figured if they ever decided their debt to the 'bots was paid and went to wipe us out again I'd better know their strengths and weaknesses if I wanted to survive more than two minutes."
 "That, I can understand."
 Dagger nodded.  "But still...it is possible-theoretically-for even a Bonded Venerakkin to Interface.  It's never happened....but that doesn't mean it won't.  And there's a whole new generation of -them- out there now that aren't Bonded.  And Firefall, who lost hers."
 "Don't remind me."  Midnight grimaced at the thought of a new, holier-than-thou rank of Venerakkin looking down at the rest of the Alliance members.  Just the thought of their ability to reproduce themselves was enough to make his fuel-pump clench.  "So now instead of being a possibility for Scott's partner, Firefall's become a probability.  Wonderful.  Just what I needed to hear," Midnight muttered, glowering.
 Dagger grinned at him.  "Well, you're the one who asked."  He clapped his leader on the shoulder in farewell and strode down the hall and out of medbay.

***

 [[Midnight is here to see you.]]
 Firefall turned from her balcony at the quiet warning and stepped back within her living quarters.  Darkness enveloped her as she moved towards the massive desk and picked up her helmet, soft blue light from the aquarium lending the only illumination in the room.  Sighing, she turned her helmet over in her hands, loathe to put it back on.  How long had it been since she'd passed on leadership of the Venerakkin?
 The door beeped, derailing her train of thought.
 "Enter."
 The door slid aside, and she narrowed her optics as garish light spilled into the room, silhouetting the dark figure waiting there.
 "Come in, please, make yourself at home."
 Struggling to find words, both through his apprehension at facing Firefall after so long, and the highly unexpected welcome, Midnight stepped hesitantly through the door and heard it slide shut behind him.
 Reluctantly, Firefall raised the helmet, turning it to face forward as she started to put it back on.
 "Don't," Midnight found himself saying.  "This isn't official, I just wanted to talk to you about something."
 Firefall paused, confused.  Shrugging, she set it back down on the surface of the desk, murmuring, "As you wish."  She turned back to face him, eyeing him curiously.  "And the something you wanted to talk to me about?"
 Midnight stepped further into the room, moving slowly as he wasn't accustomed to such a lack of light.  "We need to talk," he finally said, a grim expression on his face.
 "I believe we already established that.  What do we need to talk about?"  Firefall followed the Sleeper's movements.  "Pardon my confusion, but I had no word of any problems I or my support staff were causing."
 "No..."  Midnight shook his head.  "No, you aren't causing problems that I know of."  For once, he added silently.  "But I wanted to know why you deny your Interface."
 Firefall glared at him, optics flashing as a strangled choking sound fought its way loose.  Struggling to get the words out, Firefall turned away and stepped back out onto her balcony to stare sightlessly out over the Cybertronian landscape.  "My Interface is dead and gone, Midnight..." she finally whispered in answer, each word harsh.  "You know that.  Her absence is the first thing I'm aware of when I wake and the last I think of when I go to recharge.  I deny nothing!"
 Midnight didn't bother hiding the wince at the agony in her voice; she was no longer facing him.  Making no attempt at stealth, he followed, leaning out on the railing.  "I'm sorry.  I know--"
 "Spare me your pity," she spat, still not looking at him.  Her hands made fists around the thin steel beam supporting her.  "It was cruel then, and doubly so now.  Why you abuse my hospitality to accuse me of lying without cause--and about something even a base energy scan can prove or not!--is beyond me."  A tremor ran the length of her body before she suddenly straightened, turning to face him with a spark of madness in her optics.  "If this is all you've come to say to me, you're quite welcome to leave.  You know where the door is."
 "I did not come here to discuss Gaelon with you.  I am well aware of her death--"
 "Not well enough!" Firefall hissed at him.
 Midnight continued as if he'd had no interruption, wondering at the flinch he'd seen as he'd given voice to the Veneran's name.  "--and I am sorry for it, whether you believe me or not.  I meant the partnerless Interface now languishing in Medbay."
 Firefall turned and stalked back inside, as if trying to keep her distance from him.  "Just how little do you know of me and mine, Sentinel?"
 Midnight didn't like the tone of her voice, smooth, dark and dangerous.  And she called him Sentinel, something she'd never done before.  Insult?  From her, highly likely, though she had made an effort during the war to try and overcome her hatred of them.  She had told him the bloody tale behind it once upon a time, although he still felt she'd left some major portion of it out.  "I know that he's been suffering an incomplete Interface some two hundred-plus years.  I know he has been on the receiving end of a great deal of strong emotions none of the Seekers or Sentinels have been able to match.  It had occurred to more than one of us that given the evidence at hand, you would be the perfect fit."
 "Would that I could, dark one, would that I could."  Firefall pressed her lips into a thin line.  "You know too little of me still.  Guardians were--and are, though there is but one of me--forbidden to Interface."
 "Braintrust tried that.  It doesn't work."
 "It works quite well, thank you very much!" she snapped.  "My core programming does not allow for it, not some misbegotten leader's words!"
 "I heard differently."
 "If you're speaking of the rest of the Venerakkin, aye, it's true, they can--possibly--Interface."  She shrugged.  "The more of my programming they have, the less likely it is to happen, but anything is possible with them.  For me?  Do you really think, were I capable of Interfacing, that I would not have turned into another Braintrust?  Do you think I'd really be here instead of scouring the universe, trying to find someone, some thing to fill the aching emptiness fighting your war has left me with?  Do you really think I would just sit here and do nothing if it were remotely possible?"
 Firefall's bitter laughter grated on Midnight's audio receptors, quickly turning to bitter sobs before she regained control.  It made him all too aware of how precarious her sanity was.  And how carefully he would have to tread in dealing with her.
 "You have no idea what it feels like to have your soul ripped out of you.  No idea what it feels like to go on, day in and day out, knowing that you will be utterly alone for the rest of your life, no matter what you do or who you spend it with.  I would give much just to have some conflict to throw this mockery of a life at as cannon fodder.  But an Interface?"  Her voice grew choked.
 Midnight watched her struggle with, or perhaps for, words, an aching sympathy for her throbbing inside him.  Somehow he didn't need those last few words he knew she was looking for.  He already knew, from her pain and the horror she'd expressed in her inability to cope with it, that Interfacing was a hope beyond her ability and far beyond her grasp.
 Sympathy?
 Or was it pity?
 "Firefall..." he started, not knowing what he was about to say and not caring.  Something, anything, to break the cycle of pain he'd started.
 The Venerakkin ex-commander straightened suddenly, turning her gaze on him sharply enough for him to feel it stripping him to the core.  "I clipped my own wings, far more efficiently than you or anyone else could have hoped.  I have no purpose left, and I cannot Interface even to save my life or my sanity.  You have your answers."  Her voice was dead, monotone, rasping out of a throat long abused by disuse.  "Leave me."  One graceful black arm swept through the relative darkness, a shadow pointing out another:  the door.
 'Leave me...'  The words echoed in Midnight's head, and he could not stop himself from finishing, though on a question.  "Alone?" he breathed, hardly believing he would even dare provoke her in this half-angered, half-melancholy state, one that could all too quickly erupt in a blood rage he did not want to deal with and doubted his own ability to cope with.
 "As I ever have been.  Alone."  Her optics flashed again with anger.  "You have optics.  You can see the door.  Use it!"  Without waiting for either answer or movement, she turned and strode back outside, this time hitting some control panel as she passed through the doorway.  Clear-paned doors slid shut behind her.
 Midnight stood in shocked silence for a long moment, debating whether or not to go after her, offer some inane consolation she'd already spurned more than once.  Common sense got the better of him, and he turned towards the exit she'd indicated, pausing only to turn back and look at her figure and mouth the words, "I'm sorry," before stepping outside her living quarters.  'I'm sorry our war cost you so much, and I'm sorry you can't do anything about that loss, even grieve properly.'
 [[There is no way to grieve the loss of an Interface partner.  Only to go on, or self-destruct,]] Steve told him gently.
 [[She has gone on, but she will self-destruct before long.]]
 [[Then there will be one more casualty of the war to mourn.]]
 Midnight didn't answer that.
 There was no need for it.

