Fandom: Transformers G1
Pairing: Skywarp/Ezara
Rating:
Codes: Het
Summary:

Wanderer's Home acr 2 pt 21: Privacy No More

Jazz watched from the berth as Ezara guided them out of the range of Cybertron's defenses and into deep space on a course to Earth. It was weird, to think that this little ship could make the distance in a single Earth day. A little unnerving to think that their newest capitol ships could make it in one sixtieth of that.

Right now, though, his focus was on the new not-so-new Autobots that would be shadowing Ezara everywhere for the next five to six Earth years. It was his job to know every bot, know their secrets, their needs, their processes. To understand them well enough to see a snap coming in time to prevent it. In a way, this was like any other effort to get to know a couple new recruits.

But it wasn't. These two had first hand memories of guarding the Primes all the way back to Alpha and had personally known Sentinel, the Golden Age, and in Skjöldur's case, even known Nova. Which meant she'd do doubt fought in his campaigns, then turned around and dismantled what had been claimed with the lives of her comrades.

It still bothered the back of his processor though. He was sure there were no femmes in the Guard, especially not under Nova Prime. He'd had little use for them. He'd never give one such an important position.

Were they just femme personalities in male bodies back then?

Or male ones that had gotten stuck in femme bodies thanks to Ezara's predecessors wanting to keep her out of their berths?

"Things're gonna be different on Earth," he mentioned, opening up the conversation. "Things aren't as bad as they are back home."

"How different from when Sentinel Prime fell?" Whippoorwill turned to face him, her visor up and battle mask retracted. "Do we control the planet, at least?"

"Depends on what y'mean - it's not 'our' planet, but we've got the locals on our side, and Megatron isn't running things. The shipments we've made t'Cybertron are a good sign of it - all willingly given in exchange for helping 'em with the 'Cons."

"Better than Cybertron," she nodded agreeably. "You've grown up well," she smiled at him. An honest smile he thought.

Did she know him better than he thought?

To most, she and Skjöldur were focused fully on Jazz. To the experienced spy, they were paying most of their attention to Ezara and the instruments, even though they were facing him and Whippoorwill had her naturally relaxed manner fully in place. Two natural infiltrators dancing around each other. Each fully aware of the other's nature, and that the other knew what they were. Each probing for strengths and weaknesses. They could keep this up for vorn and learn little if they both intended to keep their secrets.

Each doing their job. What they did best. Each willing to do anything to protect those in their charge, even if it meant their charge could never look at them again if their actions were discovered.

And they both knew that was what was happening. It was time to quit wasting time with it.

"Mind if I cut through th'slag?" He said. "We both want t'get a feel fer each other, we'll spend th'whole trip dancing around each other wi'out really findin' anythin' out - let's just get to th'point, why don' we?"

Whippoorwill laughed, an easy, light sound. "Sure thing, Saboteur. Ask away," she was still grinning in absolute amusement.

"Before the rebellion, who were you?" He asked her bluntly. "I don't remember any femmes in Sentinel's Guard, and certainly not in Nova's. If it's just a mismatch with the bodies, that makes sense, but I have to know."

"When you get a chance, you can look our names up. We didn't change them," she answered, relaxing against the wall of the small space. "I've been mech and femme both, rebuilt more times than I care to remember for various reasons. As long as it's small, fast and maneuverable it never made a difference to me," she shrugged. "Whatever makes folks attached to being one or the other never took in me.

"Skjöldur's," she glanced at her companion, silently double-checking before she spoke. "Been rebuilt a few times too, though not to the same extent. It's just a frame. It does the job. It's all either of us ever wanted of it."

"So your minds are basically neuter at this point," he nodded slightly. "Sorry about that, but given what we've seen for the most part, it was a serious question given your history."

"We knew it would be asked eventually, once we transformed as femmes," Whippoorwill nodded, her posture still at ease. "Either from someone checking the records or someone just checking. Believe me, it's a conversation I've had more than once over the vorn."

