Personal note: Okay, so it's been an age, sorry about that. The simple truth is I made a mistake, brought myself a new notebook, and allowed myself to think beyond the Transformers, after eight years I figured I could use the break, and I honestly didn't know if I had anymore stories left in me, since then I've come up with about half a dozen viable stories, which I hope to start posting in the new year, but I don't know if I'll use this profile or not, I'll keep you posted, and I'm not giving up on this story either, I've put far too much work into it to quit now.

So I'll wish you all the happiest of Christmas's and the best of new years. Take care, FB.

Part 38

Attack sirens blared, and Jazz had one clear thought as he ran through the base to the city's defences. Not here. Iacon had become his home, the latest in a long line of cities that he had loved. The constant sounds of the place had become the back-beat to his life, and one mech above all had given his life a depth of meaning that he had never expected to feel again.

As warriors crowded the battleground Jazz mentally reached into the now familiar hub; he needed to know where his friends were. None of them were safe. He doubted there was any such place left for Autobots. Worry surged through him, above everything he wanted to protect them, but some of them were too distant, and the rest were definitely in harm's way.

On Prowl's order the force moved forward, their primary goal was to stop the Decepticons reaching the city walls, and the imposing figure of Optimus Prime was already calling for Megatron to face him.

With a terrifying crunch the two lines met, the fight was on, and Jazz found himself struggling to keep his feet as the initial crush pushed him one way, and then another.

Jazz had been part of a few battles over the vorns, but not like this one. He was used to following his instinct, living by his wits just as he always had, but, for the first time, he wasn't a commander; Prowl held the fate of every mech he could see in his hands, and the Prime was giving the orders.

After a few breems the fighting began to spread out a little, Jazz was finally able to move freely and he began to find his targets.

Even as the battle raged the hub chatter was constant, and above all the reports from the hundreds of Autobots Prowl's calm commands kept everyone in line. For the first time Jazz truly understood what the tactician's battle computer was really capable of, and the advantages of having a mech like him in control of the hub during a fight, but even as he began to appreciate his lover's role something began to change.

It was subtle at first; the lines of code shifted almost imperceptibly, but Jazz quickly noticed the change in the mood of the troops.

The hub's been hacked, he realised, and as the thought passed through his processor Red Alert's presence asserted itself into the chatter and began to fight back. Soundwave, Jazz thought. It was typical of him to attack in such a way, and Jazz knew first hand that the chaos he caused could be devastating.

The hub feeds were becoming more corrupted, orders were fragmented and misleading; the effects were demoralised troops, and broken battle-lines. Iacon's warriors were used to having Prowl and Optimus in charge of any confrontation, and as things became more garbled the ranks started to crumble. Red Alert was losing his fight, and everyone else was losing theirs.

"Kneel Autobots," Soundwave's monotone voice boomed clearly through the comms. "Kneel before your lord and master. Kneel, and Megatron will allow you to live. Kneel..."

All around Jazz the Autobots wavered, their momentary hesitation seemed to scream at him. They were terrified, and Jazz couldn't blame them.

The message repeated again with the tiniest hint of finality. Everyone knew Soundwave's reputation. Some called him a monster, and Jazz understood why better than most, if anything Jazz found the truth more disconcerting than the rumours. Soundwave was unwaveringly logical, had been among the first to join the Decepticons, and if he could see the promise of Megatron's vision then the Autobots didn't stand a chance. Fortunately Jazz had always considered himself to be an optimist.

Being more used to fighting as an individual meant that Jazz was able to adapt, and knowing hubs as he did he tried to help. He called out to the mechs around him and told them to hold together. At the same time he tried to assist Red Alert, but it was getting harder to get the message through. In a flash of inspiration he realised that he needed to transmit something that couldn't be broken down.

"Iacon stands." The components were too short to be fragmented. To Jazz's great relief his report was repeated almost instantly; it was Wheeljack, the scientist had recognised Jazz's coding and realised what he was trying to do.

"Iacon stands," Trailbreaker was the next to respond, then Prowl, the twins, Hound, Bluestreak, Mirage, Blaster, Optimus Prime himself, tens, then hundreds of mechs all sending the same message, uniting and overwhelming Soundwave's message of fear.

The effect was nothing short of incredible; the Autobots seemed to stand straighter, fight harder, and with their advantage gone the Decepticons started falling back.

Ahead of him Jazz saw the twins looking fearsome and triumphant despite their dents and scratches. Sideswipe grinned as he joined them. "Iacon stands," he said quietly, "genius."

