When she reached full consciousness, it was a slow progression.
— Ah. Good. It looks like the implant has pulled through. How are you feeling —
Fucking hell, if that was a feeling.
She turned to her side. A shiver started in the pit of her stomach, spreading to the reach of her limbs. Why was it so cold?
— Welcome back. Now, you might want to take it easy.
Her hand latched onto the stainless steel worktable to hoist herself up, but it tipped under her palm.
— Hey, HEY! I said 'take it easy.'..
The metal cart clattered to the floor.
She fell too.
-.-.-.-
Operating Naval Support Facility Diego Garcia, British Indian Ocean Territory
June 30th, 2008
0700 hours
A sea breeze floated through the entrance of the medical wing, the weather's final warning of an approaching storm, as Ratchet finally looked away from the workbench.
"Good Morning Major Kelling," he said.
Her arms were folded across her chest, her stance rigid and her face a mask of grim determination. "We need to fix our problem."
Ratchet scoured his mind to deduce what the woman was alluding to. As it turned out, he didn't have a single clue. "What problem?"
She sighed as she dropped her arms, marching towards the workbench. He found it amusing that in shortening the distance between them, she was forced to crane her neck to glare into his optics. "I'm referring to the soldiers who come into my office with stage three wounds every morning."
Ratchet shrugged, his response was largely impassive. "And this involves me?"
Her brow wrinkled as her aquamarine eyes narrowed. "It does. Because the culprit of their injuries is Ironhide."
He placed his palms flat on the surface of the workbench to support his upper body and leaned forward. "And?"
Just when he didn't think it possible, her eyes became paper thin slits. "He's one of yours."
The mech huffed a humorless laugh to which the woman snaked her head back in confusion. "If you think I have any authority over him, you are speaking to the wrong Autobot, Major."
"Oh trust me, the last thing I want is to broach the topic with you. But, your commander has been missing and clearly evading the responsibilities that a commander should be performing."
Ratchet ignored the slight, and instead pushed back from the workbench and turned to his computer terminal. "Being that this is an immediate concern, then you should confront Ironhide yourself."
"Don't turn your back on me." The way she had said it halted his fingers from pressing anymore keys. He'd only ever heard that aggressively clinical tone of voice used by one other person: himself. Ratchet obeyed her order, but he took his time. And when he faced her, he was certain he couldn't help his optics from taking in her clenched fists and the skin of her sun-kissed jaw, locked in tension. Her blue eyes were clouded with a rage he thought would have rivalled the inferno in Megatron's spark.
Yet, his internal response was in the least threatened. To his horror, he felt more like…
"Acknowledged, Major Kelling." Ratchet said tonelessly. "I'll speak to him, but there is no guarantee that he will...go any easier on the recruits."
Her borderline tantrum was displaced with her normal iron calm. "I've dealt with enough dead soldiers in the past. If there's something I can do now, then at least it won't be on my conscience when things go wrong."
Ratchet looked thoughtfully at the ceiling for a moment. "The point of being a doctor is not to separate yourself from death."
When she frowned, Ratchet smirked. "In fact, I'd argue we come as close to it as possible."
-.-.-.-
Langley Air Force Base, Virginia
June 29th, 2008
2230 hours
His audials picked up the dance of her tiny digits atop a keyboard as Jazz approached her station— doing his best to hide the limp in his gait.
She didn't spare him a greeting of acknowledgement, too preoccupied with work which could range from snooping through every employee's web search history to counter espionage. Maggie Madsen. Always the honest to Primus busy body. Her laboring concentration ushered into his processor an unbidden image of a certain Autobot whose memory had yet to age. The reminder of that young librarian brought a sad smile to his lips.
"What's cookin?" he said distractedly, in an attempt to banish the melancholic pang.
Without looking up she asked, "Did you catch that reading too this evening?"
"What reading?"
The clicking of the keys stopped and her eyes flicked to him. "It looked like an energon signature bursting along the west coast."
If it weren't for the fact that she'd caught him off guard with this newfound information, Jazz would've been proud of himself. He taught her everything about pinpointing Cybertronian presence by analyzing energon frequencies on radar charts. Though, in small part, he had to hand it to that squishy processor of hers— it made a good example of her species. Even if the humans were several cuts behind their time, Ratchet and Ironhide were wrong for not giving them enough credit for their adaptability.
"It's path has— had moved forty miles south," Maggie said. "But, I'm not sure. I'm estimating this happened over the course of two — maybe three hours. Damnit— how the hell could I miss something like this?" She shook her head and groaned. "I mean it could be nothing…"
"Wait, hold on," Jazz raised his hand. "Mind sending it to me, hun?"
She nodded curtly, typing away commands to send the file to his data pad.
