Finding Home
Chapter 34
By Voodoo Queen
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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! OMG, you guys. I was shooting for 4K words and obviously went way over. I've got so many story notes and plot points that it's easy to get carried away. FYI...I'm not from Kentucky but Google is my friend, lol. I know I promised you answers about Amy's past but that has been bumped to the next chapter. Your patience with me is greatly appreciated. I want to take the time to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this story, follow it, add it to faves, and especially review. I love hearing from you guys! Hugs to my most recent reviewers: SunnyandSidesFemme17, adelphe24, Anonymous, malkah5967, KayleeChiara, monkeybaby, poppycakes, jgoss, SolusPrimeLightblast, Akgheera, Guest, Sorana3, Lurking Reader, the everchanging, ElleGirl19, PepperCornPie, BarricadesDemon216, and Pixiekatt.
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, just my own original characters and plot.
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Awakening for the second time was somewhat easier. The heaviness was gone but the strange feeling of being separated from her body persisted for a long moment before the world slowly swam back into focus and she felt like a single entity once more. The first thing she noticed, as her bleary eyes blinked up toward the ceiling, was that she was no longer in the med bay proper for everyone to observe and admire. Instead, she'd been moved off to the side and into a smaller alcove-like area that had been sectioned off from the main space by a set of floor-to-ceiling sliding partitions that had the ability to obscure the area from the rest of the med bay. It was, for all intents and purposes, the closest thing to a private room that you could get under the circumstances. The area was dim except for a soft blue glow and a single overhead light that burned in the far corner giving off a dull yellow aura.
The second thing she noticed was that she no longer felt as though she were smoldering alive inside of her skin. She'd been transferred into an actual human-sized hospital bed and was comfortably warm, snuggled beneath a thin white sheet and a light yellow comforter. As she mentally took stock of her current condition, she noted that the IV line had been removed and in its place there was a cotton ball stuck to the inside of her elbow with a piece of adhesive tape. She'd been changed from her sweaty hospital gown into a pair of light blue cotton pajamas.
Again, she cringed, wondering exactly who'd changed her and hoped against hope that it hadn't been an Autobot. In her mind's eye she envisioned a positively humiliating scenario in which Ratchet attempted to dress her as if she were some kind of limp, human-sized Barbie doll that flopped around all over the place as he turned her this way and that while trying to put her clothes on. Aside from that bit of mental mortification, she wasn't consciously aware of any actual physical aches or pains. Actually, if it weren't for the fact that she was lying in a hospital bed, she'd venture to say that she actually felt better than she had since the twins left. She definitely felt more emotionally stable, at any rate. She mulled that over for a moment as she became aware of a third detail concerning her current predicament.
She wasn't alone.
Amy's brow furrowed as she carefully pushed herself up into a seated position. She blinked at the figure across the room and her brow furrowed. "Monroe?"
The man was sitting in a metal folding chair across the room with his legs stretched out and his feet propped up in another. He looked relaxed, decked out in a pair of loose jeans and an oversized, grey Adidas hoodie. His gaze was fixed on the source of the blue glow- a small television mounted on the wall upon which an old black and white episode of 'I Love Lucy' played out with the volume turned way down low. Monroe chuckled at something on the screen before reaching for the remote and switching the television off, plunging the room into a soft, semi-darkness.
"Hey, OS2," the man greeted in obvious relief as he turned his chair around to face her bed. He grinned, albeit awkwardly, hooked his thumb over his shoulder, and joked, "If they're going to have people laid up in here, they could at least get some Netflix in this joint. I don't know how they stand it, man, just sitting around watching ancient reruns between missions and shit. I'd lose my damn mind."
Amy smiled back tiredly, tapped the side of her head with her index finger and shared, "I've been told they can stream movies directly off the internet and into their brain."
Monroe went wide eyed and his mouth hung open slightly. "You're shitting me."
"I shit you not," Amy chuckled as she adjusted the bed and settled back against the pillows. Curious, she studied the man for a moment before asking, "What are you doing here?"