Several mechs, some Jazz knew and some he didn't, started slapping him on the back. Optimus Prime approached, but Jazz didn't have time to give him more than an acknowledging nod before the sky was lit up by Megatron's parting volley.

The warlord was so far beyond furious that he no longer cared about anything. He had poured every unit of energy into the shots and had to be helped away by his supporters, but the damage was done.

Jazz dropped into his alt-mode and raced the canon fire to the city.

High above Jazz, in one of Iacon's gun-turrets, Wheeljack saw the shots coming. He knew their destructive capability instantly. "Everyone out!" he ordered, giving Mirage a shove towards the door. "Bluestreak move!" He didn't give the younger mech chance to react be for he hauled him out of his gun seat, and raced for the exit.

He felt the shock of the hit even as he pushed harder, and with one last burst of speed he leapt for the door. For an instant he seemed suspended in the air, but then everything fell away except for Bluestreak, who was clinging to his arm. They crashed into the wall several levels below where they had started.

Bluestreak screamed as the delicate sensory-panels on his back impacted against the solid metal, he was fighting to stay online, and in their current position there wasn't much that Wheeljack could do to help him. "It's okay Blue, we're alright," he said soothingly.

"We're not dead?" Bluestreak asked, his optics weren't focusing properly, but at least he was coherent.

"Not yet," Wheeljack murmured, "but I'll need your help if we're going to get out of this."

Above and below them the wall was almost shear. We're lucky we didn't just plummet to our deaths, Wheeljack realised, and we're going to need a miracle to get out of this.

"Wheeljack! Bluestreak!" a voice from above them shouted desperately.

And apparently our miracle's name is Jazz. "Down here!" he called back.

A moment later Jazz's grappling hook whizzed down to land within easy reach of Wheeljack's hand. "Bluestreak, I need you to hold on to me tight, okay?"

"I can climb," the younger mech protested.

"There's no room for you to turn round here, and you're still a little dazed," Wheeljack said kindly, "I know that you must be in agony, and that Jazz isn't strong enough to support us completely, one slip and we're done," he explained, "I can see another ledge about half way up, it looks wide enough for you to turn around on, from there we should be fine."

Bluestreak nodded and clung to the engineer. Slowly, horribly slowly, and half expecting to plunge to his death at any moment, Wheeljack started to move.

"You can do it," Bluestreak encouraged him as the inched upwards. "I know you can."

A breem or so later they reached the wider ledge, and Bluestreak shuffled around to face the wall. With that done Wheeljack could see the damage that their impact had caused, how one of Bluestreak's door-wings was twisted awkwardly, and both of them were dented. He must be in agony, the engineer realised, and he found he had a new respect for the younger mech's courage.

A few more breems, and with some assistance from Mirage, who had been helping Jazz hold their lifeline, the two mechs scrambled over the top. With everyone safe they all collapsed, vents heaving, and reassuring each other that they were okay. Even Mirage looked shaken until he spotted Sideswipe and moved away.

Jazz was rubbing his shoulder-struts and wincing between smiles, but it was Bluestreak who worried Wheeljack. He had similar appendages to the younger mech, and he knew how distressing it felt when they were damaged.

Gently he manoeuvred Bluestreak so that he was leaning on Jazz, and moved around to look at his wing-panels again. He deactivated the younger mechs sensory net, and adjusted the panels to their proper positions before looking up and meeting Bluestreak's grateful optics. "You should get Ratchet to check you over before you reactivate those systems, are you comfortable?"

Bluestreak shifted a little closer to him, smiled and said. "Very."

Wheeljack allowed himself a moment of peace in the younger mechs arms, it couldn't last, he knew he was needed in the med-bay to help Ratchet with the inevitable repairs that would be flooding in now that the battle was done, but he couldn't quite force himself to move.

Over Bluestreak's helm Wheeljack caught a flash of a smile from Jazz, it wasn't the usual million-watt smile, but a rather more relaxed expression that made Wheeljack think that Jazz knew something he didn't, but just what that knowledge was alluded the engineer.

"Is everyone alright?" Prowl asked as he ran up.

Jazz bounced easily to his feet, all traces of weariness vanished with his movement, and he turned to greet his lover. "We're fine dear-spark," he answered reassuringly. For an instant they embraced, and Wheeljack noticed that the tactician looked more exhausted than he felt.

A moment later Prowl forced himself onwards, and knelt down in front of Bluestreak, who had straightened up considerably at Prowl's appearance.

