How it Is
Chapter 23: Awakenings

By: Nightelfcrawler
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle.

Optimus considered himself a patient mech. One had to be when you controlled a squad of headstrong upstarts who constantly gave you trouble from all sides. He was used to settling arguments, to mediating between factions and giving orders and usually being respected.

He drew the line when it came to his paint job however.

"So tell me Mister Prime, why did you choose flames?" Judy Witwicky smiled up at him warmly as they sat patiently outside the base, enjoying the warm sunshine in the end of what had been a cold and bitter desert winter season.

Optimus fought the urge to sigh. It would be rude to do so before Sam's parental units.

"I must say, it doesn't really fit what I'd imagine a leader's image." Ron added, much to Optimus' chagrin. "I mean, you'd think of flames painting the side of younger uh... mechs."

"Actually..." Ironhide drawled to the side slowly with a wicked grin. "He's the youngest Prime our people have ever had."

"Really?" Judy asked clearly surprised. "And here you acted far ah... more respectable than some of the others."

"So who IS the oldest?"

Now, Optimus favored himself with a smile. "Ironhide is." he said with a sly sideways smirk at his weapons specialist. He got a glare in return.

"And Ratchet." Ironhide muttered. "Slag, for all I know we're the last old-timers out there." He tilted his head upwards. "No idea who else is still around."

"Indeed." Optimus murmured quietly.

The two mechs and two humans were currently situated just outside their home base, thankfully undisturbed by those working beneath the surface. Optimus had seen to it that all idle hands had been put to work, despite the knowledge that Ratchet was close to performing the complicated spark transplant. Half the mechs wanted to watch because they were worried about Sam's well being, half the mechs wanted to watch because it was a complicated procedure they'd never gotten the chance to see, and they were curious what would happen. Ratchet had specific instructions however, and Optimus had seen to it that those instructions had been followed explicitly. This made some cranky, but Optimus would rather deal with cranky soldiers than a cranky medic any day of the week.

Speaking of which…

He sent a memo to the CMO, knowing that Ratchet probably had all his communications frequencies turned off so he could concentrate. He knew that when the medic had time he would open the message and see his advisory about Sam's parents. His optics slid over to the other two sitting by a bolder talking quietly. Miles was still incredibly nervous around the Autobots. He had been introduced to Bumblebee first when Sam had been awake, but the concept of giant alien robots still seemed to twist his consciousness. Miles was a total sci-fi geek, and Mikaela had thought he'd accept it easier, but it seemed that the geek drew the line between his small X-bot and a soda machine versus cars that were as tall as his house when they stood up. Still, the human was equally fascinated and always stared with wide eyes every time one of them transformed. Optimus couldn't help but find some solace in the naive curiosity of the young man. It was oddly refreshing to be seen as something wondrous and amazing by creatures whose vivid imaginations had crafted such concepts for decades without seeing tangible examples.

Sam's parents were another matter. They were quicker to accept the Autobots presence, perhaps because their son had helped ease them into it through Bumblebee. Judy was still nervous around most of them, though she favored Optimus and Bumblebee equally. She found Bumblebee a worthy guardian to protect her son, after having seen him react to an 'accident' in Wheeljack's lab that had nearly taken the scientists' life… for the two hundred and forty second time. Ever since then she had been convinced Sam couldn't be safer. There was some irony in that. As for himself, well Judy immediately liked him the moment he had introduced himself to them. She found him 'respectable' and 'dignified' and 'responsible'. He honestly wondered how the woman could have such insight when she barely knew him, but he wasn't about to complain at her complacent attitude. Ron was another matter. He might have been nervous and overwhelmed at first, but like his son he was completely fascinated and enraptured by the world of the Cybertronians. He had volunteered to help however he could, and Optimus had taken him up on his offer with a few new arrivals. Ron had happily lent them the use of his showroom to find a few new cars to sport. He'd also been joyriding with more than a few, and far too often for his wife's liking. However, Optimus could see where Sam got a lot of his personality traits from, both his creators had strong ties to their son through their genetic traits.

Mikaela had been rather quiet for the last several months. Ratchet had shared his suspicions with his commander, and Optimus had to agree with his CMO's deductions in regards to the young teens. The girl had been quiet and withdrawn, working harder than ever to speed the process of creating the new mech's protoform. Her spare time was spent mostly on base in the human rec room, sleeping in the bunks without going home. Granted, she had no close family in town any longer, and her spare time was spent finishing her studies up when she wasn't working. But the toll of the events showed clearly on her face. She looked pale, worn and tired. However, her dedication never wavered. Optimus was a bit glad to see her smile when speaking with Miles. The two had never liked each other much, but since Sam's comatose condition they had become friends. Sam would be proud of them when he woke.

