Author Note: Happy (belated) St. Nicholas Day! I had planned on having this chapter up in time but yeah… Better late than never, right?

Many thanks to Dark Scimitar for the lovely review to the last chapter! I'm glad you liked it, and I hope my other readers liked it too? Any feedback is welcome!

This chapter is – as the title suggests – paced relatively slowly, but don't worry. We'll be picking up action again soon. :) Now enjoy!

– chapter twenty-five –

The Calm Before The Storm

It was around nine thirty p.m. when Jack walked into the bedroom he shared with Raf. The younger boy sat on his bed and peeled his socks off. "Hey, Jack," he greeted.

"Hey yourself," Jack returned and sat down on his own bed. "How was your evening?"

Raf shrugged. "Quite busy. Perceptor has started assembling his so called geothermal reader, much to Wheeljack's delight and Ratchet's exasperation." He chuckled. "You should have heard them bickering, like an old married couple."

Jack snickered at the image. "Sounds like you had some entertainment."

Raf shrugged again and stood, grabbing his pajamas. "It was all right," he said and walked into the ensuite bathroom. "What about you?" he called back through the half-open door.

Jack laid back on top of his bedcovers, crossing his arms beneath his head. "I assisted Fowler with some paperwork," he replied, staring up at the ceiling. "Nothing exciting." He wasn't entirely truthful with Raf, but Jack supposed he could hardly divulge sensitive information from military reports, even if he himself had been 'allowed' to read them.

Raf continued puttering about the bathroom for some more moments before returning and getting ready for bed. "What are you going to do tomorrow?"

Shrugging but not moving otherwise, Jack mused, "No idea. Maybe help Fowler again. There's not much else to do anyway, not when you're grounded and not allowed to see the Autobots."

"Ouch. Your mom's vicious," Raf sympathized, snuggling under his bedcover and facing him. "How long's your sentence?"

"She didn't say. I guess until she deems me responsible again."

As there was no reply to that, Raf remained silent. Jack continued staring up at the ceiling, lost in thoughts. Thanks to his nap and because paperwork was no arduous task – neither mentally nor physically – Jack didn't feel tired at all. He was wide awake and just knew he wouldn't find sleep anytime soon. He let his mind wander while listening to Raf's breathing even out after a while. When Jack eventually glanced at the younger boy, he was sound asleep. His gaze wandered even further until he could see the clock: it read eleven p.m. And the building was utterly silent.

Still not tired, Jack got up and put his shoes back on, then tiptoed out of the room, dousing the light before closing the door. The hallway was still lit, but he passed no one on his way out of the building and across the base back to the Autobots' shuttle. He needed to check on how Arcee was doing, but with his punishment, he couldn't do that when his mother might catch him. His only chance were night-time visits.

No one stopped his advance across the quiet base, and the shuttle's ramp was still lowered, an invitation by itself. He walked aboard without hesitation.

As soon as Jack rounded the final corner toward medbay, he could hear Ratchet ranting, swearing up a storm. Jack had no idea why. Did Arcee pester him somehow? he wondered, only to immediately dismiss this idea again. She wouldn't do that to Ratchet, especially not now when the doc bot was always tense and about to explode at the slightest provocation. Jack tried understanding what was said in-between all the expletives but couldn't. The sounds carried through the hallway but not the actual words.

When he eventually reached the medbay and walked in, it was to a completely different sight than during his last visit. For one, Arcee was gone, her med table empty. Ratchet stood over Jazz's form in an aggressive posture, a wrench in his hand. "– fragging glitched pitspawn," he was just thundering. "Can't even remember your own promises anymore?"

Much to Jack's surprise and excitement, Jazz replied in a cheeky tone, "Ah did come back online, ya know?" There was a wince and a clang.

"Barely functioning, glitch. You call that 'online'?" The wrench disappeared all of a sudden, and Ratchet reached out to Jazz. "Primus, stay still or you're going to rupture something, slagger." His hands then transformed into one tool or another and disappeared in Jazz's innards.

Jack stood frozen on the threshold, his mouth opening and closing, unsure of what he could – or should! – say. Eventually, Ratchet moved around the med table and Jack had an unobstructed view on Jazz. The saboteur almost immediately noticed him. "Hiya, Jack," he greeted with a grin. "How're ya doin'?"

The doc bot looked up from where he'd been cleaning something at the counter. "Back again?" he asked, sounding quite tired.

Jack finally took a few steps further into the medbay but stopped when he was about to lose sight of Jazz. "How…" he began. "You… you're awake."

