Disclaimer: I do not own transformers. If I did, I would be worse off than the poor guy on Pawn Stars who tried to sell his collection for $20000. Imagine a whole house filled with…transformers.

Notes: Alright, this begins a while after my oneshot 'Truth of a Liar' finishes off. You don't need to read it or its prequel, 'Sounds of Silence' to understand this fic, but it might help. And to just let it out…I have no idea where this is gonna go. Suggestions are appreciated.

Truthfully, Arcee despaired over her position in life, or lack of it. She was technically free to do as she pleased; millions of stellar cycles had built up a lot of credits which she could draw out at the click of a datapad. She could go nearly anywhere, see nearly anything, and she knew she she should be grateful that she wasn't still fighting in a war that had been forgotten by so many processors.

She was not sure who she felt more frustration toward. Shockwave or Ratchet?

Shockwave was the answer her processor conjured.

Shockwave was the one she should feel most grateful to. He was the one who'd gotten her out of the medical centre and restored most of her memories. Ratchet was simply around to offer comfort and companionship. After all, they both came from the great War, and were both products of it, in vastly different ways.

Arcee stood and began pacing around her apartment.

Truthfully, Arcee was bored. Life as a spy or whatever she was being for Shockwave (personal prison-breaker?) didn't suit her in the least. She was either horribly lax, or overly paranoid. Everything else that had been in her life faded out in some respects, and had been amplified in others.

Well, not everything else.

She still desired to know what was right. Perhaps it was her fatal flaw, but Arcee wanted, no, needed to know what was right, or correct. And act upon it.

Because she believed the Council was wrong, she worked against it in whatever way she could. Arcee had no doubt that the most incriminating files were kept far away from any Autobot civilian.

She read through reports taken from 'Longarm' (Shockwave's) apartment. Files that incriminated Ultra Magnus and two Primes (three if you counted the Decepticon in disguise) of general rule-breaking.

The real question now was what she was going to do with this information. If this had been during the War, Arcee would've handed it over to her superior officer, and would have been able to go on. Now she had no superior officer, and she sure didn't consider Shockwave one.

Did she even want to get Shockwave free? He would probably engineer a way from Megatron to escape, and then this whole Great War business would begin again.

Shockwave was…she wasn't sure what Shockwave was. To her, at least. He seemed to be the uncomfortable middle ground, the bridge between two lives she could not reconcile into becoming one. The past and…whatever this was now.

That might be why she was so intent on getting him out of the stockades. She wanted her middle ground back. Any other reason would simply be…illogical.

The question of how posed several solutions and even more questions.

The first would be to try and contact the remaining Decepticons. They were probably formulating a plan to get the incarcerated Decepticons out already.

But they would be overly suspicious of her, and rightly so. She would probably be thrown in the brig and executed. The second option would be to try and get Shockwave out by herself, or to provide him with the means to…herself.

And she knew that she would never be able to do it. Alone, but who (besides a Decepticon) would help her break out a Decepticon?

What did you think you were going to do? Find that single, solitary fact that will show the Council what it really is, even if it really is what Shockwave said it was?

Arcee tried to ignore the voice inside her head, though it spoke the truth. What was she going to do? Even if she could prove that Shockwave had been right about the Council, he was still a war criminal, a revolutionary. The ancient laws of Cybertron wouldn't make an exception for a murderer. Even if the murdered was doing something he believed in.

And it was also how she'd lost her memory; trying to stop the main Decepticon strike force from getting to the codes. Because she believed it.

Arcee's optics wandered to the window. Cybertron's holographic Sun was setting, casting a fake glow over the planet. Cybertron had long lacked a real Sun.

Arcee count on one servo the memorable sunsets she was able to recall. Two of those were from early younglinghood. Two were from her first orbital cycles back out in the open after they had arrived on Cybertron.

The final one was probably the most probably-forgetful one she had. Meaning it might be imagined, due to bad memory receivers or code input, and anything else in between.

Shockwave had stood behind her, Longarm on her right. Arcee sat on the ledge of some kind of building. The three of them stared into the sunset.

"This is our last recharge cycle as a pod," Longarm said quietly. "I wonder what we'll be doing this time next solar cycle."

"Celebrating," Arcee said nonchalantly. "I mean, it's not every day that we become fully grown."

A fourth bot moved up to join them. His coloring was dark yellow and purple, unusual, but his huge violet optics stood out the most.

"Real nice, ain't it." He said.

"Yeah," Shockwave said. "It is."

Arcee was jolted out of memories by a knock on the door. Wondering if it was Ratchet, she answered.

The dark yellow-purple bot with the huge optics grinned at her.

"Arcee! My favourite customer; even if you never did buy anything."

The familiar image in her processor struggled to come up with a name to identify this bot.

It took a moment.

"Swindle? Is that you?"