There's a moment when I'm about to transform when I'm in the air, weightless. Nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine times out of a million, I become a helicopter and soar into the air, or a car that races down the road kicking up dust. The one time I didn't transform I landed on my face, painfully aware that something had gone wrong.

This is how I feel now, laying on my recharge plate listening to Rodimus Prime's footsteps as he races out of my room to find Ultra Magnus after Arcee told him that the Dinobots have been kidnapped by Quintessons. He did not tell me where he was going, did not apologize for not completing what we'd started; instead he left me here with my entire body singing like the wires on a suspension bridge in the wind. How can you be in the brink of an energy field explosion and run out the door, leaving your partner tightly wound? He's insane!

Arcee is the guilty bearer of bad news. She's a sweet 'bot, apologizing for interrupting and vowing to fix the situation. I lifted my head up to see her adjusting the polarity on her blaster, which is a poor substitute but has helped us out a few times when she couldn't finish me off. When it's programmed like that, she can use it to shoot me back to normal. "Good. You owe me," I kidded, glad to be getting something out of this.

"If you're referring to that time you pulled me out of a Decepticon Territory skirmish by blowing away the drones with one of those nasty wind tunnels you make, I already thanked you – twice." She straddled me to get a better shot. "I don't understand it, Springer. Rodimus ran out of here like Starscream was behind him. How did you manage that?" She can list the number of flings/one-night stands/problem lovers I've had from memory, because in every single one of them she had to bail me out. This one is no exception. Roddy was not cool doing that. Still, I guess I can give him a chance to redeem himself, if this is a misunderstanding. Arcee has told me more than once that my jealousy is what really scares them off. Roddy acted irritated when I questioned him about Grimlock, so maybe I need to back off before somebody gets hurt.

Speaking of hurt, Arcee is about to put me in a world of pain/pleasure. I raise my forehead ridges to give her a sarcastically amused expression. "It's a curse. I guess I used up all of my luck on you, honey," I reply as the gun fries my circuits and allows a great blue light to consume me.


When I could finally get up and walk normally I joined the others at the command center as they watched our leader lose his mind. Ultra Magnus, Kup, Arcee, Wheelie, Blurr, and Daniel stood in a semi-circle, mouths open in mute horror as Rodimus changed radio channels as quickly as Blurr could have in his search for...whatever.

"Hey," I greeted them, regarding Rodimus suspiciously. He ignored me. "Is he running on all cylinders?"

"Nope," countered Kup. "Something made him snap. Reminds me of the brain drain virus on Cepo-four..."

Ultra Magnus waved me inside of the cluster he and Kup made on Roddy's right. Giving Arcee a secret signal, she maneuvered Daniel and company to the other side of the room while I first attempted to give my friend a light-hearted wake-up call.

"Roddy...it's Springer." I gently shook his shoulder. He didn't move, except for pushing the button to change radio channels. "Rodimus?"

"Ultra Magnus, have you assembled the Autobots yet?" he finally growled.

"I have everyone on alert, Prime, but I thought it better if we waited for their broadcast." Quintessons always like to brag about the hostages they take. Magnus was following wartime protocol. Rodimus scowled deeper and continued flipping. It was as though he hadn't heard a word we said. He jumped up from his seat, optics glowing in a crazy light pattern. "That's it! I need a strategist! Get me Prowl!"

He glared at all of us, wanting to know what we were staring at. Prowl would know what to do; go get him!

"Prowl's dead," murmured a voice behind us belonging to somebody I hadn't noticed was here until now. Roddy turned to Jazz, expression wilder than ever.

"What would he say?" Roddy gasped. Jazz shrugged.

"Something logical."

He grabbed Jazz's shoulders and started shaking him as hard as he could. "You have half his mind! What would he do? Where can I find the Quintessons? I have to get him back! Hey!" He turned to us, optics a scary shade of light blue, almost white. "Let's bring Prowl back to life! We have the technology, don't we? Kup?" Daniel, who had witnessed all of this and didn't understand it, began bawling. Arcee lead him away while Ultra Magnus decided to intervene.

