Greetings, people. Haven't really been posting for anything that I've written before Sept. 2013, so I decided to rectify that mistake. I hope you all enjoy the chapter, and hopefully I'll be able to get this fic completed sometime in the near future. Erm….yeah. I really don't have an excuse for not updating in forever other than I'm a lousy piece of crap who doesn't deserve the really awesome people who read my works.

::Comm-link::

Ingrained link

"Cybertronian/Disembodied voice"

"YELLING IN ENGLISH"

"English"

-;-

"And you somehow think this is a good idea, why?" Crosswire blinked her optics behind her visor, the tinted blue glow illuminating the surprisingly dark ventilation shafts.

Amber optics shuttered, and then turned back to stare at her companion. "Possibly because I'm bored and have nothing better to do with my time. Therefore, I'm blaming this on my host and his lack of interest in keeping me entertained." Saberline shrugged, continuing on her journey through the vents, clawed pedes clicking on the metal sheeting that was somehow able to hold the combined weight of the pair of cassette femmes.

"I was quite comfortable napping on my host. I don't see why you had to drag me along." Crosswire muttered in reply.

"Because. And besides, you did promise."

"Yeah, but I don't even think he's still on base."

"Well, then this will all be for nothing and we'll have to find something else to do with our time until something exciting happens." Saberline sniffed.

"Meaning until the next time that you decide to do something to Ratchet." Crosswire said dryly, pausing to look down another vent that branched into another direction.

What're ya up to, little lady?

Crosswire felt her faceplates twist up into a smirk, and she shook her helm before transmitting the view of the vent ahead of her back to her host. Vague amusement flickered back, and then the sound of laughter.

So, Ah take it Ah don' wanna know?

Probably. I don't even know what I'm doing. Saberline dragged me off on my way back to berth.

Ah'll be waitin'.

Crosswire smiled fully, her spark fluttering ever so slightly. It was good, having a host again. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed it until she'd actually begun getting to know Jazz, rather than just being the cassette who happened to like recharging on his chest plating. Especially after realizing that she and the silver saboteur shared several similar likes and dislikes- namely, the music here on Earth.

Anything and everything was allowed in their quarters, and it wasn't uncommon that they would attempt to dance to the rhythm. Mind, it didn't actually work the way that it was supposed to, given that the Earth music was so different from Cybertronian music, but they gave it their best effort anyway.

"Are you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah." She commented. "So what exactly did your host do this time."

"He sat on me."

"Sorry, I think my audials glitched. Did you just say that he sat on you?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

Crosswire couldn't help the snort of laughter that hit her, and she took a moment to simply imagine the looks that crossed the pair's faceplates as it happened.

"Was it at least accidental?"

"Nope. Actually, I think it was revenge for the whole, 'pretending to be one of his cannons' thing."

"So, you actually did change your alt-mode into his cannon?"

"Yep. Didn't like it, though. Too big and clunky." Saberline shuddered. "I don't know how he can actually use those outdated pieces of slag. I mean, really. They almost fall apart every time he brings them out for cleaning."

"And you haven't told him….why?"

"Oh, I have. That's why I decided you're going to help me update them."

Crosswire vented. Of course this was why Saberline had bot-napped her. She wanted help to go up against her host.

"But I don't want to."

"Too bad."

Momentarily, the smaller femme considered how much effort it would take to temporarily offline Saberline's systems and drop her off at Med-bay with the information of what she was planning to do, or permanently offlining her and getting it over with so she wouldn't have to deal with the immature femme dragging her to random places every other minute.

Finally, she decided against it, although she didn't actually disregard the thought.

After all, it was still a good idea.

-;-

If there was one thing that Ironhide hadn't expected, it was for his cannons to be laying so innocently on top of his berth in his temporary quarters. Especially not without anything in sight, besides a buffing cloth. And if there was one thing that the Weapons Specialist knew, it was that he had not left his cannons there when he'd left.

Warily, the large black mech surveyed the room, cautiously moving closer to his cannons as he did so. He was willing to put a lot on the line that he knew exactly who had been fragging around with his cannons.

