First off, a million, billion thanks to Retrobot for allowing me the use of her Silvermoon, if you have not yet read "There's Somebot for Everybot" I highly suggest it. Massively. As in if I ever have writer's block it's one of those stories that after a few chapters my fingers start itching. Read it. Next on the docket is several units of Energon Goodies to Bee4ever, who is far too patient with me. Love you Bee.

As always, anything that you recognize, I simply don't own, I wish I did, but I don't.

Chapter 184 – Lost and Found

(MPOV)

::. Air Commander Starscream to Archangel Prime.:: Starscream sent to me patiently.

::. Archangel receiving.:: I sent in return.

::. You're entering with the grounders Prime?.::

::. Ratchet is already at Nevada, waiting for the casualties.:: I sent patiently.

::. The Hatchet is waiting for us?.:: one of the injured being towed asked fearfully.

::. Don't be afraid of him.:: I sent to the injured gently. ::. You are his allies, now, and he won't start whacking you with his wrenches until you're properly repaired.::

::. But I have fought against him!.::

::. That doesn't matter, anymore.:: I chuckled softly. ::. Flier or grounder, my spark-father cares for all, it is his chosen programming.::

::. Ratchet has always been thus.:: Magnus murmured patiently. ::. Even during our battles on Cybertron, any prisoner of war was treated with respect, maintained to the utmost of his abilities...::

::. That's true...:: Thrust murmured musingly.

::. Archangel, requesting permission to enter the atmosphere.:: Magnus proclaimed patiently.

::. Archangel calling ground control.:: I replied in return.

::. This is the earth-space control, Archangel, all bots are cleared for entry.::

I smiled as the fliers took no time in obeying, the hundredfold immediately diving into the atmosphere and switching to their air-pusher engines. Over the desert that hundredfold aerial-bots began to circle over the monolith, any number of reporters and civilian cameras pointed skyward to watch the ballet of fliers.

Magnus looked to me as his unit compressed themselves into the space-pods that made ground entries less unpleasant.

::. I'll propel you into the atmosphere.:: I informed him gently. Magnus nodded and watched as those of his unit dove into the atmosphere. He compressed himself into the space-flight crippled pod and I gently directed him into the true gravitational pull of my home planet.

Close behind, I followed, switching into my flier frame and to air-pusher engines.

The satisfactory explosion of power in my engines and I followed the bots as their frames heated. I watched carefully as Magnus flew somewhat further, he had no propulsion to speak of for the moment. The Decepticons had taken it.

Then finally, as we had calculated, the eight touched down... well... ploughed down where there were no humans or infrastructure to be damaged. Magnus flew somewhat further, but still landed well within the grounding limits.

I circled a moment, scanning the area before touching down.

Automatically, my Optimus reached out, tucking me against his chest even as my arms wandered around his waist.

~I have missed you, my light~ his spark whispered to mine.

~I have missed you, my strength~ I replied gently, cuddling against him for a moment before we turned, watching the grounders as they regained their bipedal frames once more.

Three fliers in formation made their way toward us, I glanced up and relaxed. Starscream and his trine were coming to check up on us.

I smiled at them as they landed fairly close beside me.

"Air Commander," I acknowledged him immediately, nodding differentially to him.

"Prime," he nodded to me.

"Any news on Megatron?" I asked quietly.

"No, did you expect any?" Starscream asked, rolling his optics.

"No," I sighed. "It is unfortunate that he paid attention to your lessons in evasion."

"Agreed," Starscream nodded with a small frown. "Regardless. Final reports: we have one trine dead, their husks are rapidly degrading, which leads us to believe they do not wish to return. Two are in stasis, the third of their trine survives and wishes you to return to Nevada to follow their sparks."

"I will return with you," I nodded patiently.

"Not that much of a rush," Skywarp stated cheerfully.

"Besides, you still have Primely stuff to do!" Thundercracker snorted. I rolled my optics at the three of them, Starscream himself was chuckling softly in the flier's voice.