"I think we'd better let you go back to finding the frequency they might be using, Prime." He gently sat Rodimus down to return to changing channels. Ultra Magnus jerked his thumb towards the corner, beckoning us to follow him there. Once all of us grouped together he whispered, "We can't let anyone see him like this. Wheelie, take Daniel home and stay with him. Blurr, you're on damage control. The official story is that everyone needs to be on alert because the negotiations with the Quintessons over Dinobot Island are taking longer than expected."

"Right! Icandothat,that'seasyI'llgotelleveryonerightnow..." He was out the door before we could tell him to stop talking. The giant mech turned back to his congregation.

"I can handle our line of defense. Arcee and Kup will keep Rodimus out of trouble. Springer, you're in charge of running the city."

"WHAT?" How did this happen? "Me? Why?"

"Well, there's an old Cybertronian rule that if no second-in-command has been established, like now, then Prime's consort gets first refusal." Kup nodded in agreement.

"I'm flattered," I said. Really, I was. "But technically, I'm not his consort." One night of fun does not make a relationship. I learned that the hard way.

"Without going into details, are you sure?" Kup asked urgently. "We need someone to help us keep a front going and you're our only hope."

"I'll do it," I said, still unsettled at the idea of me running an entire legion of Autobots. "But I want help." I gestured to Jazz. "You used to be one of Optimus' higher-ups, right?"

"Until the regime change," he said, smile forming from his joke.

"Can you help me out?" I asked, smiling back. I barely knew the guy, since he'd been absent for a long time before settling down on earth for semi-retirement, but already I liked his sense of humor.

"Sure. Red Alert will be glad I'm out of his space." That settled, Jazz and I made our way out, with Ultra Magnus' authoritative voice in the background telling Roddy to let Blaster handle communications, and Rodimus FINALLY replying that he'd do whatever he wanted, he was Prime.

"Man!" I exclaimed, shaking my head. "Have you ever seen that before?"

"No," Jazz said, breaking our duo to allow First Aid passage on his way to the control room. "Prime was protective of all of his Autobots, within reason. The only time anybody saw him go crazy was the day Elita-1 died..." Realization of something big crossed Jazz's face. "Oh...slag..." he gasped, taking off to the hallway on his left.

"The office is this way!" I called. Where is he going?

"C'mon! I can explain!" Jazz was known for his speed, so I had a little trouble following him. I could've sprung my way over, but the hallways don't give me enough height so I had to settle on a mild jog. When I finally thought I might have lost him I saw that the door to the surveillance room was open and he was inspecting some records while Red Alert protested.

"I tell you, they were there the last time I checked!"

"They were, Red-dy," Jazz replied gently. "Somebody's erased them."

"Erased what?" I asked, trying to see what it was. Red Alert, always suspicious, told me to back up before I saw something I wasn't supposed to. Jazz assured him it was allowable.

"Springer, we have record of every room you've been in since the day you got here," Jazz explained. "That goes for every Autobot. Some of Roddy's...uh..."

"Nocturnal extracurricular activities," supplied Red Alert.

"Thanks, Perceptor," Jazz laughed. "Rodimus was walkin' after midnight, and we knew who it was, but someone erased the records that prove it. The other thing we noticed, and don't tell anybody," Jazz's voice lowered. "The reason why I got assigned to this security gig is that Mr. Workaholic here went offline one night and a spy got into Metroplex using Roddy's old codes."

"It was an accident," protested Red.

"Proves you're human," Jazz ribbed, patting Red on the back. "Anyway, when Rodimus got around to telling us what the spy took from his room - a few pictures the Dinobots drew for him - I didn't put it together until..." He had that look again.

"Jazz, you're confusing me." I said. "What is it?"

Red Alert got it. "They found out Rodimus had a favorite. I don't know how Dinobot Island is a part of this, but the Quintessons somehow knew he'd send the Dinobots over there to investigate, and they used that to capture Prime's...paramour. Ultra Magnus should know this." He stood up and radioed the control room to tell them he was on his way to make a report.