When he extracted the device from his subspace, he immediately looked at the haptic display which informed him of Maggie's delivery.
The girl stared at him expectantly.
"Thanks a bunch." He winked at her. As his optics skimmed over the readings, he'd missed the blush dusting across her cheeks.
"What in the frag's name...?" Jazz breathed. His spark was a jitter in his chest.
Maggie's brows furrowed. "What? What happened?"
Jazz stowed away the data pad. Maggie gulped when he turned his back on her, shuffling towards his own station.
"Ring me up with NEST Ops," the mech ordered over his shoulder. "Lennox needs to see this."
-.-.-.-
Tranquility, California
June 29th, 2008
2030 hours
The families were just about thinning out and the park was losing its usual activity. With the last arms of sunlight retreating under the jagged horizon, the air could cool to a comfortable temperature.
It was another evening in paradise.
Kind of paradise. Any day without seeing a Decepticon was all he could ask for and…
He looked down his chest to a head of dark hair resting upon his abdomen.
Sam smiled. Yee-up. This was all he could ask for.
As the two teenagers lay on a blanket near the edge of the lake, they were completely unaware of a silver Audi watching them from the parking lot across the quiet water.
-.-.-.-
Operating Naval Support Facility Diego Garcia, British Indian Ocean Territory
June 30th, 2008
0816 hours
"So, you're sure you can call tomorrow?"
Lennox swallowed. He'd made a tally of all the broken promises he'd told this week alone, and the count was high enough to question his integrity as an officer.
— of course I can take leave for a week.
Sorry, babe. General said no.
His favorite…
— I'll call you tonight.
— On the night of—
I'll call you tomorrow?
Sucked back into the present, Lennox sputtered, "Yeah- YES. Will totally call you tomorrow. I'll have Epps remind me. Even will set an alarm on my watch. If I don't call, I owe him a drink."
Sarah raised a sharp brow so Lennox bared his teeth in a smile. Her expression underwent a slow progression from suspicious to indifferent.
"Alright, Will."
"I love you," he blurted out. "And Annie. Give her a kiss for me?"
His wife sent him a wan smile. He could tell she was trying her hardest to be optimistic. She was always a good sport. But, his assignment to Diego Garcia tested her limits and he could tell from one conversation to the next that her fortitude was becoming progressively non-existent.
"I will. Love you."
"Love you too—"
Idiot, you already said that.
The video chat ended first on her end. Tiredly, he unplugged the camera from the monitor and sat in his chair for a little while. Damnit, he missed his wife.
Several minutes passed when he decided to open his email as a distraction when the intercom crackled above his head.
"I wish to Pit your people knew what they were doing."
"Is this an emergency, Ironhide?"
"I'd say I'm a microspec away from a human-induced haywire."
"Then, you can forward your concerns to Ratchet. Or, at least to Major Kelling."
"What can a human do for me? You all live in a technological dark age. Besides, it's her glitching that's shortening my leash. All because you're all too soft. Soft clothes, soft faces...It's sad, really."
"It might seem that way to you, but we're making progress," Lennox retorted. "Training takes time."
"Progress my aft. I didn't have time to train in war," Ironhide snapped. "Sometimes I wish Jazz were here. He'd do better to take my place."
"Don't let Optimus hear you. You know how he feels about it."
"If putting a human in danger gets me out of this job, I'll do it too."
"From what I hear, there's a case of that every day. But, right now, Jazz can't do what you can do. You're the best fit for the job, Hide. No one on this island qualifies. The twins are still too young, and Bumblebee is hardly in a position to communicate...effectively. And you're not shit at it. Just...keep in mind most of these guys — before coming in— think the scariest thing on the planet is a pissed off mom."
"Tell you what, Will," Ironhide said, "You get me fleshlings who are competent, then I'll put the safety on."
"The point is not to kill them."
"How else do you expect them to learn?"
"Definitely not by killing them."
There was a pregnant pause— one that indicated to Lennox that some common sense was hopefully getting through Ironhide's thick head.
Rather than exhausting the matter any further, the mech switched gears and asked, "How's the scraplet?"
It took Lennox a moment to discern. "You mean my daughter?"
"No, I mean Bumblebee's right aft plate." Ironhide scoffed. "Of course, I mean...the...the mini...human. How is it doing?"
"She. Is good. Thank you for asking." Though it was on his mind, Lennox didn't bother to question what warranted the Autobot's concern. Regardless, he was still impressed the mech was capable of harboring an emotion besides resentment for mankind. "Maybe next leave I'll take you down with me, I'm sure she'd like to see you."
"If your mate allows it," was the petulant grumble.
"Sarah likes you," Lennox assured. "Don't worry about it."