***

 'They found him...' Firefall thought, despairing.  'Jayce, I'm sorry...I managed to throw him off the track, but it will only buy some time.  He'll be back, perhaps even later tonight.  And he'll bring you with him...'  She slid onto the desk, curling over on herself.  Tremors wracked her body, and she wished she had the capacity for tears.  'I never wanted this...I wanted an Interface.  I would have been so glad to have you in my life...But this curse...I could not accept it.'  Steeling herself, she locked her emotions once again behind the iron masks she'd used for eons.  'I guess now I'll have to.'
 [Intercept any incoming.  I have preparations to see to.]
 A slightly puzzled thought trickled back to her from her support staff.  [As you wish.]
 Sighing, Firefall logged in to her computer and started typing.

***

 "No luck?"
 Midnight glanced wearily at Shanygn; apparently she'd lain in wait for his return from Venerakkin headquarters on Cybertron.  He shook his head.  "Guardians can't Interface.  Apparently," he added, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.
 Shanygn sighed.  "Another fight, I take it."
 "She took it as an accusation...she thought I thought she'd lied about Gaelon."
 The humanoid's eyes widened in horror as she tried to weigh that news and figure out the possible effects it could have on Alliance-Venerakkin relations.  They seemed to be in a downward spiral, and not even Rikkochet and Tarakk had much of a chance of pulling them out of it.  She bit her lip;  Optimus was not going to take the news of yet another confrontation with Firefall well.
 "How's the records search coming?"
 Shanygn blinked, startled at the question.  "Kyle's working on it with Skywolf; I think they might have talked Soundwave into helping.  They didn't have a whole lot last I checked with them, but I know they were hoping to start piecing it all together some time this evening."  Shrugging, she paced the office floor once, heading for the door, before turning back to Midnight.  "Any more ideas about who his partner might be?"
 "No clue.  Dagger and Skywolf both thought Firefall was our best shot, although why she'd deny it for so long, I can't explain."
 "Square one without even a trail this time."
 Midnight took in Shanygn's pained expression and nodded.  "I have to confess, Firefall did seem to be the perfect candidate.  Almost believed it was her myself."
 "It would help if it were."  Shanygn winced, looked down at the floor, then shrugged.  "I just wanted to check in, see if you found out anything.  I'll let you know if something comes up, ok?  I told Kyle I'd keep an eye on Scott this afternoon."
 "Sure, thanks."
 Shanygn nodded and left, heading back towards medbay and Scott.
 "Damnit, Firefall, why do you have to be so difficult to get along with?" the Sentinel muttered to himself, sinking gratefully into his chair and activating the long-distance communications link.  He had to talk to someone about the situation.
 An unfamiliar, scaled face appeared on-screen, accompanied by words he couldn't understand.  The computer automatically translated for him and printed subtitles beneath the operator's video feed.  [[Greetings, Cybertron.  This is L'ratnie of Tower Station Communications.  How may I direct your call?]]
 "I'd like to speak with Commander Tarakk of the Venerakkin forces.  It's urgent.  Tell her it's from Midnight, please."  Midnight followed the Station's protocol automatically, not caring for it, but it served to get calls transferred where the people being called were-and that wasn't necessarily their assigned offices or quarters, either.  Whatever works...
 [[One moment, please, while I connect you.  Thank you for your patience and have a good day.]]  L'ratnie flashed what was supposedly a smile, but with all those teeth looked more like a hungry leer.
 Midnight didn't bother to suppress a shudder at the sight as the screen went blue, save the HOLDING... message flashing at the top.  'I'm having a bad day and it's rapidly getting worse as it goes, thanks,' he thought to himself.  Then even that was banished from his mind as the screen switched to a secured channel, the image blocked out in grids of solid colors that would change once the proper security programs were bypassed.  Audio kicked in long before then, though.
 "'llo?  Mid?"  Tarakk's voice was groggy and slurred, evidence that he'd woken her from recharge.
 "I'm sorry I woke you, I just...I needed to..."
 "Don' worry 'bout it, Mid.  Y'need t'talk, I'm 'ere, I told you," Tarakk said, waving off his apologies.  The video link picked up then, shimmering into a solid picture of an exhausted-looking second officer still hooked up to energon and fluid-feeds.
 Midnight's optics widened and he drew back in shock at her appearance.  "What happened to you?" he whispered, taking in her bruised and battered appearance, a long knife wound down one cheek, what could only be a laser burn blistering one shoulder.  The background screamed medbay at him.
 Tarakk shrugged.  "We work hard, we play hard," she replied dully, her vocal unit coming fully online.  "You know that.  I forgot to duck this time."  She waved it off; admitting the rapid deterioration of the Venerakkin mindset as a whole was the last thing she wanted, much less that she'd nearly gotten herself scrapped trying to break up a fight between people she couldn't take on head-to-head one at a time.
 'Not true!' Midnight's instincts screamed at him.  Sighing, he shook his head, willing to let it go.  For the moment.  He had other things to occupy him.  "All right, if that's the way you want to play it."  He watched Tarakk's optics narrow, knowing she'd picked up on his seeing the lie for what it was, and letting it slide.  "I wanted to talk to you...Do you remember Jayce Harte?  The paramedic who saved Shanygn at the mall when she got shot?"
 Tarakk puzzled for a long moment, then looked back up at him.  "Vaguely.  I think Firefall and Rikkochet met him once upon a time when he visited Metroplex.  Why?  That was a long time ago."
 "He's Interfaced, and we don't know who his robot partner is.  Skywolf and Dagger thought Firefall was the perfect fit, but I talked to her a little while ago..."  He trailed off as Tarakk started shaking her head.
 "No, Mid, Firefall can't Interface.  She's a Guardian; the Creators saw a dependence of any kind on another person, robot or otherwise, as a liability and wrote it into their core personalities that they can't.  Sorry I can't be of any help if that's what you called about."  Tarakk looked sorrowful, spreading her hands in defeat.
 "Actually, that's a lot of help right there.  It's more information than I had before, anyways.  And...I just wanted to talk to you," he admitted slowly, letting the obvious injuries go by the wayside and just relaxed. It had been a long time since he'd been able to talk to her.  Too long.
 Tarakk smiled softly, some place deep inside warming, having been chilled for what seemed like ages.  Maybe it had been.