"Are you telling me Roddy is in love with GRIMLOCK!" I collapsed into a nearby chair. Jazz squirmed. "I mean, I knew he wasn't that into me, but I-ah-A DINOBOT!" Those stupid, war-like MORONS and the greatest guy ever was nuts about HIM, not me. "It doesn't make any sense! I'm his best friend! I'm a nice guy, and I'm decent looking, right?" Jazz nodded. "We get along, we've known each other forever, and there wasn't much of it, but the affection was good...and... c'mon, him and a Dinobot? That makes no sense!" I was still in shock, with no idea what I was saying. "He and I...that's just...a lot more logical."

Here Jazz stood up. "You shouldn't be in a relationship because it's logical." He moved over to the control tower, focused on some camerawork. Jazz worked on adjusting a camera in the commissary but I heard the tone and somewhere in my agitation it actually pierced my enraged processor and I heard what he was trying to say. "If 'bots get into something because it makes sense, or people want them to, but don't have any other reason, what happens when they join their sparks and find out they're incompatible? You can't separate after that." The older saboteur fiddled with the camera over Rodimus' private quarters. He said no more, and neither did I, languishing in an embarrassed silence until Red Alert came in, more upset than he was when he left.

"Didn't go well?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Rodimus tried to chase me out with his blaster. He kept calling me 'Dead End.' It took awhile for the others to calm him down." Red Alert waited for me to get out of his chair and returned to his monitoring. "That is all the excitement I care to have in one day. I believe you have your own work." We said good-bye and walked to Roddy's office, still mute. Jazz punched in Roddy's 'new' code and let me in.

Everywhere I looked there were datapads. Jazz explained that all of these needed some kind of attention, whether it be a reply, a stamp, or filing. I also needed to check Roddy's e-mail for various reports from each faction. War-related went to Ultra Magnus. Personal was to be ignored, marked unopened. Anything related to the activity in Metroplex had to be taken care of.

"Sounds thrilling." I was bored already.

"It gets better. Since we don't know what's going on, most of these will make as much sense as watching the last 15 minutes of episode 33 of Gundam Wing."

"Which one?" I asked, cursing myself for knocking these all to the floor the other day. Jazz chuckled.

"Mobile Suit. I didn't know you were into that."

"I knew there were a lot of them. The only one I've seen is Mobile Suit."

"Cool. So anyway, I think the first thing we can do is sort. Then I'll know where we are and I can find a few shortcuts." He grinned mischievously. I told him it worked for me. He produced a boom box from subspace and asked if I minded. It depended on the music. I'm not as familiar with earth culture as he is, and I didn't mind Jazz doing what made him happy, but some earth music doesn't sit well with me. Through a process of elimination we found out I hated rap, was not thrilled with funk, kind of liked country, but when he played a sample of "Sweet Emotion" I was hooked. He played every Aerosmith song he had, and I loved them all. He tried to play other stuff, and that was cool, but I heavily favored Aerosmith.

C'mon, man! There's more to it than that!" We had piled everything up chronologically and were reading the most recent editions, figuring the rest was old news and would be more for reference. "Do you dance?"

I dragged my optics away from the fascinating words of the Aerialbots' secret complaint to Rodimus about my authority style to see Jazz dancing to some song that kept repeating the phrase "We want the funk." He looked like his CPU had gone crazy, the way he jerked his body around.

"You try it!" he called. I stood up from Roddy's desk and hopped a little on my feet, feeling stupid. He changed the song to something faster-paced. "You can do it put your back into it!" he chanted with the throaty-voiced female, arms gyrating. It reminded me of a fighting move.

Without warning, smiling to myself, I leaped over the desk, grabbed one of his arms, and spun him 180 degrees so that his back was facing me. "If I did that, and you shot at whatever was behind me, they'd never see it coming."

"Yes they would!"

"Not if we were doing THIS at the same time!" I twirled both of us, then spun him, and then rotated myself so that our backs were covered, all to the provided beat. I could hear his laugh.

