Finding Home
Chapter 13
By Voodoo Queen
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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! I hope you're all doing fabulously today. Any day I get a new chapter up is a good day over here in VQ land. For some reason, this one was hard to write. I could see what I wanted in my head but just couldn't seem to get it to translate well onto the page. I'm not extremely happy with how it turned out but after scouring over it for the last couple days I think it's as good as it's going to get. Sorry for that! Also, there is some Mirage/Dino in this chapter. We all know he has an affinity for Italian for some reason. He comes from money and, quite frankly, he's a little bougie so... I could have noted the translations for you but I'm lazy and this chapter got HUGE really fast, lol. Feel free to look them up if you want. Just be forewarned...he may want to choose his words more carefully as they might end up getting him in trouble. Just saying.
As always, thank you so much to all who have added this story to their follows and favorites. I'm so happy you're coming along for the ride! Extra special shoutout to those who took time to drop me a review: The Whispering Sage, TheGreenWallFlower, Autobot-Bre-Lightblast, Hearts Tempo, sakurawriter, CherryVanillaCoke, Guests (whoever you are, lol), Becka3490, Edges05, Leonixon, HenriettaDarlington, AshelyOfChaos, jojoniles. I love you all and you're awesome!
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, just my own original characters and plot.
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Petty Officer Doe sat on the bus with her head leaned against the window. The gentle rocking motion as the shuttle wound its way around the base coupled with the pitter patter of rain against the glass would have no doubt lulled her to sleep if she hadn't had so much going on inside her brain. She'd left the medical clinic with a packet of information about stress and an SIQ chit stating she was ill enough to take the next three days off to recuperate. Despite the doctor assuring her she was a perfectly healthy young woman, she had a hard time believing all her problems were due to just being stressed out. She'd been through combat deployments that had made her feel more frazzled. If helping to coordinate an entire Carrier Strike Group's ops in the middle of active combat sorties hadn't sent her stress level skyrocketing, nothing would. Then again, she didn't have a fancy degree from medical school so, who knows. Maybe the doc was right and it was all in her head.
She needed to find Jazz, turn her chit in, and let him know about her SIQ status and not to be dependent on her getting things rolling in the morning for the next few days. First, however, she'd decided to return to her barracks before seeking the mech out. She'd been a mess and thought perhaps a shower and change of clothes may do her some good before she ventured back out to face the world. If nothing else, she needed to maintain her professional front, something she usually prided herself on. She'd made it back to her room on autopilot, gathered her toiletries and a clean uniform, and made her way back down the hall to the showers. The first glance of herself she'd gotten when trudging into the female washroom had frightened her to say the very least. She'd looked haggard and worn down...lost, even. She'd barely recognized the reflection staring back at her. It had taken great effort to pull her eyes away from the stranger in the mirror but she'd eventually managed to refocus on the task at hand.
Mechanically, she'd begun to jerk the bobby pins out of her hair allowing her messy mass of blond waves to fall around her shoulders before stripping out of her dirty uniform and tossing it aside. She'd turned on the shower, cranking the water up as hot as she could possible stand, and stepped beneath the scalding spray. The water had been just-this-side of painful but as it sluiced over her aching muscles, she'd felt them begin to relax ever so slightly. She'd set about the task of getting clean, lathering her hair up into a rich foam before rinsing it out again. As she began scrubbing her body with the same vigor, trying to rid herself of the beach grime and stink of humiliation she'd been inundated with the night before, she'd studiously avoided concentrating too much attention on the scars she'd collected over the course of her twenty-year existence. Each mar and imperfection were a physical reminder of the times she'd rather put out of her mind. Sunstreaker's harsh words, however, had brought many painful experiences rushing back to the forefront of her memory. She'd shuddered, suddenly cold despite the steamy cascade of water, and wrenched the faucet back into its off position.