Jazz started to sit up. Ratchet immediately slapped the back of the saboteur's helm with the suddenly reappeared wrench. "What did I say about remaining still?" he thundered, all fatigue forgotten. "Lay down or I weld you to the berth!"

The saboteur complied with a groan, most likely only because he had realized how foolish he'd be if he got up in his current condition. "Slag," he grumbled, more to himself than to Ratchet or Jack.

Ratchet did something to Jazz's innards again. "Give it time," he said, gentle once more. "You were a mess when they got you out. That much damage needs time to heal. Don't expect a miracle to happen."

The saboteur turned his head toward the medic and grinned cheekily. "Ah know ya can work miracles, doc bot." That earned him another slap against his head with the wrench. "Ow, Ratch, that fragging hurts!"

"Then maybe you stop being a glitch and start listening to medical advice," Ratchet returned with a growl.

Whatever Jazz might have wanted to reply died on his lips when another bot stepped into the medbay, making Jack scurry out of the way and seek shelter before he got underfoot; he hid beneath the empty med table. "You should by now have learned not to provoke Ratchet. We could hear him all the way to the bridge."

The saboteur's expression lightened up. "Heya, Prowler! Come ta visit meh?"

Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. Prowler? He glanced up at the tactician.

The bot in question remained impassive. "Hardly," he responded blandly. "I'm only here to receive Ratchet's report on your status, and your report on the last mission."

Venting air through his vents, Jazz complained, "We hafta work on ya social skills – again."

Prowl didn't respond to that, his attention now fully on Ratchet. The medic shook his head at Jazz's antics before turning toward the tactician. "He's improving nicely now that his spark stopped fluttering. I'll give his repair systems another quarter joor to stabilize his neural network, then I'll hook him to an energon drip which should refill his energy reserves and speed up his internal repair systems."

Nodding, Prowl asked, "How long until you can release him to light duty?"

Jazz sullenly muttered, "He's right here and can hear ya." Jack had to suppress a chuckle.

Ratchet shrugged, ignoring the saboteur. "Provided the slagger actually remains lying still the entire time until he's released, I'd say in two joors. However, knowing his distaste for following medical orders, a day longer."

"I see."

Jack spoke up. "I could keep Jazz company if it means he won't feel the need to get up too early." That caused all three bots to look down at him, and if Jack were honest, it was a little intimidating.

"Aren't you needed elsewhere?" Ratchet asked in an exasperated tone. "I thought your mother had grounded you."

"Yeah, well…" Jack shrugged. "What could possibly happen to me here? Besides, going to Cybertron had been even more dangerous than rescuing Jazz." He knew his mother wouldn't see it that way but what was the saying? "What she doesn't know she won't grieve over," he added, addressing it to Prowl in particular because the tactician was scrutinizing him in a manner that disconcerted Jack. He wouldn't rat me out, would he? he wondered.

After a while, Prowl said, "If you can actually manage to keep him mentally occupied that long, I will commend you." After that, he strode out of the medbay without another word.

Wait, what? Jack blinked in surprise. "Eh…" That was too easy… he thought and looked up.

His chosen comrade met his gaze dead on, wolfishly grinning down at him. "Ya chose," the saboteur sing-sang.

Ratchet bent down and offered Jack a lift up to Arcee's med table. "Why do I have the feeling I just signed my own sentence?" he asked the doc bot.

The medic chuckled whilst Jazz guffawed. "Because you just did. Now, keep him occupied. I have to go see how the engineers are doing with the fitting of Arcee's new knee joint." He brandished his wrench at the injured saboteur. "And for the last time, fragger, stay down and still or else!" Then he too strode out of the room, leaving Jack alone with a still chortling Jazz.

Jack glanced at the saboteur, desperately trying to think of a topic with which to keep Jazz occupied. He came up empty. I'll never again open my mouth before having thought something through, he swore to himself.

But then the saboteur stopped chuckling and asked, "So, you an' Steelie actually managed ta get meh out. Pretty impressive for someone that small."

"Hey!" Sniffing indignantly, Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You're one to talk. There's lots of bots bigger than you."

Jazz wriggled around a bit, seemingly looking for a more comfortable position. Once he found it, he said, "Ah didna mean compared ta other humans but ta Cybertronians. Ah know best that size isna everythin'." He indicated himself.

Jack sat down on the med table cross-legged and made a noncommitted sound.

"Ah'm wondering how ya pulled that off," Jazz continued curiously, prompting Jack to tell him more without actually asking.

Shrugging, Jack replied, "We were rescued. Without the backup – I didn't even know we'd asked for – we'd be screwed."

"Who did they send?"

