C.M.D: Here we go, at it again for another update period, with a chapter to add to this lovely lil' fic! It's a bit slow-going, I know, but I hope you all will find it as enjoyable to read as I found writing it ^ ^

"Blades!," Dani squealed as the helicopter walked through the space bridge.

"Dani!," the Autobot enthusiastically replied, meeting the human half-way and lifting her up for a gentle hug. "Ah, I've missed this. It's so odd to be flying solo these days," he added, setting the woman down on the floor again.

"It's so weird not to be flying all these weeks, too," Dani concurred, walking with the mech into the rest of the bunker., "But there's been so much going on back here that I haven't been able to think twice about Faxian. I'm sorry for not calling much, by the way."

Blades waved her apology off amicably, a smile on his lip components. "Dani, your family is important. I could never expect you to pick rescuing over them."

"You're part of my family too, silly," the human said, smacking light at her companion's leg. It was a sensation that Blades hardly felt, but he turned his helm down to look at her as they boarded onto the platform lift. "Anyways, if anyone needs a reminder of work-life balancing, it's Heatwave," Dani sighed, somewhat annoyed. "Kade is still mad that Heatwave never showed for his wedding -even after months of talking to him about it and picking Heatwave to be his best man."

Blades' spark gave a nauseated, little pulse at the reminder. He himself had never made it to Kade and Hayley's special event, due to an emergency that had taken place right as he was going to leave Faxian, but he had followed up with Dani extensively afterwards; forwarding both gifts and video well-wishes to the newly bonded couple.

"They haven't made up yet? How do they manage to stay in the same room with each other?," Blades joked, leaning his helm forward to peer around the firehouse garage as they reached the upper floor. It was silent behind him. Noticing, the helicopter turned to the human, finding her staring up at him with hesitant eyes.

"...W-what's wrong?," the Autobot asked, a nervous giggle popping out of him unbidden.

"Blades...," Dani started softly, "Heatwave isn't coming this weekend either. He sent an automated message stating he's 'too busy'... for the sixth time in a row now."

His spark lowered into the bottom of its' chamber, dimming as he struggled to retain the smile on his face at the news. "O-oh...," he replied, turning away quickly from his friend's sad gaze. He could feel a heat rising to his own optics as the astroseconds dragged on.

From behind him, Dani touched his leg. "I'm so sorry, Blades."

This time, the mech did not reply.

xXx

The beeping startled Blades. Rotors rattled and fingers trapped in the the scissors' grip, it took the mech a few astroseconds longer before he could pinpoint the sound. To his shock, it was coming from the monitor mounted on his wall. Shaking the cutting tool free in one last, desperate motion, the helicopter was dashing hastily across his room. "Y-yes?," he began, tapping on the screen to wake it from status.

"Blades, I-" Stormshot's vocalizer came through while the colour was still brightening into focus; the rescuer taking the opportunity to move the large collection of trinkets that had built up on the conjoined shelf and was currently obscuring his view of the monitor. "I'm sorry; have I commed at a bad time?"

Blades smiled at the image of the ex-soldier now broadcasting vibrantly through the screen, tossing another trinket out of sight of the other Autobot. "What? Bad time? O-oh, oh no, no... Why?"

The jet opened his mouth partially, his words hesitant to come out. "Well, it's just... I heard you had a separate frequency installed in your quarters and I had assumed it was free to use," Stormshot answered slowly, his gaze searching. "Are... are you sure I am not over-stepping? I will be greatly chagrined if I have."

The white mech made a sound with his engine, characteristically similar to the ones Dani always made in awkward situations. "Wha- that's silly! Trust me, no one is using this frequency much; it's plenty open for anyone to access, if they really need to," he assured the other Autobot cheerfully. "What's up?"

Stormshot seemed dubious, but he eventually nodded and proceeded to the comm's original intent. "I understand that you have the orn off, but I was wondering if you might join me at Griffin Rock. I've arranged a meeting with your engineer, Boulder, and I would like your input at the appointment as well," he said, any previous discomfort smoothed over as he fell back into business. "Also, might it be possible for you to bring me Faxian's current development maps?"

"Oh," Blades perked up, snapping glue-crusted fingers, "This is about the new facility plans, isn't it? I know High Tide was graphing data for Dr. Szeto; I'll give him a comm and make sure to bring a copy of that as well."