She'd toweled off quickly before pulling her clean undergarments and uniform on hastily and quickly squaring herself away. She'd taken more care with her hair. She didn't blow dry it, she hardly ever did, but she did take her time to carefully part it on the left, gathering the still-damp strands in one hand, twisting them up into a bun at the nape of her neck and repinning it securely. She didn't bother with makeup. Again, that was something that she rarely if ever indulged in. She didn't see much point in it. No one was interested in looking at her. If her face was clean, she was happy. Once she'd finished, she felt a bit more human and a little less like the walking dead. Good enough.
She'd done her best to ignore the aching buzz in her chest while she'd trekked back to her room to deposit her dirty laundry and grab her extra cover. She'd tried not to focus on how it felt different now since the second jolt she'd received from Sunstreaker. It felt warmer...fuller, almost. It no longer felt like something was missing but more like something was not quite syncing up properly. The more she thought about it, the harder it was to explain. She'd reminded herself that the doctor had spent a good portion of her visit listening to her heart. He'd even done an EKG but all it had shown was a perfectly normal sinus rhythm. According to his assessment, she was perfectly fine physically. It was nothing more nefarious than stress, she'd repeated over and over again to herself the doctor's opinion as she'd finally made her way to the shuttle stop, still feeling less than convinced.
Amy was jarred out of her thoughts as the shuttle finally pulled to a stop near her destination. She gathered her things, giving the driver a polite nod, and exited out onto the sidewalk. A quick check of her watch told her that it was early enough that Jazz was most likely still undergoing his morning medical routine, whatever that entailed. She was very curious about what had happened to put the upbeat mech in such a fragile physical state but was far too polite and empathetic to ask. She knew from experience how difficult some things were to talk about and wouldn't purposely put another in the uncomfortable position of answering questions they may not want to think about. So she kept her curiosity to herself.
She'd never actually been to the med bay before but it wasn't all that far from the Dungeon. Being so close, she thought she'd stop in there first and make sure the contractors were squared away before going off in search of Jazz. There were a few men outside the bunker that appeared to be finishing up unloading materials and equipment. They greeted her politely as she made her way to the elevator and pushed the button to take her down deep beneath the ground. Stepping out once she reached the bottom, she was struck by the flurry of activity in the normally tomb-like structure. She was so used to the cavernous space only housing she and Jazz that the extra bodies and equipment felt almost intrusive in a way. Among the hectic masses, she was eventually able to pick out the construction foreman and headed in his direction.
She greeted the man, getting a quick update from him on the construction status in return. He needed some signatures on the final draft of the blueprints which he gave to her and she promised to pass them along to Jazz who could, in turn, sit down with Prime and Prowl to make sure everything was as discussed. She also informed him that she would be unavailable for the next couple days and if there were any issues or concerns that he was more than welcome to ask Jazz. He was the mech in charge of the project after all.
As she finally excused herself, however, the man called after her, "Hey, miss!"
Doe turned back to face the man, "Yes?"
"I almost forgot," the man spoke in a heavy New York accent, "One of those robot guys was down here earlier this morning looking for you."
"Oh?" Doe raised a brow. "Jazz?"
"Nah, nah," the man shook his head. "I know what that one looks like. This one said his name was Sideways or Sidewalk or something like that."
Doe's eyes widened as she felt her chest constrict, "Sideswipe?"
"Yeah!" The man exclaimed with a snap of his fingers, "That's it! These guys and their names, am I right? Sideswipe..." the man shook his head and chuckled. "Anyway, he seemed kind of worried that you weren't here. Said he'd been looking all over. I promised if I saw you that I'd let you know he was looking for you."
"Oh, okay," Doe croaked, her mouth suddenly dry. "Thank you." She turned, woodenly, and stepped quickly back into the elevator. Her finger jabbed the up arrow repeatedly until the doors finally rolled closed. Her hands flew up to grip her chest. Her heart felt like it was going to beat its way out through her ribs as a sudden wave of panic washed over her. The electric feeling in her chest buzzed back to life with a vengeance causing her to groan in pain and grit her teeth together.