"You're not a bad choreographer. Here, try this." Telling me to hold still, he stood on the desk and dove in between my feet and shot at whatever was coming up behind me. Taking the hint I turned around, jumped over him and shot the invisible threat that he'd missed while he sat up and shot the spot I'd just left. He was about to show me a dual-kick move he saw in a Jackie Chan movie when the door knocked. "Enter!" he called, while I hurried back to work.

The Aerialbots rushed in like a happy group of partygoers bearing a keg. "Hey!" they easily greeted us. Silverbolt was missing.

Slingshot began to talk as the others settled in and offered to help us read stuff. I subspaced the report they were looking for behind my back while telling them "sure." What was a little classified information among Autobots?

"We wanted to see if what they were saying was true," he commented, getting comfortable.

"What are they saying?" Jazz asked.

"That Rodimus has gone off the deep end and Boyfriend here is our new Prime."

So much for damage control. Blurr, Wheelie, and Daniel couldn't keep a secret if two of them were dead. "Actually, Jazz is in charge."

"Right. Then why are you sitting at his desk?" Slingshot doesn't miss a trick.

"Jazz is humble." Jazz gave an angelic expression that fooled only Air Raid, because he was barely paying attention in his hurry to find the missing datapad. "I'm not doing much, just the office part."

"So you're the office Prime?" broke in Fireflight. We laughed at that.

"OfficeMax Prime!" chortled Jazz, referring to a human business name. That was funny.

"Right. OfficeMax Prime and the Widow are taking over!" cracked Slingshot in one-upmanship. That was not funny. Jazz's grin stayed but he asked a confused 'what?' over the reaction. I decided to rid us of these flying pests.

"C'mon, guys. We're just filling in for Rodimus while he negotiates with the Quints, that's all. I would hate to 'overstep' my 'boundaries of authority claiming connections that are, for the most part, null in the sky,' right?" That got their attention. Air Raid and Skydive put down the datapads and stood up, sheepishly grinning, while Slingshot gave me a quizzical look.

"Right..." he began puzzled, but Fireflight interrupted.

"We'd better leave you alone. So, we'll see you later?" he asked, pushing the others out the door.

"Right!" I said, glad they were leaving. Jazz silently turned back to his work. "Did you want to show me that move?"

"Forget it," he said, no longer smiling and the tone dismissive. "We've got work to do."

I said 'right' again and went back to my reading, annoyed with the Aerialbots. Those I associate with may not interact much with this mech, but everyone talks about everyone else around here and there's not much I don't hear about, even if I didn't know anything about him. Jazz doesn't mind any nicknames you give him, but to remind him on a daily basis that his sparkmate is gone is a bad moniker, at any time. I thought they'd forgotten that one. I wanted to say something to Jazz, but what? Instead I went back to work.

For about five minutes. Jazz's silence is worse than Jazz's rap. I'd rather take the noisy one. "Let's go," I ordered, opening the office door.

"Where?" he asked, sounding relieved. My guess is he hates the quiet as much as I do.

"You know where. I want to see you put your back into it."


The practice facility was empty for once. The echo of our voices reverberated over the walls, the mats, the battle ring, even the metal doors that closed behind us with a clang. I handed him one of the fighting bo staffs we use for combat training and told him to pick a song, any song, as long as we could fight to it. This brought back the smile. To humor me, he played a song with a lot of emphasis on the word 'war.' It was an old seventies song, he explained.

I got the feeling Jazz didn't think much of my combat skills. The song had a lot of pauses and few tempo changes. His frequent defensive stance was another clue. He could do better, there was no doubt about that. Jazz was a legend in his own time, showing brilliance when he was fighting Decepticons, aliens, or a giant planet, using his wits. Jazz was above mere defense posturing, and I knew I had to bring out the aggression. The next song he picked was a faster tempo with a lot of screaming about being welcomed to a jungle. Jazz gave a few more half-hearted taps.

