Author's Note: Please forgive me not responding to reviews again. I'll be heading out of town for the Independence Day holiday and so my next post won't go up until mid-July. I didn't want to leave everyone hanging for that long and this chapter is ready to go. As always, a thousand thanks to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, or favorited this fic! Your encouragement keeps me writing. :) ~ Eowyn77


A hand rested on my shoulder, and I lifted my head from the desk to look into the eyes of Ratchet's holoform. He didn't say anything, just held my gaze. I quickly looked away.

I had no idea how long I'd sat here wallowing, but apparently the medic had decided it was time for me to pull myself up by own bootstraps and start acting like a Prime.

He pulled out a chair and sat opposite me, and when I looked at him, he was watching me carefully – sizing me up.

"Don't even start," I grumbled, rising to my feet and pacing again. "I'd be hanging out with Optimus right now if I wanted a pep talk."

"You want to grieve."

Thunderstruck, I stopped and slowly turned to stare at the holoform. How'd he know? How could he put a word to it when I hadn't even realized it myself…?

"The remarkable thing," he continued, as if he hadn't seen into my soul so clearly he may as well have used a bond, "is that you even feel the need. Will's team honored him with a moment of silence, more out of respect than true grief. You genuinely grieve Jazz now."

Defeated, I plopped into the chair opposite him. We sat in silence as the words hung in the air. He had thousands of years as a medic, and at least some of that had to involve psychology or whatever it was called among the 'bots.

Was it grief, then, that drove me out of the hangar and into hiding? Or was it embarrassment and shame? I searched my heart – acutely aware of Optimus' absence – and tried to decide. Was it a delayed but selfless grief at the loss of life or was it selfish wallowing in my failure? Maybe Ratchet was even smarter than I thought because it felt like it was a little of both, but he was giving me a vote of confidence by calling it grief. But then, he'd been the confidant of a Prime for a long time. If Lennox was like a human Ironhide for me, I fleetingly wondered who could ever hope to take Ratchet's role.

I lifted my eyes to his. "I guess so."

His gaze was still piercing. "I have seen humans grieve, but I won't bore you with all the details of the process. No doubt you are familiar with it already. I came here to thank you."

"To thank me," I numbly repeated.

He nodded solemnly. "For sparking hope."

I crumpled under the words and grimaced as I fought tears, hiding my face in my hands. He let me struggle with my emotions for a few minutes, not commenting.

Part of it was selfishness. I knew myself well enough to recognize that. I was embarrassed and felt like a failure. But I now realized that part of it was also grief, though not really for Jazz like Ratchet thought. It was more that I grieved not knowing him. I grieved that I never got the chance to really know this mech who was so important to my brother and all of the Autobots. I grieved that my only real memories of him were borrowed ones. I grieved that so many hopes for a changing of the tides in this war were dashed – no matter what Ratchet said. I grieved that the magic didn't extend to someone who deserved it so much.

I also grieved for myself, that I couldn't control the Matrix, that I wasn't as powerful as the 'bots needed me to be. Optimus had hardened his heart because he had to be the military leader his race needed, but what could I do in the face of this? How could I rise to the occasion and save the day? That was last time, not here and now. Here and now, I had failed them. How could I possibly face…?

"Calm down, Samuel," Ratchet said almost irritably. "Your core temperature is rising and your body's stress hormones are going crazy."

I grimaced but tried to focus on calming down. It would have been easier with Optimus' help, but I couldn't add my grief to what he must be feeling now.

"You misunderstand me, I think," Ratchet continued, when his scans finally showed that I wasn't freaking out as much. "To spark our hope and to realize our hope are two different things."

"I failed you." I lifted my head to meet his gaze. "You specifically. You worked hard to put Jazz back together. You're the medic, the one who's engaged in hand-to-hand combat with death…"

With an almost acid sarcasm, Ratchet said, "Samuel Prime, do you think I follow your brother because of his string of endless successes?"

I blinked in the face of that question, realizing that Optimus had lost more battles than he had won. Far more. It was almost shocking to think about – countless lives had been lost because Optimus refused to stop fighting his own brother. Their world had been torn apart; their race was on the brink of extinction. Many must have decided he wasn't worth following, not when his dogged determination to stop Megatron was causing so much damage.