 A short while later, Midnight leaned back in his chair, relaxing further than he thought he'd be able to, hope for the Alliance's integrity renewed, even just through his personal relationship with Tarakk.  'I miss you,' he thought to himself as Tarakk filled him in on some of the more amusing things that had been going on at the Tower.
 The door beeped in the background, and Tarakk looked away from the vidscreen for a moment.  Someone murmured something, and she nodded in answer before turning back to him.  "I have to go," she whispered apologetically.
 Midnight nodded, throat tight.  "I understand.  Listen..." he started as Tarakk moved to break the connection.
 Startled, the brown and gold covert officer looked up from the keypad.
 'Tell her you love her!' a small voice inside him screamed.  Unable to, he merely smiled sadly and said, "Take care of yourself.  No more bust-ups in the training room, ok?"
 "Only if you do the same," Tarakk replied, with the same note of regret in her voice.  Then she leaned forward, arm outstretched, and the screen went black.
 'Coward.'
 Midnight didn't bother answering, instead checking his internal chronometer and stiffening in shock.  Nearly three hours had passed while he talked with Tarakk...  Shoving that thought aside, he locked down his computer console before heading to see how Skywolf and Kyle were doing in their quest to track down Scott's elusive partner.

 Tarakk stared at the blank screen in front of her, her medical supervisor waiting patiently behind her as she savored the warmth the contact with the Sentinel had left her with.  Then, sighing, she dragged up the swiftly-buried dread and fear.
 "Damn."
 [[What disturbs you?]]  The Pyraxian's voice was liquid, soothing, and Tarakk thanked her ability to pick up foreign languages.
 "Nothing you can help with, I'm sorry to say...but I'm going to have to check out of here."  She began to remove the energon feeds even as the medic protested vehemently against it.  [Rikki!  We have problems.  Get me out of here!] she railed, spinning out of her chair to lay the hook-ups on the recharge bed.  "I'm sorry..." she said earnestly.  "Really, I am, but this is urgent.  Code red emergency, that kind of thing, you know..." she rambled on, all but running out of the room past the bewildered doctor.
 Once clear, she bolted, running down the hallway to the nearest lift and ordering it to take her up nine levels.  As she waited impatiently for transport, idle curses ran through her mind at her lack of an aerial alternate transformation; if she'd had one, she could have ducked out the nearest airlock and circled around to Rikkochet's personal hangar bay.  But no, she had to hoof it, grumbling with each step.
 "Hold it, you..."  Rikkochet caught her arm, swinging her around violently as her sister's momentum caught up with her.  "Stop panicking," she ordered sharply as she dragged the smaller robot into her office.  "I got the gist of it on your way up here and already talked to Central Command."  Her voice sounded grim and triumphant at the same time.
 "And?"
 "Let's be thankful the fleet's ready for maneuvers...they've granted us the Oberon, the Agamemnon and the Oshiri to take an adequate force back to Cybertron."
 Tarakk gaped, certain her jaw hit the floor as her optics nearly fell out of her faceplate.  "The flagship?  They're sending us with the FLAGSHIP?  We'll be lucky if the Council doesn't order us shot down!"
 Rikkochet just shrugged.  "If they make the mistake of firing upon us without letting us identify ourselves..."  She didn't bother to finish the sentence.  "And what the heck IS the problem anyways?  I told Central we had an issue of planetary security to take care of, and they know the bulk of our resources are here...but I didn't get the specifics.  Just thought I'd save time."
 Tarakk steeled herself against an explosion before replying very softly.  "They found Jayce."
 There was a moment of silence before a long string of curses filled the air.

***

 "Got it!"  Kyle bounced out of his seat, reaching over the desk to pick up a computer printout.  "Last one."  The sheets joined a stack on the corner, then the entire thing was swept up as he crossed the room and dumped it on the conference table.
 "So we have medical records from each alias Scott's taken on since he was Jayce now?" Skywolf asked, not looking up from his console.  Sentinels' medbay records scrolled down the screen.
 "Yep.  Mind if I check in on Scott before I tackle piecing it all together?"  Kyle walked over to where the Sentinel medic was sitting and glanced up at the computer, or as much as he could see of it.  "Jeff and Ashtar insisted on trading cooking duties for him, and Shanygn offered to stay with him this afternoon, but I want to check him out myself."
 "If Jeff and Ashtar are so intent on feeding him, he'd better watch out or he'll gain a few too many pounds," Skywolf quipped.  "But sure, go ahead.  This part won't be ready for a while yet, anyways.  Take your time and get something to eat yourself."
 Kyle nodded.  "Ok, ok, I can take a hint," he complained good-naturedly, knowing full well he'd been pushing himself to find Scott's Interface and ignoring his own needs.
 Waiting until Kyle had left, Skywolf turned to the table and glanced at the tiny stack of papers.  "Let's see if I can't find anything by the time you get back, eh?" he murmured to himself, flipping through the datasheets and making a list of dates.