"You're my shipmate." Monroe shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed fashion, "I was worried, ya know?"
Amy shook her head. "You could have fooled me. You've been avoiding me like the plague lately."
"Yeah..." Monroe shifted, distinctly uncomfortable. "About that. Look, I'm really sorry, Doe. I really am..."
"Okay," She looked at him, questioning, "Do I at least get an explanation for why you run away and hide every time I try to talk to you? I know we haven't known each other long but I thought we were friends."
"We are," Monroe insisted. "It's a long story."
Amy gestured around herself, "I'm not going anywhere."
"Right," Monroe sighed. "Guess I do kinda owe you an explanation, huh?"
"It would be nice," Amy agreed.
"Alright, look," he began, "A couple of the guys I worked with noticed that we'd been hanging around together a lot and, well, you've been in long enough to know how guys talk when we get together. We like to bullshit. And...I might have said some things..."
Amy raised an incredulous brow, "What kinds of things?"
"Nothing like what you're thinking," Monroe quickly corrected. "Just that I think you're a really cool chick and fun to hang out with."
"Okay," Amy looked confused. "So why all the duck and cover?"
"One of the big guys got it all twisted." Monroe shuddered. "He thought I was being disrespectful and more or less threatened to turn me inside out if I so much as looked at you wrong."
"What?" Though Amy didn't like the idea of being the subject of anyone's conversation, she also knew that threatening someone with bodily harm went against conduct codes of leadership. "Who? Why didn't you report them to the chain of command?"
"Chain of command?" Monroe scoffed at the woman. "If you think I'm about to go talk face-to-face with the King of the Semis about my little altercation with Death on Wheels, you've lost your damn mind."
"King of the—Optimus Prime?" Amy's eyes widened in understanding. "One of the Autobots threatened you? Like, actually threatened you?"
Monroe nodded, "He was dead ass serious about it, too."
Amy felt dread well up in her chest. She almost hated to ask but she knew she had to. She swallowed thickly, "Which one?"
"The one that looks like he'd just as soon step on you as to look at you. The yellow one." Monroe shrugged, "I'm not on a first name basis with those things like you are. Honestly, I try to avoid them as much as possible."
A heavy breath huffed out of Amy's lungs. There were only two yellow Cybertronians that she knew of and she certainly couldn't envision Bumblebee doing anything of the sort. On the other hand, she herself had been on the receiving end of another certain mech's vitriol and knew firsthand how terrifying it could be. "Sunstreaker," she murmured.
"That's the one," Monroe nodded in agreement. "Death on Wheels."
"But," Amy shook her head. "Why would he do that? I mean, I don't think he'd really..."
"Well, no offense, OS2," Monroe chuckled nervously. "But I'd rather not take any chances, if ya know what I mean."
"We're on friendly terms," she cautiously admitted, unsure of how much it was safe to reveal. "I could talk to him if you want."
"What? No!" Monroe paled. "Please, just don't say anything about it, alright? I don't want to piss him off anymore than I already have. I'm begging you, just let it go. Please, OS2..."
Amy looked at him for a long moment. Honestly, she didn't need any more drama in her life right now. She also didn't appreciate needless, ongoing animosity. She'd worry about it once she got out of the med bay and things settled down and returned to normal. She'd let it go, at least for now. She sighed, "Fine. Have it your way."
"Thank you," Monroe settled back in his chair, relaxing once again, and immediately changed the subject. "So, how are you feeling? You definitely look better than when I helped them lug your ass out of your room."
It was Amy's turn to look in wide-eyed wonder, "You?"
"You don't remember?"
Amy shook her head, "No, not really. Things are...pretty fuzzy."
The man chuckled, relieved. "That's probably for the best. But yeah," he nodded. "The Second in Command and the Doctor caught me outside the barracks and asked me to go up and check on you because you hadn't been answering your phone. Honestly, when I got up there, I thought you looked like a fucking corpse."
