Song for this chapter, or rather, the last segment, is "Fever" The version by Ray Charles and Natalie Cole in particular. This has taken far longer than I had ever intended, but with my sincerest apologies, please enjoy. ~K

Chapter 187 – The Night

(MPOV)

Point six joor.

"We shall re-convene in the morning," my Optimus rumbled gravely. Around us, various bots nodded, visibly adding final notes to their personal logs.

"Soundwave," I stated calmly, looking at my Advisor Primary. "Did you wish Symphony to take residence in my former quarters or do you wish to partition your own quarters for her?"

"Soundwave: partition quarters. Request: borrow femme Prime's human supplies from former quarters." Soundwave stated patiently, nodding to me.

"Do you need any help sorting out the plumbing and whatnot?" I asked cheerfully.

"Negative."

"Plumbing?"

"I lived full time beside my Optimus before I became a bot, Symphony," I murmured with a smile, looking at the gentle, quiet femme resting patiently in her guardian's hands.

"You're Ambassador Mikaela Banes."

"I am," I smiled, winking my holoform online in Soundwave's hands beside Symphony. I lightly took her hand to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Symphony O'Niel."

Symphony smiled at me, gripping my right for a moment before her free hand wandered up to map my face.

"While Soundwave is out on duty, we'll collectively ensure your safety on base here," I added patiently as Symphony learned what I'd looked like as a human. "NEST Headquarters is fully equipped to support a small army, so we have a canteen, exercise rooms, rec-rooms and whatever else you need," I smiled. "However if you wish to cook for yourself it may take a little while longer to transfer my kitchen into your new quarters."

Symphony beamed at me, even as I sensed Soundwave doing the same.

It was actually fascinating to see the two of them mimic each other so closely.

Or sense. Neither Symphony nor I could actually see Soundwave's faceplates at the moment, for vastly different reasons.

"I would imagine you can reign either some autobot holoforms or some soldiers to help you move the furniture?" I smiled at my advisor.

"Affirmative." Soundwave informed me cheerfully, rising and nodding to us before he carried his spark-mate from the central.

"If you will excuse us," my Optimus added benignly, rising and before I could cycle my optics, plucking me from my place in the central and tossing me over his shoulder as I squeaked.

"Optimus Prime that is no way to treat a femme!" Sentinel fairly snarled at my mate as the Wreckers stared at me dangling over his shoulder.

I didn't particularly care, I was too busy laughing.

"You know I fully intended to follow through on my threat," I informed my mate's aft.

"I have been ordered by your spark father to ensure that you are not distracted by yet more of your duties before you recharge. Are you going to countermand the orders of your spark-father?" my mate asked with perfect, mocking innocence.

"Me countermand Ratchet? Are you insane?" I laughed. Optimus turned to carry me from the central, so I lightly pushed myself up to look at the bots with laughter in my optics.

Sentinel looked quite ready to blow several capacitors.

"If it makes you feel any better Sentinel, I've done this to him on any number of occasions," I grinned at our mentor. Ultra Magnus relaxed beside Sentinel.

"One cannot blame a newly-bonded pair for their irrational behaviours," the mech stated patiently.

"That's very kind of you Magnus," I grinned at him just as my mate rounded the corner.

"They do that a lot?" Lugnut's voice asked in an amused tone.

"Optimus found out when Kae was still a human that she'd laugh every time he'd pick her up and carry her over his shoulder in non-emergency situations," my little brother informed the bot with a chirping laugh.

::. I pray that you are not going to behave so inappropriately in public on Cybertron.:: Sentinel sent to us irritably.

::. Not in the eyes of the majority, however the bots in central and residing in this base are close friends.:: my Optimus replied patiently. ::. There is a difference between displaying my adoration of my femme in front of friends, and acting foolishly before one's subjects.::

::. But why are you behaving so childishly!?.:: Sentinel demanded. ::. I have been here long enough to watch you both carry yourself with proper dignity and comportment, only to be broken by you carrying your high ranking mate over your shoulder down the corridors!?.::

::. Such behaviours are highly amusing to my mate, Sentinel. It makes her laugh.:: my Optimus sent back in a consoling tone.