"Fair enough," he chuckled. "So, I've asked you one - why don't you hit me with one of yours?"

Whippoorwill considered him, about to speak, when she shot a startled glance at her sister and laughed. "You know he's not," she continued to snicker as she turned back to Jazz. "What got you into SpecOps? Besides Whiplash, that is."

"I was damn good at it," he chuckled lowly. "I was a cop with Prowl in Iacon, mostly did undercover work. Whiplash noticed me when he figured out who I was - fortunately, he was on my side too."

"Do you like it, more than being a cop?" she asked with apparent honest curiosity.

"Are you kidding?" He chuckled. "I don't have to go undercover just to catch some petty crook who isn't actually doing any real harm, don't have to deal with as many regs, don't have to screw around with near as much. More importantly, I am actually making a real difference. Wasn't always sure about that as a cop."

"Nice to hear something good came of the mess," her smile turned a little sad, but only for a moment. "Just how secure is the Ark?"

"Depends on what we're dealing with. The Ark is pretty secure now that Spike and Sparkplug know what to look for though. We keep a good eye on things, and Teletraan-1 can recognize the 'Cons we know about on Earth."

He saw before he'd even finished that it wasn't what she'd wanted.

"My team does its best," he answered her. "I get into Nemesis far more often than they get into the Ark."

"Who gets into the Ark?" Whippoorwill asked with unusual bluntness.

"The Cassetticons," Jazz answered. "Ravage and Laserbeak primarily. They don't usually make it in far - usually one of us spots them before they make it much past getting close, but Ravages' cloak can be a problem for some of us, and we still haven't figured out a way to jam it reliably."

"Ravage is a sweetheart," Ezara spoke up, the first indication that she'd been listening. "Intel breach, not danger."

"Sweetheart?" Whippoorwill looked over at her. "Lover?" she asked.

"Usta be," she acknowledged easily.

"Ezara hooked up with the Decepticons before coming over to us after Starscream tried blowing 'er up," Jazz nodded. "Skywarp might be talked into defecting 'cause of her, Ravage was another regular playmate."

"Soundwave and Megatron being the others," Ezara spoke up before she was asked. "Their defection is most unlikely."

"So try not to kill Skywarp?" Whippoorwill looked at her.

"That would be a plus," she flicked her chin up.

"So," Jazz asked, getting back to a few questions of his own, "how did you get onto the Guard? Were you created for it, back then, or come into it later?"

"Nah, no-one's created for the Guard, just reformatted," Whippoorwill shook her head. "First you prove your worth in your field, then you prove your willingness to die for him. Then, if he likes you, you get your upgrades for the job."

"So how'd the two of you get in?" He repeated curiously, fairly sure they wouldn't mind telling the stories.

"Skjöldur enlisted in Nova Prime's army early on, front line grunt. Made a name for himself in keeping his squad alive when no one else did, and going through more rebuilds than anyone else to do it. Halfway through his reign, Nova invited him to join the Guard.

"I was a thief, a petty criminal that got in way, way over her head one night. The Magistrate in Crystal City gave me a choice. Military, enforcers or prison for murder. I chose the enforcer. That was my third rebuild, into a mech. They gave me a sniper rifle and trained me to shoot on the wing," she shook her head with a bemused chuckle.

"The Captain didn't know what to make of me. I'm damn good at it, best at taking weapons out of a mech's hand. Even better at not getting hit, though I had to be rebuilt most of the times I did screw up," she dropped her face. "He knew what I'd been convicted of. He didn't understand how a murderer had such trouble pulling the trigger. So he stuck me in Intel, VICE, anywhere that my tendency to look pretty, flirt and learn far too much was useful.

"That was until I was playing arm guard for Sentinel Prime at a function in Crystal City. An explosion went off. Next thing that registers for me is laying on top of him with my back torn apart and half my internals gone. Another rebuild, a lot of training, and he put me on the team."

