Part 35

Jazz blasted his way through the side of the shuttle, and tried not to see the chaos that waited for him. Many voices called for help, others only moaned, and Jazz could see that a few of them would never make a noise again.

"Everybody get out!" he shouted above the din. "If you can walk get to the other shuttle, if you want to help take someone with you."

"Jazz!" The sound of his own name being called so desperately all but shattered his deliberate coolness.

"'Breaker, here!" he bellowed as he followed the sound and spotted a red chevron sticking out from under a collapsed bulkhead.

As Trailbreaker heaved at the panel Jazz gripped the mech by the shoulders, pulled and was rewarded with an armful of terrified, panicking Bluestreak.

"I've got you," Jazz said just loud enough to be heard. "You're alright." He knew that he had to hurry, that there was little time for sentimentality, but he couldn't force himself to move until Bluestreak's intakes began to return to normal. Trailbreaker's only reminder that they needed to move on was met with a quick but stern look, and Jazz remained where he was, rubbing soothing circles just below the younger mech's sensory-panels until Bluestreak was calm.

Astro-seconds that felt like vorns later the gunner looked up at him, and seemed ready to speak, but didn't seem to know what to say.

Jazz stalled him. "We need to find Prowl," he said softly. His tone was calculated to let Bluestreak know that there were things that needed to be said between them, but that it wasn't the time.

Bluestreak seemed to understand him completely, and scrambled to his feet. "He was in the cockpit," he said quickly.

Jazz felt the energon in his systems go cold with worry. Despite all the work that went into making the shuttles as safe as possible the helm was always the worst place to be in a crash, and his own personal experience compounded his fear. "'Breaker." he barked.

The large black mech didn't hesitate before throwing his considerable weight against the bulkhead. The already damaged wall didn't stand a chance.

Prowl, and a mech that Jazz didn't recognise, lay amongst the debris of the helm. Both mechs were offline, and the sparking fires from the terminals left no time for caution, or concern.

Once again all Jazz had to do was bark his friend's name and Trailbreaker hauled the shuttle's pilot out of the rubble, leaving Jazz and Bluestreak to help Prowl. As they made their ungainly way back out Jazz ran one last scan; there were no more life-signs, and he couldn't bring himself to look at the more detailed information, which would have told him how many Autobots had perished in the crash.

Exhausted, and with his emotional controls in tatters, Jazz pushed through Steelhaven's crowded hold, and guided Bluestreak into the rear cabin, where he could make Prowl comfortable on the berth, and escape the cacophony of mechs either calling for help, or trying to answer.

"We need Wheeljack in here," Jazz muttered as he tried to assess Prowl's injuries, "but I'm almost afraid to ask him. He's got quite enough to deal with out there."

"We'll be in Iacon soon enough," Bluestreak assured him.

Telling himself that the younger mech was right, and that Prowl was stable, Jazz sank down on the edge of the berth.

"When did you last rest?" Bluestreak's tone was light, conversational even, but his optics were sharp.

"Feels like vorns," Jazz admitted, "I feel as if I've been running since Perihex fell, maybe longer. I sometimes wonder if I've stopped running since Uraya." He cursed himself inwardly as soon as the name passed his lip-components. What is it about this youngling that brings up everything I shouldn't say?

"Uraya?" If Bluestreak's optics had been sharp before they could pierce armour now.

"I shouldn't have mentioned that," Jazz forestalled him. "Old wounds and distant memories, we have new and more pressing things to concern us now."

"But..."

"Let it lie Bluestreak," Jazz ordered, and it shamed him that he had to make it an order. "One cycle maybe, but not now."

"You should rest for a while," Bluestreak said softly, heeding Jazz's pleading tone. "It's not far to Iacon, but it might help you."

Jazz didn't have the energy to argue. He stretched out wearily beside Prowl, but paused when he realised that Bluestreak was still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, there was no where else to sit and Jazz couldn't blame him for not wanting to go out into the hold. He raised his arm in a silent invitation, Bluestreak understood him immediately and settled down beside him.

Within a few moments they were a both recharging peacefully.

Wheeljack wiped as much of the other mech's energon off his hands as he could. He hadn't stopped since before his unit had left Kalis, since then he had fought in the battle of Nova Cronum, rescued stricken mechs after the shuttle crash, and spent the rest of his time trying to be a medic. It was a task he had never relished, although it was forced upon him often enough.

At least now they'll all live to see Iacon, he thought. He hardly dared hope that once they were there they would cease to be his problem. Ratchet was a fully qualified and more than competent medic, but with so few trained to help him he had to find hands where he could.

A breem earlier Trailbreaker had told the engineer that they would be landing as soon as he received clearance, and that left Wheeljack with just one task, and he could only thank his stars that it did not involve anyone else's inner workings.

He stepped through the door to the rear cabin and stopped dead in amazement. Jazz, Prowl, and Bluestreak lay huddled together on the large berth. Each of them looked so serene and innocent that if Wheeljack ignored their size and armour he could see the sparklings they had all once been. He had never seen any of them look so untroubled. Looks like Jazz finally found the sanctuary he's been searching for.