"Dude, what's with the questioning?" Jack complained. "Isn't it enough that I already got debriefed by Prowl?"

Jazz barked a laugh at that one. "Ah donna envy ya," he said with a wide grin that told Jack the saboteur had way too much fun with him. "As Prowler isna telling meh anythin' as long as Ah'm on medical leave, Ah'll hafta bother you for information."

Suddenly, Jack remembered something. "Wait a sec. Didn't Prowl want a report from you? But he left without it."

"Naw, he got it a'right. Ya just didna notice for Ah simply forwarded him mah memory cache. That's all he really needs."

"Oh." Jack scratched the back of his head. "Should've guessed that. He told me as much himself when debriefing me. Heh." Another thought occurred to him. "So why didn't Ratchet do the same?"

Jazz shrugged. "Ratch likes ta hand his reports over verbally so that his patients can hear it too and donna hafta pester him again. All the medics usually handle it that way."

"Oh, okay."

The saboteur peered at Jack closely. "Ah'll have ya know that yar attempt at distraction doesna work with meh. Ya still owe meh an answer."

"Damn! You noticed," Jack complained exaggeratedly, making the saboteur snicker. He grinned but turned serious again a moment later. Sighing and scrubbing his face, Jack tried to remember who had been on their rescue team. "Bumblebee was there," he then offered, "the other three I don't know. One of them was named Sides? Not sure if I got that right. Another one was a good shot; he hit every bot he aimed at. Ironhide was waiting ahead, at some distance, and even further still were Prowl and Ratchet."

"Sides's color was red, wasn't it?" Jack nodded, surprised Jazz would know that. "That'd be Sideswipe, one of our frontliners," the saboteur offered. "Great warrior albeit a loose cannon, and an even greater prankster. Stay on his good side or ya'll be his next victim." Jazz pursed his lips, then added pensively more to himself than directed at Jack, "Wonder if his brother already returned…"

Jack blinked. "Brother?" Steeljaw called Blaster's other symbiotes 'brothers,' but according to Bulkhead, they weren't considered siblings by Cybertronian standards. Wait, what about the two injured Autobots that had arrived in those pods? Jack hadn't seen them since Ratchet pulled them out of the pods, and now he wondered what had become of them. And what kind of brothers they were. He knew that Cybertronians didn't procreate like humans, so they couldn't have the same familial structures, or could they? "Do you mean brother as in… human-style brother? Or more like blood-brother?"

"Naw, Ah mean brother as in spark-brother." Jazz wriggled again, then started propping himself up to his elbows. He didn't get far; as soon as he bent his left arm, he hissed and instantly lay back down, then uttered a curse.

Jack couldn't help but admonish him. "What did Ratchet tell you about lying still? Do I have to report you to the doc bot?"

The saboteur snickered and turned to look at him, his optics flashing. "Ah dare ya ta," he challenged.

"You're on," Jack accepted playfully. He really liked Jazz's lively attitude despite the pain he must be in from all those wounds. In a more serious tone, he then asked, "What does 'spark-brother' mean? Sounds like really close, but I thought you guys didn't have parents like we humans do."

Jazz shrugged. "We donna. We might share the same creator, but even then ya wouldna really consider us siblings the way ya'd understand it. However, every once in a while it happens that a spark splits upon creation, before it can be housed in its designated frame. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are such spark-split brothers. The best word to explain their relation to you humans would be 'twins.'"

"Okay…" Jack said, amazed. Who would have thought Cybertronians actually had twins! "So, each has only half a spark?" he asked, curious to learn more.

"Yep," the saboteur replied. "It's extremely rare though. There's only like half a dozen or so twins recorded throughout history."

"Wow." Jack wondered what it would be like to have only half a spark. Would it hurt? Did twins need to be close to each other to feel complete? Just then Jack registered what else Jazz had told him: They usually didn't have siblings. Each and every Cybertronian was – in a way – an only child, the only exception being spark-split twins. But Jazz had had a brother…?

Uncertain about the saboteur's reaction, Jack carefully ventured, "Jazz, may I… ask you something?"

The saboteur looked at him. "What d'ya wanna know?" he queried amiably.

Jack gulped; it was a sensitive topic but it just wouldn't let him leave it alone. "Well… back when we found you, you were… sort of delirious. You talked… and it made no sense." How best to phrase it? he wondered, then blurted, "Something about your brother." Jack hesitatingly glanced over at Jazz, wondering how he'd take it. The saboteur's optics were closed but Jack knew the bot wasn't in recharge. "But now you said you cannot really have brothers like we humans can."