Fliers had weird senses of humour. I rather liked it.

"Prime," Starscream nodded to my mate.

"Starscream," my Optimus rumbled patiently, nodding and offering his arm to all three of the trine. "I have not yet had occasion to apologize to you."

Starscream gave my mate a blank look.

"I tore your arm from your shoulder and beat you with it," Optimus rumbled patiently.

"You tore it out of the socket, easily repaired," Starscream stated airily, catching my mate's arm with his own. "I appreciate the sentiment, Prime, even if it comes from a grounder."

"With borrowed wings," Skywarp added with a small snort.

"Eventually my Kae will explain your humour, Skywarp," my Optimus chuckled softly, nodding to Skywarp and Thundercracker in turn.

"Our humour is quite simple," Thundercracker stated cheerfully.

"It is the mind that requires explanation," Skywarp continued for him.

"To a flier, nothing takes precedence over flight," I murmured with a small smile. "Therefore any other situation taken seriously is a joke."

"Nothing is more important than flight." Starscream stated piously.

"Even your leadership?" my Optimus rumbled curiously.

"Screamer's weird like that-" Thundercracker snorted.

"Leadership's a close second." Skywarp finished.

Starscream rolled his optics and turned with us as I looked at Ultra Magnus, the Mech standing and striding patiently toward us.

"Hail Optimus Prime!" Ultra Magnus proclaimed, offering his arm formally.

"Ultra Magnus, it is good to see you have survived," my Optimus immediately rumbled, striding forward and catching the mech's arm. Magnus looked rather surprised when Optimus pulled his arm tightly to his chest and pulled the mech into a one-armed hug.

But that didn't stop him from immediately reciprocating the hug.

I smiled and turned to the other arrivals, just in time to watch as Prowl caught two mechs... or rather... on closer inspection a young mech and a femme in heavy mech's styled armour – into his embrace.

(JPOV)

Jazz was grinning, he couldn't help it.

Right in front of him, Prowl was striding forward and catching hold of two bots he'd prayed to see that mech meet in this dimension. As was proper, everybot waited until the three separated before addressing them.

That took a while.

Not that Jazz really blamed the mech, it wasn't everyday that your long lost mate and adopted creation landed on the same planet that you and your unit were taking refuge on.

"'Ey Silvamoo'" he grinned at the femme. "Wha' happened t' yah armah?"

"That was my idea!" Bluestreak was immediately babbling away. "We didn't want anybot to know that Carrier is my Carrier so she's wearing my old youngling armour she really looks mechly doesn't she? I mean not that Carrier isn't still gorgeous but at least she doesn't look like a femme I mean-"

"We get what you mean, Blue," Silvermoon stated fondly as Prowl shook his helm, no doubt trying to keep up with the youngling's speech. "Blame Blurr," she added, looking fondly up at the mech keeping her trapped against his chest.

Prowl smiled somewhat as Bluestreak fairly pounced on the pair.

"Creator I can't believe we found you! I mean Carrier was pretty sure which direction we needed to take to get to you but then we got captured by the Iaconian Decepticons and they brought us here! Can you believe it!? They didn't even figure out that Carrier is a femme!"

"An excellent strategy," Kae murmured behind him. Jazz grinned and turned, gesturing the mate of his Prime forward. "Why do I get the sense I'm the only one out of touch?"

"Probably 'cause yah ah," Jazz snorted. "Silvamoo', Ah bet you lot haven't managed to do any propah intraductions. This is Ahchangel Prime, Lady High Protectah and bonded mate of Optimus Prime."

"An honour," Silvermoon murmured, immediately reaching forward and catching Kae's offered arm. "May I ask what a flier is doing bonding to a grounder?"

Right on cue, Kae laughed. Not just any laugh either, it was that low, purring chuckle that somehow marked her as a Prime in his own mind.

"That is an incredibly long story," Kae murmured with a smile.

"Long story that hasn't even managed to cover a quarter-vorn," Jazz snorted, lightly shoving Kae. She nudged him back, never offering enough pressure to even dent his armour.