The multi-coloured mech shuttered his optics at the offer, the corners of his lip components twitching upward slightly. "That would be especially helpful. Thank you for your cooperation, Blades."

"Not a problem," the rescuer chirped. "I'm happy to help! Meet in approximately twenty kliks?"

Stormshot nodded. "The meeting is set for a cycle and a half from now, so that would be sufficient to debrief before the discussion," he said, a touch of contentment in his vocalizer. "See you then, Blades."

"Bye!," the helicopter returned, a servo waving at the screen as the comm flashed to an end. Making a face at the stickiness of his fingers, Blades turned to clean up the mess from his crafts; in the back of his processor, compiling a message for the old veteran and pinging a copy of the Faxian architecture plans to download to a datapad.

xXx

The rush of the space bridge slowed, and so did the white mech, his visual pixels settling on the wide, cavernous bunker beneath the family Burns' home he now found himself in.

It was, he smiled in sudden melancholy, stepping lightly into the main area, just the same as it had been when he first onlined on Earth and also not at the same time. A dance-style arcade rig was set beside the old pinball machine; the bookcases strapped with newer, bigger books with bright pictures and bins set periodically between the spines, their hollow spaces laden with toys. The old training post that Heatwave had favoured so much was gone- in its place lay giant, foam building blocks in a rainbow of colours on brand-new mats. And the couch... the ancient, fading red couch -that had seen many a bonding moment- was replaced with a much larger, deep blue sectional that spread out quite a distance, leaving no room for the makeshift crate-chairs that had once sat beside the furniture. All the additions gave the bunker a much more lived-in atmosphere; unfortunately, these were just the human-made remnants. Only the space bridge in the back of the bunker still marked the rescue 'bots' presence at the firehouse.

Shaking his helm slightly to rid himself the webbing of ill thoughts, Blades entered further into the massive room, minding his steps as he made his way for the large floor lift. He had his attention settled deep on the box in his servos, counting the datapads in a bout of sudden doubt while he waited for the platform to lower, that he did not notice at first that the elevator was far from empty.

"Greetings, Blades," a vocalizer started pleasantly. "My sensors notified me to the bridge's activation."

"Stormshot!," the helicopter beamed, his helm shooting upwards. The ex-soldier inclined his helm forward in a slight nod, servos crossed behind his wings in a manner of casual formality as the elevator ground to a stop. "So sorry; I was just making sure I had everything. I hope I didn't make you wait too long."

"You did not," the larger flyer assured, his sweeping servo gesturing to the lift. At the mute invite, Blades clambered onto the platform. "I am just grateful that you had the time to come. I hope my summons wasn't... intrusive."

Blades' followed the globemaster's quizzical line of sight, realizing with a pout that he had not been as successful as he thought with his clean-up. "N-no, no, I-," he began, reaching down and peeling off the half-dried bit of construction paper from the bottom of his knee joint. He tossed it dutifully into the box, only to realize that he'd set the bin on some glitter at some point and was now trailing the sparkling dust everywhere.

"I was putting together some board games for the recruits," he sighed, as the lift raised them skyward, resigned to the fact that he was just going to have be a bit messy during this meeting. Cleaning up glitter was an arduous lesson in futility. "I thought it might be nice if they had their own copies of the ones Cody shared with us a long time ago. Y'know, something 'bot-size."

Stormshot's puzzlement only grew. "Board games...?"

The way he spoke the words suddenly made Blades self-conscious. "Y-yeah, y'know, some s-strategy puzzles or t-timed response play. F-for fun. I-i understand t-that it's not standard t-training fare, b-but they're still y-young, the recruits, a-and it's important that they h-have some downtime as well. T-to decompress a-and stuff," he stuttered apprehensively.

The ex-soldier said nothing immediately after, his visor silently studying the white mech. If Blades thought his companion's confused questions were nerve-wracking, being quietly analyzed was even more stressing. But before he could open his mouth to utter anymore embarrassed excuses, Stormshot was speaking. "No... No, I think you are correct, Blades. Decompression is important," he said, his expression softening. "I'm sorry if that came out critical. I am... adjusting... But, your point still stands. Sparklings were a rare commodity during the war; my exposure to them is essentially nil. They are, though, not soldiers, and we are not at war. We must guide their futures with this fact in mind."