"Heya, host!"

He jumped, sending a dark glare over his shoulder a moment later at the cassette with the far too innocent looking amber optics, who quirked an optic ridge in return.

"What." She asked challengingly.

"What did you do to my cannons." The black mech growled.

"What do you mean, what did I do to your cannons? I haven't touched them. I've been with Crosswire." Saberline snorted, entering the room and leaping up onto the berth next to the cannons, barely even glancing at them. "But I'm about to, because I want a quick recharge before going to that meeting with Prime later."

"Somehow I don't believe you."

"That's nice. Wake me up when it's time to go." The femme yawned, showing her sharp denta for a moment before she curled up on the berth and promptly fell into recharge.

"I'm watching you." Ironhide muttered, sending another distrustful look at the femme before shaking his helm and taking a seat against the wall, deciding to get a bit of recharge himself.

-;-

"I KNEW THAT SLAGGING FEMME DID SOMETHING TO MY CANNONS!"

Crosswire blinked on her optics at the roar that echoed down the corridor outside of her and Jazz's quarters, lazily stretching out across said mech's chestplating as her host onlined as well.

"Well, I suppose there are worse things that he could have done to learning that his cannons only shoot glitter." She said in amusement as the outraged cries of the Autobots Weapons Specialist continued. "Though I have to admit, I didn't think it would be this early."

"This wouldn' happen ta be tha' thing ya didn' want meh ta know about the other orn, would it?" Jazz vented back with a wry smirk as he shifted on the berth.

"Maybe." The femme blinked back innocently. "Though I technically didn't do anything, other than make sure that the Prime or Weapons Specialist weren't nearby. Imagine what they would say if they learned about my part in all of this. They would be appalled. Besides, now it's Ratchet's problem."

"Still some hard feelin's held there, hm?" her host inquired. "Ah find it hard ta imagine not, after the repairs he put ya through."

"Oh, no. No. I don't hold any hard feelings towards him at all." Crosswire insisted, waving Jazz off. "Now come on, I don't want to miss refueling. Or rather, me recharging my solar panels and you recharging. There's a big day ahead of us."

"Ya mean the "official business" tha' the Prime wants ta get over an' done with so we can stay here on Earth? Yeah, Ah'm aware. Didn' think it would be so slaggin' difficult negotiatin' with the organics here."

Before she could quite stop herself from bringing up the images of her captivity at the hands of said organics, Jazz was sitting himself up, his servos going to support her smaller frame as she shuddered, panels on her spinal strut flaring.

"Ah know, femme." He assured gently. "But Ah'm never gonna let them touch ya again."

"SABERLINE! COME OUT FROM WHATEVER ORGANIC ROCK YOU'VE HIDDEN YOURSELF UNDER SO I CAN OFFLINE YOU!" Ironhide roared as he thundered past their quarters, engines growling menacingly. "MEGATRON WILL LOOK LIKE A SPARKLING WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU!"

The pair were silent for several long moments following the statement, waiting until the ground stopped shaking before they burst into laughter.

"Ah think he gets more creative each solar cycle." Jazz chuckled as Crosswire shook her helm.

"They're both sparklings." She corrected. "Saberline might be glitched in the helm half the time, but she does know what she's doing, more or less."

Ah'm sure. Now come on, up we get. Otherwise Ah'll have to find a way up to the roof of this place withou' bein' seen, and we all remember wha' happened las' time.

Of course. Though I don't think I've ever seen an organic's features go quite that color before. Crosswire replied before leaping down onto all fours on the cool concrete, her claws clicking as she retracted them. Speaking of, do you know if I'll get that paint I asked for soon? I know Major Lennox was going to try, but it's been several days.

Ah think so. The Major's gonna be workin' with us pretty closely, so he's been tryin' real hard to get as much as we need before this afternoon when everythin' goes down.

Crosswire nodded as they exited the room, glancing both ways just in case of organics. Crosswire wouldn't say that she had been actively avoiding them…. But she had been actively avoiding them. Everytime she saw one dressed in those white coats, she almost always ended up in the Med-Bay with a splitting processor ache and no memory of what happened prior to that point. Apparently she was experiencing what was known as a "panic-attack" every time she saw one, and her vents tried to shut down on her.