Just enough to make him sidestep as much as she had.

"So you're the leader of the fliers?" Blurr asked at his usual high speed, Jazz rolled his optics somewhat.

"No," Kae snorted. Jazz couldn't help but look at her curiously. Technically, she was...

"Uh..." he started with a small frown.

"My grandfather is," Kae shrugged patiently, glancing down at him.

"It's no use arguing with her about it!" Starscream called over with a snort. Jazz glanced over and reached out, lightly touching Silvermoon's shoulder plating as she eyed the seeker with a well concealed but still frosty gaze.

"E's an ally nah, it's a long stah'y Silva'moo'," he muttered.

"One which I would rather like to hear, soon." Silvermoon murmured in a prim tone.

(BPOV)

Bumblebee chased after the thread. It was his favourite reason for being a scout. He got to find spark-mates. He'd been driving for two days now, Soundwave occasionally pulling in front, but typically the older mech shadowed him.

::. Ratchet to Bumblebee.::

::. Responding.::

::. What are you doing in this sector?.::

::. Sparkmate hunting!.:: Bumblebee grinned.

::. Out here!?.:: Ratchet demanded incredulously.

::. Affirmative.:: Soundwave stated patiently. Bumblebee grinned and threw on a bit more speed, the thread had steadily become stronger over the past two days, nobody had bothered to attack them.

All in all, awesome road trip!

Most of the time, Bumblebee had chattered incessantly at Soundwave, testing the mech in his own way. Because the fact of the matter was that the more patient a mech, the more polite they were when they told Bee to shut up.

So far, Soundwave had only twice requested that Bee shut up.

Twice. Both times they had literally been a request, no order, no nothing. Just the quiet, patient request for Bumblebee to 'temporarily halt vocal patterns for purpose of recharge'.

Bee had laughed and simply played the human's radio stations to himself for the Joor that Soundwave had napped on his tires, proximitying the smaller scout.

They were getting really close now, Soundwave could obviously sense that. The outwardly patient, unhurried mech was riding Bee's bumper, forcing... okay not really forcing Bee to pick up his speed, he did that anyway.

He liked fast.

High overhead, one of the flier trines lazily circled in the air, Bee idly scanned them and snorted as his systems went into high alert. Old habits died hard.

::. We have no plan to attack you, scout.:: Starscream's voice grumbled over the comm the next moment.

::. Sorry, habit.:: Bee responded with another snort of amusement, re-setting his systems again and taking his weapons and tracking systems offline.

Too soon, Skywarp dove and buzzed him, proximity alarms immediately firing his defence systems into maximum overdrive. Soundwave had to swerve around him to avoid running straight into his legs as he flashed into alt-form and aimed.

It was automatic. Bumblebee glared up at the laughing Skywarp as he flipped a few barrel rolls and winked out of sight.

Slagging teleporter.

Mind, a little bit of forgiveness wormed it's way into his spark the second his comm flared to life again.

Skywarp's voice, chirping, laughing, but the words meant more that way.

::. Sorry, habit.::

(RPOV)

Ratchet heaved a sigh as he watched his young, twin apprentices as they worked away at mending the little bits of damage on this seeker and that flier. They were learning, quickly, and he was grateful for it.

The more they learned, the more their habit of tearing each other apart ceased, their teamwork was increasing by leaps and bounds. It was becoming a rapid habit between the two of them, their shared spark and ability to think together practically made them one medic with double the processing power and four servos.

Ratchet almost envied them that, they could just as easily repair one mech between them as he could with the aid of his old sparkless drones.

Their holoform skills were increasing as well, now, increasing that four handed team to eight.

Most of their scuffles were with the holoforms now, too. It had taken a great deal of self control for him to not join in in the betting the fliers had been making on the outcome of the holo-battles the twins engaged in in the middle of repairing a bot.

To his amusement, that in itself had spurred no few of the fliers into requesting the coding required for the holoforms. After all, there was far less damage inherent to killing each other's holoforms over denting each other's armour.