Orange rotors couldn't help but flutter contently at the other Autobot's approval. "Y-yes, I believe so too! An-anyways, I'm not done yet and that's not even what we're here to talk about either, so I'm just gonna let you lead on and get this briefing started," the helicopter mumbled shyly, readjusting his grip on his box as the platform reached the garage floor.

"This way," Stormshot replied, in unspoken agreement. Blades followed behind the taller mech's broad wings, his attention drawn up to the bright, blue skies as they stepped out of the firehouse.

He'd barely made it over the threshold before the helicopter stumbled to a stop. The quiet trill of bird song drifted over him, accompanied by the sound of far-off waves and the occasional friendly chatter between neighbours- such a clear-cut contrast to the rabble of Faxian that he'd grown used to. The gentle muffle of Griffin Rock life wrapped around him, as snug as a blanket and as warm as the bright sun shining down from above: a sense of coming home that filled his spark until it was spilling over.

Stormshot paused, several steps away, only realizing that his companion wasn't following. "Blades?," he carefully called out.

The white rescuer snapped out of his reverie at the call of his name, shuttering his optics quickly against the heat on them and a smile rapidly covering his face. "S-sorry; I g-got distracted."

The other flyer did not seem convinced by this answer. His visor dimmed, the corners of his mouth pulled downwards slightly. "Blades, are you sure-?"

"Ah! Mr. Harrison!," Blades shouted, cutting off the multi-coloured mech. His optics were fixed skywards again, tracking the sudden dip of the ever present Mr. Harrison. His heli-pack had seized (again) and the blades flapped uselessly as the poor man plummeted to the ground.

Before he even had time to think about transforming, Stormshot had already jumped clear across the firehouse's large driveway, his long arms scooping the falling human out of the air. The whole street rocked when the Autobot fell, startling many neighbours and triggering the fire siren to start shrieking in the Burns' home. Dazed by the unexpected response, Blades could only watch as Stormshot knelt down to deposit Mr. Harrison back on the ground.

"Oh, t-thank you!," the portly man said, looking back at his heli-pak with a sigh. The rotors had been crushed by the flyer's massive servos, rendering the machine unusable. For the time being. "Well, I'm grateful for the save, anyhow. Is this a new one, Blades?"

"U-uh, yes, M-mr. Harrison," Blades piped up, stepping closer to be further away from the screeching noise.

Mr. Harrison smiled brightly. "Excellent addition. Say, would one of you mind dropping me off at the bank?"

The white mech stifled his chuckle. "S-sorry, no. We have a meeting right now, Mr. Harrison. Perhaps you could walk?"

The man practically deflated at the suggestion. "Well... I suppose I shall," he conceded dejectedly. "Have a pleasant day, Blades. And you too, new 'bot!" Then the human turned about and, with a jaunty wave, started the long walk to work.

Stormshot could only watch Mr. Harrison go, his brow furrowed in bafflement. "He was unperturbed by his near-death," he mumbled.

Blades nodded. "Yes. That was Mr. Harrison; he enjoys moving about town in his heli-pak. Unfortunately, it is notorious for failing regularly."

"And he still uses it?," the ex-soldier asked, his helm turning to the other flyer incredulously.

All the smaller rescuer could do was shrug and smile back awkwardly. "The inhabitants of Griffin Rock love to experiment with new technology in their daily lives. Sometimes, with a bit too much risk to themselves. But it's that kind of quirkiness that gives this little town so much charm!"

Stormshot only shook his helm, still too flummoxed by the humans and their activities. He was digging his thrusters out of the self-made depressions in the asphalt, when small, human footsteps padded across the driveway.

"Is everything alright here?!"

"Chief Burns!," Blades greeted, turning to face the new arrival. The man looked up at the two rescuers in mild confusion as he jogged up to their pedes; a fact that went over the helicopter's helm in his giddiness. The good police chief of Griffin Rock didn't appear to have aged at all: he was still healthy and lively, with silver hair and warm, alert eyes- facts that soothed the white mech. Faxian had kept him so busy these orns. "How are you? How's the family? Cody? Oh, sorry, about the shaking, we-"

"There was a human in peril," Stormshot helpfully supplied.