"It's stress," she muttered, trying to convince herself even as fresh tears started to gather in her eyes. "You had a rough night. That's all it is. The doctor said so."
Desperately, she tried to remember what the handout the doctor had given her said. There were breathing techniques for situations like this. She needed to relax, that's all. She closed her eyes and took a few nice, deep breaths. Inhale...one, two, three, four. Exhale...one, two, three, four. Repeat. By the time the doors opened at ground level, she was was able to pull herself together, more or less, but a tumultuous, hot charged feeling continued to writhe within her chest as she headed off in the direction of the med bay in search of Jazz.
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"What did you do, Sunny?" Sideswipe was normally a patient mech in most situations where his twin was concerned but this was different. This was so beyond his comprehension that it was taking every ounce of his restraint to keep from launching himself at his brother and beating the answer out of him. "What did you do to her?"
Sunstreaker protested, "I didn't do anything to her!"
"Then where in Creation is she?" Sideswipe demanded.
"I don't know!" Sunstreaker snapped, "I took her out to the beach!"
"The beach?" Sides looked at his brother, suspicious. "Why would she go with you to the beach? I can't even get her to let me give her a ride to work in the morning."
"Because I didn't give her a choice, alright? There," Sunny threw his arms out to his sides. "Are you happy now?"
"You kidnapped her?" Sideswipe felt his core temperature beginning to rise along with his voice. "You kidnapped her and took her to the other side of the island? Why? What in the Pit were you thinking?"
"I wasn't! I was pissed off!" Sunstreaker began to pace once more, "I saw her and I wanted...I don't even know what I wanted. To discourage her, I guess."
"Discourage?" Sides looked at his brother disbelieving, his fists clenched, barely restraining himself. "This isn't something that can just be turned off, Sunny! You know that! Why would you do that?"
"Because this whole situation is fragging ridiculous!" Exasperated, Sunstreaker turned to his brother, "Look, she zapped me, alright? Or I zapped her. I don't know! We zapped each other! It was just like you said and I panicked! I yelled at her, she got upset, and ran off into the trees! I haven't seen her since!"
"And you just let her go, right?" Sideswipe hadn't even realized that his arms had shot out and shoved his brother until the other mech staggered back a few steps. It felt good in his agitated state, though, and so he did it again. "You just left her there?! She doesn't know her way around, you fragger! She goes from the barracks to the bunker and back! That's it!"
"Look at me, afthead!" Sunny indicated his battered paint job, "I was out there all night scraping up my fragging finish looking for that slagging Squishie! I don't know why your tailpipe is all in a twist. Even on foot, she had to have found her way back by now. She's probably either in her barracks or down in the bunker with Jazz."
"No," Sides grit out, "She isn't!"
Sunstreaker looked at his brother, the first real sparkle of concern flashing in his optics. "What do you mean she isn't?"
"She isn't in the barracks," Sideswipe hissed, feeling his last vestige of patience slipping away. "I've been all over base this morning. She isn't in the chow hall. She isn't in the bunker. So, where the frag is she?"
"No," Sunstreaker shook his head. "She has to be here somewhere. I ripped the slagging trees up out of the ground looking for her, Sides! I went all up and down the beach! She wasn't-!"
Sideswipe was near steaming, "You glitch!"
Clang!
The sound of Sideswipe's fist impacting with his Sunstreaker's faceplates echoed hollowly in the small berthing space. For a moment, Sunny simply stood there looking surprised by the action. His face mirrored that of his twin, as if the other mech couldn't believe he'd hit him either. Sunstreaker's glossa peaked out from the corner of his mouth, tasting the trickle of energon there. Did he deserve his brother's abuse for what he'd done? Probably. Was he the slightest bit worried that the femme was nowhere to be found? Honestly? Yes, but he'd never let his brother know that. He'd screwed up. Badly. But he wasn't about to stand there passively and let Sideswipe beat the slag out of him when they should be trying to find a way to rectify the situation.