"Well, I've definitely felt better," Amy cautiously admitted. "I've also felt worse so I guess that's an improvement."
"Do they have any idea what made you sick?" Monroe leaned in close and lowered his voice, "It wasn't from when that other robot shocked you, was it? Or, you know, radiation poisoning?"
Amy shrugged, "I've been pretty out of it. I haven't really had a chance to ask. To be honest, I don't even know what day it is. Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to know how long I've been in here, would you? I've kind of lost track of time."
"Yeah," Monroe nodded, "It's been about a week."
"A week?!" Amy sat up straight, an acute sense of panic beginning to set in. How was that even possible? What the hell had Ratchet put in her IV? Her last conscious thoughts prior to being sedated had been filled with worry for Sideswipe and Sunstreaker after learning of Decepticon involvement with their mission. They had only been slated to be gone three or four days and she'd been unconscious for an entire week?! God only knew what had transpired during that time. The mechs could be hurt or worse and she wouldn't be any the wiser.
Maybe that was the point, an apprehensive voice within her subconscious whispered. Maybe they had met some tragic end at the hands of the Decepticons just as Jazz almost had. Instead of breaking the news to her, they'd chosen to render her unconscious instead. For what purpose? To spare her pain? To avoid having to deal with an emotionally fragile human in the throws of grief? Simply because they could? A compelling need to know the truth came over her. She needed to talk to someone...Jazz, Ratchet, Prowl. Hell, she'd even march her way into Optimus Prime's office to get the answers she needed if that's what it took.
"Hey, hey, hey," Monroe rose from his chair and tried to stop Amy as she started shrugging off her blankets in a frantic attempt to get out of bed. "Let's not do that, OS2. You're gonna piss off the doctor and I don't get paid enough to put up with that kind of shit. Did you know he's got a goddamn circular saw stashed in his wrist? A fucking circular saw, Doe. I ain't about that life..."
"A week, Monroe! An entire week!"
"I know, I know," he tried to calm the woman. "Look, let's just wait for Jazz to come back, alright? He's actually pretty cool and doesn't make me want to piss myself every time he gets close. He can explain everything and if anyone can bust you out of here, it'd be him."
Despite her worry and anxiousness, Amy settled, only slightly. If she were perfectly honest, aside from the twins, Jazz was the one person she most wanted to see. "Where is he?"
"He's been here with you, mostly. I ain't totally convinced about this whole alien robots on Earth thing but that guy really seems to care about you. Only person to ever fuss over me as much as he's fussed over you is my moms." Warily, Monroe dragged his chair closer to the side of the hospital bed and tentatively sat back down. "He's the one that convinced the others to let me in here to see you. They were pretty dead set against you having any visitors but he insisted. About ten minutes before you woke up he hustled on out. Said something about having to run interference and minimize the fallout. He asked me to stay with you till he got back. He didn't want you to be alone if you woke up."
Amy loathed the feeling of uselessness that hung over her in her current state but felt her heart warm at hearing of Jazz's care and concern. She knew she'd said it before but it was worth saying again. No one had ever bothered with her before. At least, no more than their obligations imposed by the Juvenile and Family Court system had required. Jazz, though...he was different. She didn't quite have a name for their relationship. It certainly didn't run the gamut of the typical superior-subordinate relationship. Yes, they were friends, Jazz had said as much, but that didn't quite feel right either. Regardless, she supposed waiting for him to return was better than having Ratchet knock her out again for another week. She sighed once again and leaned back against the pillows, "Running interference for what?"
"Didn't say," Monroe shrugged. "He left out in a hurry, though. It's been a rough week."
"Yeah," Amy agreed, gnawing on her lip. "Do...do you know what's going on? With the mission the team went on?"
"That's not really my area of expertise." Monroe offered the woman a tentative smile, "I jam radio frequencies for a living." Noting the somewhat distraught look on her face, he quickly offered, "I'm sure everything worked out. This place is more or less business as usual. If anything serious had gone down, there'd be plenty of scuttlebutt flying around."