Optimus blinked as a sudden power surge registered on the edge of his sensors. He normally wouldn't have detected it, but he was keeping his sensors sharply trained on Ratchet's medical facility just for this reason, to monitor what was going on there. A quick glance showed him Ironhide, who was busy observing their surrounding area for any sign of enemy presence, hadn't noticed the surge. It seemed he was the only one topside who had. He sent a quick query to Ratchet, but received no reply. Well, the CMO could take care of himself. If he didn't report in soon, he would go and check on him.

His optics shifted back to the cheerful scene before him. Despite the lighthearted attitude, everyone still was tense, nervous and uncomfortable. The one thing on all their minds was Sam's condition. Ratchet had told them he would do all he could, and they shouldn't worry as the Allspark wouldn't permit any harm to come to Sam. However, that didn't stop them from worrying. Everyone's nerves had been on edge ever since the attack. The Decepticons activities had been very worrisome to all of them. Sam's parents weren't involved, but Mikaela and Miles had heard most of what was going on since they spent so much time on base now. Lennox and his men were spending most of their time deployed out with Optimus' long range scouts, trying to stop any crisis before it happened. Unfortunately, as of yet none of them had been able to predict where and when the Decepticons would hit. There was one constant that they finally had connected. Every place was not where they expected them to go. They hadn't targeted a single military base or heavily fortified facility, but instead struck at seemingly random places with little protection, some plants and facilities, some more remote areas with no human presences. Wheeljack had been frantically trying to find a pattern in the madness, unfortunately even the brilliant scientist was not skilled at mind games.

Optimus.

Finally. It took him long enough. How goes the work, Ratchet?

Interesting to say the least. Are you sitting down?

Yes, why?

Shut off your vocal processors.

Why?

Just do it.

Very well… now what is the problem?

Not so much a problem as a surprise.

Hey, Optimus. What's crackin'?

If it hadn't been for Ratchet's instruction to shut down his vocal processors, Optimus would have made quite a loud protest of surprise that likely would have damaged the fragile humans' ears nearby. As it was, he froze in place, optics wide no longer paying attention to the conversation around him, instead entirely focused on that one signal. Ironhide had noticed his sudden reaction and was watching him intently, but knew better than to inquire before the Commander was ready. Jazz….? Optimus thought dizzily, the name sending shivers down his processors. It's not possible…

Wha, you sound disappointed! I'm hurt!

Optimus couldn't help but smile, chuckling in silence as he'd still kept his vocal processors offline for safety. Ratchet…I know you well enough to know this is no joke. But how in Primus' name is this possible?

Sam did it. Don't ask me how, I haven't figured it out yet. Ratchet replied, his own voice still tinged with some of the same wonder Optimus felt. All I know is, I was trying to remove the spark and the Allspark apparently didn't like what I was trying to do. When I woke up I was flat on my back with Jazz leaning over me.

He looked like slag too.

Thank you, Jazz.

Anytime, my man.

So as to how he did it, I can only guess that in attempting to transfer the spark, Sam's connection to the Matrix through the Allspark somehow sensed Jazz's body and must have pulled his spark back from the grasp of Primus himself. I'm not sure if this is something any of us CAN understand… or if it was even conscious. In either case, Sam is fine and his biological functions have returned to normal, and the spark is safely housed and stable in it's new body.

And I'm back to save the day.

Thank you Jazz.

Nonetheless, it is good to hear your voice my friend.

Thanks Optimus. To be honest, if it weren't for trustin' Ratch as much as I do, I'd swear you all were pullin' a fast one on me. I don't feel like I've been offline for months. I feel great.

How is he, Ratchet?

Well, if he'd sit still long enough for me to complete my scans…

All right, all right. Sheesh.

Apart from some chronometer resynchronization, he seems to be as good as new. It's a very good thing Mikaela and I repaired his systems before he came back online, otherwise we might be slagged. However, I can find no fault with allowing him to return to full duty status.

Optimus smiled again. The others are going to be in for quite a shock.

Break it to them gently, if possible. Especially Bumblebee, he looked up to Jazz like a brother.

And make sure Ironhide don't try to take my ass out for bein' stupid and getting' myself killed.

I will do my best.

Let us know when it's safe to come out.

Optimus sighed and onlined his processors, turning over this information. He was still having trouble processing it. It seemed unreal, impossible. Yet, he had seen such strange and impossible things whenever Sam was concerned. Had he controlled the Allspark himself, he would have used it to do just this, he just hadn't expected the boy to figure out how to do this so soon. But who was he to complain?

"Optimus?" He lowered his optics to see all pairs of human eyes and Ironhides' wary optics studying him, obviously having noticed his silence. Judy looked impatient as she looked up at him. "You know, I hate it when you do that." She said with a small frown. "If I could install a wireless transmitter into Sam's head I'd never have to worry if he'd be home late or not."

"And you'd never leave him to his own privacy." Ron muttered too quiet for Judy to hear, but loud enough for the two mechs to pick up.

"Optimus?" Ironhide spoke up in a no-nonsense tone. "What is it?"