"So you were on his guard before you were actually one of his guard?" Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow. He'd heard of it, occasionally, but it wasn't typical to say the least - the Prime needed to trust his guards too much to slip in an undercover mech.

"No, I was his 'date' for the first ganon founding celebration of Crystal City," she shook her head. "Something to look pretty that passed the background checks. Why his Guard let me anywhere near him is still beyond me, but they did," she shrugged, then rolled her optics at Skjöldur. "The party line is that a telepath passed me."

"Not Soundwave, I hope," Jazz chuckled. "Though I'd believe it. So, you don't like kill missions?"

"No, it was before Soundwave was activated," she said easily. "Though not by much. He was to be Mindwarp's successor, an advisor to the Prime. Obviously it didn't work out."

"Obviously," he nodded. "He had potential; it's part of what makes him so dangerous now. Under Nova he'd probably have gotten along fine," he mused. "Just how much did you know about the high-ranking 'Cons before the war?"

Skjöldur gave a huff, and Whippoorwill nodded. "He would have loved Nova, and what Nova was doing. As for pre-war Cons ... probably as much as you know about the modern ones," she admitted quietly, her gaze distant. "It was my job. Technically the head of SpecOps may have answered to Prime, but the reality was that the position organized through me. He didn't have time for it, for the most part. Just enough time to keep SpecOps from off-lining certain mechs we wanted gone."

"Megatron," he guessed. "The folks on this ship, and Whiplash, are the main people who agree with that point of view. The Primes we've got these days are prone to major idealism... unfortunately, idealists don't win wars easily. The strange part is that, if anything, it's only gotten stronger for Prime through the whole war."

"Megatron, Shockwave, Soundwave, Quicksnap and Highvolt were the list," she said quietly. "We got two. Megatron ... he moved too fast. We all gave our lives for Prime, no hesitation," she smiled faintly, still proud of their actions that day. "But he caught on before we could get the harder targets. I gave up on understanding how a Prime thinks, just how mine reacts."

"You guys realize you're bordering on talking treason," Ezara said quietly from the pilot's seat.

"For the good of the Prime and the world," Whippoorwill turned her head to look at her. "Sometimes plausible deniability is the only answer."

"I'm not the one who disagrees with you," Ezara gave her a brief smile. "I'm Arena and SpecOps raised. You do what needs to be done and take the consequences when they come. Optimus is not so ... pragmatic."

"Neither was Sentinel," Whippoorwill nodded slightly.

"Besides - it's not treason to say y'dun understan' or agree with 'im," Jazz offered. "Just insubordination and maybe murder... important difference, from SpecOps POV. A' any rate, with that new knife, Megatron's gonna have to watch his back closer. Droppin' 'im in a fight even Prime wouldn't mind."

"No, just coming close," Ezara winked at him. "Dropping Megatron would be a very good use for it," she said with an approving purr and stood from her station to join him on the berth. She stretched out behind him and slid a hand along his thigh, encouraging him to lie down with her as she wrapped her arms around him. "Keep talking," she nuzzled his neck.

"Seeing how I deal with distractions?" He asked her with a chuckle. "Or just resting for a while?"

"Interesting conversation," she nuzzled him. "I know you can deal with distractions. Besides, we might as well get used to it," she murmured hotly in his audio receptor. "They'll be watching more than not."

"All right," he chuckled, turning his attention back to the others as she pressed against him. "So, how much can you tell us about your old squadmates, particularly the ones who still want back? It'd be good to have an idea what type of bodies to build."

"Windsong, Crashcourse and Noitefel are the ones who still want to come back," Whippoorwill relaxed as she worked up a profile of each of her former teammates for him.

"Noitefel is Head of the Guard, in charge of the unit. He came on board with Sentinel; had been his bodyguard when he was in the Senate and followed him as Prime. Damn good leader, has a real talent for reading folks better than they know themselves when it came to what they'd be good at. Probably the best politician of the lot of us. Another reason he was in charge. It takes more than experience to do well in the post.