Amy's fingers twisted her sheets worriedly, "Yeah, I guess you're right."
Monroe had proceeded to catch her up on base happenings, accounting for the week she'd been out of commission the best he could. He didn't have any details regarding the latest mission which really shouldn't have been too surprising as certain information was only shared on a need-to-know basis. It wasn't long after that, however, that the med bay doors slammed open with a resounding crash, startling both occupants inside of the small alcove. The partitions blocked their view of the rest of the med bay but they did nothing to muffle the sound of the CMO's authoritative tone.
"For Primus' sake, he's leaking all over my clean floor! Get him over to the berth," Ratchet barked. "I swear, at your age, you of all mechs should've known better..."
The deep, resonate grumble that answered the medic's scolding could have only been made by one mech and if he was here that meant...
"They're back!"
With little regard for Monroe's frantic attempts to keep her docile and in bed, Amy practically climbed over the man in her haste to escape. She was unsteady on her feet, not surprising for someone who'd spent the better part of a week flat on her back in a hospital bed. Still, she managed to make it to the gap in the partitions that had been left just wide enough for a human to pass through. Squeezing her way through to the other side, Amy stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening and a hand flying up to her mouth in shock.
Ironhide lumbered slowly through the med bay, his black armor pockmarked with what looked like large, gaping bullet holes about the size of her fist. Droplets of light pink fluid were left splattered all over the floor in his wake, standing out starkly against the pale gray concrete of the floor. Bumblebee followed closely behind the mech. He, too, looked much worse for the wear. The entire left side of his body that she could see was scraped up to the point where the bright yellow of his paint job had given way to the shiny, silver metal beneath. It reminded Amy of the time she'd gone down to the ship's med department to get a cold pack. While she'd been down there, they'd brought in a member of the flight deck crew that had been blown down by jet exhaust and had come literally face-to-face with the non-skid. The poor guy had looked as if he'd been attacked with a cheese grater. The memory made Amy shudder.
The scout had one of his fingers pressed deeply into one of the holes at the junction of Ironhide's arm and left shoulder. A closer inspection revealed said hole to be the source of the fluid leak. Bumblebee trailed gingerly after the mech, taking care not to step in any of the viscous-looking liquid that dripped to the ground. Once they'd reach the berth, the young scout had gratefully relinquished his duty, stepping quickly away to allow Ratchet to inspect the wound.
Heart in her throat, her eyes went immediately back to the med bay doors. One minute ticked by, then two before her silent prayers were answered. Amy couldn't believe the overwhelming relief she felt when she saw Sunstreaker and Sideswipe slowly bringing up the rear. Jazz accompanied them and the three seemed to be engaged in a deep, serious conversation. She couldn't understand a single word being said as they carried on in their native language but it didn't matter. They were back and they were safe. She'd missed them even more that she realized.
Her joy was short lived, however, as she was able to take in their current condition. Sideswipe's position allowed her to get a clear view of what looked like four deep gouge marks slashed across the expanse of his chest plating and down over his abdomen. At least some of the gouges had been leaking that same pink fluid Ironhide had trailed through the med bay. It had been smeared down the plating of his lower abdomen and across his upper thighs. It had dried on his armor giving the silver plating a strange, oily-looking sheen. Amy thought he looked as though he'd been mauled by a giant bear.
The silver mech kept his usual mischievous grin in place, however, and didn't seem to be in too much discomfort. He broke away from Jazz and his brother, rolling over to where Bee stood and clapped the younger mech jovially on the back. The sound of metal clanging against metal filled the med bay.
"Great job, Bee," Sides ribbed the younger bot. "Way to keep Old Cast Iron up on his feet."
Bumblebee shot the silver front line a withering look before hauling himself up onto one of the berths and collapsing onto his back in apparent exhaustion.