He was so stunned by the sight that it took him a moment to realise that Bluestreak's optics were watching him closely, although the younger mech hadn't moved.

"You're almost home," Wheeljack whispered.

"It feels that way," Bluestreak murmured.

For an instant Wheeljack felt a stab of jealousy; Bluestreak seemed so comfortable curled up beside Jazz, but there was no pretence behind Bluestreak's words, just an simple truth, and Wheeljack shoved the negative feelings aside because of that honesty. All those thoughts disappeared when the young mech nudged Jazz to bring him back online. He didn't have time to call out the warning that Jazz could be violent when disturbed, but he was ready to help if Jazz reacted badly. Fortunately the black and white's visor began to glow, and Jazz grinned at them.

"How long?" he asked Wheeljack.

"A breem or so. Do you need help with Prowl?"

"Bluestreak and I can manage," Jazz assured him. "The others?"

"Everyone who made it out of the shuttle will make it to Iacon. Some are in better shape than others though."

"I should have been out there," Jazz said guiltily.

"No," Wheeljack disagreed, "your place was here, and you've done enough for a few cycles."

"Prowl never stops either," Bluestreak said with a worried glance to the still offline mech. "He takes all the troubles of this world and keeps them as if they were his."

Wheeljack chuckled, and looked at Jazz. "And you thought that the two of you had nothing in common," he said dryly.

"An unhealthy work ethic is hardly the base for a solid relationship," Jazz retorted.

Bluestreak's optics widened. "You have a relationship?" he asked before his processor caught up with his vocaliser. "I thought you just... well, I don't know what you did with him, and I'm not sure I want to, but..."

"Bluestreak," Jazz interrupted, "Prowl and I don't know what we have yet. We talked earlier, while he was saving my life, but our only conclusion was that we needed to talk more. I told him I'd catch up with him next time I was in Iacon, but that's going to happen sooner than I thought it would, so I have no idea what I'm going to say."

"Oh," Bluestreak said quietly. "Well, I guess we'd better him to the med-bay, then you can think."

Wheeljack led the way out of the cabin, but he didn't stay with the other three; there were still plenty of other casualties to offload.

The med-bay seemed to had descended into a whole new level of the Inferno by the time Wheeljack arrived. The usual bustle had become barely organised chaos, and for a moment he stood frozen trying to work out where to start, before Ratchet waved a laser-scalpel at a diagnostic unit, and he realised that he would be working on circuits and parts which had been removed so that they could be repaired.

After a while Wheeljack realised that he was finding the work more tedious than draining. He never would have admitted that he was bored, but he soon found himself wishing for a distraction.

It felt like cycles later when Bluestreak finally appeared at his side. The younger mech looked almost exhausted as Wheeljack felt, but still gave him a warm smile as he settled himself on the edge of a vacant berth. "What a cycle," he muttered.

Wheeljack almost laughed. Bluestreak's cycle, so far as he knew, had started in his quarters after a full recharge. Wheeljack had spent the night at Steelhaven's helm looking forward to a few cycles leave, which he felt were hard earned. His unit had spent close to half a vorn holding back the Decepticon advance.

"How's Prowl?" Wheeljack asked. Prowl was on the other side of the med-bay, and he hadn't seen anyone else to ask. He didn't really know Prowl that well, but he understood that the mech meant a lot to Bluestreak.

"Stable, but Ratchet's keeping him off-line. He damaged his sensory-panels, and that can be incredibly uncomfortable," Bluestreak explained, unconsciously flexing his own appendages in a sign of sympathy. "There's nothing I can to for him, and Jazz needs time to think, so I thought I'd come, keep you company, if that's okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Wheeljack asked.

"Well, you have given me the brush off before," Bluestreak retorted, with a smile to take the sting out of his words.

"That was a long time ago," Wheeljack reminded him. "And I was seeing someone at the time, but that's been over for a while now. I was headed back to Nova Cronum to take a few cycles leave when the attack started. I'd intended to get in a good recharge, and then catch a transport here to see you."

"Really?" Bluestreak asked. He sounded surprised, but looked happy. "The last time we spoke you gave the impression that you'd be gone for longer."

"Jazz finally realised that we were all running on empty, even him. There comes a point where you have to remind yourself what you're fighting for or the fight becomes pointless, and that's when mistakes happen."

Bluestreak nodded, but Wheeljack doubted that he would ever really understand. By comparison Bluestreak's life was safe, comfortable, and predictable. He would never know what it was like to spend most of his time in enemy territory with no back up and no way out in sight, or at least so Wheeljack hoped.

"Do you know how long you'll be here?"

Wheeljack shook his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if Jazz has us back out there again in a cycle. Jazz will call it duty, but Nova Cronum was more than just a military asset to us." He snapped shut the casing on his latest piece of work, and picked up another.