 Shanygn decided Scott looked much better after a good night's sleep and a few decent meals.  Granted, the sleep was drugged, and the breakfast Ashtar had fed him had been more of a teaser to pique his appetite for Jeff's lunch, but there was definitely a little more life in the man this afternoon.
 Now, he lay propped up on a mound of pillows as he listened to her fill him in on what he could possibly expect from his own robot partner, and a brief overview of each of the non-Interfaced Sentinels and Seekers.  Questions had been frequent and led them down many tangents, but somehow Shanygn had managed to bring them back to the main topic of preparing Scott as much as they could for whatever unknown confrontation he'd be participating in when they finally identified his partner.
 "So Nick had the same problem with Tornado?  He didn't want to Interface, or what?" Scott asked curiously, wondering what kind of comparisons he could make to his own situation.
 "Tornado didn't want it, and Nick didn't press the issue.  It nearly killed both of them within a matter of months, but I already talked to Nick and he'll share his own experiences with you later."  Shanygn smiled.  She liked Scott, and could already tell he would be a real asset to the Interfaces and Cybertron.  Now if only his partner would just decide to pop out of the woodwork...or even just not fight what had already happened.
 Scott started to say something, but was interrupted by a tentative knock on the door.  Glancing at the clock in surprise, he realized it was about time for supper, and he was starving.  "Come in?"  he called softly.
 There was an unintelligible complaint from outside, followed by several grunts and the sound of shifting dishes.  Shanygn immediately jumped up from her seat and opened the door.
 "Thank you," Ashtar said breathlessly as she slipped into the room bearing a large, heavy-looking tray.  The complaint had its explanation in her worried, half-panicked look and it was obvious she'd been struggling to juggle the fruits of several hours' worth of labor and have a hand free to open the door.
 "Just how much do you expect me to be able to eat?" Scott exclaimed, eyeing the many covered dishes on the tray.
 "As much as you feel like.  I know the tendencies for people to snitch my cooking, so I thought I'd better make extra."  She winked.
 "And you cooked in your I'Rilya," Shanygn said in disbelief, taking in Ashtar's clothing and recognizing the outfit as one normally worn for prayer only.  Her friend was decently attired-barely.  To some, she'd be properly outfitted for a stint in a men's club.  She wore a deep red silk top that had little more to it than a bikini top would, and a red-and-gold leaf-print square loincloth, front and back, that came nearly to her knees, but was only the chain at either hip.  Spotted silver skin could be seen all the way from shoulder to feet, save the Glass armbands and legbands that had all but become her trademark.
 The feline carefully set the tray on the table, uncovering each dish so Scott could see the contents.  Tantalizing smells immediately filled the room.  "My I'Rilya is blue, Shan," she replied with no small amount of amusement herself.  "And the kitchen gets very hot while I'm cooking."
 Shanygn had a sneaking suspicion that her current garb and more than cursory attempt at grooming had little to do with the temperature-though she knew quite well that what was comfortable for humans was considerably warmer to Ashtar-and much to do with Scott's depression.  Ashtar attracted a lot of mostly unwanted attention from the opposite sex, and knew it, and had obviously decided to risk using it to try and help draw Scott out of his misery.
 She had to suppress a chuckle; if Scott would tear his eyes away from the food long enough to get a good look at the other woman, he might well have a heart attack.  A moment later it wasn't just his eyes and nose that were savoring the dinner Ashtar had gone to such trouble to prepare as she handed a well-laden plate over and Scott dug into the meal, groaning in appreciation as the first bite of pasta salad made itself known to his tongue.
 "You're welcome," Ashtar said, chuffing quietly.
 Scott only nodded and kept eating.
 A few minutes later, there was a small knock on the door before it opened and Kyle stuck his head in.  "I take it it's dinner time.  I can smell it all the way down the corridor."  Without waiting to be invited in, he slipped through and shut the door, smiling at Scott, who was too busy eating to look at him.  "One of these days you're going to have to put our staff out of their misery and actually feed them, Ashtar," he said teasingly, then barely managed to swallow a gasp as he glanced up and saw what she was wearing.  "Doesn't Steve ever get jealous about you wearing those outside the house?"  His voice was thick with self-control.
 Ashtar purred.  "I can handle myself well enough.  Steve need not worry about my safety," she assured him.
 "I know that.  It's HIS safety I'm worried about!" Kyle answered, still fighting down his body's reaction to her.  'Damn,' he thought to himself.  'It's no wonder he got in a brawl if she insists on wearing that little...'  He had to stifle a wince at the memory; Ashtar had taken no more than a few bruises and glancing scratches, but had ended up nearly carrying Steve into medbay for a sprained ankle, several bruised ribs, a black eye, split lip and other assorted injuries, all stemming from an argument she'd gotten into when one of the bar's patrons had gotten a little too friendly.  Not to mention several thousand credits' worth of damage, which, thankfully, had fallen upon the other party.  It was not something he cared to repeat.
 From the expression on Ashtar's face she was thinking the same.  "I will try to see that it does not happen again...although I cannot say much for Cybertronian humanoids' manners," she added with more than a note of disgust.
 Scott blinked at the words, feeling somehow insulted, and looked up.  His breath became lodged in his throat; he was at eye-level with a very...feminine...figure.  The ongoing conversation snapped into focus even as he felt the impact of that barely-clad body in front of him.  Struggling to get air, he swallowed hard.
 Ashtar chuffed, noting his sudden attention, and turned to the other occupants of the room.  "May I offer you dinner?  I made enough for moochers..."
 Scott sighed with relief, assuming his manners were not the ones being disparaged; he was only being teased, although how she could expect males not to respond to her displayed like that was beyond him.  "Leave enough for seconds, okay?" he complained, a little surprised at the unintended gruffness in his voice.
 Shanygn held up both hands.  "I'd love to, but I'm afraid Nick would poison himself if left to his own devices for dinner."  Her eyes sparkled with mischief.  "That or starve himself to death."
 "Can I make a suggestion?" Ashtar asked impishly.
 Shanygn grinned and nodded.
 "Get him a watch with a face that says 'time to eat' instead of numbers."
 Kyle chuckled at the pointed jibe.
 Shanygn only looked chagrined and shook her head.  "That would only work if he actually stopped to check the time."
 Ashtar seemed to ponder that.  "True, true..."  She shrugged, seeming to admit defeat on the subject before turning to Kyle.  "As for you...can I offer you dinner?"  Waving one slim, elegant hand, she indicated the still mostly-full dishes, as well as the short stack of extra plates.
 Kyle eyed the feast spread out before him and couldn't stop his mouth from watering.  "Please..."  The fact that he was often a guest for Ashtar's home-cooked meals didn't make her any less a cook.
 Nodding, Ashtar started making another plate for him.  "Shanygn, is it just me, or are most males born with a culinary deficiency?"  She turned the plate around so she could dish up some goulash.  "Aside from Jeff, who I'm still not sure about...some of his ideas of taste are questionable."
 There was a round of muted laughter at that; Jeff and Ashtar had well-defined ranges of taste, and only overlapped on parts.  Jeff made do with what he had, while Ashtar would only put up with certain things, but was insistent on getting her way about others.  Plus, she was as well-known for her tastes; she liked raw meat, still bleeding, as well as more than a few things that made the other Interfaces gag if they even had to smell them.  It was a wonder that she'd turned out to be an exquisite chef.
 "We do seem to attract those who have no more skill at cooking that sticking a frozen tv dinner in the microwave," Shanygn said cheerfully.
 "Ha.  I've seen Steve ruin some of those.  Do you know how long it takes to air out the kitchen from scorched fish sticks?"  Ashtar gave an overly dramatic shudder at the thought as she handed Kyle a well-laden plate.
 Scott grimaced.  "Please, not while I'm eating...my appetite isn't what it used to be...although your cooking seems to be doing wonders for it.  Maybe I can put on a few pounds before I have to run the gauntlet."
 Ashtar eyed him critically, taking in the too-obvious ribs and cheekbones and sobering.  "More than a few if I have anything to say about it.  I didn't skimp on the calories in that, you know."  She patted his arm gently.
 "I'll keep that in mind, thanks for the warning," Kyle said around a mouthful of dinner.
 Scott, Ashtar, and Shanygn snickered.