Sunstreaker, on the other hand, was still engaged in conversation with the TIC. Jazz seemed to be doing all the talking while Sunny glowered down at him with a malcontented expression. She was so used to seeing the mech looking polished and pristine that the scuffs and scapes that marred the usual glossy liquid shine of his bright yellow armor seemed to stand out even more. It was nothing, however, to the shock she felt as Jazz shifted out of the way revealing ugly, black scorch marks all down Sunstreaker's right arm, across his chest, and down the outside of his right thigh. It looked as though someone had taken a blow torch to him and even from a distance she could see the paint beneath had bubbled and lifted under the heat.
Amy couldn't help the pained gasp that escaped from between her lips and immediately all heads swiveled in her direction.
"Aw, shit," Monroe cursed. He'd ventured out after Doe and ended up in the middle of the last place he'd ever want to be. He definitely wasn't getting paid enough for this. He nudged the woman "I'm out, OS2. Glad you're feeling better but...you know how it is."
Before Amy could even say a word, Monroe was already booking it towards the door. She didn't miss the way Sunstreaker's optics narrowed as he watched the man disappear from sight.
"Ames!" Sideswipe's face had lit up as his optics fell upon the woman. He rolled closer, dropping to his knees and opening his arms wide in expectant invitation. "Primus, we've missed you."
Sideswipe's joyful exclamation broke through Amy's initial shock at seeing the state the mechs had come back in and the suddenness of her shipmate's departure. Without hesitation, she moved toward him. Stepping into the circle of his arms, she did her best to return the gesture but only barely managing to span the breadth of his chest while being mindful of his injuries. He didn't seem to mind her inability to return a proper embrace as a contented sound rumbled from his vocal processor.
"I really missed this," he whispered just loud enough that she could hear.
"You're here," Amy murmured in incredulous disbelief. "You're both really here. You came back."
"Of course we did, Squishie. We're not going anywhere."
Amy turned her head to look at Sunstreaker. She blushed slightly and offered him a relieved smile. She wanted to throw her arms around him as well just to prove to herself that he really was there but the mech stood stiffly, hands clenched into fists at his sides. She mentally noted that a couple of his knuckles appeared to be cracked and that same pink liquid seemed to have congealed in the joints of his fingers. As he gazed at her with a perturbed look plastered on his face, Amy's smile faltered.
"We're so, so sorry," Sideswipe apologetically gushed, pulling the woman's attention away from his twin. He'd wrapped his arms around her carefully, crushing her against his chest plates in a mech-sized bear hug. "You have no idea how worried we've been about you when we couldn't reach you. We were trying so hard to get back here but the mission turned into a slagging mess. The Decepticons decided they needed their afts beat back down into the Pit again. The plane we were supposed to fly back on ended up being ripped in half at some point. It was pretty funny watching Sunny club Starscream in the face over and over with a piece of the wing, though."
"I don't think that fragger found it quite as amusing as we did," Sunstreaker provided in a dark tone.
Sides chuckled, unfazed by his brother's attitude, and nuzzled the top of the woman's head. "The powers that be got their tailpipes all in a twist about secure airspace so they made us drive ten and a half hours to the naval base out in Norfolk. Then we had to wait there for a Marine squadron to fly up from Cherry Point and escort a COD we managed to hitch a ride on. Talk about a cramped, uncomfortable trip. It was the worst." The mech sighed, "I can't tell you how glad we are to be home."
"Me, too," Amy pressed herself more tightly against the mech's scraped up armor. Already she felt amazingly better than she had since they'd left. Their very presence seemed to wash over her in a soothing wave. She admitted, "I missed you guys."
"We never intended to be gone this long or for you to end up in here." He continued in apology. "If we'd known we would have never left."
She was just happy to have them back. As far as she was concerned, her stay in the med bay was irrelevant as long as they were alright. Amy mumbled against Sides' chest plates, "It's okay."
"No," Sunstreaker growled, in disagreement. "It's not okay. Nothing about this is okay."