"R-right, right," the smaller Autobot agreed, starting to reel in some of his excitement. "Mr. Harrison, to be exact. He's walking today."

Chief Burns had one eyebrow raised at the random points of conversation, adding to the final leg of dialogue with a soft, "Ah."

Blades tried not to fidget with his box of datapads as he was struck with a sudden wave of ineptness. He reset his vocalizer noisily, gesturing at the globemaster walking back up to his side. "T-the usual heli-pack f-failure. Stormshot caught him while he was f-falling! No damages! We-well, except the ground... W-we apologize for the driveway. I-it's fixable, y-yes? Oh, t-this is Stormshot, by the way!"

"Yes, Blades. We have been introduced already," the man said. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling warmly at the anxious helicopter. Relief flooded through the mech; he wasn't in trouble. He'd been so sure he was about to get an audio-full. "It's good to see you, too, Blades. And please, don't worry about the asphalt. It's an easy enough fix. Your friend, Stormshot, says you have much to discuss."

"We do," Stormshot spoke again, his helm tipping toward the human respectfully. "And I thank you again for allowing us use of your facilities for the meeting, Chief Burns."

Chief Burns chuckled. "Well, I'm glad to see you at least dropped all the 'sirs'. Like I said, Stormshot, there's no need for such formality. You're part of the family now; same as everyone else. I look forward to seeing you around more often."

From his breast pocket, the man pulled out a small remote, silencing the firehouse's siren finally. He turned about to head back inside, tossing one final grin over his shoulder as he went. "I'll grab the car and make sure Mr. Harrison gets to work on time. Meanwhile, you fellas have a splendid meeting. And don't forget: family lunch on Sunday!"

"We will, Chief Burns!," Blades chirped, his rotors shuffling joyfully behind him as he waved the human off. "Drive safe! Bye!"

Only after the man had disappeared from sight, did Stormshot gently tap the other flyer on his shoulder plating, waiting until he had his full attention. "I have seating arrangements made up behind the firehouse," he informed. "Shall we proceed?"

The white mech felt his energon heat in embarrassment. "O-oh, yes, o-of course. Lead on!"

xXx

Streaks of pink were tinging the edge of the horizon when the meeting finally wrapped up; the block filled with the chatty hubbub of humans enjoying every last ounce of a pleasant afternoon. Stylus swirling across the datapad, Stormshot jotted down the final notes of their meeting, his audios adjusted to block out the extra noise. It unfortunately put a dampening blanket on all conversations and when he did eventually glance up from his screen, it was to see Blades and Boulder laughing silently. The two rescuers looked to be in deep discussion, though it ended with the green Autobot walking off after another chuckle and a casual wave.

Saving his work, Stormshot stood to his full height, beginning to collect all the datapads and projectors. He was joined a few astroseconds later by a second set of smaller servos.

Chin tilted upwards, he was greeted by a broad grin upon Blades' face. "Need a servo?," the helicopter offered.

The ex-soldier nodded, allowing the rescuer to take one half of the table, while he gently packed the devices on his side back into their respective boxes.

"Today's been quite an eventful orn," Blades began neutrally, setting a datapad to rest mode before handing it off to his companion. "I'm a bit sorry we hadn't quite narrowed down an alternative location for an education centre. Is Faxian the next candidate?"

Stormshot, unused to small talk, was silent for a moment. "...it seems likely," he eventually answered, boxing the last of their devices away. He handed the crate temporarily to Blades, starting to fold the table down meanwhile. "Boulder's input of the Academy build plans and the local geographical structure was tremendously vital. There is no way to expand upon the training centre as is without arousing suspicion with the residing human populace and that is critical information. Professor Baranova's labs, as you had suggested prior, may be viable- but only if we expand beneath the surface. Of which we would need a more formal analysis and direction from sound engineers such as your green comrade. An option that is currently barred to us until we have the permission of your team lead." A scowl formed on the ex-soldier's lip components, though he valiantly tried to tuck it out of sight again.

