Fallout: Apocalypse
Chapter 25

By Nan00k

Jazz becomes a solider again, TC is awkward, and Barns finds something. Something awful and unexpected. A lot of Prowl today too! Yaaay.

OMG guys! We're halfway done the story! :D A gajillion thanks to my betas, Shantastic and Kelly, for all their hard work on this story, and thank you guys for sticking with me reading it!

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Warnings: character death, foul language, violence, disturbing imagery and discussion, religious ideological discussions, theoretical science, and original characters
Disclaimer
: Transformers © Dreamworks/Hasbro. The original characters found in this story were created explicitly for this story.


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The first few days back on the job were always a trip, Jazz realized with mild humor. He hadn't been an officer in half a century, and hadn't been a true soldier in decades. It was a bit of a culture shock, and not just for him.

He still recharged with his team in Hangar B. Awkwardly so, since Rachel still wasn't speaking to him and the former 'Cons in the group were all put on edge by the fact that he'd become an Autobot again. Thundercracker held down the fort there most days; since he had finished uploading every bit of intel he could recall to the tactical database, he was only occasionally needed in person. Jazz generally left early in the morning and came back any time he had a break, to check in and reassure the other refugees that he was coming back. Seeing him frequently seemed to help ease the tension caused by the freshly painted Autobot sigil on his chestplates, something even Thundercracker avoided looking at directly.

Primarily, Jazz worked with Prowl and Bumblebee, organizing the database, developing queries and coordinating with Ironhide and his teams as they tried to put the data to use. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Jolt were leading separate NEST teams as they scouted several locations in Canada and Alaska that Jazz and Thundercracker had identified as energon cache and forward recon base locations in their old world. They hadn't found anything yet, but they would be thorough, and Jazz thought they would find something eventually.

There were more pressing issues than just the Decepticons themselves, however. Jazz knew they were facing a very short time window now, with the Fallen already on Earth, and frankly, he was beginning to feel a little nervous.

"We need t' find th' drones," he said, catching Prowl's attention one day. Jazz nodded his helm toward the computer bank where the compiled data resided. "We haven't touched that side of th' data yet. We should."

"We have monitors in place with NASA and other international satellites to observe any approaching alien craft," Prowl replied, frowning. "We haven't detected anything at all concerning them."

Ironhide snorted, and to Jazz's surprise, took his side. "I agree with Jazz," he said. "We should begin to focus our attention on locations where they found the drones before."

"But there's nothing there," Prowl countered, shaking his helm. "We've already scouted those areas. There's nothing."

Jazz knew Prowl was telling the truth, but he also knew they couldn't just disregard the drones. Those were their main enemies, even more so than Galvatron or the Fallen. If the drones were allowed to take hold on Earth has they had before…

All their efforts would be wasted. They could not let that happen. Jazz refused to allow it.

At the door, a familiar human barged in, looking quite harassed as he walked. Jazz was surprised Lennox had been late to the meeting, mostly because he hadn't even noticed the human solider had been missing.

"Where were you?" Jazz asked.

"Handling that damn Lancaster kid," Lennox said, irritably. He stopped short of Jazz's pedes and rubbed his face, exhausted. "God… I know it wasn't anyone's fault, but that was definitely not on the agenda."

Jazz had heard about the minor security breach and had to chuckle at Sam's luck. He'd never met the human in question and couldn't speak for his trustworthiness, but at least he'd first seen Bumblebee after the big alien reveal had occurred. In his opinion, they had more important things to worry about than a teenage boy who found out the Autobots existed in his own town.

Ironhide rumbled lowly. "Where is he now?"

"With Sam and Mikaela, asking a shit ton of questions. Bumblebee's still moderating, so I think we can push that issue aside for now." Lennox looked upward at Jazz and Prowl specifically. "Alright. What the hell is happening?"

They still suffered from a severe lack of intelligence concerning the enemies' actions, so they couldn't come up with exact plans yet, but Prowl was organizing their erratically changing group numbers into rapid-response teams that would eventually be located on different bases around the world—an action that Jazz said had helped to mitigate the influx of 'Cons in his world. They had established a base in Afghanistan and Keller was still politicking with the Germans, who refused to let them use Vilseck as a base, citing unknown dangers from the "aliens." Who would be going to each base would be dependent on how many more forward teams they would receive, and when.