Taking the bait, I asked, "Why do you follow him?"

"Because there are some things worse than death. That might be difficult for you to understand – you humans are surprisingly idealistic sometimes, especially when young – but I have seen some of those things. I have seen the tortured shells of those who fell into Decepticon hands and treated those who were unlucky enough to survive. My race does not often suffer from nightmares, but I still relive scenes from the fall of Metrotitan." He shook his head, trying to banish the memories. "I follow your brother because he is willing to put his own life on the line to fight such evil. He gives me hope that, one day, the only wounds I treat will be accidents, not violence."

"But in the meantime, you lose mechs like Jazz," I said, still frustrated. "And femmes like Moonracer."

He flinched at that. "How…?"

"Optimus. He showed me in a dream once. I'm sorry," I added, not knowing what else to say.

He nodded, accepting my condolences, but didn't let me derail him. "We have suffered losses," he steadily answered, and his frown twitched deeper. "And I will probably lose my own life in this war someday. But Jazz's was a quick, honorable death. I miss him, but I do not grieve for him."

I looked down at the table, trying to wrap my mind around what he was saying.

Gently, he continued, "I don't follow Optimus because he gives me peace; I follow him because he gives me hope for peace. And I follow you, Prime, not because you bring us all back to life at the drop of a hat, but because you give me hope that this war is not all in vain. You sacrificed your life to give Optimus back to us, and today's events do not change that one whit."

It felt like my heart stopped at his words when it finally clicked. They were disappointed that Jazz wasn't coming back, but they weren't disappointed in me. I was still a Prime in their eyes…optics…whatever. They had suffered deeper losses and worse setbacks. They didn't understand why it wasn't Jazz's fate, but they didn't need to because I was Samuel, a Prime by birth and Optimus' brother. Optimus was alive because of me and that was all they really cared about when it came to judging me.

When I reached across the bond for Optimus again, he was there with his permanent hug, waiting.

I lifted my head, meeting the holoform's gaze. "Okay. I can go back to the hangar now."

He nodded once and flickered out of existence.

They were all waiting for me – still, again, I wasn't sure which. Bumblebee was the only one who dared approach me, crouching down to search my eyes. "I'm okay," I murmured, holding his gaze. I glanced at Ratchet and then Optimus. My brother was careful to not impose his emotions on me, even though I could feel how anxious he was. I let my gaze drift to Ironhide, Arcee, Jolt…all around the room.

"I'm sorry," I said, and my voice – surprisingly calm – carried in the stillness. "We all had hopes for today, for Jazz. I'm sorry I couldn't bring him back." My gaze wandered back to Ratchet. "Thank you for giving me a while to deal with my own grief for his loss. You didn't have that luxury, I know, so I really appreciate it."

The words were stilted, awkward, but I didn't know what else to say. For a few seconds, the absolute silence of the hangar rang in my ears.

Finally, Optimus said, "We will make arrangements for his shell to be laid to rest again."

I reached out to him in gratitude, and he glompled me over the bond, his relief so strong it took my breath away.

Lennox led me back into the main Autobot hangar and crossed through to the human side of NEST, showing me to my quarters. As we walked, the humans around us were still really into the holiday spirit, preparing for New Years Eve, and it just struck me as wrong somehow. Two mechanics, a Brit and an American Southerner from the sound of their accents, were arguing about the music for the celebration that night.

"You can't have a New Years' Eve party without Auld Lang Syne," the Brit was saying.

"It's a stupid song," the Southerner drawled. "Nobody even knows what it means."

"Of course they do," the Brit archly answered. "It's just written in a Scottish brogue – you Uh-mare-i-cahns" he drawled, mocking his friend's accent, "would say 'for the good old times.' And I'll have you know it's played at everything from funerals to military graduations in England."

I wondered if they knew Jazz was supposed to be reignited today. I wondered if the 'bots would tell them what happened. Maybe they'd try to hide it. I couldn't find the emotional energy to care right then.

I sat on Bumblebee's hood, staring out over the ocean at the setting sun. I was tired, worn out with jet-lag, and today kind of sucked all the emotion out of me. Optimus was still careful to give me a little distance, and I knew I'd really upset him. I just didn't have it in me right now to make it up to him. Besides, that was probably something that would be better to work out in a bond dream.

