Bah, I seem to be enjoying writing short drabbles. Oh well. This is done for a contest being held on Deviantart. And I have never wrote about Beachcomber before so I hope I didn't mess him up too much.

Beta read by: Lithatchee

Disclaimer: Don't own transformers. Hasbro does!

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Whenever he wanted peace and quiet, he knew just where to find it. The harmony of nature called to him. Forest animals scampering about, birds singing, trees swaying gently to and fro from the breeze, and the many different types of plants growing. It was his private place to be, away from the noise at the base and the war.

That was why he sought solitude at that very moment, hoping to control his raging emotions; because nature had such a way of calming him down. Several of his comrades had said some harsh words to him, claiming he was a wimp and a coward pacifist who didn’t care about saving his home world, who didn't care about fighting for it. They said he only cared about himself and the organic planet they were on now. He couldn’t believe his comrades would say that to him. Alright, he could expect a few but still, it had hurt. So, he left the Ark knowing that, if he didn’t, he would have said something he might regret later. He was neither a wimp nor a coward. It was true he hated fighting, but he had spent millennia fighting and he was tired of it.

That didn’t mean, however, that he would stop fighting. His main function was that of a geologist, not a soldier. He loved exploring and finding new things, especially Earth; he loved it. Humans did not know how beautiful their planet was. Everything was alive and constantly changing. A soft chirp to his right brought him out of his turbulence of thoughts. Looking, he saw a small blue jay sitting on his shoulder struts. He smiled.

"Hey..."

Before he could complete his sentence, a twig snapped behind him and the blue bird gave a shrill and flew off. The mech swirled around only to see Hound.

"Sorry," Hound said sheepishly.

The mech let out a puff of air from his intakes and relaxed. For a minute, he thought it was a Decepticon.

"It's okay, Hound. What brings you out here?"

"I was worried about you, Beachcomber. You know most of the bots didn't mean to say those words."

Beachcomber didn't say anything, watching two squirrels playfully chase each other around a small tree, instead. Hound waited for Beachcomber to say something. He was concerned. He hated seeing his friends upset.

"They're right in some ways," he finally said.

Hound shook his helm. "Don't listen to them. I share your thoughts on not wanting to fight sometimes too. Besides, everyone is low on nerves and missing home. That, and the Decepticons haven't surfaced for two weeks."

"They are right," Beachcomber insisted. "I would rather be here in the wilderness than fighting. There's so much death. But I won't shirk my duties to Prime or the Autobots. I can't. It's just..."

"I understand what your trying to say, Beachcomber. It's hard I know," Hound said. Then hearing a beep from his internal clock, he let out a puff of air from his intakes. "Do you feel like returning back to the Ark? I have to start patrol soon and I..."

"No, that’s okay. I’m going to stay out here some more. Thanks for trying to comfort me."

"No problem. Be careful," Hound said, taking one last look at the beauty of nature that surrounded him before walking away from Beachcomber.

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