***

 Skywolf sighed and put down his clipboard.  The list of dates was quite long, but no one stuck out in his mind as having that history, yet.  Too many of them could apply to multiple people, while others had no corresponding robotic patient he could remember offhand.
 Glaring at the paper as if it was the ultimate source of his frustration, he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling energon depletion set in.  A glance at the clock told him it was late; the rest could wait until morning.
 He had little incentive to face  Midnight tonight with information he was sure would spark his leader's temper.
 The morning would be soon enough for that.

***

 "Welcome aboard the Agamemnon."
 Rikkochet nodded, thanking her acting first officer as she entered the bridge.  "Status?"  she asked briskly, taking her seat; she was in no mood for pleasantries.
 "All systems are go, sir.  We are ready to depart as soon as station control gives us clearance."  Vertigo's hands held their positions over her control panel, ready to ease the ship out of its dock.
 "And the Oberon and Oshiri?"
 Tasikk, acting as communications officer, spoke up.  "They are ready and waiting, sir.  They will be clearing the station as soon as we are halfway to the jumpgate."
 "Acknowledged.  Request permission to disembark."
 "Request granted," Tasikk replied a moment later.
 "Proceed."
 "Yes, sir," Vertigo said, already busy with the controls.
 Faint tremors could be felt through the huge warship's frame as airlocks shut and sealed, then docking clamps released their hold.  Outside, the vast bulk of the space station drifted slowly by the wayside as the Agamemnon's engines ignited, more and more empty space filling the viewscreen.  Once clear of the station, Vertigo increased thrust, skillfully positioning the flagship directly before the jumpgate.
 A long moment passed as they held their position before Tasikk spoke again.  "The Oberon and the Oshiri are in position sir.  Permission to initiate jump?"
 "Permission granted.  Let's hope we get there in time to do some good."
 "Aye-aye, sir."
 The engines throbbed, gathering power, rising until its overtones reached a high-pitched whine.
 "Jumping in three...two...one...jumping now."
 The ship shot forward, energy from the engines as well as the jumpgate crackling over the thick skin before the structure vanished and the stars became a white haze.
 Rikkochet sat frozen in her chair, staring at the semi-hypnotic view, aware of her troops not only on her own ship, but the ones in the ships flanking them in hyperspace.  Those on Cybertron would be temporarily absent from the Venerakkin hive-mind, and she would be unable to learn of any events until they left near the pulsar they'd chosen to use as their exit point, as Cybertron had no jumpgate of its own and the pulsar was the closest body with enough of a gravitational pull to use.
 Even if they managed to get to that sector before Firefall's Interface was forced, there was little chance of them making it all the way to Cybertron in time to stop the events they knew were at most twenty-four hours away.
 At least, if she could not save Firefall, she might be able to spare them a war over her death.

***
 Firefall cut her recharge cycle to half its normal length that night, rising hours early to take wing, speeding recklessly through Venerakkin territory, savoring this last bit of freedom.  A growing heaviness of impending destiny settled within as dawn approached, and she turned back at last, heading for her office balcony at a sedate pace more befitting an officer of her rank.
 Sunrise that morning was beautiful, a soothing balm to a troubled heart.

***

 The process was slow, methodical...tedious.  Skywolf painstakingly went down the list of possible robot partners, crossing one after the other off for the lack of a corresponding visit to Medbay, or one superfluous.  The last name remaining was neither unexpected nor welcomed; this would open a whole new can of worms and the Sentinel medic had a sneaking suspicion that those problems would fall squarely on his shoulders.
 Just in case, he bent over the console and began to double-check his calculations.
 The door opened; Skywolf looked up.  "Good morning, Midnight."  Glancing back at his list, he grimaced before adding, "I think."
 "Find anything?"
 Skywolf sighed, then stood up, abandoning the second run.  The first had only proved his hunch; the second was unnecessary.  "It's Firefall," he said bluntly, not meeting Midnight's optics.
 The black Sentinel's green visor flashed.  "It can't be.  I talked to her about it yesterday.  She said she couldn't Interface, period."  His voice held a bitterness that spoke of far more than his words.
 Skywolf knew better than to ask his friend to elaborate.  "I'm not kidding.  Take a look for yourself."  Finally making optic contact, he handed over his clipboard.
 Midnight all but snatched it out of his grip, glaring at it accusingly, his expression darkening as he read.  Even he couldn't deny the records.  Two columns of dates greeted him in silence, Scott's medical records on one side, matched with Firefall's on the other:  Firefall's fight first with Dagger and then with himself; the Council meeting after Rodimus discovered the truth about the Veneran; the final battle of the Tji war, even though Firefall herself had not been involved; the date she'd been returned after destroying the Tji reinforcements...
 He didn't need to read any more.  Cursing fluently, he tossed the clipboard back to Skywolf and stalked out of the room, green optics ablaze with fury.

