Hello fateful and new readers. I'm back from the dead, sort of. I'm busy studying for school so that I can be ahead of class, but, well, I'm doing this instead of studying so ya better thank me for this new update!

Kidding, but if you do, feel free to do so. It's a free world and no one can force you to do anything.

This is the last chapter since I'm fairly out of ideas and I'm working on two more stories (sadly NOT Transformers-related), BUT I might make something later, much later once I'm finished and have a rhythm, that concerns Sunstreaker's revenge mentioned down below.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter and review! I like reading your reviews; it fills me with warm, happy, feelings!

Disclaimer: I'm a high school girl, how can I own something that's been around for 33 years?

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Prowl was getting exasperated with his bonded's actions. Ratchet was giving everybot a helmache with his demands in finding their TIC. It didn't help that the Lambo Twins were complaining to him about his bonded, said bonded made him chase him around the base in a ridiculous manner twice, and the youngest 'Bot in the planet (or even in the nearest galaxies!) 'went crazy', as the organics say it, with worry over his Charges and was making a huge disturbance out of it! He was tempted to let loose Ratchet on the youngling to check if his processor was malfunctioning but decided against it. He had more important stuff to do…

…Like find his missing mate and give him a smack upside the helm and some brig time for kidnapping humans, escaping Ratchet, and being a general annoyance to everybot today. Prowl was going to make sure Jazz regretted running.

Now, to dislodge the idiots hanging on him…

"Does Jazz hav a virus?" the red idiot asked.

His yellow twin grumbled in Cybertronian, "He'd better. He gashed my paintjob and dented my chassis!"

The police car vented his thirtieth one today (not that he's counting). The two had converged on him the moment he emerged from Prime's office after Bumblebee went haywire, demanding to know what was wrong with their fellow prankster. At the moment, he was comparing the pros and cons of leaving the two in either Ratchet's or Ironhide's supervision or dumping them in the brig. He decided to postpone the decision for later.

"Prowl, Prowlie, Proooowlll," Sideswipe moaned as he poked the cruiser. "You didn't answer…" No answer, another three pokes. "I'm bored. Why do we have to find Jazz?"

Sunstreaker just tailed them as he continued muttering on how to make the saboteur pay, seething about a crowbar, paint remover, neon pink and green paint, along with other various stuff Prowl didn't bother to remember. Besides, Jazz deserved some misery after this day.

"Prooooowwllleeerrr," the red bit-brain moaned.

He vented for the thirty-first time. Maybe he could deactivate them for a while? Perhaps Prime would allow that.

It was going to be a long day and it wasn't even noon yet!

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"So…" Sam peered at his (generally friendly) kidnapper. "You're afraid of needles? And Ratchet wanted to give you a shot… Ok, I get it now."

Jazz grinned sheepishly. Primus, it's so embarrassing that an organic – a femme at that – made him talk and that the couple know his secret! Why did he have to have grabbed them?

Mikaela gave him a sympathetic gaze. "What's the reason? I know Miles is afraid of needles too because it's pointy. You're a –"

"How did you know that?" Sam cut her off, confused. Were they finally talking to each other? He was pretty sure Miles was still pissed at him and Mikaela, him for blowing him off at that lake party and for Mikaela being the reason and then both of them for not telling him about the Autobots. He still talked to them, more after the Fallen, but not as much as he used to…

Mikaela shot him an irritated look. "I overheard you and Miles talking about it last Thanksgiving and everybody got the giardiasis and everyone was required to get a shot."

"Oh yeah," Sam said dumbly, remembering that day. Miles was going crazy and both Sam and 'Bee were considering calling Ratchet to find out what was wrong but vetoed it when he started ranting about evil doctors and pointy abominations.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Mikaela shot her boyfriend a pointed look, which he ignored. "You're a saboteur, Jazz, an Autobot. You had your fair share of pointy objects and uh, energon. And from what I've heard from the other 'Bots, you never made a scene with Ratchet before."

"Well," Jazz drawled, scratching his helm. "Prowler would say it's illogical bu'… uh, needles lost their attraction for meh when this mech came screamin' ou' of tha med bay, followed by tha medbot wi' a," here he shuddered. "Syringe squirtin' whatever fluids, when ah was a sparkling'."

Jazz waited for them to laugh but all they did was look at each other before they just continued staring at him. Sam started, "That's not so weird, Jazz. I'm still afraid of the dentist. I was, like, eight, and just before my turn, the kid before me screaming bloody murder and I swear, two other kids ran out of there with me like a bat out of hell!"

