Man never made any material as resilient as the human spirit.

-Bernard Williams

-;-

Christmas passed by quickly, followed by an uneventful New Years, and Ellie and Leon continued to grow and simply lived each day as it came by. Before anyone really knew it, January had gone right by and it was dawning on February.

Ellie pouted at the weather outside, chin propped on one hand as she lamented the rain that had begun to pour from the sky, washing away the half a foot of snow that they'd been able to enjoy for only a couple of months. Not that anyone was really, honestly depressed about it, of course. Heavy snow meant difficulties for either of the pregnant women to waddle the five minute trek into town, and that meant that Rosalina was once again the sole provider for the three of them.

A seven month pregnant Leon was currently resting a plate of eggs on her stomach as she reclined in her chair at the table, watching Rosalina as the elder woman tidied up the kitchen for what had to be the third time in the last half hour. Leon didn't even think that the other woman knew that she was doing it, either. She had a slightly vague look in her eye that usually meant she was deep in thought, and given that she knew quite well what the Epps monarch could do when provoked…

She was so not going to interrupt the train of thought.

Heaving a gusty sigh, Leon glanced at her journal laying in the middle of the table next to Ellie's, and she idly reached for it, opening it to a blank page and grabbing one of the ever present pens lying around.

February, 2010

Stomach hurts, as usual. I wish this freaking kid would hurry up and develop so I can get it the fuck out of me. Now I know why women are preferring not to have kids these days, because holy shit, it is a fucking ton of effort to try and sustain these bitches.

On another note, wondering why I keep getting these weird urges to get off my ass and do something, and to be frank, I don't even know what I would do if the opportunity came up to me and slugged me in the face.

And on yet another note, can't help but wonder if Ellie's gonna ever reach out to her uncle while we're here. Or Fig. God knows the poor Spaniard deserves to know he's gonna be a dad. Although, I can understand if Ellie wants to go with the shock factor. I imagine his face would be priceless. Maybe he'd faint!

Anywho, wrapping this bitch up.

Leon out.

Satisfied with what she'd written, Leon slipped the pen into the journal before placing it neatly back in the middle of the table and returning to her place of eggs, which had cooled to the point where they were barely warm. Not that she really cared at this point. Food was food, regardless of what form it came in, and this was no exception.

"What the- is that a Ferrari!?"

Leon's head snapped up, and within ten seconds had heaved herself up from the table and nearly bolted for the window to snag a glance of the mystery vehicle Ellie had identified.

"Holy- Ellie, that's a Ferrari 458 Italia." The brunette whispered, almost reverently, watching as the shiny red car smoothly glided right on by the home. It looked quite out of place, really, considering the fact that Ravello wasn't exactly the most heavily populated town.

"You think someone bought one, or is it just a visitor?" Ellie asked curiously, eyes roving the sleek form.

"Beats me." Leon shrugged, doing much of the same.

However, there was something about that Ferrari that gave Leon the creeps just by looking at it. As in full hair on the back of her neck prickling, faint nausea type of thing. But Ellie didn't seem to notice, her attention focused on something entirely different as she narrowed her eyes at something on the side of the vehicle.

"Something wrong?" Leon blinked, attempting to figure out what the mocha skinned woman was looking at.

"No. Just thought I saw something." The mocha skinned woman replied quickly, retreating from the window with an entirely too blank expression on her features. "Just my imagination."

Okay…maybe it wasn't just Leon after all.

-;-

"So…..Prowler…..what're we gonna do today?" Jazz drawled, lounging in the chair across from the SIC's desk, pedes placed firmly on the surface as he reclined.

The black and bronze mech barely raised his helm from his data-pad, but Jazz could tell that the mech was silently wishing that he would just shut the frag off and get out of his office before he did something that would not end well for either of them. Mind, at this point Jazz didn't really care, considering that he had been sitting there all day while waiting for the mech. It wasn't like they could go outside, either. The rare two week rainy season had finally reached Diego Garcia, and nobot was really willing to go out and get themselves wet. Other than Sunny and Sides, but that was mostly because he'd been framing the pair of them for most of the pranks he and the human femme Lex had been pulling on Ratchet.

"I'm sure you can figure out something other than irritating me to keep yourself occupied." Prowl replied dryly, pausing for a moment to give the silver mech a meaningful look. Jazz shrugged, an easy grin coming to his faceplates. It wasn't as if he was hiding the fact that he was behind the pranks….it was that he usually had fragging good accomplices and alibis.

"Maybe Ah'm not in the mood to do somethin' else to keep mahself entertained."