For a moment, Amy feared it was something she'd done to anger the yellow front liner. Perhaps, she supposed, it was her apparent fragility, her inability to be left alone even for a couple days so that they could carry on with their own lives. Honestly, the thought disturbed her, as well. The last thing she wanted to be was an anchor tied around their necks, dragging them down with her, interfering in what had seemed to be a comfortable existence with each other. That is, until Sunny rounded on the CMO with a vicious snarl that, even though she hadn't been on the receiving end, sent her instinctively burrowing deeper into Sideswipe's embrace for safety.
"How did this happen," Sunstreaker demanded. "You're the one that cleared this mission! You said she'd be fine and there was nothing to worry about! That's the only reason we agreed to go on this slagging trip in the first place! Then Jazz calls us back to say she's in a fragging coma?!"
"She wasn't in a coma," Ratchet hastily corrected. "It was more of an extreme metabolic depression. Furthermore," the CMO continued, "there was nothing prior to your departure that would have suggested a reaction of this type. All the tests I ran came back within normal limits. There was no way of knowing-"
"Really? No way of knowing?" Sunny got right up in the mechs face, body tense. "Tell me, Hatchet. What else don't you fragging know?"
"Easy, Sunny." Jazz physically inserted himself between the two mechs, trying to restore some calm. "Ratchet's doin' the best he can under the circumstances. No one saw this coming but you're here now and as far as we can tell, she's gonna be just fine. That's what's important. Now, you can stand here wastin' yer time yellin' at Ratch or you can go over there and greet your femme properly."
Sunstreaker glared coldly down at the smaller mech. His lip plates curled up into a sneer. Ratchet's best hadn't been nearly good enough to suit him and Jazz, of all mechs, was going to defend him? Sunny had the urge to tear into him, as well. He'd also placed his stamp of approval on the outing and was, at least in his optics, partially responsible for the outcome. Venomous words danced on the tip of his glossa, threatening to spew forth in a profanity-laced tirade. That was, until he finally saw through his haze of anger and noticed the look of tired, tense worry that mingled with cautious relief that the TIC wore. It was easy to see that the mech had gotten little to no rest for at least the last few days, a potentially harmful situation for one in his current state of disrepair.
As close and tangled up as he and Sides were with the femme, it was easy to forget that they weren't the only ones with a vested interest in her wellbeing. Jazz, too, shared a close bond with the woman. A bond which, if Sunstreaker were honest, he was thankful for. If he or Sides couldn't be with her, he could think of no one else he'd rather have watching over her in their absence. He bit back his heated retort and backed off slightly.
He was, however, unwilling to drop the subject completely until his primary concern was addressed. He jabbed a finger in the TIC's direction and growled, "I'm only saying this once. This isn't happening again."
Jazz put up no argument, merely nodded in agreement. "Prime, Prowl, and myself have gone over Ratchet's medical recommendations and this is being addressed as we speak." He assured the angry mech, "It won't happen again."
Sunstreaker glowered at the mech for another long moment before retreating over to where his brother still knelt with Amy. Fury coursed through his lines but also relief. He'd never before found himself in a position that had made him feel so helpless before. He hated it with every bolt in his body. He and Sides being so far away and unable to do anything to help the situation had left him more rattled than he'd ever admit to. He gave the woman a careful once over. She looked tired but, then again, she always looked tired. Otherwise, she seemed no worse off than when they'd left her.
Sunny moved into a crouch next to his brother, "How you feeling, Squishie?"
"Better," Amy quietly whispered.
'Good," he rumbled. "Get over here."
Sideswipe relinquished his hold on the woman and rocked back on his wheels, giving her a gentle nudge in his brother's direction as he did so.
Amy stepped to Sunstreaker, fitting her self into his left side and avoiding the scorch marks on his armor. She offered no resistance as the mechs fingers trailed over her from head to toe, seemingly checking her over for any sign of damage not immediately visible to the naked eye before his hand wrapped itself around her shoulders and pressed her closer. Amy felt a rush of warm air flow over her as he released what almost seemed to her to be a deep breath he'd been holding.
