A/N: So, anyone who was wondering about the changes that the Allspark creates in Optimus and Megatron... hopefully this chapter gives more insight into what they're going through.

4. Changes

Iacon, 316 G.E. (20 P.W.)

I open my eyes to a world that begins blurry and sharpens to impossible focus. Everything is washed in blue. Colors don’t appear as easily to my eyes anymore, though they can see in a spectrum that is apart from human vision. I know that, with a thought, I can see heat, not just light. A diagnostic runs across the bottom of my vision. Everything is fine, it tells me. All systems normal. CPU climbs to full capacity as my mental activity heightens.

I dress and make my way to the kitchen, where I choke down cereal. Human food is becoming harder and harder to stomach. As a supplement, I take two of the cubes of pink liquid with me when I leave, shutting the door silently behind me. My brother sleeps still, but fitfully, and even the slightest disturbance will wake him. He is restless these orns, prone to leaving at late hours and returning before morning. I know where he has gone. The Guardians tell me that he stands there for hours, unspeaking, scarcely blinking. I do not ask him why. What silent thoughts and feelings pass behind his crimson eyes are his alone.

The chill air fills my lungs. Breathing feels strange as I walk, but I will not take a vehicle. It is too strange to hear their emptiness, so I walk everywhere that I must go. The only consequence is that I must leave earlier. Everyone I pass in the streets nods or murmurs in respectful greeting. Their eyes are full of admiration as they watch me. Only in the Temple does the mood change. The Guardians and the Speakers have respect, but it is overshadowed by pity. Only they know about the curse; they suffer from it themselves, but to a lesser degree. My brother and I are the ones most in contact with It. We are the ones who absorb most of Its power and perform Its will. We are the ones who carry that power to others. Our friends are the first to show signs of change, though only to our practiced senses.

Usually that power is harmless. Would that it were always so.

First, I go to the Temple. It appears white to the human observer, but with my enhanced vision I can see the symbols decorating its surface. The hallways are quieter than the street. Robed Speakers and armored Guardians pass as they go about their duties. There are others there as well, citizens who come to view It and marvel. No one is surprised as I tread my well-traveled path to where It hovers, enormous, ancient, but not silent, not to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Guardians politely guiding others away.

I stand before It and I feel It calling to me. I lay my hands on It, feeling its power shifting under my hands, seeping into me. It speaks for an indeterminate time, of ancient powers and wisdom and leadership and I absorb. I am learning to understand. At times Its thoughts are too complex for me to comprehend, but these times are less frequent than they once were as my own mind advances. The same is happening to our people, slowly. My brother and I simply evolve more rapidly, from the inside out. The physical changes thus far are mercifully few, but the internal changes are more difficult to get used to.

At last I take my leave, nodding to the Guardians as I pass. They nod silently in reply.

Much of my orn is taken up by my duties. My brother and I are young, perhaps too young to rule a planet, but It prefers this. It chooses younger and younger rulers. The younger the body, the more easily it accepts the curse. But despite our age, we learn quickly under the guidance of those with more experience. I have been told that I am a just ruler, better than many that our world has seen. It is painful to make decisions, to make sacrifices. I am always aware that someone, somewhere, will suffer for it, whatever choice I make. My brother and I talk at night, discussing our future, the future of our planet. We agree, we disagree, we argue, we come to an understanding. Crisis is, for now, averted. Our clashes are relatively few, for which I am certain the planet thanks us.

There is enough time for me to attend classes, for although I may rule the planet, my education is still incomplete, though I am mere orbits from graduation. My teachers are forgiving of my sudden—late—entrances to class. Both my brother and I are given work that is advanced from our classmates. We must learn much in such a short time. Fortunately, our mental capacities increase constantly, so slowly that it is almost unnoticeable. How different we are from the others…

I feel almost guilty as I swallow the bitter liquid from the cube. Although it serves as excellent sustenance, my human taste buds refuse to acclimatize. They will disappear eventually, I know, but for now they rebel. I am grateful for this. Drinking the “energon” as my only sustenance would feel like a terrible step away from humanity, a step which I must make eventually but will gladly delay for as long as I can.