"Quit trying to hit me and HIT me!" I goaded, jumping backwards against the wall I let him corner me into. The strength of the push woke him up and the smile widened.

"I know K'ung Fu," he riposted in a dull voice, finally getting into it. He played a song where a female screamed about loving herself today, not like yesterday. It was fast and energetic. So was Jazz. I got struck more than expected, which was what I was trying to accomplish in the first place.

Two distractions happened at once: Jazz picked a LOUD song and Bumblebee wandered in to check out the noise. Once he saw what we were doing he ran out.

"He's going to get our audience," Jazz commented, never breaking stride as he alternated ends of the bo for me to block in perfect time to 'I can't feeeeel the way I did before, don't turn your back on me, I won't be ignored.'

"Maybe they'll like this stuff better," I grunted, whacking my partner in the knees and getting no reaction. "How can you anticipate what I'll be doing through all of that screaming?"

"Don't listen with your audios, man, listen with your processor." Jazz ducked my swing and tried to get my legs but I succeeded in jumping over him, and fitting in a flip for fun. He chuckled. "Cool."

"It's not as tame as your usual stuff." I rotated the staff to send a wind to whack him back. "I thought you liked-you know-jazz."

"Hey, I can change my tastes," he explained, running through the wind to come after me. "I'm definitely counting on changing YOURS."

He was defeated in more moves than I thought I needed. "So what do you hear in that song?" I asked him, contemplating my next move as he changed CDs.

"The frustration. The love. The anger. When something bothers you, there's a song to tell you you're not alone. You never have to scream when music can do it for you." I nodded, waiting for the hook on the R & B song to establish itself before closing in on my target. The door opened and closed but no one came in. In this song the girl asked what about us? Yeah, what about us? Why didn't Roddy say something when I told him how I felt about him? I thought the mech who told Galvatron to his face to rust in space could at least tell his best friend 'sorry buddy, I'm not into you,' but apparently not. I was a fool.

He seemed to appreciate me, at times...at least Arcee and Kup thought so. They were the ones who suggested we get together. I was all for that, Primus knows why, since in retrospect there really wasn't anything between us to indicate we were intimately connected other than light-hearted innuendoes and banter. Something must have changed in my fighting style because Jazz alleviated his defense and asked me if I was still bitter about Rodimus.

"Who me? Nah." I hit Jazz's staff so hard it broke in half. We called a time-out.

The black and white mech unhurriedly chose his replacement weapon. "The name of the game is to find a love that outlives you. If you're lucky, you get that. If you're normal, you don't. See, both of us are normal."

I shook my head as he re-entered the ring. "I don't feel normal."

"That's normal enough." He didn't get to finish because whoever had peeked in on us earlier brought back all of the mini-bots, the Aerialbots, and the Protectobots to watch us. The Lamborghini brothers were there, too, taunting us as fast as the wisecracks could go and nearly doubling me over a couple of times. Jazz grinned. "Ready to put on a show?" he asked, brandishing his bo.

"Give it to me, now." I challenged, staff ready. Jazz laughed.

"Good idea," he chuckled, CD beginning another rap song. Our onlookers cheered. The words took me by surprise, especially since the mini-bots chanted along with it.

"What IS this?" I demanded, flinging him over my shoulder. Jazz rolled out of my way before I could whack him with the bo.

"It's Ludacris," he explained, back on his feet.

"No kidding!" A perfect word for it, it was definitely ludicrous. Who sings about licking and fantasies? Jazz liked it; he was perfectly aligned with the rhythm of the words. The mini-bots were getting rowdier.

"I got him to autograph my CD," he bragged, jumping to kick me in the face and grazing my shoulder as I pulled away in time, reaching to hit him while he flew by. The mini-bots went nuts.

"I wanna get you in the back seat windows up, that's the way you like to-Ooooh!" they stopped their yelling to see me knock Jazz hard enough to loosen a few bolts and keep him down. He looked at the business end of my bo with a wicked beam of delight.

"Peace!" he called, capitulating.