For a while nothing happened. Then Jazz allowed, "Sometimes, bots with the same creator would care deeply for each other, forming a close friendship. That's what Ricochet an' Ah had. He was created first. Our creator was killed in an accident not soon after Ah was sparked. Ricochet took care of meh until Ah upgraded ta an adult."

Jack could almost envision what that relationship might have been like. "What happened to him?" he queried softly.

Jazz ex-vented; it sounded like a long, suffering sigh. "He was killed during an infiltration," the saboteur then said. He spoke quietly, staring up at the ceiling, his gaze far away. "Ah hacked inta the 'cons' base while he provided cover. Ah accidentally triggered the alarm. They surrounded us. Due to an automated shutdown of the database, Ah was imprisoned an' couldna help him." His fingers flexed before being balled into fists. "When they pulled meh out and Ah had my senses back, his frame lay unmoving in a corner, a hole glaring in his chestplates." Jack didn't need to hear more, being able to guess the rest, but after another moment, Jazz nonetheless added in a whisper, "His spark had been shot out."

A tear was running down his cheek. Jack wiped it away. "I'm sorry," he then said quietly.

Jazz had closed his optics again, a pained expression on his face. "Meh too."

He felt his spark flutter in its casing, the memories of Ricochet haunting his processor. He felt like he'd just laid optics on his brother's grayed frame, felt like it happened just moments ago that the spark that had provided him with care since their creator's death was snuffed out. He had wanted to forget this darkest hour, but time once again proved he could not bury the memories forever. There was always the option of simply deleting them but he would never do that to his brother's memento.

He halfway expected Jack to dig deeper, to get more information out of him. But the human youngling remained silent, giving Jazz the time he needed to wrestle his demons back into their cages. Jazz was grateful. The boy showed a maturity he would not have believed possible in someone this young.

Eventually, Jazz had regained control over his emotions and turned his head to look at his small chaperone. The boy had lain down at one point and was now fast asleep. Jazz listened closely to the deep breathing for a moment, the steady rhythm a balm for his troubled spark. He smiled, allowing the feeling of peace to wash over him.

The silence was interrupted when Ratchet returned. He stopped on the threshold at the sight of Jack curled up on his side, then quickly scanned him. Only after having reassured himself the boy was fine did he turn his probing gaze onto the saboteur. "I'm surprised you're still flat on your back," he said after a moment by way of greeting.

Jazz grinned. "Ah had a companion keeping meh occupied."

The medic snorted and walked to the counter. "I don't want to know."

Chuckling, Jazz watched the CMO rummage around the cabinets holding the med-grade energon cubes. "How's Arcee?" he eventually queried. He had been wondering why Jack had visited him instead of his partner but didn't think of asking the boy.

Ratchet put two cubes onto the counter top and straightened again. "Better than you. The fitting went well, and Hoist should have her new joint wired in by sunrise. We have scheduled the reattachment of her lower leg for after the humans' breakfast."

"Good." He might not have known the femme before coming to this planet, but she was an Autobot and therefore one of his soldiers. He owed it to her to ask about her well-being. Speaking of his comrades: "And how are Fireflight an' Skydive doing? Ya never said anythin'."

The doc ceased all activity, ex-vented and hung his head, leaning onto the counter for support. Jazz blinked, dread growing in his spark. Ratchet's reaction made him fear the worst just then, and his suspicions were confirmed when the medic slowly said, "Fireflight… went into the Well… There was nothing we could have done. His chamber's containment shielding was working as supposed to. We didn't expect his spark to… just fade away when attempting to bring him online." He paused for a moment, then added, "Skydive is still in stasis. We don't want to lose him too so we're keeping him offline for the time being."

Jazz closed his optics and ex-vented. Another fatality. Would it ever end? "It wasna ya fault."

Ratchet growled. "I'm the CMO. Of course it's my fault," he barked. It wasn't the first time Ratchet wanted to take responsibility for a death he couldn't have prevented. Jazz therefore dropped the topic, knowing Ratchet would deal with it in his own time and manner.

Silence settled over them, only interrupted by the medic's fiddling with the transfusion pump. Eventually, Ratchet turned around and stepped up to Jazz's berth, a datapad with scanner in his servos. "Now be still. The more you move, the longer it will take." The saboteur had no chance to reply before Ratchet plugged the datapad into his primary dataport and commenced the scan without fanfare.

Jazz mentally relaxed as much as possible. The scan didn't hurt per se, but it was far from comfortable. The best way to get through it as quickly as possible was to not fight it. He chose to watch Ratchet, knowing he'd see a complication in the medic's expression before Ratchet said anything. The term 'poker face' simply didn't exist in the doc bot's vocabulary.