Ratchet cleared his vocal processor, "I hate to interrupt but if you'd like to have a seat I'll get you two checked out and you can be on your way. I'm sure you're both more than eager for a decent recharge."
Sunny threw the CMO a dark look but only hesitated for a moment. He and Sides were both filthy and exhausted. His plates itched and all he really wanted to do was scrub himself clean and collapse onto his berth, preferably with the femme close enough they could keep an optic on her. He still wasn't pleased with the handling of the situation but as Jazz had pointed out, there were more important things to worry about at the moment. So long as the situation was being seriously addressed, and Sunny had no reason to doubt Jazz's word as the mech had never lied to him before, he'd go along with whatever Ratchet wanted, at least for the time being.
"Come on, Squishie."
Amy let out a startled squeak as Sunstreaker stood suddenly, bringing her up with him. The sudden absence of solid ground beneath her feet had her fingers scrabbling for purchase against his chest plates. They found their grip in a small groove in his armor between what would have been his pectoral muscle and his collar bone had he been human. In three large strides, Sunny brought them to the remaining empty medical berth and gently plopped her down atop it, amused by the quiet 'oof" sound she made.
Giving the woman one final once over, Sunstreaker settled himself beside her. "Let's get this over with, Hatchet."
"Keep you armor on," Ratchet grumbled as he dug extra supplies out of the closet.
"So..." Sideswipe ambled over to the berth, as well. "Is Ames free to go? With us?"
Ratchet grunted as her dropped his armload of equipment onto an instrument table and began to organize it. "We'll see."
"The Pit is that supposed to mean?" Sunstreaker demanded.
"It means, we'll see." Ratchet shook his head, "Theoretically, you're being here should have resolved the issue but there are tests I'd like to run first just to be sure nothing was overlooked that could be a problem later."
Sunny made a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh but nodded his head in understanding just the same. "Fine."
Sideswipe made a sound of disappointment but then noticed how crestfallen Amy looked. She seemed small and fragile which, he reminded himself, she was in comparison. He couldn't imagine what all this must be like for her. She'd come to Diego Garcia to do a job and had been sucked up into this strange whirlwind of life altering events. She'd had things thrown at her that would have probably made anyone else run and hide, yet she'd been steadfast through it all. It was, in his optics, a testament to the type of person she was and they owed her greatly for that. He and Sunny would find a way to pay her back but right now all he really wanted was to see her smile.
"Before I forget..." Sideswipe settled himself on the berth as well, sandwiching Amy between himself and his brother. "I brought you back a souvenir."
Amy blinked up at him, still a bit in shock that they were actually there. "A souvenir?"
"Well, yeah," Sideswipe confirmed as he grinned. "You don't actually think I'd go somewhere and not bring something back for you, do you? What kind of mech do you think I am?" He glanced at his brother, "Sunny has something for you, too, but you'll have to wait for it. It's still a work in progress."
Amy cut a curious eye toward the other twin. Sunstreaker still didn't look especially happy but he looked much less tense than he had when he'd entered the room. He looked down at her, one brow plate minutely quirked and his gaze softening ever so slightly. It was the best she would get from him under the circumstances. It wasn't much but she got the gist of what he was trying to say. She'd just have to wait and see whatever it was, he wasn't going to tell her.
With a nod of understanding, she reached to pat the back of Sunstreaker's hand where he clenched the side of the berth. Mindful of his battered knuckles, she gently caressed her fingers over the nearly invisible seams there. It was as much to reassure herself that he was there as it was a confirmation of her understanding. Before she'd even realized what was happening, the mech released his hold on the berth and captured her fingers with his own, giving them a careful squeeze before letting them go and grasping the berth's edge once again.
She turned her attention back to Sides as Ratchet began to examine the extent of the yellow front liner's damage.
"Here you go, sweetspark," Sideswipe produced a small, square box from somewhere in subspace and presented it to the woman. "I know it isn't anything fancy, but..." The mech shrugged. He seemed almost nervous. "I thought you might like it..."