I held my hand out to help him up. "You let me win."

Jazz dragged me to the floor and rolled on top of me, grabbing my bo from where I'd dropped it and pinning my head down with it, by the throat. "You're right," he sang while our fans rushed in. I could only laugh. Jazz the legend had come out in all his splendid, sneaky, fantastic glory.

"Who's next?" I called, responses drowning out anything detectable. "How about a double team?" I offered. There was a moment of scrabbling as they tried to pair up.

"Let's go," Slingshot called, with Skydive looming behind him holding bos. "I get the Widow."

All of my careful work undone. Jazz didn't let on. We exchanged glances and shrugged, CD cueing up to play a song I hadn't been too fond of the first time he played it. Now the words haunted me as Slingshot started talking smack.

"So what's so great about you, old man?" he jeered as the song howled 'I cannot take this any more.' Jazz didn't cringe. We nodded to each other peripherally and attacked. The Aerialbots were ready.

As the song continued, the fighting went well enough. Skydive did nothing special and I had him down before the song was half over. Slingshot and Jazz were another story. The younger mech was trying everything he could to unnerve Jazz.

"You do the same move every thirty seconds! I can't believe Springer didn't notice!" 'All these thoughts they make no sense, I found bliss in ignorance. Nothing seems to go away, over and over again.'

One of the things Slingshot didn't bother to compute was that maybe it was a part of Jazz's plan to fight monotonously until a moment came when the mech wouldn't see his comeuppance until it was too late. 'Shut up when I'm talking to you!'

Jazz didn't stop smiling. He let the song lose its cool, instead of him, felling Slingshot and keeping him on his front with an arm twisted behind his wing by the time the song shouted its final 'break!' The Aerialbot never saw it coming.

"Springer spent his time strategizing, not complaining." He let Slingshot stand up to hoots and hollers. "Maybe next time," he grinned, shaking hands with the loser and his begrudging smile. Nobody bests Jazz.

"Us next!" the mini-bots called.


We did this until ten, explaining our duties as OfficeMax Prime had to be fulfilled. Around midnight my partner in crime abandoned me, claiming another task at hand at six am. Around two I couldn't read another datapad, so I went up to the control room to check up on Rodimus Prime: Dinobot-lover.

I shouldn't be jealous. Rodimus has the right to be with anyone he wants, even if they are stupid Autobots assembled by a no-talent mad scientist and a human. Even though I've been around since practically his creation, giving him support when he needed it, even when we found out he was the Chosen One and no longer Hot Rod, fun on wheels.

I guess I'm still jealous. Well, if I really were Roddy's best friend, I would let this go, chalk it up to experience, and be there for him, no matter how much it hurts. Believe me, it hurts. No one should find out from Red Alert that the mech they've always been fond of is in love with someone else.

All thoughts of resentment flew out of me when I entered the main room to see Arcee offline, Kup reading a datapad, and Rodimus still at the controls, flipping switches as frantically as he had when I came in earlier.

"Roddy?" I asked him softly. Kup looked up from his datapad briefly, returning to it when he decided I wasn't a threat. Rodimus completely ignored me, pressing buttons with a tenacity that disquieted me. "Hot Rod."

Rodimus looked up at that, a moment of lucidity sparking. "I can't find the channel," he whimpered. Kup sat up quickly, assessing the situation and rousing Arcee. "I don't know what they're doing to him. He could be hurt, or, or-" He turned back and attacked the computer with a new vigor. "I HAVE to find him!"

"Roddy..." This was breaking my energon pump. "You need to rest for awhile."

"Do you hear that?" he asked. We both listened. I heard nothing and told him so. "You can't. I can. The Matrix talks to me all of the time, Springer. It tells me what I need to do. It makes me Prime. Now, it won't shut up." He buried his head in his hands, channel changer finally inert. "It's telling me that he's dead. That I have to let ALL of the Dinobots go, and mobilize our forces against a possible attack." His shoulders shook. I could feel his grief, like waves of sound, shrieking around me.