This ambition in mind, I take the food that Elita offers and eat it, enjoying the taste while I can.

I vomit it up later, unable to process so much human food.

“I’m going to see Skyfire when we’re done here,” she whispers to me when I return to class. “Will you come with me?”

I nod, immersing myself in complex equations to escape the guilt that suddenly looms above me like a tidal wave.

Feelings of pride stir within me as we approach the hospital. I enjoy them privately, glad to have an achievement that I can call my own. But even the best care that this place can provide is not enough, at times…

Elita walks with me. I will always be grateful to my friends, and I count many as my friends. Nothing changed when the Council revealed my identity. We talk, we work, we learn together, as we always did. They walk with me, knowing my aversion to vehicles. They tolerate my strangeness.

I know that my brother is charismatic. I know that he collects followers with ease. Still, I feel deep satisfaction knowing that I have friends who will always remain true to me, hard-won as they are.

Even if my mere presence is a danger to them.

My gut clenches as we ascend to the eighth floor. Why did I come? I won’t be able to meet his eyes. He’s been getting worse and worse. How dare I come here and endanger him? How can I face him?

A familiar face greets us as we approach our destination. Aster’s orange eyes, once so bright, are red-rimmed and dull. His face is far too pale and his bones stand out easily under his skin. He drags a hand hurriedly across his face, dashing away moisture. He has been crying.

“How is he?” I ask. He shakes his head, looking away. Elita reaches out and pulls him into a brief hug, sharing his pain for a moment.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispers. “He’ll get better. You’ll see.”

Aster nods faithlessly. His eyes flick up to mine for an instant, then away. As he goes, I follow him with my eyes, trying to dispel the ache in my heart. He doesn’t deserve this.

We enter and Skyfire’s smile lights the air. “Elita! Optimus!” He struggles to sit up and Elita goes to help him. I linger in the threshold. He looks at me and guilt stabs me through to my core.

This is my fault. I am the reason that Skyfire lies in this glaringly white room, slowly fading from existence. It isn’t a fair end for one such as him.

“Come here,” he says, opening his arms. I look into his eyes with another twinge of guilt, but there is no accusation in their blue depths, only understanding. Only love. Noble Skyfire knows why I hesitate. I go to him, but halt out of reach. Even a touch will worsen him.

He smiles. It’s all right, he seems to say.

The meaning is different to me. There is no more harm that I can possibly do to him. It’s too late to change things now. The damage is done.

I close the gap between us and lean down into his embrace. His arms are losing their strength, and once I move away they fall to the bedspread. He lies back onto the pillows that Elita arranged for him. His is pale and thin, but still handsome. Still Skyfire.

“How are you?” Elita asks. Skyfire shrugs and pulls a face.

“I’ve been better.”

Trust Skyfire to make light of any situation. I listen with one ear, but I concentrate on watching him, observing the voiceless machines, learning the truth behind his smile.

Skyfire is dying.

No matter what the doctors try, no matter how hard he tries to convince us otherwise, Skyfire is dying, and it’s my fault.

The Speakers had warned my brother and me that the energy we carried from It would be transferred to those we were in contact with. It may gradually affect them, but it should be slow, and for the better. Only once in a very great while may there be one to whom this energy would be harmful, perhaps even deadly. The chance is one in a million. How could we suspect that anyone around us would be such a rarity?

How could I have known… how could anyone have known… that Skyfire would take sick? He was too… alive. Good, strong, clever Skyfire, who had so much promise, who had graduated from vorns of intense study at the top of his class, brightest of all the graduates of his vorn. Skyfire, easygoing, open Skyfire, who had the uncanny ability to make a friend out of anyone, even a sarcastic, solitary young scientist, even a shy orphan who was eventually chosen by It to rule the planet. It simply didn’t seem possible. The world should stop spinning. The stars should go out. The moons should fall from the sky. How could life continue without Skyfire in it?

How will I make it without you, my friend?

