Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers.

Impatience

Waiting

The old hangar and surrounding buildings was a dusty, worn military facility when they first arrived in the desert. Since the Mission City battle, every free moment of the Autobot unit's time was spent repairing it and outfitting it to be a fully operational command center. The U.S. Government was quite generous in its donation of the technology and materials they requested. Perks of saving the world…

The Autobot probably most pleased with his new workspace was Ratchet. Ah, to have a proper medbay again! Once construction had been complete on his wing of the base, the medic had set straight to work on repairing their fallen comrade, Jazz. The poor mech, torn in two ruthlessly by Megatron. Ratchet counted himself (and his patient) lucky that the leader of the Decepticons hadn't done worse damage to the saboteur. While he had ripped the silver mech in half, he had only put him into a deep stasis-lock. The abrupt severance of his lower half had sent his systems into failure, but there was no damage to his spark. All that was needed was careful and quick repairs—which Ratchet was perfectly capable of. It had been two Earth months since Ratchet brought Jazz back online, and the Solstice was recovering just fine.

Said mech, however, was currently no where to be found for his weekly check-up. And nothing made Ratchet grouchier than waiting. He had important things to be doing!

Ratchet let out an intake of cool air from his systems, mimicking a human sigh. Pushing away from his desk in the medbay, he decided to find his patient rather than wait for him for another joor. The medic decided to check with Optimus first; after all, he was the one that coordinated their respective schedules and decided who went on patrol and when. He headed down the hallway, turning the corner and knocked on the large door.

"Enter," came the booming voice from within.

The door slid obligingly open, and Ratchet moved forward into Prime's office. Looking up from a data pad, Optimus allowed a smile to form on his face plates. "Ah, Ratchet, what can I do for you?"

Placing his large hands on the Autobot leader's desk and leaning forward, Ratchet said, "Do you happen to know where Jazz is?"

Thinking for a moment, Optimus shook his head. "No, I do not know of his whereabouts at this current time. He got off his surveillance shift quite some time ago."

"Well, he's been keeping me waiting in the medbay to give him a check-up. I can't monitor his progress, Prime, if my patients constantly seem to be forgetting their appointments!" he muttered.

Hiding a smirk at his irritated CMO, Optimus said, "I understand, Ratchet, and I'll be sure to reprimand our fellow officers at our next meeting. However, for now, I suggest you keep looking for him. Perhaps he's out at the firing range. Primus knows that's where Ironhide probably is."

Pushing away from the desk, Ratchet nodded his thanks and left. The firing range was a few miles away from base for safety precautions, of course. They didn't want to have any 'accidents' happening in case the weapon specialist got too trigger-happy during his training sessions. The medic certainly didn't want to put any of his comrades back together again. Once outside, Ratchet noted that the sun had retreated from sight, casting dark over the still desert. Transforming into his Search and Rescue Hummer alt-mode, he sped off in the direction of the firing practice range.

The air felt good against him as he raced along the off-beaten road, the sand and dirt flying up as his tires cut through. Ratchet allowed tension to seep away, trying to release his irritation at the Solstice for worrying him and taking up so much of his time. The medic tried to remind himself he should be grateful Jazz was alive and well enough to not be in his medbay. Still, check-ups were a necessary evil.

Getting lost in his thoughts, the CMO veered sharply to the right as a collection of boulders came bounding down the side of the nearby rock formation, narrowly avoiding being crushed. Rapidly, Ratchet transformed and spun around, weapon ready. He frantically glanced around, trying to identify the source of the rockslide.

To his left, he heard a roaring laugh. "Jeez, Ratch, didn't know you could still move that fast!"

Ratchet lowered his weapon and stood to full height to glare at the approaching weapon specialist. "I'll have you know, you old bucket of bolts, that I am perfectly capable of moving quickly in battle!"

Allowing his own cannons to return to their natural place, hands reappearing, Ironhide put his hands on his hips. "Alright, alright…no need to get cranky."

Huffing, Ratchet looked away. "No one's cranky."

Smirking, Ironhide laughed again. "Right, and I'm a pacifist."

"What in the name of Primus were you doing anyway? You nearly crushed me!"

"Not my fault the calibration of my cannons are off a bit," Ironhide said matter-of-factly. "If you had agreed to have a look at them when I asked, maybe that little rockslide could have been avoided."

"Go ahead, 'Hide, go ahead and try to make this my fault, and you'll find one of your precious cannons missing!" Ratchet threatening.

Holding his hands up, Ironhide frowned. "Don't even joke about that!"

"Very well," Ratchet conceded. Absently flicking dirt off of his armor, he continued. "Have you seen Jazz recently?"