That had been a fascinating study in of itself. Apparently, the Vosian frames prompted an interesting type of human counterpart. They were male... mostly... there was a certain femininity about the harshly angular human visages, and long limbs of the fliers. The few femmes in the flock differed only in one way, (besides affecting the human anatomy) their faces were marginally softer, reflecting the curves of the femmes.

Distractedly, Ratchet returned his attention to monitoring the twins out of the corner of his optic as they continued mending the bumps and scrapes that had been shunted to the lowest priority, their habit of commenting as they did so required... further training.

By no means did Ratchet pretend to have a... pleasant bedside manner. But then again he had developed his particular bedside manner over the course of several vorn. Nova had helped him with it extensively.

Mostly he'd done everything Nova had told him not to do.

He thought back to his first spark-mate with some sadness. Nova had always been the nurturing type, had shone in his tasks as a nursery attendant.

However Nova was gone, and Ratchet sure as slag wasn't a nursery attendant!

For the most part, he scolded. It worked. And as much as his patients often whined and acted like a load of sparkings, they weren't. Mostly.

He vented a quiet sigh, because even as his beloved mate gently touched his spark with her own and soothed the hurt of the past, he still missed the 'family' practice he had served in in the first vorn of his bonding with Nova.

Ratchet looked back at the twins and frowned.

They were remaining still, and staring at him.

"And what are you doing idling about?" he growled.

"Uh..." Skids started.

"That was kinda the las' one," Mudflap interjected, gesturing over his shoulder.

"Yo've bin standin' there fo' a breem Ratch,"

"An' yo still ain't soundin' too happy 'bout it,"

"So we's still tryin' t' figger out,"

"If we's gotta make a fast getaway..."

The twins looked at him apprehensively and Ratchet heaved a sigh.

"No, go, rest," he rumbled heavily, turning and sitting at the bench reserved for the head medic of the Nevada base.

"You's okay boss?" Mudflap asked tentatively.

"I need to train you somewhat more on your bedside manners," Ratchet muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"Aaww..." Skids muttered. Ratchet looked up at them, honestly surprised.

Usually when he told them to go away to do whatever they wanted they were out of the med-bay before he'd finished the sentence.

"I thought we was doin' pretty good tellin' them fliers to stay down on the ground to heal up," Mudflap stated in a mildly defensive tone.

"Four needed more fear put into them as to the ramifications of not staying on the ground," Ratchet informed his apprentices patiently.

"Which four?" Skids asked intently.

"Ramjet, Skyblade, Icefight and Redwing."

"Well then we's just gonna have ta go scare 'em s'more!" Mudflap grinned.

Ratchet sat and watched his young apprentices as they began flexing their servos, grinning at each other. He reached into his subspace and pulled out two identical wrenches, snorting as the two of them instantly shied from them. Two identical wrenches, identical to a third, his most favoured first wrench, given to him by medic Spanner. He rarely used it to adjust anything in his patients, he had over a hundred pieces of medical equipment in his subspace alone for that, the wrenches were weighted perfectly to dent helm and armour with an effortless swing.

"I believe it's time you learned how to use these," he stated patiently, reversing the handles in his servos and offering them to the now wide-eyed, astonished twins.

(OPOV)

Optimus vented a sigh, watching as his mate leaped into the air once more, closely followed by the command trine.

Stasis wasn't death, and her spark-father would be close at servo to attend whatever damage his mate managed to do to herself reviving the downed fliers.

But it didn't make the fact that he had seen his mate for all of two breem any better.

"We're allied with Starscream now!?" Silvermoon's voice demanded incredulously behind him.

"It's a long stah'y, Silvamoo'. If yah c'n b'lieve it E's nah tha' bad a saht t' hang aroun' with anymah," Jazz immediately replied.

"I do not recognize her build, Vosians do not typically have such..." Ultra Magnus began curiously.