Mikaela turned to him with interested eyes. "Really? I didn't know that."

Sam swore under his breath.

Jazz grinned with relief. At least the two teenagers weren't laughing at him, and one (possibly two) of them understood him! They turned back to him after arguing whether Mikaela was allowed to keep the blackmail material (it was a tie).

"That still doesn't explain why you never fought Ratchet before," Sam noted and his girlfriend gave him a glare for his lack of tact.

Jazz answered calmly, "Ah was always either ou' or somebot was holdin' meh down."

"Oh," Sam nodded.

Mikaela cut in before either could say another word. "So, Jazz, what are you gonna do?"

"Ah need ta get ou' before Hatchet or Prowler finds meh."

The couple looked at each other in the eyes. If Jazz hadn't known better, he would have thought they could read each other's processors or had comm. links like his race or something! After another moment, they turned back to him.

We'll help you get out. What do we need to do?"

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Prime vented as he sat in the (impossibly) large chair the humans had made for him (how in Pit did they get that much wood/metal/whatever-material and leather to make such a comfortable chair?) after entertaining the last Cybertronian youngling.

Bumblebee had spent nearly three quarters of a human hour tearing up his office after spending two hours scouring the Rec Rooms and both Autobot and Human Barracks, and somehow got it in his processor that he was helping Jazz hide the teenagers.

After arguing with the scout for two breems, Prime sent him to Ratchet. He might have a virus and if he didn't, a worried Guardian was all Ratchet's responsibility once said Guardian entered the Med Bay. He would deal with the fallout later if he must; at least the medbot was occupied.

Prime reviewed the day's events. At 1030 military time, Jazz was brought in to Ratchet, late for about a joor. At 1032, Jazz ran and hid. At 1100, Jazz was found by the Major Twins, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe and kidnapped the two civilians, Samuel Witwicky and Mikaela Banes a short while later. At 1110, they had a short, impromptu meeting in this very room where Bumblebee had a meltdown and ran off. And now, at 1400, Prime had succeeded in driving out the youngling (there were no better words for him) and was now relaxing in his warm and comfortable armchair…

BANG! The door slammed open and the Prime stopped himself from opening fire when he saw it was just Ironhide and the Major Twins stalking in. He sank back into his armchair.

"How can I help you?" he asked cautiously from his seat. Primus damnit, he was tired and he didn't care if he wasn't acting like a proper leader. He spent two hours around the base (no matter how much he tried, Ratchet all but threw him out of his own office!) for a most-likely-free saboteur before he found Bumblebee ravaging the office.

"What happened here?!" Sideswipe exclaimed before the Topkick could reply. "Did a 'Con get in here or something? If so, Red will be so pissed!" He gave a high-five to his twin.

"Bumblebee," was all Optimus said and the three warriors nodded. The scout could be a right Decepticon if he wanted to (even if he vehemently denied it), because, which Autobot (beside the Twins and Jazz) could do so much damage to an office that only held a desk, a chair, a filing cabinet, and a world map? "Ironhide?"

The black Topkick snapped back to attention. He gave a glare at the smirking Sideswipe and sulking Sunstreaker. "The two slaggers riled up Bumblebee again. Now's he's tearing up the Med Bay."

"Sunstreaker, Sideswipe," Prime gave them a disappointed and reprimanding look. They squirmed under his gaze. "Why did you do that? Bumblebee is stressed enough as it is and I fear Ratchet will fulfill his vow on reformatting you two into toasters."

"Sideswipe thought it would be a good idea to rile Bumblebee," Sunstreaker deadpanned.

"Sunny!" the red Lamborghini gasped. "You snitch!"

Prime vented when the Twins started their squabbling. He cut in before it could turn physical or before Ironhide could hit them. "Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, stay in the brig until Jazz is found, and even then, stay there for a joor."

"But that could be forever!" Sideswipe whined.

Prime raised an eyebrow ridge. "Would you rather I hand you over to Ratchet?" The Twins shook their helms rapidly. "Then you will stay in the brig unless one of the superior officers asks for you or there is a Decepticon attack. Ironhide, make sure they get there before returning to your search."

The Weapons' Specialist gave him a lazy salute; no doubt he learnt it from Lennox. He grabbed the Twins and dragged them out, ignoring their complaints. After a moment, there was complete silence in the room and the remaining Autobot finally relaxed fully in his armchair.

Maybe he could rest his optics for a while. After all, he barely had any recharge for the last week or so with all the meetings and Jazz' revival and a battle with a Decepticon.

Ratchet wouldn't mind. He's a Prime after all.