::. I do not see the sense in it.:: Sentinel growled irritably.

::. With all due respect, Sentinel.:: Silvermoon of all bots stated quietly. ::. the laughter of one's mate is one of the sweetest sounds in the universe. In six Joor the advance forces are returning to Cybertron, we have so very little time left to hear the laughter and joy of our mates again.::

Optimus turned into our quarters and lightly set me down on my pedes, reaching up and cupping my face as I pressed close to him, feeling the change in his mood.

::. My Kae and I cannot afford to follow each other into the Well, Sentinel.:: my Optimus rumbled in a grieved tone over the Primary. ::. We both have accepted the need for at least one of us to remain behind, to finish this war once and for all.::

::. To heal Cybertron.:: I added softly.

::. It is our duty Sentinel, to ensure that our people are safe and prosperous once more.:: my Optimus continued softly, pulling me tightly into his chest.

::. But it does not mean that in the here and now, that I am not going to fill my memories with the presence of my mate. Because if he is gone I must continue on until the job is finished, Sentinel, no matter how much it hurts.:: I whispered, burrowing myself into my mate.

Dead silence reigned across the Primary, the Wreckers, Magnus and his unit, everybot that had not known me as a human filling that silence with heavy shock and astonishment.

::. Is... is that entirely possible!?.:: Magnus finally demanded in a stunned tone.

::. For now, I suggest we pray that we do not find out the possibility of such a thing.:: Sentinel murmured in a heavy tone.

I smiled and sent a soft sense of thanks as Sentinel assumed the duty of host-transmitting the Primary, freeing the two of us and allowing for as much privacy as our headquarters allowed for.

With gentle hands, my beloved mate lightly tugged on the first plate of armour my body would release, and obediently, my systems allowed my mate to strip me, one piece of armour at a time until I stood naked before him.

To anyone watching, (not that I was entirely keen on anyone watching us) it was the usual foreplay between a mech and his femme. The same thing we had done dozens of times over, we were bonded, married.

But this time was different. With the exception of the first to wake caressing the other into rousing, the occasional kiss stolen, this was one of the last nights we two had together in our earthen quarters. The optimist in me said we'd simply be moving to different venues, to different quarters on Cybertron.

The fatalist in my mate however, was desperately recording every nano-click. We both were.

Because this wasn't a perfect universe, no plan went through without some hiccough or hitch, and if the worst did happen, if we were to be separate from each other until the other had the leisure to die then nothing in this universe or the next was going to be more important than our final memories. And to that end, I slowly, gently peeled my mate's armour from his protoform. Touching, caressing, filling our final memories of togetherness with as much love as we could muster in these last, few, short hours before the sun rose once more.

(SePOV)

Sentinel remained in the central, even as it rapidly emptied. The wreckers were bridging to their NASA base, the fliers flew.

Jetfire had laughed at his expression when Starscream and his trine had declined the bridge.

"Fliers belong in th' air, Prime," the old warrior laughed. "If you go'n bridge us tae Nevada we'd be settin' on our afts bickering fer a breem before we'd be in th' air again."

"Flying there saves the bickering," Skywarp had chimed in cheerfully.

"Liar," Starscream murmured fondly.

"Well... it's more fun bickering in the air," Skywarp had pouted at his dominant. They three had then broken out in the chirping, high toned laughter of fliers.

Sentinel just shook his helm.

Fliers.

Technician Jolt rose from his place in the central, lightly touching his femme's face before he wandered toward the communications room.

In short order, the central was empty.

Empty but for himself, and a lone femme.

Sentinel regarded the technician's femme sternly for a long moment, she had innocence plastered on her faceplates as she regarded him right back.