"A few dents and scratches," the younger mech admitted as Prowl inspected him. "Nothing to worry about thanks to Jazz and Wheeljack."

"Let Ratchet be the judge of that," Prowl said sternly.

"He's going to be working flat out for ages," Bluestreak protested.

"Then you can take a shift on monitor duty before you report to the med-bay."

"I was hoping for something a little more useful," Bluestreak grumbled.

"Someone has to watch over us Blue," Wheeljack put in, hoping that he wasn't speaking out of turn.

"I guess," Bluestreak conceded.

Prowl shot Wheeljack a grateful look, which seemed to be for more than his words, before Jazz led him off.

"I bet those two will be doing more than monitor duty," Bluestreak said dryly.

"Jazz did seem to have something on his processor," Wheeljack agreed, but there was a purposefulness in the way Jazz moved that told him that it wasn't what Bluestreak was thinking of. "I'll have to leave you too. If I don't get to the med-bay soon Ratchet will probably hunt me down."

"No one wants that," Bluestreak grinned. "I'll get there as soon as I can."

Wheeljack had expected the med-bay to be busy, but he realised when he arrived that he had miscalculated slightly. The cue of mechs waiting to be seen passed through the bay doors, and disappeared out of sight around a corner.

Ratchet glanced up as he entered, gave him a relieved look and nodded to one of the berths, where Tracks was waiting.

Wheeljack didn't think that it was an accident that he had to repair the pompous blue mech, he knew all too well that Ratchet had planned it as a punishment for being late, and a fair one in his opinion, but after vorns in Sunstreaker's company Track's vanity and haughty attitude were easy to ignore.

He worked methodically and patiently for some time, but his fatigue was starting to show when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Bluestreak," he said happily as he turned to face the younger mech. "Is it that time already?"

Bluestreak nodded. "I brought some energon down with me. I guessed that Ratchet wouldn't give you time to refuel."

"He's not sparkless," Wheeljack protested, "just busy."

"I've known him all my life," Bluestreak reminded the engineer. "I know what he's like," he shot a disarming grin over his shoulder at the medic, handed Wheeljack the energon, and left to take his place in the line, which was still extending beyond the med-bay doors.

It seemed like an age before he saw Bluestreak again, and that was only for a few breems while Ratchet checked over the field repairs and dismissed him. Bluestreak waved cheerfully to Wheeljack, and left again.

By the time Wheeljack finally left the med-bay the late shift was well underway, hardly anyone was about, and the few that were looked as tired as he felt, but exhausted as he was he still felt restless.

"Iacon stands," he muttered to himself, trying to sound reassuring and failing. It had been far too close, and Wheeljack had already lost far too many homes to risk another.

He trudged wearily past the turning for his quarters and made his way to the city walls. The repairs were progressing well, but there was still plenty to do, and Grapple was more than happy to put him to work repairing a large hole in the outer wall of the dome.

He didn't stop until the gap was completely sealed, but then his exhaustion over took him and he curled up right there and then, and fell into a deep recharge.

By his chronometer it had only been a few breems since he had slipped into recharge, and it felt like less, but whoever was shaking him wasn't letting up. What was meant to be the threat of unholy violence came out as a reluctant mumble, but when he onlined one optic he was almost relieved.

"Bluestreak," he said in surprise. "Shouldn't you be in recharge?"

"I did that already," the younger mech replied, "and I helped Prowl with a few things before I came out here. Jazz told me that you were still listed as on duty. He wanted to come himself, but he and Prowl are plotting something and he couldn't get away. He asked us to stop by their quarters this evening though."

"Their quarters," Wheeljack couldn't hide his surprise; it almost sounded like a commitment to him.

"Jazz's words not mine," Bluestreak clarified. "Maybe they'll be making an announcement."

"Maybe."

Bluestreak's slightly mischievous smile disappeared in a spark-pulse. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that to you, I know that you and Jazz were..."

"I'm tired not upset Bluestreak," Wheeljack interrupted, "but I'm not convinced either. It just doesn't sound like Jazz."

"We'll find out this evening, but in the meantime it's the wash-rack for you, and then your berth."

"I don't need a minder Blue," Wheeljack protested.

"I know, but maybe it's time someone looked after you for a change."

Something in the younger mech's tone caught Wheeljack's attention, but as tired as he was he couldn't find the right words to say before Bluestreak hauled him to his feet, and led him back to the main buildings of the base.