"It's like an asteroid field, Springer. Constantly pelting me with guilt. Telling me that I'm wrong. That saving him will be my death. To leave him and keep the others close. How can I obey that? It would kill me to leave him with those things. Either way, I'm going to die. I can't hear anything else but the Matrix. It just keeps it up, pelting me like a slagging asteroid field!" He reached for me; optics still lit too bright. "I can't take it any more!"

Kup was there, and Arcee, both talking in soothing tones. How can he hear it over the screaming voices that tormented him? I told them to back off. Placing my hands on his shoulders I allowed my optics to meet his, our foreheads touching. I said nothing, merely keeping contact. I wasn't about to join minds with him or kiss him or anything like that, but I figured all he needed was some kind of tacit assurance that he was doing the right thing, and that all would be well, and that we were all behind him. After a few moments of staring Rodimus finally relaxed, leaning against Kup as he sagged to the ground, offline.

They helped me take him back to his room. I laid him on his recharge plate and turned to leave when I heard him mumble "Who's that?"

"It's me, Springer," I replied, "and I'm on my way out." He waved his arm to say goodbye, too sleepy to say much.

"Thanks, buddy." It was a sigh, like the expression was too much for him to give, but too necessary to withhold. It flowed out of him like water from a fountain, voice slowing to a drizzle as the water supply ran out. I left, since I had work to do.


The sun on this planet appears reluctantly. The earth doesn't like to move and makes its point evident with the violent coloring it produces as the star it worships blazes a trail across the hemisphere. I decided that my stint as OfficeMax Prime could wait for awhile as I walked out to the memorial hill where plaques with the names of fallen Transformers were displayed in a quiet grove of trees. Just as I thought. In front of me, kneeling on the grass with his fingers tracing the name "Prowl," was my associate.

"Too many years, fighting back tears," he whispered softly, a tune buzzing under his already musical voice like the multi-layered birds chirping around him. "Why can't the past just die?" He chuckled ironically, wiping something under his visor. "You know, they still call me The Widow. That kind of thing usually bothered you, Prowlie-bot, but this time there's nobody to get slagged off about it but me." He chuckled again. "It's not in my programming. But you knew that."

With a guilty start I realized that I shouldn't be here; I'd already heard too much. I'd come here on impulse, something I regretted already. Jazz heard me and called me over. I apologized for walking in on him but he wasn't disturbed by it. The plaque with its shiny wording and well-tended grass showed that this mech had been loved. Jazz told his story without my prompting.

"He was too logical for emotion," Jazz began. "It seemed to him that we should be together because it made sense. His CPU worked like that." I could hear him wiping his face again.

"What happened?"

"He fell out of love." Jazz crouched awkwardly in front of the memorial, pulling a small weed out of the grass. "I was kinda surprised he'd fallen IN love to begin with. That guy was something else." He smiled. "We couldn't separate our sparks, so we settled into some kind of...he'd call it 'complacent partnership'. No love, man, at least for him. Funny thing was, after being together for thousands of years he didn't hesitate to ask me to go with him to Cybertron, even though it was a chance for freedom. I stayed here." I knew the rest of the story: playing rotating planet bases, Prowl going back to earth for energon and being shot, Jazz's wandering the universe until he decided to fade away at Metroplex, etc.

"Any regrets?" I asked.

"Lots. We fought more than anything and at one point in time we nearly killed each other. He may have given up in his spark but he was good to me until the end." Here Jazz refused to look up. "His last thought was how much his death would hurt me."

I couldn't take anymore of this. Between him and Roddy I decided to never fall for another Autobot again. It was like I was watching a repeat of the angst Daniel went through after losing his grandfather. Jazz must have an 'off' switch somewhere because he stood up and beckoned me to leave with him a millisecond before I could think of something to say. "We've got a phone call to return back at base."

We used the monitor in Rodimus' office. Marissa Fairborn from the Department of Defense was formally inquiring over the rumors coming out of Metroplex regarding Quintesson infiltration of the planet.