Sideswipe, though, apparently found it necessary to punish his other half for his indiscretions. "I swear to Primus, if you've let anything happen to her...if you've hurt her..." The mech took another swing but Sunny quickly sidestepped it.
The accusation, the idea that he'd actually physically harm the femme went through him like a blade. He didn't like Earth. He didn't care for humans. The femme, though, as much as he wished with every fiber of his being that he could deny it, there was something different about her. He didn't think he'd be capable of harming her even if he wanted to, fragged up situation or no. Sunstreaker grit his denta together. A feral growl escaping from his vocalizer, "I didn't hurt her!"
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The Autobots' med bay was a short walk from the Dungeon. Rain continued to fall in warm, fat drops, soaking through Amy's uniform shirt and bouncing off the brim of her cover. Military personnel rushed from place to place, trying to stay as dry as possible. Amy didn't mind the rain, though. She'd always found it comforting in a way. When she was small, she'd liked to pretend that it was sent down from heaven to wash away all of the bad things and that, if she prayed hard enough, it would wash her away, too, far away to a place that was warm and welcoming. It never happened. The sun would always return and she'd find herself right where she'd always been, just as cold and lonely as always. Before she could dwell on it too much, she found herself standing at the entrance to the hangar that housed the med bay.
Squaring herself up to her full height and trying to be as professional as possible, she made her way inside. The hangar was enormous, to say the very least. Prior to the arrival of Cybertronians, it had been used to house C-5M Super Galaxy strategic airlifters. They were the biggest planes in the Air Force's arsenal at nearly 250 feet in length and 65 feet in height. The hangar had been plenty large enough to partition off into sections for use by the mechs. There was a large open area when you first walked in and it was Doe's understanding that mech-human combat training was done there. Offices had been created for both Prime and Prowl to sort through the red tape and legislation that went along with being granted permission to remain on Earth in peace. Ironhide had some sort of workroom where he was constantly upgrading his comrades' weapons and working to find more efficient ways to destroy the enemy. In the very back of the hangar, space had been cordoned off and given to Ratchet to construct medical facilities.
Taking a deep breath, Doe headed off towards the rear of the hangar. There were a few humans scattered about, mostly maintenance workers by the looks of them. She spied Prime and Prowl off to the side speaking with a couple men in suits. They didn't give her so much as a glance as she skirted nervously by. She spied Ironhide leaning against a steel cargo crate polishing his canons. The mech gave her a nod of recognition as she passed which she returned with a tight-lipped smile of her own and scurried on. Though she was comfortable with Jazz, she couldn't really say the same for the others she didn't know as well. Intimidated didn't even begin to sum up her feelings on the subject. She supposed Sideswipe was alright but his brother...Doe shuddered.
"Ciao, picollina!"
A heavily accented voice pulled Doe out of the dark path her thoughts threatened to take and she turned to find the regal-looking red mech striding over in her direction. Mirage, she knew. Not well, mind you, but enough to where she didn't feel like hyperventilating in his presence. Jazz had bribed the mech on a couple occasions to help them out with some heavy lifting since Ratchet had banned him from doing any more than basically sitting on his aft all day. Mirage had seemed cordial enough on those occasions but did come off, at least in Doe's opinion, as being a bit snooty. Still, she though he was okay. She smiled, "Hey, Mirage."
"Please, bella signora, call me Dino." The mech smiled at her, "All of my friends do."
"Dino." Doe nodded, "Right, sorry."
"No worries, mio caro." The mech gave her a once over. "You came looking for Jazz, no?"
"Uh, yeah." Amy fidgeted. "Do you know if he's still back there with Ratchet?"
"Sì," the mech confirmed. "He's been in there with the doctor for some time. I'm sure he would appreciate a distraction."