The scan was over before Jazz really knew it. "All systems function within the normal variance, the sole exception being your energy reserves." Ratchet unplugged the datapad and said, "You can count yourself lucky, slagger."

Jazz vented a relieved sigh at being the sole occupant in his processor again, then grinned cheekily up at the medic. "Primus just loves meh."

Ratchet snorted and with practiced moves hooked up the energon drip. Then he stemmed his servos on his hips and glared down at the saboteur. "You already know the procedure but as you seem to continuously need the reminder: If you so much as move a finger, I'm going to weld you to that berth. Compute?"

Rolling his optics and earning himself a slap for that, Jazz grumbled, "Fine, Ah won't move."

"I dare you to," Ratchet added and gestured at him warningly. Then, all of a sudden, his optics started flickering, indicating an incoming message via comm link. The longer that took, however, the sourer the medic's expression became. When Ratchet refocused on his surroundings, he was scowling, his optics tightened to slits. "That fragging glitch…" he growled ominously, barely suppressing his wrath, and stalked out of the medbay, heading for the command center. Jazz chuckled darkly; he didn't envy the poor spark that had enraged Ratchet.

As soon as the doc's steps had faded, silence descended over the medbay. Jazz used the momentary quiet to run a diagnostic on his systems. The energon drip was already showing first results; his energy levels had risen to forty-five percent. He'd only need another twenty percent energy to be out of the worst, but knowing Ratchet, the doc would only release him back to duty when all of his systems proved fully recovered.

He also checked his comm link, trying to establish connection with the command channel. But the system had been disabled. Ratchet had cut him off from all communication lines, even private messaging. Slaggin' medic, he thought and tried overriding the medical locks – without much success.

The silence ended abruptly when there came a loud crash that shook the entire shuttle, followed by raised voices. The noise catapulted Jack out of recharge. The boy sat up ramrod straight, his expression frantic. "What is that? Another earthquake?" he asked, now looking for the quickest way off the berth.

Jazz chuckled. "Nope," he said, "no earthquake. Just Ratchet on the warpath."

The boy blinked at him, shocked and surprised at the same time. "Huh?" He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, trying to look more alert. "Are you sure?" He no longer sounded panicked but had not yet fully calmed down again.

"Yep. I'd recognize the doc's dulcet tones three kliks against the wind." He snickered, and Jack cracked a grin.

In that moment, said grumbling medic returned, making a direct beeline for the counter cabinets, all the while muttering darkly beneath his breath, "Fragging Pit spawn, thinks he's oh so clever and has everything under control. Hah! Wouldn't be surprised if somebot clobbered all rationality out of the glitch during the last battle!"

The description of the bot responsible for the medic's current rant sounded very familiar. Grinning gleefully, Jazz queried, "What did Prowler do?"

Ratchet grunted and pulled some medical equipment out of a cabinet. "The slagger thinks it's better to send me up to the shuttle instead of getting my patient down. Glitch!"

Shuttle? Jazz thought, perking up. "Which shuttle has returned?" he asked.

Standing up straight and proceeding to sort through the box he had unearthed, Ratchet replied, "Mirage's squad took up orbit earlier this day. They've been ordered to stay up there and survey the enemies' movements." He huffed, disgruntled, and put the box back into its cabinet. "Cosmos is supposed to take me as soon as I'm ready."

"Mirage is injured?" Jazz asked in alarm. The spy's upgrades would be quite useful, but only if the mech wasn't incapacitated.

Ratchet shut the next cabinet door with more force than necessary. "No. Sunstreaker."

Jazz ex-vented. "That'll make Sides happy…"

"Uh-huh," Ratchet agreed, subspacing his tools. "Mirage is coming down once I'm up. If I understood that correctly, Prowl already has another mission for him."

At that, Jack stood. "So the bot that can turn himself invisible is named Mirage?"

Before anyone could answer him, Cosmos appeared. "You ready, Ratchet? Sideswipe is itching for Sunstreaker to make a quick recovery."

"Of course he is!" the medic exclaimed in exasperation while already moving toward the door. He shooed Cosmos out, but before he followed, Ratchet swiveled around and leveled a dark glare in Jazz's direction. "Don't even think about leaving that berth while I'm gone," he threatened. "I mean it, Jazz."

The doc was worrying too much in Jazz's opinion, but to appease the medic he said, "Ah willna move, Ah promise."

Ratchet's optics narrowed to tiny slits. "Hopefully you'll keep your promise this time." He didn't give Jazz the chance for a cheeky comeback, simply turned on the spot and was gone.

Author Note: Reviews are love.