"There is another team scheduled to arrive from Galaxus," Prowl told them. His strained expression spoke volumes on what the human politicians had had to say on the matter. "Mirage is leading the crew."

"How many?" Lennox asked, looking resigned to having to deal with the politics of receiving more mechs. Jazz had to chuckle.

"Just three," Prowl replied, shaking his helm. "Mirage, Trailbreaker, and Cliffjumper."

They could definitely use Trailbreaker and Cliffjumper on the battlefield; both of them were excellent frontline soldiers. But having Mirage around would definitely be a plus for Jazz's plans.

"Haven't seen 'Raj since Tyger Pax," Jazz commented, already anticipating a new wave of Special Ops missions on Earth. It would be fun; he had never had the chance to work his magic during his version of the war on Earth, since they'd never been able to find Nemesis or any of their enemies' bases to truly wreak havoc within.

Ironhide rumbled. "Just what we need, more spies," he said, irritable. "At least Trailbreaker and Cliffjumper can help with the muscle."

"We need to distribute the amount of warriors and intel gathering mechs through the bases," Lennox said, specifically to Prowl. "Diego Garcia is the biggest of the international teams, but access to the Chinese mainland is still iffy right now. I think we should focus on moving some of the heavier hitters toward Kandahar…"

It was a mess, but getting better. Jazz knew the human governments wanted to keep all the Autobots in one or two easy-to-manage teams, both for political expediency and as a show of strength to the world at large. But he knew, from past experience on Earth and off, that until they had more intel on their enemies' movements, they had to expect an attack from anywhere. They had no idea where Galvatron would reappear, nor did they know how many troops he would have, or when or if he'd release the drones. Scattering small, rapid response teams across the globe would give them an advantage. Right now, he was grateful that they had a few more moments to catch their breath, to find a plan to prepare for the drones and Decepticons alike. Jazz knew this momentary peace wouldn't last for long.

They had to be ready.

0000

Considering the fact that data provided by Thundercracker and Jazz about an enemy storage cache had led them to the enemy once before, Prowl and Ironhide had decided they would continue along that path. Thundercracker had not been involved in organizing the actual mission—that had been done by the Autobots –but he had been the one to give them the intel on several sites in Canada and one in Alaska that had been overlooked by NEST in Jazz's time, like many others. So Thundercracker had been required to pick through every byte of data he had on that site and submit his own assessment of the location and its strategic advantage. He hadn't been surprised at how thoroughly Ironhide had scrutinized his report, but Thundercracker knew Jazz would convince the Autobots to check it out regardless.

What really concerned him was the fact that they had yet to start looking for the drones; apparently they weren't taking that threat seriously yet. Jazz swore it was just a matter of organizational mayhem, but Thundercracker still scowled openly at the Autobots in charge. They had to prioritize the drones over the Decepticons; they had failed to do that in their previous world and it had cost NEST tremendously.

"At least we know about them and what they can do," Lennox had reasoned. That would give them an advantage, certainly, but not much of one. Thundercracker just growled and stayed out of the debates; he let Jazz handle the issue.

For his part, he tried to stay back and watch the planning processes. With most of his information already catalogued, he could do nothing more than shift heavy objects when asked, or occasionally give short debriefings on drone combat behavior to the human military. They were more interested, of course, with how to fight Decepticons. He all too readily told them of weaknesses in their formations and strategies; there was no love lost between himself and that army, he admitted to himself.

As for fighting the drones… Thundercracker hoped their four humans might be better teachers and more interesting sources of knowledge for the human soldiers to learn from. Rachel was still sulking, and Danny was probably not up to touching a weapon of any sort, but perhaps in time they'd all be willing to show NEST just how to bring down those metal monsters.

Thundercracker knew he'd have to wait to hear how the energon storage site mission had gone. The other Autobots, while not going out of their way to avoid talking with him, rarely sought him out unless they needed something. He doubted any of them would think to communicate the results of the mission directly. He expected to hear the news from Jazz, eventually. Jazz was still getting back into the swing of being a soldier, and was doing a decent job of balancing those responsibilities plus his obligations to their own ten, so Thundercracker could cut him some slack getting the information to him.