True to his word, Bluestreak took them straight to the wash-rack despite Wheeljack's protests.

"It's been nearly two cycles and you're still covered in battle-dust," the younger mech pointed out as he gently shoved Wheeljack under the spray. The engineer had to admit that the hot cleaning fluids felt wonderful.

"Why are you doing this?" Wheeljack murmured as Bluestreak started to sluice him down.

The younger mech flashed him a smile; a dazzling, beautiful smile that Wheeljack hadn't seen before. "Because I want to, and because I'm tired for waiting for the right time. Every time you've come back to Iacon I've hoped that you were coming back to me, and something has always got in the way. I know that's not your fault, but it will be mine if I let it carry on," he said with a playful smile. "So this is me saying that now is the time for us. I've even told Jazz that if he calls you before we're due to meet him I'll get Prowl to reassign him to maintenance."

Wheeljack almost choked on his own vocaliser trying not to laugh at the image of Jazz's indigence, and refused to let himself think about the problems Jazz could cause if he was given something mechanical to fix. "You know Jazz is an officer now and you shouldn't talk to him that way," he warned. He tried to sound stern, but he didn't think that he pulled it off.

"There are certainly some officers that I would never dare talk to like that," Bluestreak admitted. "But most of them pretty much raised me so it's a difficult line to define. Turn around." His last words were a direction, which Wheeljack obeyed immediately, and felt the cleaning fluids wash over his overtaxed shoulder-struts with relief.

"That feels so good," he murmured. "Did you tell Prowl what you said to Jazz?"

"He suggested it," Bluestreak giggled. "I think he had other ideas on how to keep Jazz busy, but I don't want to think about them too much. The idea of Prowl having that sort of relationship is just odd."

This time Wheeljack did laugh. For the first time since the attack sirens had sounded he relaxed, and felt his fears melt away, or at least he was able to shove them to the back of his processor. Once again Bluestreak had come along when Wheeljack had felt like the Pit was opening up in front of him, and reminded him that life was worth living.

As he stood under the dryer Wheeljack watched the younger mech give the wash-rack a quick clean so that whoever came in next wouldn't have to, and found himself thinking hard. He had never intentionally avoided Bluestreak, but there were considerations.

Bluestreak was deca-vorns younger than he was, and spent most of his time in Iacon while Wheeljack was constantly on the move, and Wheeljack worried that Bluestreak might find him boring, but there was no denying the attraction between them, and the fact that they lived in troubled times where happiness was so hard to find also encouraged him to take the chance.

With all of those thoughts buzzing in his processor, and with his exhaustion weighing him down, Wheeljack realised that it wasn't much of a choice. If he walked away he knew he would regret it, and feel lonelier than ever. He wasn't sure if he could face that again, not when the chance for happiness was there for the taking.

For an instant he considered just grabbing Bluestreak, and carrying him off to his quarters. Maybe that was what the younger mech wanted, but it wasn't something he felt comfortable doing. Instead he left the dryer running, and used the sound of it to mask his footfalls as he crept up behind Bluestreak.

He would never know if he did make a noise, or whether Bluestreak sensed the movement, but something made him turn as Wheeljack reached him.

The dryer shut down and there was a moment of complete silence before Bluestreak closed the gap and pulled Wheeljack into a fierce embrace.

Wheeljack mentally shoved his worries aside, for a while at least nothing mattered, except for the mech in his arms. He had almost forgotten the joy of such a simple pleasure.

Their tender moment was interrupted when a small group of mechs entered loudly. Bluestreak shot them a grin, while Wheeljack tried not to look as embarrassed as he felt as they exchanged pleasantries.

"Later mechs," Bluestreak after a few moments, and he led Wheeljack out. "Don't look so worried," he said cheerfully. "Do you think we're the first mechs to get caught fooling around in the wash-racks? Why do you think they made so much noise when they came in?"

"Iacon's always noisy," Wheeljack replied. "In Kaon we only shouted for the gladiators in the Arena, in Nova Cronum commanders yelled in the training yards, but here everyone is so loud it's a wonder to me that you can hear anything."

"I guess we learn to tune it out," Bluestreak responded after a moment's thought. "The simple truth is that the rest of the planet thinks of Iacon as the noisy, brash, crowded hub of their world, we'd be letting them down if we were quiet, and I wouldn't want that, would you?"

"No," Wheeljack answered truthfully. "I'll try to be louder in future."

Bluestreak squeezed him as they walked. "Just be you 'Jack. That's all I want."