Before he could even assess the damage Bluestreak had stepped in close and covered it with his hand. "Take a break," the young mech said softly, "just a breem or two. Put that down, and come with me."

"I have a lot of work to do Bluestreak," Wheeljack argued.

"And it'll still be here when you get back," Bluestreak eased the servo away from him, and led him quickly through a door at the back of the med-bay. There wasn't much in the small room, which seemed to be half office, half storage area, but the energon dispenser was a welcome sight. Bluestreak quickly poured him a ration, and watched him drink it down. "Better?" he asked, when Wheeljack was done.

"A little," Wheeljack admitted, "I'm sorry. It's been a Pit of a cycle, and I need to feel useful."

"I know," Bluestreak assured him, "but what you said earlier about knowing what you're fighting for, that's important too. I'll be back on duty soon enough, and for all I know you could be gone again before I'm done. So I need one thing, one answer."

"Only one?" Wheeljack was naturally curious, he could think of a hundred things he needed to know, why the kind, young mech was even remotely interested in him for a start, but apparently Bluestreak was driven more by his spark than his processor.

For a moment Bluestreak looked nervous, he moved a little closer, hesitated, then leant forward further and pressed his lips against Wheeljack's in a gentle, but glorious kiss. "I should have done that ages ago," he whispered as he pulled away. His optics were bright with warmth and happiness. "I'm not used to having to wait half a vorn just to find out if a mech's interested in me."

"Maybe I should make something clear," the engineer's tone was warm but stern, "I'm not looking for anything short-term, I'd really like us to last a while."

Bluestreak nodded, smiled, and in that moment Wheeljack thought him beautiful. He wished that he could stay, that the world outside their little room would wait for them for a while, but he knew that it wouldn't. It was only chance that no one had opened the door already.

"There's a service vent behind the work-bench," Bluestreak said casually, "we could sneak out through it and no one would ever know."

Wheeljack was tempted, but he shook his head. "I need to get back to work. How do you know about the vent?" Usually only maintenance 'bots knew about such things.

"When I was a sparkling Ratchet thought he might make a medic out of me, he used to make me study in here. That tunnel was my freedom, from there I could get anywhere in the base, usually to the targeting range. I wanted to be a warrior, becoming a sniper was Prowl's compromise. I could help, but I wouldn't be in immediate danger."

"It wasn't a bad idea," Wheeljack told him. "I don't think I like the thought of you being on the front line either."

"Says the mech who spends most of his time on the other side of that line," Bluestreak muttered.

"I was a mature mech when this war started," Wheeljack reminded him. "No one ever thought to protect me."

"Maybe someone should," Bluestreak said with a sympathetic look, "but I guess that'll have to wait for another cycle." He leant in and gave Wheeljack another kiss, a longer one than before. The sort of kiss that promised more, and left Wheeljack's coolant system working at twice it's usual rate.

Before Wheeljack's processor could catch up with what had happened Bluestreak had shot out of the room, leaving Wheeljack leaning on the desk and trying to keep a rather smug grin from his lip-components. Not for the first time Wheeljack found himself thankful for his face-mask. He slipped out of the room hoping that his absence had gone unnoticed, but looking back he should have known better.

Ratchet was stood right outside, hands on hips and optics demanding answers.

"Don't you ever take a breem off?" Wheeljack asked abruptly. He didn't mean to snap, but he wasn't in the mood for one of Ratchet's infamous aft-crunchings either.

"I'm just worried about your intentions toward Bluestreak."

"My intentions," Wheeljack said indignantly. "He's the one coming on to me. I like him, a lot as it happens, but I didn't start anything."

"He's too young for you," Ratchet hissed.

"He's a mature mech, with more relationship experience than me," Wheeljack shot back. "We've talked about our pasts. While I've been away we talked most cycles, he knows that in my life I have been in exactly two relationships, and I know that he's been in more than a few, none of that matters to us, so maybe you could tell me why it should matter to you."

"I helped raise him. He's the closest thing I'm ever likely to get to my own creation, can you begin to comprehend that?"

"I know what it's like to be on the other end of that," Wheeljack said quietly. "My own creators were very protective of me, took a dislike to a mech I got involved with, made our relationship difficult, even packed me off to Perihex so that I couldn't see him. I was furious, and they turned out to be right, which didn't help."

"You're telling me that I should let Bluestreak make his own mistakes," Ratchet inferred.

Wheeljack nodded. "Hopefully I won't prove to be one of them. Now, if you'll excuse me I have work to do." He started to walk away, but Ratchet called him back.

"I think you've done enough for a cycle or two," the medic told him.

A.n: Sorry about the wait again. I had hoped to post this chapter much earlier, but two colds, a few family issues, and a small fire at work (thankfully no one was hurt, but the clean up afterwards was horrendous) really made a dent on my free time.

A quick, but special thank you, to Imagine Dragons for lovely, and thoughtful, reviews. As you intended I've moderated the one with spoilers. It is wonderful to know that someone is really paying attention though, and I think I can say that you weren't imagining things without giving the game away.

Much love, FB.