"Is that how you express fondness on your planet? Marching out of the house with your primitive weapons pointed at their guests?"
Lennox smiled at the recollection, but as he passed a hand over his face, it disappeared. "I'm sure it could be in some cultures. Anyways, seriously, I have to go. Take it easy out there."
"Noted," Ironhide replied and the intercom clicked off.
Returning to his computer, and looked through his inbox. His eyebrow quirked on the most recent email.
FROM: Morshower, Glenn Commandant of the Marine Corps(morshower_cmc )
SENT: Saturday, June 29, 2007, 3:21 AM GMT+5:30
TO: Lennox, William NEST Ground Operations and Training Execution Commander (lennoxw .mil) (Ref: code 8555-65111-D1)
SUBJECT: ORDERS FOR YOUR IMMEDIATE CONSIDERATION
Lennox,
Heard there's not much luck in the applicant pool.
You might want to take a look at these.
Regards,
Morshower
\\end file\\
Lennox saw the attachments at the bottom of the email, and clicked on the first one.
[FILE OPEN]
The intercom crackled above his head again. As he entertained the notion that it was probably Ironhide, the sombre inflection of the voice halted any words of reprimand in his throat.
"Major Lennox."
The man perked up in his seat. He glanced out the window. Fifteen miles out, the white clouds were getting murky with gray.
"What's up, Optimus?"
"We need transport immediately. Sam is in danger."
-.-.-.-
Tranquility, California
June 29th, 2007
2039 hours
It was another day in hell. As he ran, his hand clutching Mikaela's who kept pace with his frantic strides, memories of Mission City flashed before his eyes.
"Come here, you rats!"
The mechanic beast howled, clumsily charging through the parked cars on the curb of the street. Its hand wedged the underside of one truck and hurled it towards the teenagers.
Sam, having seen the massive shadow cross over his, frantically backtracked, pushing Mikaela back. The truck slammed in front of them, landing upside down on the street. They missed the impact by mere inches, but Sam was beginning to think that was all the luck they'd be afforded. As he turned around, his arm guided Mikaela behind him. The mech stalked forwards, in every way the predator while they were in every way its prey.
Sam gulped. "What do you want!?" If the murder in its blood red eyes wasn't enough, the Decepticon opened its mouth and snarled.
"I want your head boy. As a souvenir for my lord."
With his eyes riveted to the mech, each of its cables vibrating with tension as it crouched, he barely felt Mikaela's cool touch on his arm, trembling just as his own muscles were in fear.
"What lord—" Sam choked.
In response to his ignorance, the Decepticon grinned, baring sharp black teeth as its eyes gleamed with hideous intent. It reached out with a taloned hand. One claw landed on the center of Sam's chest, scraping down his shirt.
"The Fallen—"
Before Sam could process the sensation of sharp metal pressing into his sternum, the Decepticon reared back in alarm, face turning to the side. Optics widened in time to meet the rocket which punched a hole into its face. In the gloom of the evening, Sam could see several dots of red light standing out upon the mech's major joints. Five quick whistles and each shot had its own bright blue trail blazing across the air and nesting into the Decepticon still disoriented from the first assault.
Sam stumbled backwards to the ground in surprise, accidentally pushing Mikaela closer to the overturned truck.
As Sam contemplated running away, all targeted points on the Decepticon detonated on its body and he fell forward, still alive. The Decepticon released a mighty roar while the sound of boots came around Sam and Mikaela from all sides, running with that precise speed that you would only hear with SWAT or special ops teams. A steel mesh net fell over the Decepticon, ends anchored into the concrete to hinder any movement and escape.
"Make sure he stays down," someone directed.
A group of black uniforms melted out of the shadows, brandishing their assault rifles refitted with mods he couldn't guess the use for. One man stepped forth clutching a remote in his hand. He waved to Sam without looking at him.
"Don't get any closer," he warned. "You'll be in for more than a shock."
Then, his thumb jammed one of the side buttons, activating a violent electric charge which flickered and arced in shades of violet. Sam had never seen anything like it in his physics lectures before. Amid the snap and crackle of current, the Decepticon screeched.
Even if it had come a breath from killing them, pity wormed its way into Sam's thoughts.
A blur of black guided its way into his peripherals, and he turned his head. The soldier held out a gloved hand.
Sam accepted it and was hauled to his feet.
"You…" He said unfinished, recognizing the determinedly dark gaze that studied his face.
She smiled.
"Long time no see."
AN: I hope I got the time zones correct. My arithmetic might be wrong.
For all readers, who have been with this fic, THANK YOU SO MUCH! Alot of renovations, plot redos have been made to this story, and I would like to say that your continued patience and support are always valued. Thank you again and I hope you have a good day.