"Noitefel ... I haven't heard that name in a long time," Jazz said thoughtfully. "It means Nightfall, right?"

"Yap," she nodded. "He never did say why he chose it, and I stopped asking pretty quick."

"What kind of body would he like?" Jazz asked.

"Mmm, mid-sized, reasonably fast. Cybertronian design, the more classic Autobot the better. He'll have a fit if you make him look alien right off," she chuckled, her eyes roaming over Jazz's prone form and the way Ezara was playing her hands over his sensory nodes.

"Crashcourse is like Skjöldur, all muscle, no personality. He's as intimidating as she is, and pretty much has the same job; get in the way of damage. He's going to want big, heavily armored and intimidating."

"I'm sure," Jazz bit back a low moan when Ezara slid a slender finger into the seam of his leg armor. "Windsong was another light, fast one, like me. His main gift was keeping Sentinel calm when things went bad. He's as good at PR too, and spinning what I learned into something Prime could stomach agreeing too, at least sometimes. Not so much a fighter, but he made our lives so much easier.

"Speaking of which, I know Optimus Prime has a long-time lover, and that she's not on Earth, or planning to join him. Windsong did that too, physical stress relief. There aren't many a Prime can relax with. It's part of our job too."

"With any luck, it shouldn't be that much of an issue," Jazz chuckled, pressing into Ezara's touch some. "Elita and Ezara are sharing, so to speak, until Ezara's forces arrive at least."

"So I understand," Whippoorwill nodded. "As his head of SpecOps, we do count on you to tell us things he'd rather not be know, when it's needed," she looked at him seriously. "The Guard may pride itself on knowing our charge, but I'm not so arrogant as to think they don't keep secrets from us, simply because we are so close."

"Of course," he nodded, stifling a moan as Ezara kissed along his neck and gently began to weave her energy field into his. "Though you might be surprised with Optimus, at least until the war's over. I think the whole lack of training issue has led him to basically follow the ideals everybody has of the 'right' type of Prime. That, and the fact that A3, Magnus and Prowl have been the ones who did the most to shape him."

"I remember Magnus," Whippoorwill sounded less than thrilled. "A fine soldier, good mid-grade officer, but not one who should have trained the Prime. Prowl, he's something special. I wish I'd have more of an opportunity to get to know him before the war."

"Well, you'll get the chance now, just remember that he's as dedicated to his job as you two are," Jazz grinned. "Y'fond of 'im before?"

She laughed playfully. "I knew him by reputation. We only met a few times, briefly. While I wouldn't object to his berth, his brilliant processor is more of the draw. I'm good at learning new tricks, and large-scale tactical is one of my less-developed skills. I'll never be great at it, but with a good enough teacher I can be more than passable. It's a useful skill for a Guard to have."

"M'mind's kind of focused that way," he smirked slightly, leaning into the kisses Ezara was laying down his neck and shoulder. "Y'r right though, he is good at it. Pro'ly be happy t'give you a few lessons too."

"I hope so," she paused, glanced at her sister and nodded. "How's Ratchet likely to take to a student?"

"Be glad to have somebody else to help with patchin' folks up," Jazz said with some confidence. "Not the easiest teacher, but 'e gets the job done."

Skjöldur huffed, a sound most would take for annoyance, but Jazz was already catching the subtleties in her vocalizations, as limited as they were. She wasn't nearly as unexpressive as most assumed. This sound was of amusement, or at least easy acceptance.

Ratchet would appreciate the quiet, steady strength she brought to the med bay, even if she never acquired more than a basic understanding of medicine.

He was still going over that, and other skills they may wish to learn, when Ezara shifted and pushed him flat on his back to claim a hard, hungry kiss.

Thinking would just have to wait for a while.