"Griffin Rock is too small for a thorough Academy; the locals too familiar with the current roster of Rescue 'bots. At this point, it seems wiser to just construct new faculties on Cybertron," the taller mech grumbled, tucking the folded table under one arm and marching across the firehouse grounds. "There is much to expand upon in the developing territories and it would give fresh recruits the necessary amount of isolation for studies and instruction. As well as less push-back from the inhabitants and easier access to construction guilds."

Blades, walking briskly to keep up with the ex-soldier's much broader strides, tilted his helm up at his companion worriedly. "But Earth...?"

Stormshot stopped abruptly, resting the folded table against the exterior of the garage as his visor fixed on the helicopter. "Yes?," he demanded.

The white rescuer felt his spinal struts straighten rigidly at the tone, rotors threatening to clack in mounting cowardice under the other's piercing stare. "I-i-i...," he stuttered, cursing his overwhelmed glossa. He paused, venting hard, as he reset his vocalizer; optics meeting the larger Autobot's red visor. "I don't think you should take the Academy back to Cybertron."

"I-i understand the b-build constraints and worries of the recruits' education being stilted by distractions," Blades plowed on, not waiting for a response from Stormshot, "But removing the Rescue 'Bots' program from Earth entirely would do more harm than good!"

The jet cocked an optic ridge inquisitively, his arms rising up to cross in front of his chestplates. "Oh?," he asked, still speaking in single-worded sentences.

"Y-yes!," the white mech continued, his vocalizer steadying as his convictions rose. "Cybertron is our home and will always hold priority for many, but its people are refugees returning from far-off planets and struggling colonies. Earth is a great half-way point between the planet we all remember and the fractured lives many have lived all these vorns- it's the perfect melting pot for re-introducing the new sparks to our slow-building society. There's several varieties of climates and atmospheric changes perfect for adapting the recruits to living outside Cybertron or on exploratory stations. Not to mention how utterly inspiring the humans themselves are! In their singular planet alone, they have a thousand different cultures and dialects and histories- and they still manage to band together and form a world that can be shared among them all."

"Their ingenuity for problem-solving and free expression are things that make life on this planet so wondrous," Blades gushed, offlining his optics momentarily as he reminisced on his own experiences living in the Burns' firehouse. When they onlined again, the orbs sparkled with fierce determination. "After the war was over, and life rekindled in Cybertron's core, Optimus could have ordered us all back home. But he didn't, did he? I believe it's because he saw just how magical a planet like Earth was; how precious its' people are, and how influential their culture can be on our secluded society. Optimus wanted the first Academy built here, on Earth, remember? And he's made no vocal opinion of relocating so I think that negative attitude needs a pin put in it!"

Now it was Stormshot's turn to be stupefied, but the white Autobot only waved his poor rebuttals off with a chitter of his engine.

"No, no, no, no...! You don't think you can find a suitable place in mind for an expanded Academy? Then let me do the brainstorming," the helicopter confidently declared, a servo patting the box of datapads in his arms. "I'll take the notes from today and I will do further research in Faxian. I might even have an idea of where we can build next, but I'll confirm some theories first. I just know the program can grow here on Earth!"

A beat of silence passed before them; the multi-coloured mech letting his shoulders sag with mute resignation. "...I suppose," he was slow to agree, "That given Optimus Prime's unspoken directive to bolster up the Academy on this planet, that I should allow you some time to gather more information on viable locations."

Blades nodded. "Give me at least a couple of Earth's months. I know I can get you all the details needed."

Fingers tapped at Stormshot's folded elbows. "Is that a challenge?," he inquired.

The smaller flyer flushed, his courage beginning to falter. "W-well, u-uh, t-that is-," he squeaked. Cheekplates hot with embarrassment, he swallowed down his fresh nerves, poking the ex-soldier in the arm as he held his resolve. "I-it wasn't but fine! I'll take it and I will deliver!"

Stormshot held out his servo, giving it a firm shake when Blades slapped his palm into it. "Okay, then. You shall have your two Earth months, Blades, to put together your proposal, while I finish compiling an education path for Optimus Prime's review," he confirmed formally.

"I must say," he added, the hint of friendly jest slipping into his tone, "You're certainly much mouthier in person than foretold."

Blades could only laugh, his whole frame buzzing with pleasant heat.

C.M.D: *Elton John playing distantly in the background* ...can you feel...~
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?