Today, for what felt like the first time in months, everyone else was out of the hangar helping around the base. So it was rather surprising to hear someone call his name as he stood outside their designated hangar, enjoying the sunshine and the momentary solitude. He hadn't realized one of the Autobots had walked up, preternaturally quiet, right behind him.

"Thundercracker?"

The jet froze—and then forced a wave of hot emotion back to his spark as he recognized the voice. "What?" he demanded, turning around. He glared without hesitation down at the smaller Autobot, who gazed up with just a faint glimmer of trepidation.

Prowl's doorwings were rigidly flared high up on his back as he stared up at the larger mech. The trepidation was gradually replaced with a calmness that Thundercracker wanted to smack off of his faceplates. Why the frag was this mech so fragging calm all the time?

"…Your files were helpful in compiling the coastal search outlines," Prowl stated after a moment. He inclined his helm at the Seeker, seemingly fearless. "We discovered an energon cache north of Anchorage."

Thundercracker had recalled how Starscream had begun to hoard energon cubes in various locations before Galvatron returned, in anticipation of an army Starscream would never get to run himself. "Great." Thundercracker paused, a stray thought striking him when he thought of Starscream. "Any mechs?"

Prowl frowned. "Just one, but Ironhide was forced to deactivate him when he went after civilian natives. It was a flier." Prowl stopped and seemed to withdraw a bit, though Thundercracker doubted it was because he noticed the jet's darkening mood. Prowl held his gaze firmly, but with a tinge of sympathy. "…I do not believe we have seen Skywarp in action, but if any sightings are held, I will notify you."

That—was by far not the first thing Thundercracker had expected to hear. At all.

"Wh-why?" he asked, too startled to think of how unguarded he sounded. He shouldn't react so openly to that kind of thing in front of this mech.

It didn't seem to matter, however. "Ah…" Prowl shifted awkwardly, or as awkwardly as an unexpressive mech like him could be. He dropped his gaze momentarily. "I just assumed you'd like to know."

He was talking about Skywarp. Why… why was Prowl talking to him about Skywarp?

Part of Thundercracker wanted to lash out and blame Prowl for bringing up matters that had nothing to do with him. But the wiser, saner part of him thankfully held that anger back. It was senseless and unimportant. He was better than that.

Besides… Thundercracker had read the report from the incident in Mexico. Prime had taken out a Seeker teleporter before his own demise. They hadn't been able to recover the remains (which had unhelpfully disappeared after Mexican forces took NEST in for questioning.) They had only recovered parts of Scorponok after the fact. There was no way to tell if the teleporter had been Skywarp.

It didn't matter, Thundercracker firmly told himself over and over, keeping himself rational. It wasn't his Skywarp. His Skywarp was dead. He had Jazz now, and Jazz had him. Period.

"Not really," he said at length, keeping his emotions in check. Just looking at the other mech was enough to make his spark race with negative emotions. "I… he's not my Skywarp. There's already another Thundercracker out there, so it's unimportant."

Prowl watched him carefully as he observed his reactions. "…True…" he said. He suddenly looked down at the datapad in his hands, abruptly and briskly getting back to business. It was an odd contrast to Jazz, who liked to drag awkward moments out. "Regardless, with this successful mission, we can continue to use your data more prominently. Director Keller is still wary of using any of your people's input, but my analysis indicates that rejecting it as valid data decreases our odds of success." Prowl glanced up at the taller mech again. "Ratchet is busy providing some maintenance instructions to Mikaela Banes and Kassandra Hall today, but if you are interested, tonight he will reactivate your flight protocols."

He was getting his wings back? Oh, what a feeling. What a relief. Thundercracker fought the urge to grin, because that was definitely unbecoming in front of anyone, especially this mech.

"…That would be acceptable," Thundercracker said, struggling to control himself. "Thank you." He meant it.

"It's of no consequence," Prowl said, entirely neutral. His tone did seem a bit lighter, however. He had a better humor than Thundercracker did. "In addition, the rest of your team will be receiving their weapons back, including the humans. Wheel—I mean, WJ, has expressed interest in looking at the humans' weapons first though, just out of curiosity."

That was a lot going on in that statement. Thundercracker stopped again, stunned. "You're trusting all of us," he stated, not questioning, because he knew Prowl would never just say something and not mean it.