The first time it had happened Jazz had almost had a spark-attack. This had been nothing like the virus or any of the other times she had been acting off. This had been a full blown system failure like none that he had seen in many, many vorns. Pit, even Prowl had never been quite to this level when he glitched out, and Jazz would know, seeing as he had called himself the other mech's watcher back during the war. The tactician just sometimes couldn't handle the strain on his processors.

It didn't help that the fragging twins had picked up on it and attempted to fry a few circuits, either.

"Good orn, Prime."

"Good orn, Femme Crosswire."

Jazz snapped out of his thoughts as Crosswire sent him a mental nudge, straightening and offering the Prime a short nod of his helm.

"Good orn, Jazz."

Optimus looked… better. Better than he had been before Bumblebee had been repaired and the pair of cassette femmes had explained the whole bond thing to the poor youngling before he and his human charge left base to go back to Primus knew where. Definitely better than when Jazz had been laid up with his injuries as well. Thank the gods that Ratchet had had enough spare parts and Decepticons to strip of what he needed to recreate his damaged limbs, or he would have likely offlined eventually from the rust.

"Good orn, Optimus." He replied automatically. "Prime."

"No, no. There is no need for such titles for you, my friend. Especially not that your position as my Second in Command will be made official."

There was grief there on both their parts.

Prowl had disappeared after Praxus' destruction. Whether he had been captured or offlined no one knew, but Jazz had taken the position of SIC during the emergency. But he knew that the tactician was the one who had earned the title, not him. He was just the saboteur, the one who tried to keep everything light and full of laughter while the world crumbled around them.

"Of course." He nodded. "No doub' Ratchet'll have fun engravin' mah insignia later."

"Will I have to get insignias done as well?" Crosswire enquired from the pair's pedes, drawing their attention to the silver femme.

::It wouldn't hurt, would it?:: Optimus enquired over their comm-link.

::Ah suppose not. Though wouldn' she technically be actin' Femme Commander with Elita missin'? Not tha' Ah think we should replace her, just make sure we have our bases covered.:: Jazz mused, hoping he wasn't overstepping his bounds.

Optimus vented heavily, alerting Crosswire to their conversation, but she allowed them to discuss it on their own, keeping her firewalls up so as not to intrude.

::While Elita is currently missing, it may not be a bad idea. However, I believe she would benefit from the insignias as SIC as much as you. She is, after all, your cassette.:: -Optimus Prime

::Ah understan', sir.:: -Jazz

Optimus offered him a faint quirk of his lip-plates.

::Above all, I am grateful for you to be back on your pedes. We will need all the help we can get in the coming months here on this planet.:: -Optimus Prime

Jazz nodded before looking down to Crosswire, who was watching him acutely with her dark blue optics.

"It looks like Doc-Bot gets ta have fun with two of us today, femme." He replied. "Lucky us."

"SABERLINE! WHERE ARE- Oh. Optimus." The Weapons Specialist greeted as he appeared around a corner, obviously not expecting the gathering he found.

"Ironhide." Optimus greeted, a smile definitely on his faceplates. "Looking for your cassette?"

"Blasted creature rewired my blasted cannons to only shoot some cursed thing called "glitter"." The black mech growled. "When I get my servos on that femme…"

"I'm sure you'll have plenty of time for that later. We should all get going. I believe we are being summoned by Ratchet." The Prime cocked his helm to one side as he received a comm. "Apparently we are running late by his standards."

"The day we're on time according to Ratchet's clock is the day the Pit freezes over." Ironhide muttered. "Never happy with anybot."

"It could be because you're a terrible patient." Saberline piped up from his shoulder, having just dropped out of a vent and landing on the limb. "Then again, so was I…"

"YOU!"

Saberline leapt from his shoulder and tore off down the corridor, Ironhide close behind as he snarled threats at the much smaller cassette, leaving the remainder of the group to follow at a much more sedate pace.

"An' she's always like tha', ya said?"

"Unfortunately."