Ratchet's words and Lennox's mixed and jumbled in my mind, and a part of me wanted to just shut it all out and go to sleep. But it was still all too raw – the grief and frustration and…and denial, I guess. Jazz's second chance at life shouldn't end with a shrug and everybody going back to what they were doing before, but I didn't know what else to do.

Randomly, the conversation between the two NEST mechanics drifted through my worn-out brain, and I asked 'Bee, "What does that stupid song mean, anyway? The Scottish one they play at New Years?"

He pulled up a version of the song that was a lot more English-sounding than Scottish. "Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?"

The song was old – so old it was a cliché. You couldn't have a New Year's scene in a movie without it. I knew the tune just like any other American (or apparently anybody else who spoke English), but I don't think I'd ever really listened the words before.

"For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne."

As sure as I was breathing, I knew what I needed, what we all needed. I hopped off 'Bee's hood and hurried over to his door. "I have to talk to Optimus."

My brother had sensed the change in my mood, and he tentatively reached across the bond toward me. My grief was still there, but it was laced with determination now, and he didn't even try to hide his curiosity. 'Bee and I found him alone in the hangar with Jazz's shell.

I opened my heart to his spark, hoping he'd understand what I was still trying to find words for in my own mind. "We need to have a funeral for Jazz. No, I take that back. We need to remember him."

"A memorial service," Optimus said in his not-quite-a-question way.

"Yes."

"Will and the others honored him…"

"No, I mean all of us – humans and Autobots."

Puzzlement flickered across the bond, followed by wistful gratitude. "We do not burden others with outward expressions of grief, Sam. It is not our way."

"But you can't grieve," I blurted out. "Not in the way you were made to. The clans…you grieved when you lost Moonracer, but you grieved as a clan. But you can't anymore. There are only two bonds on Earth right now." I glanced up 'Bee. "You do burden each other – and you strengthen each other. We grieve that way, too, but we have to kind of…do it externally. We don't have Autobot bonds, but we still grieve together."

Optimus glanced at 'Bee, uncertainty creeping across the bond, and I had a feeling that they were talking it over via comm.

"I want to do this," I reminded them both. "You were going to have a party for Jazz tonight anyway, right?"

"Yes," Optimus answered, aching weariness plain in his voice and in the bond.

"So let's still make this night about him."

He gave me a guarded look. "It is a major holiday. I don't believe a memorial service would be appropriate."

I grimaced. "Like anybody's going to party tonight, Optimus. It's going to be about him anyway. Let's do it right."

"Sam, we have no funeral traditions beyond grieving as a clan. Before the War, a shell simply was returned to the Well of All Sparks."

"But I thought it was underground."

"All molten streams originated in the Well and were considered extensions of it."

No wonder they didn't have a problem with Jazz – or Megatron, for that matter – being buried at sea.

Bumblebee played a clip from some commercial or another. "There's so many to choose from!"

I snorted at that. Yeah, there were tons of different ways that we humans remembered our dead. "I guess…go with whatever Jazz would have wanted. If he could have chosen his own memorial, which tradition would he go with?"

Optimus slowly nodded. "I must speak with Will and see what can be arranged."

"We…we need to toast him, too. With energon."

Optimus blinked in surprise.

"Well, not me, obviously, but you guys."

He was still hesitant. "The others do not know…"

"Well maybe they should," I retorted, cutting him off. "I couldn't deliver hope today, but you can."

"Only when the need is great," he reminded me.

"When's the last time you were able to grieve – really grieve – as a clan?"

He looked down, radiating a sense of defeat.

"I'd say the need will be great tonight. If we're going to do this, we need to do it right and in ways that will mean something for all of you. Knowing…knowing that you're not all going to rust to death might be comforting for them, since the Matrix is…isn't going to work every time."

"You are right, brother." He glanced once at Bumblebee and transformed – going to talk to Lennox.

Bumblebee reached down, offering me his hand, and I climbed on. He held me close to his chassis, and I realized researching human funeral traditions probably reminded him I wouldn't live forever, either. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"Hush now," he quoted, then "I'm glad you're here with me, Sam."