"Great," Doe sighed in relief. "Thanks a lot."
"My pleasure," the mech inclined his head to the woman and watched as she continued on her way. As an after thought he called after her, "Oh, and bella?"
Doe turned, "Yes?"
"You look tired," Mirage observed. "Try not to work so hard, yes?"
"I'll try," Doe replied softly. In the back of her mind she wondered how ghastly she must have looked that even aliens were taking notice. Feeling more than a little self conscious, she pressed on into the med bay.
Sliding the door back just wide enough to fit herself though, Amy was a bit taken aback by what she found on the other side. She wouldn't know if she would call it surprising, really, being that it was, in fact, a medical facility and all, but it looked every bit like the typical emergency room set up that could be found in any reputable hospital. Just on a very, very large scale that was nothing short of impressive. Everything looked crisp and clean and sterile. A smell, not quite antiseptic but certainly quite similar, hung in the air. Amy's eyes roamed the space curiously, taking in the sights as well as looking for Jazz.
She spotted him in the back corner, sitting atop what looked like a large, robot-sized gurney. The CMO was there, as well. They were speaking to each other in that strange, computerized-sounding language she'd become familiar with in her dreams but still had no hope of understanding. Ratchet appeared to be alternating between soldering and rewiring something in the mech's right shoulder. The medic looked intently focused and Doe was reluctant to interrupt. She briefly considered leaving and coming to find Jazz later once he was finished but exhaustion really had begun to pull at her and the bizarre buzzing in her chest continued unabated. All she wanted to do was hand in her chit, go back to the barracks, and curl up in her rack.
Taking a deep breath, she rapped on the doorframe, "Hello?" Jazz and Ratchet both froze and looked in her direction. She swallowed nervously, "Hi...Sorry to bother you..."
Ratchet smiled kindly at the woman, "No bother, Miss Doe. Please, come in." He gave the mech on the gurney a hard look, "Perhaps you can help me convince the Lieutenant that it's in his best interest to follow my medical advice before I'm forced to reformat him into a toaster."
"D!" Jazz exclaimed, "Please tell me you came here to rescue me from this torture!"
"Sadly, no." Doe trekked toward the pair, coming to a halt before the gurney. "I have to say, though, I agree with the part about following medical advice. That's kind of why I'm here."
"Everything alright?" Worried, the mech leaned forward to get a better look at the woman.
"Fine," Doe frowned, "Mostly. I wasn't feeling very well this morning so I went to sick call and they gave me three days SIQ."
"SIQ?" Jazz's optics flashed behind his visor. "What's that?"
"Sick in quarters," Ratchet supplied as he eyed the woman with concern. "You do look a little peaked if you don't mind my saying. Nothing too serious, I hope. Who did you see over there?"
"Major Irving," Doe answered. "He said I'd be fine in a couple days but..." She shrugged her shoulders and trailed off, doubt coloring her voice.
"You don't sound very confident in his diagnosis," Ratchet observed. "Major Irving is usually pretty good."
"He did everything he was supposed to," Doe admitted. "It's probably just like he said and nothing to worry about. It's probably just me overreacting."
"Hmm...," Ratchet hummed in concern and leveled his gaze on the young woman, "Unfortunately, our agreement with your government prohibits me from performing any medical procedures on humans." Ratchet scoffed, "They cite health and safety concerns but then turn around and pump patients full of toxic chemicals and radiate them to halt abnormal cellular growth. It's positively prehistoric. Regardless," the CMO continued, "If you'd like a non-invasive second opinion, I'd be more than happy to accommodate."
"Thanks, Ratchet," Amy smiled up at the mech. He never seemed as grumpy to her as other people made him out to be. "I'll think about it."
The CMO nodded and turned his attention back to Jazz's shoulder.
Jazz asked, "You sure you're gonna be alright? You do look kinda out of it."