The black mech nodded. "Yeah, he and I were both out here lettin' off some steam. We're gettin' stir crazy on the base. No 'Con activity! No word from any of the others! The base is practically done, so what else is there to do?"

"Other than terrorize me?"

"Yeah, other than that," Ironhide chuckled.

"Then where precisely is he now?"

"He and Bumblebee went off somewhere together. 'Bee wanted a race," the weapon specialist recalled.

Shaking his head in annoyance, Ratchet asked, "Why in the world is Bumblebee here? Where's his human? And do you have any idea where 'somewhere' might be?"

"Possibly. Jazz has been heading out to that cliff that over looks the ravine to the north of here. Maybe he and 'Bee headed there. As for Sam, he's on a trip with his parents, lookin' at colleges or something."

"Thank you for the help," the medic said, then moving to transform once more.

Before speeding off, Ratchet sent over their comm.-link, "And 'Hide?"

"Yeah?"

"Try not to blow yourself up?"

Laughter rang out over Ratchet's end. "Who do I look like? Wheeljack?"

Inwardly quite amused at the comment, the medic left his old friend behind to continue his search for the missing Solstice. Reflecting on what Ironhide had told him, he realized that Jazz had been spending quite a bit of time out near the ravine. What could possibly be so fascinating about a hole in the earth? Unbeknownst to the Ratchet, Jazz wasn't interested in looking at the ground, but at the sky.

Allowing his internal fans to cool his heated systems down, Jazz remained in his alt-mode, utterly exhausted. When had their 'lil Bumblebee gotten so fast? The sleek Camaro parked next to him was blasting some victory music playfully from his radio.

Transforming from his Solstice alt-mode, Jazz looked down at the bright yellow sports car in front of him. "Yeah, yeah, show off! You're almost as bad as Sunstreaker, flauntin' it when you win."

The Camaro revved his engine and gently tapped the silver mech's legs. Rolling into reverse, Bumblebee transformed to stand next to his friend. "Sorry, Jazz, I can't help myself. You always used to beat me in races before I left for Earth."

Jazz nodded his head. "Yeah, those were some good times, 'Bee. I still can't believe how much you've grown over the millennia since then. Wasn't sure we when were gonna get ta see you again."

"We all did what was needed for the war, Jazz. This scouting mission just meant I had to be on my own for a while to find the AllSpark. And you all keep saying that! I'm not a youngling anymore, you know."

Placing a hand on the yellow mech's shoulder, the saboteur chuckled. "I know, 'Bee, but you hafta remember, we all practically raised ya from a sparklin'. And no matter how much time goes by…"

Bright blue optics shined in the dark night. "I'm still the youngest."

"But I do gotta say, you've made all of us mighty proud 'o ya…"

The scout straightened up a bit and nodded his thanks. "So what are we doing here, Jazz? You've been coming out here every other night for the last month."

Sitting down along the ledge of the cliff, Jazz let his silver legs dangle, motioning for Bumblebee to join him. A companionable silence lingered between them before the saboteur answered. "I've been waitin'."

"Waiting for what?"

"A sign. Anything…anything that might indicate there's more of us comin' here."

"It's only been three months since Optimus sent out his transmission. In Earth time, that's hardly anything, Jazz. The message might not even reach any Autobots among the stars for quite some time."

"I know that. I just…I'm just impatient is all…"

"True…ow!" Bumblebee whined as Jazz lightly struck him on the arm. Glancing at Jazz after a few more moments of silence, he tentatively asked, "Waiting for anyone in particular?"

Jazz's visor reflected the waning light of the moon as he turned to look at Bumblebee. "Yeah…" he whispered, 'Bee's audio receptors barely able to make out the response.

"Who? If you don't mind me asking…" the scout trailed off.

With a melancholic smile, not quite fitting on the normally jovial mech's face, the Solstice said, "Prowl."

Optics flickering in surprise, the younger mech thought about that for a moment. Optimus' second in command—Prowl? Bumblebee was quite fond of the black and white mech, stern though he was. He had been one of the yellow mech's caretakers back on Cybertron as he grew from sparkling to youngling. He wasn't aware that Jazz and the tactician had any sort of relationship.

"I know what yer thinkin', 'Bee. And no, we weren't together…at least, not in the way ya might think."

Bumblebee's silence invited him to continue. "Prowl 'an me, we've known each other a long, long time—even before the war began. I won't go into our respective pasts, but I will say that we definitely leaned on one 'nother for support more often than not. We were always such good friends…and the thought of becomin' closer had certainly crossed our minds, but slag it if Prowl wasn't too logical for his own good!"