Autobots were quick and efficient at just about anything when they put their minds to it – whether it was mobilizing for battle or, apparently, planning social functions. The party-turned-funeral was supposed to start at 11PM and I caught a nap back at my temporary quarters during the two-hour wait. Now that I knew things were being taken care of, I could finally sleep.

'Bee drove me back to the hangar, and a brassy, upbeat version of 'Just a Closer Walk With Thee' was blaring from some speakers inside. "What in the world?" I demanded.

"Dixieland jazz," 'Bee answered, and I half-smiled. Of course.

I wasn't too surprised when I saw Will Lennox in the hangar, but I hadn't expected his wife to come tonight, too. They were standing near Arcee, and all three of them were next to a crate that looked a lot like the one Optimus got for his "welcome back to life" party. Come to think of it, it might be the same one. The femme was projecting a hologram of Jazz and her. It was a quiet memory of them hiding in a ruin somewhere, and I guessed Autobot eulogies came in 3D.

Optimus approached us and knelt to be closer to me. His grief was bittersweet now instead of just defeated, and I knew I'd been right about this. "Sam."

"Hey." I glanced at the booming speakers. The song had changed to a cheerful, bouncy rendition of 'When the Saints Go Marching In'. "Quite a party."

"It is not our way, but…Jazz would have enjoyed this. He was always enthusiastic about other cultures and he would have embraced this, I believe."

Behind me, Bumblebee made a chirp of agreement.

Arcee finished projecting her memory, and Ironhide took a turn, projecting an image of him and Jazz training together and Jazz running circles around him. I grinned to see just how quick the little 'bot was.

Jolt was next, and his memory was of the two of them crawling through maintenance shafts somewhere. Jolt got stuck and Jazz had to drag him through a tight spot, but they successfully completed their mission of gluing all of the furnishings in some poor Autobot's quarters to the ceiling.

"Whose quarters?" I asked Optimus, but Jolt was the one who answered. "Prowl's. Only Jazz could get away with pranking him."

"My second in command," Optimus explained. "Jazz was the third, when we were all together, but he was my second on Earth."

Bumblebee stepped closer to the crate and projected a memory of him sitting in a run-down restaurant with bombed-out windows. Jazz was telling jokes and the two of them were roaring in laughter.

I didn't realize Arcee had stepped closer until she spoke in my ear. "That was the first time 'Bee laughed after his brother died."

All the Autobots' memories, it seemed, were laced with sadness. I glanced back at Arcee and noticed 'Bee lay a hand on her shoulder. Something about his stance reminded me of that morning on the aircraft carrier when I reignited her, and I realized he must be even more grateful she was alive after Jazz wasn't brought back. She laid her hand over his and gently squeezed once, and he let her go.

The night went on like that as they each shared a memory of Jazz. Even Lennox took a turn, talking about how the only words he'd ever heard Jazz speak were an order to fall back while Jazz sacrificed himself so the humans near him could escape Megatron. I hadn't heard that whole part of the story before – I'd been too busy running away from Starscream at the time.

Sideswipe shared the memory of a time he and his brother had been captured by Decepticons and Jazz had pretty much single-handedly rescued them. Optimus projected the memory he'd shared with me in a bond dream, the one when Jazz had bought an oilcake for Optimus and Elita and her sisters.

Five minutes before midnight, the music stopped and Optimus nodded to Ironhide, who produced the energon vessel. All the Autobots stopped talking and stared in surprise.

Optimus reached down and removed the lid so that everyone could see that it was full.

I almost laughed when I saw Bumblebee pick up a tray of oversized coffee mugs and carry them over to Ironhide. I guess they didn't have time to get something more Cybertronian-ish.

"Is that…?" Ratchet wondered, trailing off as he suddenly glowered at Optimus.

"Yes," Optimus calmly answered, the slightest hint of a smirk tinting the bond. I guessed that Optimus never got around to telling Ratchet about the energon – probably because it served him right for losing his temper.

"...How?" Sideswipe began.

Ironhide huffed. "Doesn't matter. All that matters is that we have it again."

With a peace I hadn't felt from him since I arrived today, my brother turned to his amazed friends and said, "It is not the hope we had planned for tonight, but Sam wished to still give us hope." Gesturing toward the brimming vessel, he said, "In the human tradition, we take a cup of kinship tonight to remember Jazz. A toast."