"Yeah," Amy assured. "I'm just tired. Nothing some quality sleep won't fix."
Jazz appeared to be about to say more but was cut off by the sound of the hangar's announcement speakers, bolted high near the ceiling, crackling to life.
"May I have your attention..." The voice droned, "Prowl requests the immediate presence of Ironhide and Ratchet in building B-13, space 9D...This is not a drill."
"Oh, for the love of..." Ratchet cursed under his breath and slammed his tools down on the gurney. "What now?"
Jazz raised a brow ridge, "Isn't that the twins' berthing?"
"Of course it is!" The medic snapped as stalked over to his workbench to grab a box of medical supplies and tuck them away into subspace. "Those two Pit-spawned hellions are going to be the death of me. You," He pointed a finger at Jazz as he stalked out of the med bay, "Don't move."
"Don't get all bent out of shape, doc. I'll be here when you get back." Jazz chuckled, "Those two really grind Ratchet's gears. I think they do it on purpose. It's like a sport to them. Know what I mean, D? D? Are you okay?"
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Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were closer than most. It was part of the package that came with being twins. You couldn't share spark energy with someone and not be close. That, however, didn't mean they didn't have their disagreements and differences of opinion. They were much like any other pair of siblings in that regard. True arguments, though, were rare. Outright fighting even more so. Still, they had been known on occasion to get into shouting matches, pushing and shoving each other around. These occurrences typically blew over quickly. They'd be separated, confined to the brig for a day or two, and then continue on like nothing had ever transpired. This, though, Prowl had never seen them like this.
The twins were brutal, if not reckless, fighters. Most likely owing their skills to fending for themselves on the streets of Kaon from a young age and then sharpening their prowess in the gladiator pits was they grew older. Their's had not been an easy life, tragic really, but it had turned them both in to extremely adept and feared combatants that even the Decepticons couldn't help but respect. Even Prime had commented on several occasions following particularly ferocious battles how fortunate the Autobots were to have the twins on their side. Even Optimus, being the skilled warrior he was, had qualms regarding the thought of taking the two of them on. Prowl couldn't say he disagreed and he certainly had no desire to insert himself into the middle of the knock-down, drag-out brawl playing out in front of his optics. He'd called for backup.
Ironhide had no such hesitation and had gleefully shoved Prowl out of the way to pull the two grappling mechs apart. Prowl half-expected the two of them to turn on the Weapons Specialist for interfering. Instead, the two exhausted front liners seemed to go slack in the larger mech's grip. Ironhide was obviously disappointed. With a long suffering sigh, Prowl stepped forward to take control of Sideswipe, allowing to Ironhide to keep a hold on Sunstreaker. Surveying the room with sharp optics, Prowl noted that it was more or less in shambles. He added 'Destruction of Government Property' to the ever-growing mental list of infractions he was compiling. The humans wouldn't be happy. He could already imagine the paperwork.
Prowl turned his attention to the now docile pair of mechs. The twins' continued to stare one another down but their frames heaved and cooling fans roared as their systems struggled to bring down the temperature of their overheated components. They both looked as if they'd been beat all the way to the Pit and back. Both bots' armor was riddled with deep dents and scratches. Energon leaked from a broken line in Sunstreaker's arm, oozing slowly down his down his forearm and wrist to drip from his trembling fingers onto the floor. Wiring sparked in Sideswipe's thigh, the burnt out ends smoking slightly and filling the small space with the scent of ozone. Ratchet was going to bust a gasket. Speaking of which...
"What in the name of Primus is going on here? What have you two wing nuts done now?"
"An excellent question, Ratchet," Prowl replied, his optics never leaving the pair of troubled mechs, "Do either of you care to explain why you were in here going at each other like a couple of feral machadrons?"
Sides huffed and looked away from his brother. Sunny merely shook his head. Neither said a word as Ratchet began to roughly inspect the pairs' injuries.