"Well defined almost Praxian builds! She's like a Praxian and a Vosian meshed together!" Bluestreak stated excitedly. "Where'd she get her build stats? I almost wish I'd seen her before I'd chosen my adult form it's really really neat! Not that I'm not happy with the Praxian frame Creator but she's a Praxian with wings!"

"Prime?" Prowl murmured.

Optimus turned and smiled at the newly arrived Auto-bots. It wasn't quite the grin which had become his norm, but his mate was not there to spur his grin.

Regardless, Ultra Magnus and the bots whom had gathered around him were staring at him in shock for the sheer fact that he was smiling.

It was a pleasant feeling.

"Well I'll say this about her, she certainly seems do be doing the Prime some good, flier frame or not," Silvermoon commented quietly to her mate.

Optimus smiled somewhat more and straightened, as Prime it was his duty to oversee his troops.

"Magnus, Cliffjumper, Blurr, Red Alert, Hound, Trailbreaker, Tracks, Silvermoon, Bluestreak," he rumbled calmly, looking at each Auto-bot as he spoke their names. "Welcome to the planet we have taken temporary refuge on; Designation Earth..."

(SwPOV)

Soundwave knew his sparkmate. The moment her face was on the scout's list he had simply known it was her. His spark knew her. He had not bothered with the other nineteen females of the list, every spare moment he had had in his pre-battle scouting had been devoted to getting within ten feet of his femme.

He was not surprised when Bee had immediately taken to staring at his chest the moment he landed.

He knew.

He had not yet spoken to his femme, he hoped she would like him. The humans were not constrained by the fates, not as much as he.

Bumblebee was taking point, as was the little scout's habit, chasing after the thread that Soundwave could not see emanate from his spark.

But they both knew it was there.

They were getting close, they both knew it. Anytime Soundwave increased his speed and power outputs, Bumblebee would match him without comment.

Kind of him.

Soundwave knew his sparkmate, his spark knew. It was that same feeling he had had the moment he had laid optics on the tiny femling he had raised from her sparkinghood.

But Nightsong had been given to him by her parental creators, the scouts had immediately remarked on the thread between them. He had been her guardian from the moment her optics had onlined. Soundwave had always been patient with her, rarely had there been an orn in her sparkinghood where she did not rest beside his spark for some few joor of the orn. When she grew old enough he would take her to her lessons, attend to his duties and retrieve her at the correct time.

His schedule had been precise. Flawlessly precise. Never once had he failed to retrieve her at the precise time she knew he would be there.

Because war and peacetimes be damned, his world had revolved around his Nightsong from the moment she had smiled at him.

When Nightsong was a youngling, Soundwave had taken delight in finding new soundbytes for her, adding them without pause to his repertoire for her. Her creators had named her Silverblade, and when she was due to receive her adult body had encouraged her to choose a Vosian frame, to become a flier in the battles.

He remembered the last time he'd seen her in her youngling frame, her large, earnest blue optics locked onto his as she demanded what frame he would accept of her. What frame he would find the most comely, so that he'd court her.

Soundwave remembered fondly the way her optics had widened further when he'd receded his visor and informed her that with her permission, he would court her even if she decided to become a digger.

She hadn't though, despite her creator's wishes Nightsong's spark had chosen a Praxian frame, lithe, beautiful, and yet despite her speed and skill with blaster and blade, her hands had always been best occupied with the Luthre.

Her spark-chamber had re-named herself Nightsong.

Softly, in a back processor he played the song she had composed for him, a song that he had stored in a multitude of places, for fear of forgetting it as a result of the slaggings he'd endured.

::. Whatcha thinkin' about Soundwave?.:: Bumblebee's voice intruded into his thoughts.

::. Soundwave: remembering Nightsong.:: he replied quietly.

Across the comm Soundwave sensed the scout's sage nod.

::. Your spark remembers her.:: the scout murmured patiently, he hesitated for a moment. ::. You know we might not find Nightsong's spark re-born at the end of the thread, you know that, right?.::

::. Soundwave: aware. Probability of finding same spark: two percent. Probability of finding same Nightsong: zero.::