"Jazz, I am only going to ask you once. Please leave me to work in peace." Prowl vented, rubbing his optic ridge tiredly. "There are regulations to correct, and I still need to update the firewalls and other trackers in the communications department, and I will not be able to complete everything that I need to today if you are hovering."

"Ah don' hover." Jazz piped up indignantly, though he was certainly taking in the mech's words. "An' Prowler, if ya need ta do updates, Ah'm a capable 'bot. Ya should've asked meh to help. Ah know mah way around firewalls and communications jus' as well as you or Red."

Before Prowl could reply, Jazz had gotten to his pedes and was exiting the room, leaving the door to slide closed behind him.

As the minibot sauntered down the halls, he passed by the recreation room. Curious, he poked his head in, taking in the fact that most of the populace on base was currently residing on the furniture with their energon rations and talking among themselves.

Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Jolt were all seated at one table, the twins regaling the other three of some kind of escapade that they'd accomplished at some point in the last vorn. Over on one of the large couches that had been custom built, Ironhide and Chromia were sitting with Wheeljack, the three of them involved in their own conversation that most likely revolved around weapon upgrades. Glyph and Flareup were leaning against one of the walls, both of them looking a little torn up from their most recent mission. But there was no sign of Optimus, Ratchet, First Aid and of course Prowl. Meaning that First Aid and Ratchet were doing something in the Med-Bay, Optimus was most likely doing whatever it was that he usually did, and Prowler was doing his own work. Which he was probably going to end up assisting him for, given the SIC's tendencies to eventually break down and give in to Jazz's wheedling. Not that he was feeling accomplished about that, or anything…

"Hey, Jazz! Come over here for a sec!" Flareup called, beckoning the minibot over with a tired smile. With a bright grin of his own, Jazz bobbed his helm and navigated his way over to the far wall, greeting both femmes quietly. It was still odd to see Glyph standing here with fresh welds and scars from being out in the front lines; the last time he'd seen her, she had still been an apprentice to some upperclass scientist or something along those lines. To see her now, battle-worn…it was a slight shock to the systems.

"What can Ah do for ya, femmes?" he asked, tilting his helm to one side.

"Wellll…..we couldn't help but hear some of the gossip going around base, Jazzy, and some of the things we keep hearing are a little ridiculous. Care to clear some of that up for us?" Flareup asked innocently, a far from innocent grin flashing across her faceplates for a moment. Jazz instantly knew that this was going to have to do with whether or not he and Prowl were secretly bonded; it was, after all, fairly obvious that the pair of mechs were close.

At sneaking a glance over at Glyph, the blue femme simply quirked an optic ridge in reply, conveying quite clearly that she didn't have anything to do with what Flareup was about to do.

"Uh huh." Jazz hummed, crossing his arms.

"Is it true that you and Prowl are spark-mates?" she asked.

Jazz vented. "For the last time, femme, no, Prowler an' Ah are not bonded."

"Awww…come on, Jazzy. Everybot knows you two are." Flareup prodded mischievously. Unfortunately for her, however, Jazz wasn't entirely in the mood to go through this today. Not when he could be actually doing something. Like taking over the firewalls from Prowl, or asking Optimus to send him out on the next available mission; anything to keep himself from becoming processor-numb.

"Flareup, Ah know ya mean well, but stop." The minibot stated firmly. "Bein' bonded is serious business, an' Ah've put up with your jokes up until now. But Ah'm puttin' mah pede down."

The orange femme looked as though she wanted to persist, but at a touch to the shoulder from Glyph, the femme backed down, averting her optics. It was all well and good when Jazz was playing along with a joke, but even he'd had enough of the rumors that were no doubt stemming from her. The fact that she was so young and barely knew what she was talking about didn't make it any better, either.

Before anything else could be said, Jazz excused himself and grabbed a cube of energon before exiting the recreation room, glad to find some peace in his already cluttering processor.

-;-

Mirage grumbled to himself as he splashed through half-melted snow and the pouring rain. For the fifth time that week, he wondered why he'd bothered coming to this mud-ball of a planet. There was nothing but disgusting organic matters that continued to work themselves into his inner workings, and it was near the point where he had to physically restrain himself from shuddering whenever he transformed up into his bipedal mode.

Not only that, but he was stuck wandering around this small town until he could get himself fully repaired and preferably cleaned. So here he was, driving around in the rather unpleasant weather, with nothing better to do than feel sorry for himself.

Suddenly, the door to the housing unit he was passing burst open and an irate mocha skinned woman appeared, waddling angrily down the path. From what he could gather, the human femme was the equivalent of sparked and judging by the average size of a sparked human femme, she was six months along.