The CMO snarled in anger, "Of all the malfunctioning, glitched-out piles of scrap in the universe...what did I ever do to deserve having to put up with the pair of you? They're going to have to come back to the med bay. That relay needs to be rewired and that energon line needs flushed and reconnected."
"Very well, then." Prowl continued in a clipped, authoritarian tone. "Ironhide, help me get these two down to the med bay. I expect them to clean this mess up once Ratchet is through with them. Then maybe a couple days in the brig will give them some time to reflect on their behavior."
The trip to the med bay was a relatively uneventful one. The twins didn't put up much of a resistance. The human military personnel didn't seem to pay much attention to the sight of the two mechs being dragged across the base by Ironhide and the SIC, the irate CMO hot on their heels. It had become something of a regular occurrence since the two had made landfall. To say they'd created a reputation for themselves would have been an understatement.
"Alright," Ratchet barked as he pushed open the med bay door, "Get your sorry afts over to the far berth and sit down." Still grumbling under his breath, he stomped over to his tool bench to gather what he needed.
A scowl firmly engrained on his face plates, Sunstreaker stalked in the direction indicated, Ironhide shadowing him the entire way. He was too weary of the whole situation to even argue. His spark still ached and now his frame did as well. All over that stupid Squishie. If he ever got his hands on her again he'd, he'd...he'd be relieved, honestly. Sides' declaration that he'd been all over base and hadn't seen a single sign of her presence had worried him more than he was willing to admit. The whole situation felt like it was on the brink of spiraling out of his control and as much as he loathed it, or tried to, he was on the verge of being willing to declare out loud that maybe, just maybe, there may be something more at work here. He sank down onto the berth, head cradled in his hands, and tried to wrack his processor to find a way to fix what he'd done.
Sides rolled along, more or less allowing Prowl to push him to where he needed to be. He regretted fighting with his brother when they should have been looking for their femme. It was almost instinctual, though, like he couldn't control himself. The need to defend what was his had been so strong that he'd been helpless to stop. He was pretty sure Sunny had felt much the same. There was no other explicable reason as to why their altercation had become so violent so quickly. They fought, as any siblings did from time to time, but had never seriously tried to injure each other. He was sorry they'd come to blows but he was even more sorry that they'd wasted time they should have spent trying to find Ames and figure out how to proceed from there. Regretfully, he sank down on the berth next to his brother.
"Sunny," he whispered, bumping shoulders with the other mech. "I'm sorry..."
"Shut up, Sides," Sunstreaker hissed but his voice lacked any real venom. "Just...give me a minute to think, alright?"
"Yeah," Sides nodded. "Sure, Sunny."
Sideswipe sighed. He was sure they'd have plenty of time to rehash what happened later on in the brig so he let it go for now. Instead, he took a moment to survey the med bay. Ratchet was still banging around at his tool bench, gathering what he'd need to tend their injuries. He couldn't say he was looking forward to that. Ironhide leaned against the bulkhead beside the berth, arms crossed intimidatingly over his chest plates, seeming to dare either one of them to try and make a move. He snorted at that. Prowl had stepped out, no doubt to brief Optimus on the situation. The Boss Bot would most likely have another one of his stern, fatherly lectures about teamwork and getting along to subject them to later. It was then that he noticed Jazz was in the room.
He hadn't seen the mech when he'd walked in and with good reason. Jazz was crouched down in between two other berths, his back to them, but he did keep looking over his shoulder and casting concerned glances in their direction before turning back. It took him another moment to realize that the mech wasn't alone. He wasn't the biggest of mechs but he was still large enough that his frame dwarfed the humans. He was speaking in hushed, soothing tones, too quiet for Sideswipe to make out what he was saying but there was no mistaking his concerned and calming gestures. Someone was upset and the mech was attempting to talk them down. When Jazz stood up and turned towards them, a look of angry concern on his face plates, Sides felt as if his spark had stopped.