The Camaro nodded, recalling the tactician's no nonsense approach to handling things. That's what made him such a valuable asset to the Autobot cause. "He didn't think it would work out?"

Jazz shrugged, quite liking the human gesture. "I dunno. He never really made that clear. I think it was more that he didn't want there ta be any distractions if we were gonna have a proper relationship. He said if we still felt the same way 'bout one 'nother, then maybe, after the war, we could give it a shot. But then his unit got sent elsewhere to take care of some skirmishes breakin' out between some Neutrals and Decepticons. And I joined up with Optimus' unit not long after. I haven't heard from him since. It's been vorns…I don't even know if he's alive."

The younger mech slung an arm over his companion's shoulders. He felt his spark ache at Jazz's pain. They all had friends and comrades they hadn't seen or heard from in ages. Just because they lived for such a long time, didn't mean they handled any length of separation from each other any better than other organisms. Time apart was still time apart.

"What will you do if he comes to Earth?" Bumblebee asked, curious as to what the saboteur would have to say to the tactician. "And the war's not technically over, just because Megatron's dead. Decepticons are still out there as well. Do you think Prowl would allow a relationship to form between you two, especially after what he said before he left?"

"Hard ta say, 'Bee, but I'm tired of waitin' for this war ta be over. It almost killed me. If Ratchet hadn't been able ta bring me back, I wouldn't have this small chance to tell him how I really feel. I don't care about the possibility we could lose one another. It's a risk worth takin'. Logic and reasons be damned."

Jazz slammed a fist into the ground, immediately eased by the soothing presence of his young friend. "Sorry, 'Bee…"

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Jazz."

"Oh yes he does."

Startled, the two smaller mechs stood and whipped around to face an ornery medic. They hadn't heard Ratchet's approach or transformation, too absorbed in their conversation. Rubbing the back of his helmet, Jazz said, "Oh, hey Ratch! What brings you out here?"

Crossing his arms over his chassis, the CMO tapped his foot impatiently. "Looking for you, you little glitch. You had an appointment for a check-up joors ago!"

Looking at the ground sheepishly, Jazz apologized. "Sorry, musta lost track of time."

Eyeing the younger mechs, Ratchet shuttered his optics in defeat. "Well, it's getting late. I'll let you slide this time. Now back to base, both of you, before I put dents in your afts!"

"Yes, sir!" Bumblebee and Jazz chimed together, immediately transforming, ready to follow the medical officer back through the desert.

With a satisfied nod, Ratchet moved to begin his own transformation sequence only to spot a quartet of shining objects rocketing toward the Earth in the distance. Optics blinking, he sent forth a scan over the area to see if there was a signal being emitted. Bumblebee spoke over his comm.-link. "There a problem, sir?'

"I think those are pods…" Ratchet trailed off, still staring out over the ravine into the night sky, listening.

Surprised at this answer, the scout and saboteur set up their own communications scanners, searching for a signal, a message—anything.

Only to receive nothing.

Ratchet paused, and then contacted their leader. "Optimus, this is Ratchet with Bumblebee and Jazz near the ravine, ten miles north of base."

Responding over the channel, Prime said, "Yes, Ratchet? Is there a problem?"

"We've spotted four possible pods making their descent toward Earth. I estimate their arrival time to be in one Earth hour."

"Have you tracked a signal?" came Ironhide's voice over the open comm.-link line.

"No."

"How far do you project their landing point to be from your current location, Ratchet?" Optimus questioned.

The medic looked to Bumblebee for help, the scout equipped with much better navigational systems. Computing the distance, the Camaro answered, "53 miles, sir."

"Alright then, that should give you plenty of time to reach their projected arrival location. Ratchet, I want you back at base to prepare the medbay if there happen to be any wounded. Besides, if they are Decepticons arriving, I don't want to risk you being there. Bumblebee, Jazz, wait for Ironhide to arrive, then proceed with caution," Optimus ordered.

The Search and Rescue Hummer looked a bit upset at being forced to go back to base, but left his younger companions to wait for the weapon specialist. "Be careful, you two," Ratchet warned before transforming and heading back.

The Solstice and Camaro sat impatiently waiting for the old black mech to arrive. "Do you think they're Autobots, Jazz?"

"Maybe, 'Bee. It's impossible to tell without a signal, so let's jus' hope it is, otherwise it'll be time to wail on some Decepticon punks!"

"Sounds like fun to me," growled Ironhide over the comm.-link as he approached the parked sports cars. "Let's get movin'!"

Bumblebee excitedly revved his engine, as did Jazz, and the trio raced away from the cliff down the winding road to the bottom of the ravine.