They would trust the survivors with weapons. That meant… well, it meant they could defend themselves now, should it be necessary. And it was an invitation for the mechs willing to help NEST to step up. Arcee would be fragging thrilled; Wildrider would be too, simply because he could have his weapons back. Rachel would also be excited to be armed again.

Prowl's doorwings twitched with an unrecognizable emotion. "I have no choice but to trust you. Besides…" He sighed and, if the lighting overhead wasn't distorting the gesture, he smiled. Just a little. "The Autobot ethos is grounded in the belief that no matter the deeds of the past, it is how we act now that truly defines us. Optimus believed that, and so shall I."

Thundercracker felt ill at ease at the mention of the fallen Autobot leader, as well as the Autobot sentimentalities. It just didn't fit with him. "…Right."

They had to take this as a good thing, however. They could defend themselves now and could even offer their services to their hosts in return for continued hospitality. They had worth now. It had been a long time since Thundercracker had needed to deal with the politics of the military, but he knew having something to offer those above him was always a plus.

Prowl nodded his head politely and made to leave, having said his piece. Thundercracker watched him turn around, taking in every bit of his presumed rival. He wanted to hate how the mech was alive now, plus how he was still Jazz's superior and—though it was difficult to think of—his friend. It could have been so easy to hate Prowl for everything he had never done, regardless of fairness. Thundercracker didn't want to be fair. He wanted to blame the other mech to make himself feel safer, to feel better—

But he couldn't.

Thundercracker could see the weary twitches, the uncertain glances, and the apparently unnatural distance Prowl kept when dealing with Jazz or Thundercracker, alone or together. He was respecting their choice. He was leaving them alone, at least when it came to their… pasts. He was being the better person, Thundercracker realized… at least better than Thundercracker had been being for the last month and a half.

…He couldn't hate him for that.

"Prowl," he said, before the mech had walked too far away. Prowl froze, doorwings going high up on his back again, and Thundercracker regretted speaking up.

"Yes?" the Autobot tactician asked, turning slightly to look at Thundercracker, professional as always.

Thundercracker nodded his head slightly. "Thank you."

Prowl's doorwings went down a bit, the only sign his emotions had changed. "…You are welcome," he said without hesitation. He turned and continued on his way without a single sign that he didn't mean it.

After that, Thundercracker was determined to be a better mech as well.

0000

Work gloves: check. Welding mask: check. Ratty old jeans, t-shirt and one of Sam's old flannel-shirts: check. She looked like she had gotten dressed from materials swiped from her dad's closet, but Mikaela felt as ready as ever to face the day.

After… Mexico… it had been difficult to get moving again, but when Ratchet irritably summoned her back to studying mech biology and repairs, Mikaela found herself willing to head back to the med-bay for training. She needed the distraction, and ultimately, she knew she needed training if she was going to be able to help her friends in the future. It wasn't a matter of "if" she would be needed, after all; it was a sure thing.

She got the summons, as Sam ominously called it, shortly before nine in the morning, courtesy of Sideswipe yelling it into the barracks, unnecessarily loudly. It had scared Miles senseless, who had had to stay overnight due to Simmons' demand to have the chance to debrief him before he was released; the S-7 agent was temporarily back on Diego Garcia for now. So Sam had been demoted to babysitting his best friend and introducing him (slowly) to the aliens while Mikaela went to her own training with Ratchet.

When she walked into the med-bay, she was happy to see it wasn't entirely empty. Normally, being alone in the room was… uncomfortable. She remembered how they had dragged Hoist in after the attack, practically torn in half. She remembered the smell of the oil and the strangely poignant smell of energon burning through the tile floor. She remembered being utterly helpless through it all, only barely keeping him alive before Wheel—WJ, she amended—had stepped in to help.

It wasn't Ratchet waiting for her, however. It was a tall, pale woman with short dark hair. Mikaela had to grin when she saw the other human, who was studying the rest of the med-bay intensely.

"Hello, Kass," she called out, only slightly startling the other woman. Mikaela held her hand out, smiling. "It's good to see you."