Doe, his Ames, was there. The femme looked shaken. She was as white as a piece of paper, her soft, human skin seeming almost translucent under the bright med bay lights. A fine sheen of sweat dotted her forehead but she trembled as if she were cold. Her green eyes were wide and blood shot as she took in the sight of them. Her breath came in quick, shallow pants and she gripped her chest as if afraid her heart would somehow beat its way out. His own spark gave a sympathetic twinge inside his chest plates. Beside him, Sunstreaker shifted uncomfortably.
It took a long moment in which time seemed to stand still before his processor was able to convince his mouth to work. He was torn between being thrilled at her being alive and whole and gravely concerned about her current state. To him, she looked every bit as if she'd been dragged through the Pit and back. "Ames!"
Sunstreaker's head shot up. His optics immediately locking on to the woman that had captured his brother's attention. "Squishie!" The mech, completely ignoring the fact that Jazz was now limping in their direction looking fit to kill the both of them, tried to rise from the berth. "You're alright..."
"Sit down." Ironhide grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed him back down onto the berth.
"Get off me, Hide," Sunny hissed and began to struggle.
Ironhide smirked, "Make me, you half-clocked punk."
Amy stood watching as the scene escalated with ever-growing horror. Sideswipe had become entangled in his brother's struggle with Ironhide. In turn, Ratchet became involved, threatening to sedate the whole lot of them if they didn't settle down. Things took an ugly turn from there as the situation devolved quickly into a wrestling match. She'd never seen the mechs fight before, not even in training, but it was probably one of the most frightening things she'd seen in her short life. The screech of metal scraping against metal, the echoing clang of impact, hissing hydraulics...she clapped her hands over her ears as fresh tears started to form in her eyes.
Through her fear, though, there was also worry. It was nearly inexplicable the worry she felt for the twins. Both of them, surprisingly. Even Sunstreaker, who had wounded her so deeply with his words the night before, garnered her concern. Her racing mind tried to chalk it up to the fact that they'd both looked like they'd suffered some kind of high-speed collision when they'd been dragged in. Regardless, it was difficult to watch as Prowl came rushing back in and proceeded to help Ironhide and Ratchet subdue the two. She felt as though she should have been doing something, helping them in some way. The urge was impossible to explain but she managed to subdue it.
Jazz had plenty he wanted to say to the twins himself but when the fight broke out, he'd immediately changed course, instead limping toward the med bay doors. His main concern was for the human female he'd grown so fond of. He wrenched the doors open calling out, "Dino! Get in here!"
The mech hadn't wandered far from where he'd last interacted with Doe and so was there in a flash. His optics widened at the ongoing struggle across the room, "Mio Dio," his faceplates twisted into a look of distaste. "You want I should help break it up?"
"Nah," Jazz shook his head, "I think they've got it handled. I want you to take Petty Officer Doe back to her barracks. She doesn't need to be messed up in this."
"Oh, okay," Mirage, looking relieved, nodded. "I would be happy to escort the signora home." He motioned for the woman to follow. "Come, carina. We go now. This is no place for such a fiore delicato."
Against her instincts, Amy allowed herself to be led out of the med bay. She tried not to think about the struggle going on behind her. She tried not to think about how beat up the twins had looked or how their optics, even Sunstreaker's, had lit up in both excitement and concern when they'd seen her. She tried not to think about anything other than getting back to her barracks and crawling into her rack. The last thing Amy heard as Mirage escorted her out was her name being bellowed by one of the twins. It was followed by the sound of a large ruckus, swearing, and finally the almost deafening sound of metal colliding with metal. Then, the med bay grew quiet once more.
End of Chapter 13
Again, not very happy with this but it's about as good as it's going to get. Also, I'm kind of excited because I think I've got the perfect semi-tragic twist to the story. Notice I say SEMI-tragic. I won't go into too much detail now because that's still a ways down the road but I think every story needs a good twist, don't you?