"Hey! Hey you! Yeah, you!" She yelled, jabbing a finger in his direction. Mirage rolled to a halt, curious, and also slightly wary of her tone. "Get your shiny red aft over here."

The cherry red mech snorted to himself and went to drive away.

"Now."

On second thought...reversing was a good idea.

He stopped once his tinted windows were even with her and revved his engine.

"Let me in. I know what you are." His passenger side door flew open and the mocha carrier scrambled in. "Drive."

-;-

Leon wondered where Ellie had gone. She'd stomp-waddled out of the kitchen a few minutes ago, muttering something about 'giving it a piece of my mind'. She hadn't come back after slamming the door shut, but Leon wasn't exactly worried. She was probably pissed at her baby and had gone for a walk to calm down.

The brunette was actually kind of glad Ellie hadn't asked for company, because Leon was feeling lazy. But she wanted to do something. All of this sitting around was seriously going to drive her to insanity, and she really didn't need to be any more insane than she already was.

"Ugh, first world problems." She grumbled from her chair. Rosalina looked up from her book, and it seemed as though she had an idea.

"Leon, honey," Rosalina's barely contained amusement fluttered in her tone. "Why don't you go look for something to do in the kitchen?"

Leon heaved herself up, grumbling, but headed towards the kitchen. A moment later, several cupboards banged and squeaked and Rosalina briefly wondered what her granddaughter's friend was doing.

The smell of something delicious burst from the kitchen after a few minutes and Leon gave a quiet yelp of pain before water started running. It turned off two minutes later, and silence claimed the house.

"Nonna….." Leon appeared from the kitchen with a plate in her hands. Rosalina could vaguely see what seemed to be berries on the plate, but that was it. "Do you want waffles?"

"It's a bit early for dinner…" Rosalina placed her book on the coffee table and smiled. "But I do enjoy waffles."

Leon's face lit up, and she handed the plate over. Rosalina chuckled internally at the waffles. They were all different shapes; a dinosaur, a wrench, a cross, but a heart covered in strawberries sat on top. Syrup was drizzled over all of it, and a powdering of icing sugar topped the breakfast food. All in all, something that Leon had obviously put a great deal of effort into making.

"Grazie." Rosalina said lightly, accepting the proffered fork that Leon had pulled from out of nowhere with a broad smile. "They look delicious."

Leon's face further lit up, and she inwardly laughed at the younger woman's enthusiasm. "Thank you, Nonna~!" she sang, retreating back to the kitchen with a spring in her step. Rosalina watched her go, shaking her head as she did so.

-;-

Mirage glided down the roads of Ravello, absolutely silent. The femme in his passenger seat was glaring at his steering wheel, or more accurately the Autobot symbol in the middle.

"Who sent you?" She growled, so low he almost stalled. Of course, he'd never do that….

"Perdono? Sono venuto qui me stesso." Mirage murmured back.

"Speak English or I'll hurt you. Or sic my mechanic friend Leon on you. She's been dying to take apart a Ferrari." Ellie hissed.

Of course, the mocha skinned woman was lying about Leon, who was a huge fan of sports cars, but this mech didn't need to know that.

He was silent a few moments before speaking. "I came here myself."

"What?" A look of heavy confusion crossed Ellie's face, and she tried to recall ever seeing this mech on base. As far as she was aware, there were no bots other than Mudflap, and he was a Trax, not a Ferrari.

"My designation is Mirage, Autobot spy and infiltrator. I crash landed just outside of this…town...approximately twelve orns ago."

"Don't back-sass me, boy!" The mocha skinned femme bellowed, causing him to nearly veer into a light post. Luckily, he missed by a few millimetres and swerved back onto the road. "Get out of this town as quickly as you can. A series of unfortunate...accidents might occur if you don't. I want nothing to do with your kind anymore!"

"There are two problems with your request, piccola peste." Mirage growled, slowing to a halt in front of one of the alleyways. "I do not know where the Autobots are, and I lack any means to get there or contact them."

"Fuck me." Ellie slumped, rubbing her belly for several minutes while she debated what the next course of action would be. Finally, she heaved a heavy sigh, a scowl crossing her face, and crossed her arms. "Drive back to my Nonna's; you can stay there until your communications system is back up."

Mirage did an obvious and very illegal U-turn, and roared back the way he came, while the femme in his passenger seat muttered several unhappy statements to herself. Something along the lines of 'why me?' and 'fuck my life', to name a couple.

"What is your designation, femme?" he asked, the words hanging heavily in the already ominous atmosphere.

"Why does it matter?" Ellie bit back. "You won't be here for long."

"It will approximately fourteen of your Earth months to repair myself without the aid of a medic."

What the femme did next nearly had Mirage stalling, again.