"And precisely how many questions are you determined to ask me this time?" he demanded flatly.

"Well, twenty-three that I've backlogged so far," Lena informed him in a placid tone. "However you know damn well that the second you start answering them I'm going to pepper you with a million more in clarification."

Sentinel glared at the femme, Lena raised her brow ridge at him.

They did so every evening, no-bot in his living memories had so regularly beaten him in a glaring contest as Lena did, and she didn't even bother glaring!

"Have you begun regretting giving me license to ask yet?" the femme asked seriously.

Sentinel snorted, he simply couldn't help it. No matter that she broke his composure with that question every evening after his seminars, or how many times he swore to keep a straight face when she would no doubt ask.

The femme asked the questions that he knew for a fact, would eventually begin to extend outside the realms of his own knowledge. He was proverbially breathless, waiting for that moment. Few minds he had ever come across so hungered for knowledge as the Technician femme's did.

When the war was finished, when the Emperor Prime sat in power with the Lady High Protector at his side Sentinel fully intended to seduce the little femme into being his research assistant.

If not partner, her imagination and questions were endless.

"Go get the energon," Sentinel rumbled with another snort. "I shall begin re-organizing the mindspace to where we left off last evening."

Lena grinned at him and instantly rose to her pedes, lightly trotting to the energon dispenser as he began reviewing his logs.

(FPOV)

Flare had a mission. Not an ordered mission, not really, on the femme's channel her sisters had noted that Jazz was twitchy. Twitchy every time she flirted with the deluge of mechs on base.

It was inevitable, she was the only apparent single femme in the NEST headquarters, which made for an excellent opportunity to practice one's flirting skills.

However the Saboteur, the smooth talking, streamlined, light on his feet and lighter in the berth saboteur whom had caught her optics so irrevocably was going to need his processors.

Jazz was pretty damn certain she was the one for him. So was Flare, being around that mech was remarkably comfortable. There were some few requirements of a mech that Flare required, she was part of a sisters trine, and her sisters had found their mates.

First, her mate needed to be compatible, second, her mate needed to get along with the mates of her sisters, because now and again she and her sisters would become inseparable. Such was a sisters trine, it was a bond of love none of they three had expected, it had grown in the time of pain and separation of spark from body, and Flare was far more dependant on that bond.

Chromia and Arcee understood that, just as she understood her sisters' need for their mates.

Jazz fit her requirements of a mech, he understood her bonds with her sisters, he got along with Ratchet and Ironhide in his own teasing way. And to be perfectly honest, he just fit her.

Flare had halfway assumed that Jazz would realize that there had not been a night that she had not taken her recharge in his beautifully decorated quarters, that she had not simply recharged in his quarters, but had taken to listening to his stereo system in her off-time. Often, the two of them simply sat, Flare tucked against Jazz's chestplates in comfortable silence, just listening to the sounds. He was a comfortable mech to be around.

Any number of wolf-whistles sounded as she strutted down the corridors, normally she'd be smirking, but not today, today Flare ignored those wolf-whistles, she had a mission to attend to.

First stop was decontamination, Jazz would be leaving soon, she wanted to look her best. Cee and Chrome were there, which only surprised her a little, they had read each other's intentions spark-to-spark for so long it was old habit. But this night, Arcee and Chromia detailed her armour for her in silence, she had her plan, she had borrowed her sister's memories and integrated them with her own observances of the mech she aimed to declare her intended.

The second stop was the med-bay, Ratchet glared at her as she strode in and automatically ducked the wrench he'd idly tossed at her.

"I need four cubes of High-grade Ratchet," she stated flatly, glaring the mate of her sister down. Ratchet jumped slightly, obviously being prodded by his mate. The look of knowledge flashed into his optics, and in moments he rose, unlocking the cupboard and drew out her four cubes. Flare smiled at the medic as he handed them over, nodding patiently to her.