Poor brave Skyfire had insisted for so long that we not tell Aster, not cause him to come home before his study was finished. And it had seemed well enough when Skyfire had recovered… but he had relapsed with such ferocity that I had taken matters into my own hands and contacted my brother, begging him to send Aster home now, for maybe his presence would somehow be enough to heal Skyfire.

I owed my friend that much, at least.

“Optimus.” Skyfire has noticed my preoccupation. Elita has gone while I was thinking, leaving us alone. He watches me, not letting me look away. His gaze is unflinching, his eyes warm. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“If we hadn’t been so close, this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have gotten sick. You wouldn’t be—”

“Don’t,” Skyfire interrupts. He reaches out and grabs my hand before I can pull it away. “I’d rather be your friend for as long as I can than live a thousand vorns without meeting you.”

He shudders and I draw away, terrified that even this small touch can do this. “It isn’t you,” he murmurs. “I promise it isn’t.” He smiles at me, looking almost like his old self. “Remember what I said. I mean it.”

I leave his room and come face to face with Aster again, just outside the door. I know him because Skyfire knows him. Although several vorns younger than I, he is just as intelligent and promising a scientist as Skyfire. This tragedy has not been kind to him, but I know that my brother has taken him under his wing. It is good of him to help, though perhaps it is from Aster’s unusually elevated rate of evolution that my brother’s interest springs. I try my best to give him an encouraging smile, but his face darkens.

“You did this to him,” he mutters. Before I can fully comprehend his words, he disappears into Skyfire’s room and the door closes sharply behind him. I stare after him in astonishment, aghast and guilty once more. It’s true that Aster is hardly comparable to his partner in terms of kindliness, but these words seem beyond that standard dislike of anyone who isn’t Skyfire. As though the words themselves hadn’t been painful enough, the bitter despair in his voice had struck true. And his eyes had carried some emotion that I find it impossible to decipher… fury and contempt and agony all rolled into one heated glare, some emotional defensive mechanism converting all of his pain into hatred.

I return to the Temple, drinking the second cube of energon along the way. Aster’s words will not stop echoing in my ears.

My brother stands before It already, merely watching rather than communing. I join him. My advanced hearing picks up the whirr of machinery as he turns his head to look at me. He is evolving faster than I am; he spends more time with It than I do. These orns he spends more time here than he does with me. The difference is remarkable.

“How is your friend?” he asks. He knows where I have been. It’s almost eerie at times, the way he can learn anything he needs from me, even if I haven’t said a word.

“Still deteriorating,” I answer. I don’t tell him what Aster said. The young scientist is distraught, I decide. I cannot blame him for his actions. Besides, my brother is close to him, so surely he would know if something were wrong. He would be the first to correct Aster. Such is the bond between us, as brothers.

“It’s a pity,” he says. I nod with a sigh and concentrate on Its hum. It is content now that we are both here with It. I am still uneasy at the changes It has wrought in our planet over the countless millennia that It lay here undiscovered, the changes It has wrought in our civilization, the changes It has wrought in my own body since I first touched It. My brother, conversely, revels in them. He is fascinated by our slow transformation. He has adapted to the bitter energon, the sharp display-vision that tells us everything about our bodies at a thought, the super-human strength and intelligence that whisk him easily through both halves of the Academy. At times I wonder whether I should be worried by this, but my brother has the freedom to form his own opinion.

He is also fascinated by the Cube itself, and for some time now he has been hinting that we ought to study it, learn more about it. Skyfire often comes into these conversations. If we had known more about Its energy, my brother says, we may have been able to cure him. I shake my head and do not rise to this bait. The Allspark has remained constant for thousands, perhaps millions, of vorns. To investigate It would be to invite danger. It is better left alone.

I frown, watching him in my peripheral vision. Something has changed in Megatron of late. He keeps it well-hidden, which is disturbing in itself. Once, Megatron would have hidden nothing from me. Three vorns ago he would have told me everything that preyed on his mind. But the last three vorns have been full of silence.

I wonder what it is that the Allspark whispers to him when he stands alone before it, lost in pursuit of its secrets. But I keep my silence.