***

 Firefall knew the instant the game was up.  She could only be thankful Midnight had chosen to fly straight rather than Gate; she didn't know if she could have handled the surge in her circuits otherwise.
 Beginning only as an awareness, a knowledge that some part of her long missing was now returning home, it quickly intensified as time ran out.  Connections were made; old wounds reopened, the edges beginning to seal with something else.  Firefall could feel herself reaching out, desperate to complete the link, thwarted by distance time and again.
 And then it shifted, deepening, changes taking place on another level.  Alarms sounded, self-defense systems activated, repair programs automatically going on-line in attempt to purge this foreign presence from her circuitry.  Pain flared up at the attack.
 "The beginning of the end..." Firefall breathed, leaning back in her chair, torn between joy at the Interface in progress and resignation to her fate.  Somehow she could only manage to feel a great sadness that her demise would also doom her partner.  Steepling her hands before her, she sighed, trying to center herself for the coming onslaught.

 Deep beneath the surface, Spook looked up from his monitor at a twinge in his circuits.  He turned his mind inwards, exploring the sharp stab of pain, growing tense as his suspicions proved correct.  "Idiots..." he hissed to himself, knowing what must have happened, and the coming consequences.
 He had touched that Interface once before and it had been painful enough then; now he couldn't ignore it, even not paying direct attention to it.
 Spook swiftly shut down his console, sparing no time for explanations as he left the room and followed the spark of pain to its source.

***

 "How long until we reach normal space again?" Rikkochet asked suddenly, almost startling her bridge crew.  She'd been silent, unmoving since they entered hyperspace hours ago.
 "Five minutes, twenty-two seconds, sir.  It will take us six hours, two minutes and fifteen seconds to reach Cybertron from the pulsar," Vertigo supplied without being asked.
 "Good."
 There was a long silence, slightly over five minutes, before Vertigo spoke again.  "Re-entering normal space in three...two...one...leaving hyperspace now."
 The ship slowed dramatically, the white haze outside seeming to all but stop as a single point of light centered in the viewscreen and grew larger.
 "The Oberon and Oshiri are clear of hyperspace; setting course for Cybertron.  It might be wise to contact Firefall now.  We are within her current range."
 "Acknowledged."  Rikkochet bowed her head, initiating the mind-meld that would be Firefall's sole support for some time, all else going by the wayside.

***

 Springer looked at the monitors, then looked at them again, optics widening.  "What the..."  He rubbed at the radar screen, but the blip didn't go away.  Instead, it separated into three blips, the two new ones only marginally smaller than the first.
 Flipping open a channel, he hailed the ships and received no answer.
 "Not another crisis," he muttered, opening a communications link to Optimus Prime's office.  "Sir, we have three bogies on radar at the outskirts of the sector, incoming rather quickly.  And no, they aren't answering my hails."
 "I'll be right there."
 'Well, that's something to depend on, anyways...Prime's always stoic while the rest of us panic,' Springer thought ruefully.

***

 "Close...." Firefall rasped into the deathly silence, voice shaking with the effort.  "Too close..."  One hand reached for the switch to turn the aquarium speakers on; the Hyrranian coral-song was hypnotic, and she trusted in her staff's abilities to pierce the barriers of a drugged stupor.  She could only think of the relief it would bring.
 Presence exploded inside of her, stilling her hand.
 [[We are here.]]
 [[Let us help.]]
 Firefall rocked with the sounds of many voices inside her; the loss of her partner had badly weakened her link in the Venerakkin hive-mind.  She could no longer stretch herself across space to the station.
 It seemed her troops had solved that problem for her--they'd come home.
 [[please]] was all she could manage through the fire cascading along her nerves, the relief at her children's return to Cybertron.
 [[Of course.]]  That was Drakkonen.  His connection dimmed within her; the pain muted a fraction with his departure from the mind-meld.
 [[Always.]]  Tarakk, and again the agony dimmed.
 Each of her troops made him or herself known, then withdrew, becoming a shunt for a small portion of her pain until it became manageable and there were only two left.
 [[We cannot take it for long--]] Rikkochet started.
 [[--nor the damage--]] Skinflint added, his voice blending in with his daughter's.
 [[--but you need to face this with a clear mind.]]
 [[thank you]] Firefall breathed, wishing for the umpteenth time that she had the capacity for tears.  She'd found them quite useful in her time as an organic, almost enough of a reason to abandon her robot form altogether.  Almost.
 [[Of course.]]  [[Our pleasure.]]
 The last of the pain dwindled to nothingness.  Firefall was aware of it, peripherally, but it no longer touched her circuits, no longer paralyzed her for the confrontation yet to come.

***

 Optimus Prime joined Springer at the monitors, barely glancing at them before he tried hailing them himself with no more success than the triple-changer had had.  Shaking his head, a grim expression in his optics and heavy in his voice, he called Megatron and had the Apocalypse positioned to intercept.
 This was not shaping up to be a good day.

***

 Somewhere in the ruined wastes of Cybertron, Spook stopped, puzzled.  The spark he had been following had guttered and died, leaving him with nothing to trail.  Still...  He knew where he was being drawn, generally, and put the sudden absence out of his mind.
 It would flare anew.  That was the way of it.
 Spook started off again in the direction of Venerakkin territory.

***

 The speakers crackled, homing in on the hailing frequency.  Springer jumped to attention; Optimus Prime only leaned forward.  The three ships were near halfway to Cybertron after only a few hours' travel, and they'd been dismayed at the information their scanners had picked up of the ships' size and design.
 "...calling Cybertron.  Come in Cybertron..."
 Optimus grabbed the microphone before Springer had a chance to protest.  The green robot only shrugged and backed off.   "This is Optimus Prime.  You are in Cybertronian space; identify yourselves."
 "This is Rikkochet of the Venerakkin forces, currently acting captain of the T.F. Agamemnon.  Her sister ships are the Oberon and the Oshiri, also of Tower Fleet.  Please do not open fire.  I repeat, do not open fire."
 "Rikkochet, I would hardly condone an attack on our own allies," Prime said tightly.
 The disembodied voice seemed to chuckle ironically, or maybe it was something else.  "I would appreciate that, Prime."  There was something in her voice that seemed to imply she knew otherwise.  "The Oberon has had clearance to land at the Venerakkin field, west side. The Oshiri and Agamemnon will be taking up orbit over our territory.  This is not a military mission.  All of our transports are still under construction."  There was a slight pause, then a muffled, "Agamemnon out," before the connection went dead.
 Optimus glowered at the microphone; Springer only shrugged, used to such behavior from the Venerakkin.