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Ratchet glowered at his charge. Bumblebee was being completely childish, reckless, and stupid! Oh, if only he was allowed to reformat disobedient Autobots into toasters and refrigerators! The youngling was currently squirming under all the straps and sedative the medbot injected into him. Sooner or later he would drift into recharge.

Now to clean up the mess his Med Bay was! Bumblebee had upturned all four berths, tore the cabinet filled with medical gowns and blankets for any unfortunate human that ended up in his care (why in Pit would the scout think Sam and Mikaela were there?), scared First Aid enough for him to leak coolant, and upended the tables holding the medicine. Fortunately, none had broken or spilled. It would be such a pain in the aft if it did.

If any of the Twins, Major or Minor, came in, they would get a faceplateful of his favorite wrench. In fact, he swore if anyone stupid enough to come in would get a wrench to the helm and a full-body examination, unless they were dying, First Aid, or organic. He couldn't have dying humans in his Med Bay, now could he? At least the dying 'bot and First Aid can withstand his wrath.

Maybe he could force the Twins to clean up the mess, but that would defeat the purpose of his vow and they could possibly antagonize his patient further.

No, it was better they stayed out of his way and his Med Bay.

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"Are you sure it's right?" Sam peered at the tiny cellphone screen. The blueprints stared bck at him. "The nearest exit is right ahead."

Mikaela shook her head in irritation. "No, Sam, we already passed the intersection. We're supposed to go right and then left again before we go forwards."

Jazz nodded from behind them. "Tha lady is righ', Sam. From wha' ah got, we go righ'."

The college boy turned red. "Then why don't you lead then, if you got the blueprints?"

"As ya can see, ah'm on mah 'ands an' knees," the saboteur motioned to himself for effect. "Ah can't lead ah withou' getting' too fah ahead. An' ah need all the balance ah can get, so ah can't hold ya."

"Fine," Sam admitted at last. "Mikaela, you lead."

She grinned and they turned right and then left, waiting for Jazz in every turn. They continued on, talking to pass the time. It was only in the last dozen or so turns where everything turned wrong.

"Um," the mechanic muttered, looking at her phone. "Isn't there supposed to be a three-way here? And'we're supposed to go straight, right?"

Jazz nodded. "Mah processor says so too. Where did ya download tha blueprints?"

"From the base's internet…" Mikaela trailed off, groaning. Sam could see the screen slightly glitching.

"What?" Sam looked back and forth between his girlfriend and kidnapper. "What?"

Jazz continued where Mikaela left off. "Which is supervised by Red Alert an' Prowler. 'E knew ya would help meh."

Sam said dumbly, "Oh. That's bad."

Thay shot him an exasperated look and Mikaela muttered, "No shit, Sherlock."

Jazz gave her a confused look, if a robot could even look confused. "Hs name is Sam, Mikaela, or 'ave ya forgotten? Who is this Sherlock person?"

"It's just an expression, Jazz, just an expression. Do you have any idea where we are?" Mikaela asked. "We could be going in further the base, not outwards."

"No clue. Knowing Prowler, he's tryin' ta keep us in," Jazz started muttering. "Maybe if we switch some stuff or ah could prob'ly hack inta tha network or –"

"What's that noise, guys?" Sam interrupted him.

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Lennox looked at the gathered Autobots and soldiers. He winced at the annoyed, angered, and/or exhausted faceplates and faces alike. He himself was exhauseted from searching the while base for the elusive saboteur and the missing civilians. Instead of looking for them in one area like his soldiers were, he was required to check and double-check every room.

Now, Prime had called the meeting for every Autobot and soldier that wasn't still looking and had duties of their own. The colonel was glad for the reprieve; his legs and back were hurting and he was sure he hasn't felt this way except for boot camp and every major battle in his career. Epps stood beside him, relief in his features.

There were only about thirty soldiers, including himself and Epps, and four Autobots, which included Optimus, Prowl, his Guardian, and the human-sized 'bot, Blaster. The Security Director was still on camera duty, Bumblebee was in the Med Bay, Ratchet and First Aid were working on the scout, and the Major Twins were in the brig, if Lennox recalled correctly. And of course Jazz was missing.

"Maybe Boss 'Bot is calling off the hunt," Epps whispered to him. "I hope so."

Lennox stopped himself from grinning and whispering back to his best friend when said Boss 'Bot started talking. Instead, he gave a nod.