"That's false," I assured her, Jazz sitting on the chair next to me. "The Quintessons are currently negotiating with Rodimus Prime himself."

"Why are the negotiations taking so long?" she demanded. "And where are their coordinates exactly?"

"That's something they haven't revealed," I answered.

Now she was disturbed. "You mean you don't know where they are? Where's Rodimus? I want to talk to him!" By now Jazz had slipped out to radio Ultra Magnus. He was closer than we thought, running over to tell us that Blaster had found the Quintessons' frequency. Although they hadn't sent any messages to us, it all made us relax knowing there was a place to reach them.

"Hello, Marissa."

"Ultra Magnus? Where's Rodimus?"

"He's a little busy, but he authorized these two to discuss details."

"Something they have yet to do! Where are the Quintessons?"

"I'm sorry, that's classified."

"Classified? What are you Autobots hiding from us?" She was not going to accept any of this information. "Are you planning something?"

Ultra Magnus sighed. "Marissa. How often have the Autobots lied to the various earth governments?"

"Well, although I don't want to admit it, my guess would be never."

"With all due respect, Commander, please trust us. By the end of the week, I can give you a more precise report than this, but not at this time."

Marissa sighed back. "I will call you on Sunday," she snarled ungraciously, turning off her telephone. Ultra Magnus lead us away with the good news.

I could not believe the change in Rodimus. What had once been a hysterical container of despair was now an example of superb leadership. He was arguing with one of the Quintessons about how the Dinobots would be allowed off of the ship using his "Rodimus Prime" voice.

"We are not negotiating energon cubes, Prime," hissed Alpha Q. To keep them straight we label them in Greek letters, depending on who talks first. This one was the first one I saw talking, his War face snarling imperiously. "If you desire the one you favor you must come here-alone."

"I want ALL of the Dinobots back," he responded in the same hostile timbre. "The terms you have suggested are unfair, considering I have no proof you haven't fed them to your Sharkticons."

"You wish to view them? So be it." Alpha Q got out of the way to reveal a few military-style Quints pointing guns at all five Dinobots standing in a group, hands bound with energon bonds. Rodimus did not flinch. Instead he leaned over the consul and spoke with a slow, deliberate threat.

"When I arrive at your ship, if I see so much as a DENT on any of them, I will tear your ship apart with my bare hands." I've never heard him talk like this. The fury is apparent as his fingers clawed into the computer, tearing it to pieces as a precursor. His whole being shook as the hostility disappeared, showing a tender expression that petrified me more than the anger. "I love you, Sweetie. I'm coming for you. I promise."

This causes a flurry of activity off-screen.

Beta Q: "What does that mean?"

Gamma Q: "I believe the Autobot leader has lost control of his faculties."

Delta Q: "No! It is code! Observe the captives' reactions!"

Alpha Q returned to screen to hide the camera shot, but we saw it. Snarl and Sludge gave each other frightened looks. Snarl roared in frustration. Grimlock's face never changed, but his visor narrowed to a deathly slit. Swoop broke down. A Dinobot crying. I have never seen anything like it. All of this was covered quickly by an ugly Quintesson face. "You have thirty-six hours, Prime." The TV went off.

Rodimus continued to grab the computer consul, face staring at the screen until I walked over and helped him sit. "He was crying," Roddy moaned.

Swoop. All this time, I thought it was Grimlock. All those ex post facto hints thrown at me. Swoop. It evaporated at the sight of my leader, shaking with emotion. Did The Matrix attack again? "Roddy, can you hear me?" Rodimus nodded.

In all of the time I have known my best friend, there are very few moments when I can say the right thing. Jokes tend to be my MO, not being dramatic. "Go get him, Roddy. We'll help."

Rodimus looked up, amazed. As his blue optics roved the room he saw Arcee, Kup, Ultra Magnus, First Aid, and Blurr nod in agreement. He turned his head to witness Jazz's grin.

"Go get 'em, Prime," he announced, nodding with the rest of us. Rodimus' face lit up.

"Then let's get the strike team going. Roll out!"