***

 Midnight cursed inwardly.  It was too easy; Wildcard and F/X had headed for their planned positions outside Firefall's office without confrontation. He himself had been waved into the Venerakkin headquarters as if they'd been expecting him, and the guards' expressions had held a grim resignation that told him they knew what was coming.  <<So much for her not having known, Steve.>>
 {{We don't have all the answers, Mid.  And she wasn't lying.  I know it looks like she has, but it just seems sacrilegious even for them.  Don't go off half-cocked, please?  She may have had good reason.}}
 <<There is NO good reason to deny an Interface.  It's deadly for both partners.  She knows that!>>
 Steve sighed.  {{Just -listen- to her first, ok?  This could be an opportunity to patch some of the cracks in the Alliance...}}
 Intended or not, that struck home.  Midnight paused, thinking how a more stable relationship with the Venerakkin could affect his personal life, as well as the general political atmosphere on Cybertron.  Certainly, the Venerakkin were edgy enough as it was.  If he could manage to keep his temper in check...
 Tarakk could come home.
 An ache settled inside him, a longing for the female he hadn't laid eyes on in person in far too long.  He had to concentrate on not tightening his fist; Scott was cradled in his fingers since they didn't know whether he would be welcome here or not.
 A faint feeling of desertion about the place made him uneasy.  The majority of the Venerakkin forces had left with the Tower Station launch, and they had yet to be back.  'Is Cybertron even their home anymore?'  The notion made him draw back, wincing.
 Steve sent a wave of understanding.  {{They look at how we treat Firefall and adjust their responses accordingly, Midnight.  That's how they operate, you know that.}}
 <<In other words, they practice the Golden Rule, as applied to their Saint.>>  Midnight snorted.
 {{Well, it's worth a shot.}}
 Midnight thought about that for a moment and nodded reluctantly.  <<I'll keep that in mind.  Maybe she does have a reasonable explanation.>>
 Steve grinned.
 <<Here goes nothing...>> Midnight muttered as he approached Firefall's office door.

 [[They are here.]]
 Firefall nodded to herself.  "Come in."  Her voice was strained; her troops were trying valiantly to keep the pain from touching her, but this close to Scott, some got through.
 The door slid open, and Midnight entered the room, his steps tentative.  Uncertainty crossed his face as he approached the desk.
 "Good morning, Midnight," Firefall said quietly.
 "Why did you lie?"  Midnight congratulated himself inwardly at keeping his anger and accusation out of his voice.  It was merely a question, nothing more.
 "I never told you I wasn't Interfaced.  I told you I couldn't."  Firefall very slowly got to her feet, wanting to look her peer in the optics.  "Everything I told you was-is-true."
 "How can you be Interfaced, and yet not be able to?"  It was too much of a paradox for him to understand, even after Tarakk's explanation the day before.
 A wince crossed the Venerakkin's face; the pressure in her circuits was quickly escalating, and she knew she didn't have a whole lot of time.  "I am a Guardian, Midnight," she replied, every word taking an effort to get out.  "I knew what happened shortly after I Interfaced with Jayce.  But I cannot complete it.  My core won't allow it.  It was either deny it-deny him-and die by inches, and give him what little freedom I could..."  Pain flared up in her chest and she leaned heavily on the desk, fighting for control.  The shunts were still taking most of it, but the weaker were wavering.
 "Or?"  Midnight prompted, realizing that Steve had been right, that Firefall had had a good reason to deny the Interface, as deplorable as it might seem.  He took the opportunity to slip Scott onto the desktop while Firefall was distracted.
 "Or I could acknowledge it...and kill him...if it doesn't kill me first.  My repair and maintenance programs see the link between us as a threat, as something that should not be there.  You can't understand how much I'd give to give him the safety of a normal Interface...but I can't.  All I can do...is accept my fate, and hope that I can find the peace in death...that I never found in life..."  Her voice trailed off, ending on a hoarse, trembling whisper.
 Shock flared in Midnight's optics.  He'd never thought that forcing her to acknowledge Scott would be tantamount to sending him to his execution...but it seemed that's what he'd done.  A quick glance at her Interface showed him to be just as shocked, pale as a ghost and eyes wide with horror.
 <<Seal the cracks in the Alliance, my afterburners...I just killed her!>>
 Steve had no answer for it.
 <<Tell Skywolf to get ready for incoming casualties...I'll bring her back if I have to hog-tie her.>>  Midnight watched, helpless, as Firefall drew herself up to face him.  "I'll Gate you back to Medbay...maybe Skywolf can help."
 "No, Midnight, this is my end."  She stared at him, compassion as well as the rising flames in her expression.  Inwardly, she was all too aware of her Interface.  Pieces of her core snaked out like tentacles, grabbing hold of the silent human, only to be attacked by her programming.  Each link was severed, only to reach out and reconnect and be cut off again.  The violence of it was almost obscene.
 "Firefall--" Midnight started, half-panicked and trying desperately to think of some way to convince her to accept his offer of help.  The entire situation had gotten way out of his control and he didn't like it one bit.
 "I'm sorry, Midnight..." Firefall turned her head away.  "I-uhn..."  A vital part of the Interface managed to establish itself.  Scott's form shimmered, then disappeared as he phased in involuntarily.  Firefall shuddered, back hunching over as her breath caught.  One by one, the other Venerakkin in her mind-meld lost control, each shunt collapsing.  Agony cascaded over Firefall's circuits and she screamed, her legs buckling.
 Midnight lunged forward before he realized what he was doing and managed to pull Firefall to one side, barely preventing her from cracking her chin on the edge of her desk.  Having no idea how to alleviate her pain, he only pulled her against his body, cradling her shivering form as gently as he could.
 For what seemed like forever, Firefall was aware only of the Interface sheltered in her body, the connections that deepened with each breath, only to be chewed up by the programs that should have protected her.  Struggling for control, she could sense tiny bits of it taken from her, small weights taken from her as her troops took what they could manage.  Gradually regaining awareness, the sound of harsh whimpers met her audio sensors, twined with nearly unintelligible murmurs in a pleasantly dark, masculine voice.  It took some time longer to realize that the whimpers were her own, and the other voice belonged to Midnight.
 [[No!]] something inside her screamed.  [[I cannot...let me die with some shred of dignity...]]
 Midnight was unprepared for the jerky shove that pushed him away, nor the rough denial as Firefall fought her way to a standing position.  "Firefall..."  The look on her face, desperate and pleading, stopped him short.
 "Let me go..." Firefall whispered, backing away, towards the balcony.  Almost as an afterthought, she added, "Give my love to Shanygn."
 Midnight scrambled to his feet, too late to stop her as she turned and stumbled out the sliding glass doors, flipping herself over the rail.  She must have managed to transform sometime during her fall, as he watched her lumber off between the lower buildings, engines sputtering erratically.  Her form grew smaller as she put more distance between them.
 Wildcard and F/X took off from their positions on the rooftops once she passed; Midnight stepped outside, intending to give chase, only to pull up short as a pair of low-power laser blasts hit the balcony floor in front of him.
 <<Damnit!>>  Midnight was torn between rage and concern as he watched two Venerakkin de-cloak, chasing after the Sentinels.  Wildcard veered off, accelerating madly and disappeared from sight; F/X simply dove below the skyline.  The Venerakkin jets banked and followed, the one on the right doing a neat barrel roll that gave her an edge on maneuverability in the narrow alleyways between the buildings.  Muted laserfire and engine sounds could be heard as echoes, untraceable.
 Midnight was sorely tempted to give chase and teach the strangers a lesson in manners when he drew back, chagrinned.  They weren't trying to shoot Wild Card and F/X down, only give Firefall enough time to get away.  That objective had been met and passed; Firefall couldn't be seen on his radar, only the four wild-flying jets.
 "You can come back now, they've done their job," Midnight said into his comlink, bitterness sharpening his tone.  Rage won out over his concern as Wildcard and F/X cleared the skyline.
 Wildcard's left engine sputtered erratically, and F/X's left wing looked like something large and heavy had hit it.  They turned back towards him, slowing their speed as the Venerakkin jets flanked them.  All four transformed and landed on the balcony, the two females touching down with twin expressions of disgust and thinly-veiled hatred.
 "I believe these are yours," one of them spat.  Midnight recognized Vendetta with an inward groan.  The other one had to be Vengeance then.  Of all people to have to confront...why did he get stuck with berserkers?
 Wildcard transformed, pain written on his face as he inspected the scorch marks left in his paint. F/X mirrored his expression as he edged back into the darkened office.
 "I didn't come here to hurt Firefall," Midnight managed to get out, hiding his anger.
 Vendetta's expression darkened; Vengeance merely crossed her arms across her chest.  "Don't bother,"  Vendetta started.
 "You've done enough damage," Vengeance finished, accusation making her voice sharp.
 Midnight's anger blazed, and he had to struggle to keep his aura under control.  Before he could manage to answer, the door opened to the hallway behind him, and he turned to see four more Venerakkin march into the room.
 "Escort them to the border."  Vendetta leveled her gun at them.
 "You can't be serious!  Firefall needs to get medical help, not left alone!" Wildcard protested.
 Vengeance snorted.  "You can leave on your own two feet..." she began, then pulled her fusion cannon from subspace, "or you can leave as scrap metal.  Take your pick."
 "Armed escort is unnecessary," Midnight growled, glaring coldly at her.  "We can provide our own transport."  He took two steps forward and grabbed F/X's upper arm, preparing to Gate.
 "Then do yourselves a favor.  Tell the rest of the Council that guests are not welcome here without an invitation," Vengeance replied.  Her hands rubbed the grip of her cannon, almost caressing it.
 "My pleasure," Midnight snapped bitterly.  He nodded once to Wild Card, and then they were gone.