Like before, he gave me an encouraging nudge over the bond and then gestured toward the energon. He wanted me to do the honors.

But that wasn't right. He was the one who was giving them hope tonight – not me.

He nudged me again, more firmly this time, and I sighed as I caved. This was a human tradition, after all. The tray of mugs was sitting on the ground, but I also noticed a pair of leather work gloves and a ceramic pitcher for coffee creamer on the tray – to protect my hands and to make sure that not a single drop of energon was wasted.

Once I had the gloves on, I dipped the pitcher into the energon vessel and poured the green liquid into the cup. Looking up, I wondered who should get the first helping – but only for a split second. "Optimus," I called, offering him the mug.

I filled seven more mugs, giving them to the 'bots as I went. When I was done, Mrs. Lennox gave me a champagne flute and we all turned to Optimus.

He raised his energon, and an echo of his feelings from when Moonracer was extinguished washed over the bond. "To those whose lives have touched ours, bound to us by friendship, by oath, and by the spark." He paused, reaching deep into his spark, into a well of peace and wistful affection. "To Jazz."

A clock tolled midnight. I looked around in surprise until I realized that the sound was coming from the speakers. I guess it was kind of a lot to expect them to come up with a grandfather clock on such short notice…while in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

The speakers began to play 'Auld Lang Syne,' and I wrapped my brother up in a hug of the heart. His peace filled my heart as he returned it. Sorrow still tinged the bond, but there was acceptance, too.

The Autobots stood in silence, savoring their energon. As they finished, they approached the crate – Jazz's casket – one by one and pressed their hand to it for a second. Optimus nudged me again, and I nodded to the Lennox's. If they were here tonight, they were part of the clan, too, and should pay their respects like the rest of us. I was surprised when Mrs. Lennox teared up a bit when she touched the crate. Catching my expression, she looked at the casket and whispered, "Without this, I wouldn't have Will. Annabelle would never have known her father."

So that's why she was here tonight.

Optimus was the last to approach the casket, that peace and wistful affection his strongest emotion now. Resting his hand on top of it, he bowed his head and murmured, "Until all are one, old friend." Then, with a deep, soul-shaking sigh, he stepped away and transformed down into his alt.

Ratchet lifted the crate and placed it on a flatbed trailer so Optimus could pull it, and they all transformed. Bumblebee popped his door open, and I climbed in to the sound of a woman singing a jazzy version of "In the Sweet By and By." We followed Optimus in formation, driving at a slow, stately pace down the island toward the docks.

A crew was waiting and they quickly loaded Jazz's casket onto a small cargo ship. The song from Bumblebee's speakers changed to one I didn't know.

"Moon river, wider than a mile,

I'm crossing you in style

Someday…"

The Autobots stayed in their alt-forms, and I asked Bumblebee, "Where are they going with him?"

"He'll be buried…in the harbor."

Close to home, then. Good.

The song eventually ended, and we waited for a little bit longer in silence. Eventually the ship left the dock, though, and the Autobots turned around, headed back to their hangar. A bright, up-beat instrumental Dixieland jazz song started up. I found myself moving to the music a little bit and felt the tiniest bit disrespectful until I realized that Jazz wouldn't have wanted us to be sad anymore. The 'bots knew that, and that's why they'd chosen this tradition for his memorial. He'd done his part, gone on to something better (or at least, that's what they all seemed to think), and it was time to celebrate life again. That's what he would have wanted.

That didn't mean I was happy with not being able to bring him back, but at least he wasn't just forgotten.


Author's Endnote: If you'd like to look up the songs on Youtube that I referenced they are:

- "Just a Closer Walk With Thee" as performed by the Canadian Brass Band

- "When the Saints Go Marching In" as performed by Louis Armstrong.

- "In Memoriam Juanita Brooks: In The Sweet By And By" (especially the chorus and 2nd verse)

- "Moon River" as performed by Louis Armstrong

- "Tiger Rag" performed by Nicolas Payton

Also, if you're unfamiliar with a New Orleans jazz funeral, I highly recommend you look up that phrase on Youtube, too. Words can't do it justice. :) (I've never had the privilege of attending one, but I suspect no video can't do it justice, either.) :D