The Commander lifted his optics to his weapons specialist and then sent him a complete data burst, the same time he spoke the words for the benefit of the humans. "It seemed the transfer has been successful. Both the spark and Sam have been separated with no unfortunate complications." It was at this moment that Ironhide finished digesting the data and went into a coughing fit, surging to his feet like a drunken soldier. Optimus politely ignored his sputtering. "There was one side-effect however." The humans all looked immediately worried, not daring to interrupt him as they all nervously watched Ironhide sputtering wildly. "It seems Sam has performed another miracle. Jazz is now alive and well."

Judy, Ron and Miles all looked blank, but Mikeala gasped in shock, her hands going to her face as her eyes widened possibly larger than Optimus had thought possible in the small girls' frame. "No!" She whispered, her voice awed and hushed. He smiled and nodded once to her question, and stood there white faced with wide eyes filling quickly with sparkling tears as a smile spread over her face the same time the tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.

"Um… who's Jazz?" Miles asked blankly.

Stasis Lock canceled.

Initializing start-up procedures.

Booting CPU.

Initialized.

Synchronizing data with remote terminal.

Completed.

Systems coming online. 20. 50. 75. Completed.

Optics flickered from dim to bright in the matter of astroseconds. He recognized where he was, the data provided explained that he was in a medical facility. His scanners initialized and did a quick sweep of his vicinity. Two mechs, one organic life-form other than himself. No available weapons online, but no identifiable threats.

A mech's face appeared in front of his optics, watching him with a rather curious but appraising expression. "You have been revived from stasis." He stated simply in a language not the mech's own, but one he already had knowledge of thanks to the data included in his CPU. "Your systems seem to be in full compliance within standards. How do they feel to you?"

He paused a moment, considering the question long enough to scan for himself. "Systems appear to be operating within normal parameters."

"Good." The medic replied, continuing to study him. "Go ahead and test out your structure, I'm fairly confidant we did a good job with final construction upgrades, but I'd like your analysis just to make sure." The mech sat up slowly, testing each limb as he moved, optics scanning his form. It was sleek and polished without so much as a scratch, and very lightweight. Nothing twinged or scraped as he moved into standing position, and after an approving nod to the medic, he resumed his seat on the table, critically studying his figure. "Good." The medic praised, entering some data into his computer. "Now, one more question." He turned back to face him, optics solemn. "Do you remember anything?"

The mech blinked. What kind of question was this? It was illogical, yet at the same time he thought this, he realized that there was no individual memories in his CPU. Data had been uploaded with vital functions and information, but no experiences past his awakening. His brow creased. He did not like this one bit. It felt unnatural. His optics snapped back to the medic, studying him appraisingly. "Negative." He stated simply. "I possess no individual memories. Please explain this error."

"No error." The medic sighed quietly. "You've just been initiated in what I can only assume is your third body now. Everything else was destroyed other than your spark, so naturally there is no data to transfer. I was hoping there was some residual imprinting, but sometimes it takes time to manifest. I'm afraid you will have to start from scratch for now."

The mech frowned but nodded once in acceptance to the information. What the medic said rang true with the data included in his CPU. Lack of data from a destroyed processor naturally would leave him with a blank slate to write his own experiences anew. "I understand." He said after a moment.

"We haven't assigned you a designation yet, I leave that up to you to select one when you find something suitable."

"Understood."

"Are you feeling up to speaking with Optimus Prime?"

A quick data search indicated this individual was the leader of this faction. The medic's designation was Ratchet. "Affirmative."

"Very well, I will call him."

It took only a few moments for the medical bay door to slide open permitting the one who his data indicated was the expected leader. He straightened off the bunk and stood at attention as the leader turned to face him. "I hear from Ratchet that you are functioning normally. It is good to see you up and well."

"Good to be so, sir." The mech replied formally, standing as if at attention. Ratchet watched critically taking note. Residual imprinting or not, the mech was bred to be a soldier and trained to respond to authority. It was very interesting that this seemed to be a natural response, whereas most mechs who had to start off blank behaved like untrained sparklings new to the world. Perhaps this said something more about the mech's personality.

Ratchet let the two speak as he turned back to Jazz whom he'd put offline again so he could do a diagnostic. The second lieutenant hadn't been happy about the idea, but had complied after being threatened with being restricted to medical house arrest if he didn't behave. So far from what the medic could see, there was not even a sign of strain or damage to the mech's structure. No matter how good a medic he was, even Ratchet hadn't been able to do a seamless meld to the armor that normally had self-regenerative components to help him out. But that no longer mattered, as the seam was gone completely, repaired in entirety. There was no damage whatsoever, and even some of the rougher patch jobs were completely up to par. Ratchet spared a glance to the sleeping human. He was going to have to have a chat with Sam about the appropriateness of using his newfound healing abilities in battle.

They would have a very significant advantage if the boy could heal wounds instantly. Perhaps they could end this war permanently.