Amy smiled as she accepted the package, more appreciative of his thoughtfulness than he'd ever truly know. She'd seldom ever received gifts. Those she had received were usually of the generic variety with very little personal thought put into them. Just looking at the box cradled in her hands, however, she could see that a lot of care had been put into it. Whatever it was- it could have been a rock he'd picked up off the side of the road for all she cared- it was chosen with her specifically in mind and she would no doubt love whatever she found inside.
She turned the package over in her hands. It wasn't terribly large, perhaps six inches square, but it was heavy. The box had been wrapped neatly in pretty, light blue paper patterned with small, red and white polka dots and then tied with a red ribbon that had been fluffed into a big, fancy-looking bow. It was almost too pretty to open. As she looked it over, she couldn't help but remember the conversation she'd had with Prowl not so long ago regarding the return of Galloway's gift wrapped movie projector.
Curious, Amy asked, "Did you wrap this yourself?"
"Nah," Sideswipe chuckled. "Sunny helped me out with that part. He's way better at all that artsy-crafty stuff than I am."
"Really?" Surprised, Amy looked looked back to Sunstreaker. "You wrapped this?"
"Sunny's a mech of many talents," Sideswipe teased.
"Yeah, so?" The yellow twin gave a snort of amusement, "Are you going to open it or not, Squishie?"
"I am," Amy affirmed, "It's just..."
Sunstreaker eyed the woman, "What?"
"Nothing," Amy shook her head, a smile playing on her lips as she envisioned the battle-hardened mech doing something as domestic and mundane as wrapping a present...for her of all people. "It's nothing. Never mind."
With care for the effort put forth in wrapping her gift, Amy delicately removed the ribbon and picked the tape loose with her nails, freeing the box within from the paper. Setting the paper to the side, she settled a small, white, cardboard box in her lap. She looked up to Sideswipe, getting a soft smile and an encouraging nod in return. Taking a deep breath, Amy turned her attention back to the box and lifted the lid.
"Oh, wow," she breathed. Amy lifted her prize from its box, amazed at how such a small gesture could mean so much, and turned it over in her hands. A gleeful smile lit her face, "It's a snow globe!"
The glass dome set atop a wooden base that had been varnished to give it a warm, glossy glow. Engraved upon the base in a large curvaceous script was the state name of 'Kentucky'. Below that, in slightly smaller script, was the state nickname, 'The Bluegrass State'. Nestled within the glass a small figurine of a grazing chestnut mare stood inside of a pasture next to her foal. When Amy tipped the globe, small pieces of black and yellow glitter pressed into the shape of daisies swirled about the pair.
Amy's life had never lent itself to frivolous comforts or extraneous possessions. The only thing she'd ever really owned were literally the clothes on her back and later, whatever essentials she could fit within her seabag. This, though, was something special, and she knew exactly where to put it. She hugged the snow globe to her chest.
Anxiously, Sideswipe asked, "Do you like it?"
"Yes, I do," Amy confirmed, beaming up at the mech. "Very much. Thank you."
"It plays music, too," Sideswipe offered helpfully, tapping the dome with his index finger. "There's a windup key on the back."
Curiously, Amy turned the globe over and, sure enough, there was a small windup key on the base. Her fingers moved automatically, grasping the small metal protrusion and giving it a couple turns before releasing it. As she did so, the first notes of 'My Old Kentucky Home' came tinkling out as if being played on a very small piano. It made Amy's smile widen even more.
"This is great," Amy laughed. "I love it."
"I'm glad," Sideswipe spoke quietly. "We know this hasn't been easy, especially on your end." The mech vented, "We just want you to be happy, sweet spark. That's all."
"I am," Amy admitted just as quietly. It was true, she realized with a start. At that very moment in time she was the happiest she could ever remember being. Despite the nagging inkling of dread that realization also brought with it, she hoped against hope that things would remain thus.
End of Chapter 34