"I don't believe I need to wish you luck," Ratchet informed her quietly, looking at her with a speculative optic. "Because without doubt Arcee and Chromia have their servos in with yours."

Flare simply smiled at her sister's mate and made the graceful exit of the femme trine toward her final destination.

Jazz's quarters.

Some of the newcomers had on occasion mistaken his quarters for her own. She didn't really have her own quarters anymore, she had already informed the Primes that the Femme quarters were redundant when she was the only single femme on the base.

Kae had promptly informed her that if she ever needed a berth there was a spot beside her reserved specially. Dear little femme.

Flare stepped through the door into Jazz's quarters, idly flicking the stereo on to play whatever he'd turned it off at. A slow, bluesy baseline this time.

"Never knew how much I love you, never knew how much I care, when you put your arms around me, I get a fever that's so hard to bear you give me fever, when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight. Fever, in the morning, fever all through the night."

It was remarkable, really, how the humans managed to put so many emotions to word and melody, and even more remarkable that those songs seemed to find them just when they were needed the most. Patiently, Flare deposited her cubes of high-grade on the desk and glanced over her shoulder when the doors hissed open again.

Jazz strode in. It was remarkable, not simply the truth of the songs the humans wrote, sang, performed... but how well those songs leant themselves to coincidence.

For his part – and Flare knew in an instant that vorns later, should they both survive, she would casually use this logged, memorized capture of the expression on his faceplates against him for sundry blackmail – Jazz looked stunned. Jazz looked stunned, but only for the brief – very brief – moment it took for him to re-gain control of his faceplates.

He was a master of it, after all.

"Ah though'..." Jazz began quietly. Flare watched him patiently. Saboteur and spy, would he divine her intentions for the last few joor he was on this planet with her? "Ah though' yeh'd be flirtin' with th' mechs on base befoah they head ou'."

Nope, although that also was a lovely little piece of blackmail material against the mech. For later.

'Romeo loved Juliette, Juliette she felt the same...'

"We're going back to Cybertron," Flare informed the mech standing in front of her. The tiny flash of 'yeah, I know, you're stating the obvious' touched his faceplates. "We've both neglected common courtesy in the face of a new world, Jazz." Flare stated gravely. She turned and popped open a couple of cubes, handed one to the mech standing patiently before her.

There was that slight dissonance again, doubt. It had made her curious before, on any number of occasions. It was time to discover precisely why that sound touched his spark whenever she faced him helm on.

Flare stood straight and proud, and held the optics of the mech she'd chosen.

"Jazz of Gamma Five, I declare my desire to make you my intended, if you will accept me." Flare stated with every ounce of strength she had in her spark. She needed that strength, it wasn't every day one proposed to a gorgeous mech.

And in an instant, it became immediately apparent that she didn't need the moment of shock she'd captured on Jazz's faceplates.

That look was frozen there now. Tenfold.

But Flareup was patient, contrary to her namesake Flare tended to have the longest fuse of her sisters. She flared for other reasons, innuendo a handy little bit of co-incidence in the flirting games...

'...He gives me fever, with his kisses, fever when he holds me tight...'

It took a breem for Jazz to sort his processors, Flare patiently sipped at her cube of High-grade as he did. One breem. It'd taken Ironhide three, and Ratchet one point four according to her sisters. One breem and Jazz looked down at the cube of High-grade still sitting in his servo and glanced around, as though looking for a place to set it down before he simply threw it back and tossed the cube away, dropping gallantly down to a knee the next moment.

"Flareup, sista o' Ahcee an' Chromia I declah mah intent ta take ya fo' mah own bondahed mate th' secon' we ah free ta," Jazz stated seriously, her hands ensnared in his. A few clicks of seriousness, then the impish, teasing, smirking Jazz was back, grinning at her unrepentantly even as Flare allowed the expression she'd wanted for some time to cross her faceplates.

The mech was hers, by right, she could be as smugly possessive as she wanted.

'What a lovely way to burn'