It was good to see one of the survivors up and about, under reasonable circumstances. They had holed up in their hangar after Optimus' death, but after Prowl had assigned them jobs around the base, they had slowly begun to interact more . The four humans were still rather wary of walking around without one of their own mechs, but Mikaela had been happy to learn Kass would also be working with Ratchet now. At least it meant that Mikaela would have someone other than a grouchy medic to talk with, too…

"Hi, Mikaela," Kass replied, accented voice as timid as always. She did smile back and shake Mikaela's hand with a moderately strong grip. "I'm sorry. I fear I'm invading your territory in all of this."

Mikaela frowned. "Huh? Oh, no, don't worry!" she exclaimed, understanding. She waved her hand. "Ratchet said you helped fix mechs way before I ever started learning. It's fine. In fact, I think it will be much easier to learn with someone. Certainly more entertaining." She grinned again, glancing back at the door where she heard the distinct sound of mech feet, raising her voice before adding, "Poor Hatchet will have two of us to deal with."

"I heard that!" Ratchet suddenly shouted outside the room. He came in with a look fit to kill, honing in on Mikaela with expert precision. "Where the frag did you—?"

"Sideswipe," Mikaela quipped, angelic. That was for the wake-up call. Kass chuckled next to her, but Ratchet just seethed at them, causing the British woman to stop and clear her throat.

"Remind me to deactivate him later. Get over here, both of you!" he said, engines snarling. Mikaela sighed and, carefully stepped into his hand to be lifted to the table. Kass was a bit more wary about jumping into the mech's other hand, but she quickly learned that Ratchet didn't like to be kept waiting. He let them step off onto the worktable, which was covered with spare metal parts. "Kassandra, I have no idea where your level of knowledge goes to, but I trust you know how to weld armor?"

"Yes, sir," Kass said, standing straight and proper. Mikaela just stood by with crossed arms, amused, used to the roughness.

"That's what Mikaela's been working on, so you can practice, too," the medic said, his scowl a bit less deadly than usual. He did like teaching new students, Mikaela had figured out; he just had to maintain his image. He pointed at what looked like two separate sets of mech armor. "I want to see straight, solid lines. If you mess up, you're doing it again, until you master it. Get to it."

With that, he left them with basic human-made welding tools and went to his own worktable, tinkering. Mikaela was sure he was keeping an eye on them the entire time, waiting either for a mistake or just the need to help them with something.

"Something tells me Sam got off easy on the job thing," Mikaela muttered, mostly to herself as she pulled her gloves on.

Kass chuckled softly. "At least we're going to be helpful," she said.

"True," Mikaela said, sighing. She paused after putting her mask on, not flipping it down. She glanced over at Kass. "So how much did you learn?"

That caused the British woman to stop and Mikaela almost retracted her question, knowing she was skating on thin ice. "With… Wheeljack?" Kass began, hesitant. She quickly recovered, however, and went through the process of pulling on her own new, NEST-issued work gloves. "Ah, not too much. Nothing complex, I mean. I just had to adapt how to fix cars to how to fix mech bodies."

"Yeah, that's where I started too. Still, you have more experience than me," Mikaela said, smirking. She was happy there was another medic-in-training. That meant they had more help when, not if, they needed medical assistance. That Kass knew more than Mikaela did was even better.

"Unfortunately," Kass muttered. She did turn and smile at Mikaela, surprising the teen. "You're a skilled mechanic as well, Ratchet said."

Mikaela shrugged. "My dad taught me." It had been kind of a necessity after awhile, to fix up her dad's legit customers' vehicles when her father was still hung over from the night before.

Kass hesitated again. "My mother taught me…" She suddenly smiled, staring at the mech armor absently. "She helped me to fix Bluestreak at our camp, when we first met him. She taught me not to be afraid of doing so. That helped me to be able to work on the others when there were problems."

They had all heard the stories about what had happened to the survivors, mostly second hand from Bumblebee, who had heard from Jazz. Whatever the four humans had told the psychologist was still off-limits, but… Mikaela could guess. She'd heard about the drones, about humanity being pushed to extinction, about the personal losses they had gone through. Kass had lost her whole family before meeting the other nine. Mikaela knew what it was like to grow up without parents, but this was so different. So, so different.

"…You're really brave, Kass. All of you are," she said, surprising herself and Kass, who looked up at her sharply. Mikaela forced herself to smile, fighting the sick feeling in her gut. "A lot stronger than me, or Sam."