He half-heartedly listened to the regal leader as he talked and apologized about Jazz' behavior (and the same for the Twins) and how he'll get brig time and maybe a psychologist because his behavior might be a side-effect from being dead then brought to life and finally said the magic words: their search was at an end because most likely Jazz was outside and long gone and how he was sorry that their time –

Everyone snapped into attention when the ceiling burst open and a flailing silver body lnded on both the SIC and the Lennox' Guardian, interrupting the Prime's rant (really, it was a rant. He went on a tangent before getting to the main point: they didn't have to search for Jazz anymore). The humans scrambled for their guns and the Autobots not incapitated almost let loose their cannons. Then they stopped after taking a good look at the fallen intruder.

Lennox knew this moment would be one of the stories he would tell his daughter and future kids (he and Sarah were planning to have more in the next five years) and grandkids (though not n the near future; preferably when his little girl is finished in her education and had a job), but he would have to watch out for Ironhide first.

Jazz was on top of the two mechs on his front, a servo on his helm and the other on his side. His optics were a bright blue and coolant was slightly pooling up in his optics. Underneath him, the Autobot tactician was unnaturally still and the Lennox' Guardian was a pile of swearing and groaning metal. Prowl got out from whatever had captivated him and slid out from underneath the spy's legs and ruble, leaving the Weapons' Specialist on the ground with Jazz on top.

Lennox would remember the astonished looks of Prime and his soldiers, the grinning faces of Epps and Blaster, the agitated gaze (there was something else in those normally expressionless optics, but for the life of him, he didn't know what it was) of Prowl as he stared at the duo, and all the curses that his Guardian threw ("Get of me, you lump of scrap! I'll melt your aft for this, you Unicron-spawn of a Cybertronian! If you don't get off me, I'll use you for target practice, motherfragging scraps for processors!") for the rest of his life.

The highlight of the whole thing was when Ratchet stormed into the Prime's office, waving around a wrench, and shouting, "What is with all this noise?! I can hear you from my Med Bay and you're stressing Bumble–" before stopping when he caught sight of the Solstice and the Topkick.

Almost everyone in the room gave a chuckle when the medbot spluttered, "Why in Pit –? Is this real –? How did –? Ironhide bottoms?" Shaking his helm, he raised his voice, "Never mind. Thank you for finding Jazz, in spite of your unorthodox ways. I'll take him to the Med Bay for his overdue check-up."

Ratchet picked up the dazed TIC, who didn't give a fight, and marched away from the room. Ironhide, finally free from the silver 'bot's weight, shook off the rubble and metal and plaster on him and stood up. He and Prowl stalked away in the same direction as Ratchet and Jazz.

"Hey, Sam! Mikaela!" Epps shouted suddenly, jerking everyone back to reality. The African-American was looking at the hole in the ceiling where the silver saboteur fell from, where two tiny heads peeked out from. "How's the view?"

Sam shouted back, which they barely heard, "It's good! Can someone get us down from here? We want to get back on solid ground!"

Everyone looked at the only Autobot that could reach them. Prime vented but he had a smile on his faceplate as he picked up the couple and brought them down. Lennox and Epps helped them get off.

"Since Jazz is found," Prime started. "And there is no need to find the civilians Samuel Witwicky and Mikalea Banes, you are all dismissed. Thank you all for your help and consideration."

The soldiers and Blaster dispersed while Prime held back Lennox, Epps, and the couple for a (de)briefing. After about a quarter of an hour of Sam and Mikaela alternatively telling their account of their kidnapping (minus Jazz' secret since they promised and were good friends), they were free to go. The four humans left together for the cafeteria since Sam and Mikaela missed lunch.

"What's going to happen to Jazz?" Sam asked worriedly.

Epps replied, "Probably gonna get his due from Ratchet and some brig time. Who knows? It's 'Bot business."

"Why did Jazz run?" Lennox asked curiously. "He never showed such behavior before. You should know since you were with him for four hours or so."

"Now that you mentioned it," Epps added. "You never did say what his reason was."

"Hey, man," Sam shrugged. "We've just spent it on talking and trying to find an exit. Jazz said nothing about his reasons."

"Come on. Tell us. We promise not to say."

The two teenagers glanced at each other and said in unison, "Nah. We're not telling. Go ask Jazz yourselves if you want to know so badly."

Sam continued, ignoring the two soldiers, "I'm gonna run ahead. Come with me?"

Mikaela nodded, "You bet. I'm starving."

They ran off, leaving the corporal and sergeant groaning behind them. Epps looked at Lennox and said, "You wanna ask Jazz himself?"

Lennox shrugged. "Why not?"

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THE END :)

Hoped ya like it! Ya should, ya know, 'cause ah suffer an' all. ~Jazz