***

 Nearly blinded by the pain of her Interface, Firefall fled, running on instinct.  Somehow she managed to find her destination, an open shaft, several blocks in diameter, blasted straight down into Cybertron's underground for several dozen levels by the Tji war.  The Venerakkin had found it too useful in accessing the lower levels and had left it open, also fearing that repairing it would take many centuries as layer after layer would have to be torn away in an attempt to make the area stable.  For now, it was fine as it was, and as it lay firmly in their territory, repairing the scar or not was their prerogative.
 Firefall sank down in a barely controlled curve, four, five, then eight levels, veering off into one of the dimly lit tunnels below the surface.  Familiar with the area, having mapped it mostly on her own, she transformed again, stumbling into one of the cracked and listing buildings, using the walls as support.
 "I'm sorry, Scott..." she whispered, making certain that she was out of sight of the doorway.  Falling roughly to her knees, she tried to phase him out, envisioning him appearing at her side.
 Pain flared up, doubling and redoubling as her circuits screamed in protest at her effort.  The floor stayed clear of all but dust and rubble, but Firefall was no longer aware enough to notice.

 Spook reared back, flooded with the pain of the Interface in progress.  Bracing himself, he painstakingly removed himself, backing off and sheilding against it until only a bright spark remained for him to follow.
 With one last shudder, half relief, half grief, he Gated, barely acknowledging the Venerakkin guards as they nodded, letting him pass.
 The spark led him to an enormous hole punched into the surface.  Spreading his wings, he glided down until he was level with it, landing gently on the edge.  A few loose pieces of rubble broke off and fell down the shaft behind him as he maneuvered through the wreckage.
 "Firefall?" Spook said softly, not wanting to startled her as he ducked into her shelter.
 The Venerakkin didn't answer.
 Spook sighed, moving swiftly to the prone form on the floor.  She was curled on her side, hands clutching at her abdomen, legs curled up.  Her face was a mask of agony, optics dark and blind.  "Let it go..." he whispered, bending down to cradle her in his arms.
 After several minutes of silence, Firefall shifted ever so slightly.  "Ssss....Spook?" she hissed over the pain.
 "Yes.  Don't fight the pain, let it go.  Fighting only makes it worse..."
 Firefall trembled at his suggestion even as she tried to relax; the pain terrified her.  "I...I can't..."
 "Yes, you can.  I know you can...Let it go."  Spook held her against him, carefully unfastening the braid coiled around her head.  "It will hurt, I'm not going to lie to you.  But it will pass.  It will always pass."
 Nodding jerkily, Firefall rubbed her cheek against his chestplates in comfort.  Holding onto his wrist with one hand, she paused for a second, then cast off her control.
 Pain boiled over, sweeping through her as it severed link after link after link in its efforts to purge her of the trespasser.  It became an endless red haze, all she could think about, and could not even begin to mount an attempt to fight against it.
 Then it was gone, leaving her limp and gasping as the connections reasserted themselves.
 "Primus!" she whispered, trembling violently.
 "It will come and go.  Fighting it keeps it from going."  Spook acknowledged her need for closeness and pulled her more tightly against him.
 "Stay...?"
 Spook inhaled sharply at the request.  It sounded all too much like begging.  Had things gotten this bad?  His voice was rough as he replied, "Of course."
 Firefall only sniffled in answer, snuggling closer as she waited for the next wave of pain.

***

to be continued