She had learned what it was like to run for her life, or to fight for others, but never could she imagine what it was like to do that every day. Every damn day, for her entire life. She couldn't fathom how they had done it for twenty years. She couldn't even begin to comprehend it.

Kass stared at her blankly for a moment, clearly caught off guard. "…Thank you," she said. Kass smiled a little and nodded at Mikaela. "Jazz told me about how you saved Bumblebee's life. You're just as brave. We all have to be in a world like this."

"Yeah…" Mikaela smiled nervously and pulled down her welding mask to cover her discomfort. She looked at the armor, steeling herself. "Well, let's get to work."

The older woman smiled and flipped her own mask down. "Indeed."

0000

Sometimes, Barns was glad they had found themselves in this part of the twenty-first century.

It had been an ordinary afternoon, with most of the mechs busy doing odd jobs or speaking to the higher ups. The girls had disappeared into the washracks for a bit, after a discussion between Kass and Mikaela about societal norms resulted in Kass coming in with several specific female health products ("What the fuck do you mean, shaved legs? Hair is supposed to be there!" "Actually, from the pictures we always saw, maybe we're not…" "Shut up, Danny.") Wildrider could call it cowardice, but Barns was certainly glad he was allowed to stay behind in the computer lab.

Glorious technology. He was positively gleeful that Lennox had finally given him the go-ahead to use the computers. The lab was rarely used, apparently, and to a base filled with service men and women who used alien-upgraded computers, most of it was horribly outdated. To Barns, of course, it was all brand new and a constant learning experience. He reveled in the actual technology; it was so… so… smooth. So versatile. He had spent almost an hour at the controls, working his way through the basic commands, and marveled at it all.

"You pick this stuff up fast for someone who never had access to a computer before," Epps had commented the first time Barns sat down to the mouse and keyboard at one of the computers in the lab.

"I was raised in my teen years by giant alien robots," he joked, earning a few chuckles from the humans who had come to observe. "Of course I am."

So, whenever he wasn't needed to monitor Wildrider or Vortex alone in the company of an Autobot guard (not that they didn't trust their friends; it was just a matter of making sure things didn't get as explosive as they had before), Barns would slip away to the labs. He tried to get Danny interested in playing with the computers as well, but she didn't have the patience. Rachel had muttered about taking a shot at writing, but she wasn't exactly interested in writing anything new, Barns realized. Kass had given the computers a dirty look and probably wouldn't attempt anything for a while. That left Barns with plenty of time to do his own experimenting, albeit there wasn't much he could actually do.

In the meantime, however, Barns set to work doing what he had assumed Jazz would have already done, but he wanted to add his own input. They needed to prepare for the drones first and foremost. Barns couldn't be included in any of NEST's high level functions, obviously, but he could write a list of what he knew about the drones. He had begun to compile a list of their weaknesses, where they had found them, how humans could exploit them, details about the swarms they had encountered, and also what their chief targets were. It was all simple and probably already catalogued, but Barns needed to do something.

With Kass doing her medic thing, and all of the mechs pitching in periodically to help with odd jobs, Barns needed to be useful as well. He prayed he could use his knowledge for their benefit, somehow. For now, he was content to do his own typing.

Today, with the girls occupied and the mechs helping to clear the West tarmac, he'd looked forward to a couple of hours of his own work, and then he would spend some time doing an online course in Astronomy. But about half an hour after he got settled down to work, Robert Epps appeared at the door, knocking briefly to get Barns' attention.

"Hey, I've got some of your stuff," the lieutenant said in greeting.

"Quoi?" Barns asked, confused. He then saw the two large plastic bags Epps was carrying. He could see Kass's art book sticking out from it; the confiscated things NEST had taken after they realized they had radioactive dust on them. "Oh! Our belongings. They are clean?"

"Yeah, they've been for a bit. I just forgot to bring them over," Epps said, grinning sheepishly. He gently heaved the two bags onto the table. Barns felt eager to sort through it all. "Not much could be salvaged though. Sorry. We couldn't take chances with a lot of it, especially the fabric stuff. And most of the books were deteriorating, so we had to chuck them."