Rearing back, she rammed her forehead as hard as she physically could into his dashboard and snarled out several words that when searched, probably would have caused Optimus Prime to shed energon tears from the sheer vulgarity of them.

"Femme…?"

"If you say one more thing to me, I swear to God it will be the last thing you ever do." Ellie snarled viciously, suddenly digging claw-like nails into the leather seating. "And don't you even dare ask what that entails, because frag it to the mother-fragging Pit, I am not in the spark-eating, slagging mood to deal with you Pit-spawned bastards."

Mirage wisely kept quiet, though he did have to admit; her language probably would have made even the most cold-sparked Decepticon gape in awe. As it was, it was probably a good thing that he could mute his audials as she continued her tirade of brutal cursing.

-;-

Jazz snuck into the communications department, optics glowing in the empty room. No humans dared enter this particular area, considering that it was technically the Autobots personal area for technologies, but at the moment the minibot noted a member of the janitorial staff exiting the room on the far side, dragging his cart of various cleaners behind him.

Satisfied that there would be no distractions, the silver mech slid into one of the chairs that had been brought in from the recreation room and onlined the computers, relishing in the sound of them warming up. It was a sound that he rarely heard anymore, considering that most of the Autobot 'bases' that now existed were barely large enough to house mechs and femmes, let alone an actual department to function from.

As the basic screen flickered on, Jazz internally winced, already able to deduct that he would be here for the remainder of the day. There were firewalls to install, applications to establish, folders, a different set-up that would be able to function like a data-pad…the list continued on and on, seemingly forever, but the minibot was never one to be deterred easily. Cracking his knuckles, he touched servos to the large keyboard that had been brought in from the small ship that the femmes and Sunstreaker had come in on and got to work, taking care of the most important task; the firewalls.

Being an espionage bot, Jazz was more than well equipped to install firewalls, and within an hour of being in the large room alone, he was satisfied with his progress. The firewalls that he'd put up for the moment were basic, but would hold off most Decepticon hacks if they were sent the computers way.

"Alrigh'….next thin' is the applications and folders…" the mech muttered to himself, fingers dancing over the keys, optics narrowed in concentration. "Prowler's anal retentive 'bout tha' though, so Ah'll just create 'em an' leave them for him ta take care of later."

Bringing up the coding of the software, Jazz inserted the new coding that he needed and saved, and the screen quickly became neater, application bases having been formed and the necessary folders established.

That done, he went back to the first application and got down to work, the coding needed for the particular application he had in mind already memorized from years of hacking and experience. It was damn well near a puzzle to start up your own computer system these days, mostly because the knowledge needed simply wasn't available any longer.

At this point, the minibot had been sitting in one place for over three hours, and after checking the time, said mech leaned back, cracking his knuckles again and stretching, loosening cramped wires and limbs before smirking to himself. He felt quite smug with himself, to be honest. He knew Prowl hated starting up databases, and luckily enough for him, it was something that Jazz did enjoy, to an extent. There was something fun about trying to puzzle out codes and applications, and it of course drew the mech in like a moth to flame. Then again, it could simply be because Jazz was more than a little twisted in his processor, but no sane bot would actually suggest that out loud.

His sensors flared minutely, alerting him to another presence in the room, and with an easy grin, Jazz tilted his helm back to wave cheerily to Prowl, who had raised an optic ridge at seeing that the minibot had already started working diligently on the database, and not only that, had managed to get more than he thought possible done in a comparatively short period of time.

"Hiya, Prowler."

"When I said that you needed to find something else to entertain you, I didn't mean this." The bronze and black mech stated neutrally, taking the second seat next to Jazz. "Though it does appear that you have managed remarkably considering."

Jazz shrugged shamelessly, bringing up the application that he had just finished and silently opening it up, bringing up an entire database of maps alone. Each, of course, was organized accordingly to which continent it belonged to, and then divided into sub-categories, such as countries and cities.

"Ah was gonna get started on the population application next, if ya want ta take over." Jazz said, looking unconcerned as he looped his servos behind his helm.

"No. That will not be necessary. You are doing more than an adequate job on the task. I will not stop you. Have you managed to online the touch-screen setting yet?" Prowl inquired, glancing over at his companion.

"Nah. Though' I'd wait and see if you'd show up fer that one. Ah may be a techbot at heart, but Ah don' like working with those settin's much." Jazz replied with a shake of his helm.

"Very well. Continue, by all means." The SIC hummed, creating a smaller, secondary screen that included the specific coding for the computer itself.

Jazz shook his helm in amusement as he leaned forward and got back to work, sending Prowl sideways glances out of the corner of his optic as he did so.

It was good to be back.