The books they could always replace. Barns stood up, eyeing the two bags, feeling a little overwhelmed. He didn't know where to start. Epps helped him pull the contents out, though Barns knew a lot of their possessions were missing. It was upsetting, but it could be worse.

He found his compass immediately and couldn't help but smile. It was still broken and rusty, but it was as he left it. He set it aside and went through Kass's art book briefly. It seemed okay, though a lot of the charcoal work was badly smeared. Hopefully she would be able to salvage it. Rachel's notebook was there and Danny's mp3 player was still intact. Epps looked at that specifically, bemused, but didn't ask questions.

What wasn't there was his Bible. Barns swallowed back a wave of bitterness when he realized it wasn't with everything else. It had been ratty and old, but still… it had held so many memories for him. That negative emotion was swiftly replaced with utter relief, however, when he found something that couldn't be replaced, tucked inside one of the salvaged books.

"Oh, thank goodness," Barns exclaimed, picking it up. "Our photograph survived."

"Photograph?" Epps repeated, surprised, looking closer.

Barns held the tiny square in front of him, elated that the fragile photograph had survived. It was still burnt and dirty, but it was theirs. He could see through the crease in the center all of their faces. All of them. His fingers trailed along the image, along the faces he cared so much about.

"Yes. Cameras were a rare commodity for us. This was recent. Only nine months ago, maybe." Barns paused and then held the photo out to Epps, keeping his finger on the top left corner, on one specific tall mech smiling back at them. "This is Wheeljack."

"Wow…" Epps stared at the image, eyebrows going up. "You guys fit?"

Barns laughed and took the photo back. "Sort of," he said, chuckling. He smiled at the image, glad to have it back. He looked back up at the soldier and nodded. "Thank you." He picked up the heaviest item, the datapad he had brought with him from the lab when they had made the leap through time. "You should get this to Commander Prowl so he can look at whatever data might still be on this, if it still works."

Epps took the datapad awkwardly, clearly not used to handling mech technology. "Sounds good," he said, nodding.

Turning to the bags, Barns wondered if he should have waited for the girls to come back. They would be so happy to have at least a few of their possessions back—

But then, he noticed something odd and out of place. At the bottom of the plastic bag was a silver disk, approximately the size of his palm. Barns blinked, at first confused, but he then recognized what it was.

"Oh! Wait, Lieutenant!" he called, holding the object up.

Epps stopped at the door, looking back at the other man. "What's up?"

Barns held out the small silver disk out, frowning. "This, this is not mine." It was definitely transformer technology, but nothing he had brought with him.

"Uh, what is it?" Epps asked, walking over a little to peer quizzically at the object.

"I believe it is a data disk the mechs use," Barns explained, remembering seeing a lot of them around the lab before Wheeljack cleared a lot of the clutter out. Barns had never used one, or even really knew how it worked. "It must be the Autobots'."

Surprisingly, Epps shook his head. "That's impossible. All that stuff was kept in seclusion. It came from your bag. See, it has a little sticky note saying where it came from specifically."

"…That's…" Barns stared at the disk, bewildered. "If it is not mine, why on Earth is it in my bag?"

He couldn't think of a reason to have it at all. He had only brought from the lab, by accident, the datapad and his handwritten notes. All the other tech had gone with the other mechs, like the energon converter with Vortex and the weapons dispersed among the humans and Thundercracker.

But there was no way this was from the Autobots' belongings, since none of them would have access to his bag, let alone willingly put something like a data disk in it. It made no—

And then.

And then… he realized.

"…Oh…" he began, voice failing. Barns gazed down at the silver disc as he felt the Earth give way beneath him. "Oh, Dieu."

No.

No.

Oh, God, no

"Barnaby, your bag," Wheeljack said as he walked back into the main cavern. He bent down to give the young man the black bag. "You should each carry your own things on the off chance anyone is separated from the group."

Barns stood up, swaying so horribly Epps reached out to steady him. Barns could only stare in horror as he realized why the disk was in his bag.

Wheeljack.

.


End Chapter 25.


.

The contents are revealed. Protip: It's not a nice disk.

A/Ns:
-Thundercracker what are you doing
-As my beta aptly put, "Mikaela needs some smart girlfriends!" Kass and her are gonna be medic bros.