Finding Home
Chapter 35
By Voodoo Queen
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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! I hope you're all doing fabulous on this wonderful day. So happy to be getting this chapter out there. It turned into another extra, extra long chapter...hopefully not too long for you. The first half is really just a catch up to current plot events so I hope it doesn't bore you too much. I hope it answers at least some of your questions...more to come so stand by. Regardless, I sincerely hope you enjoy. Thanks to everyone who has faved and followed. I'm so happy to have you along for the ride. Special thanks to my wonderful reviewers: Songbird's Spirit, monkeybaby, CamaroLady, SunnyandSidesFemme17, 'Guest', 'Anonymous', KayleeChiara, LaurenA007, Deimoss, adelphe24, TerrorTwinEpicness, Akgheera, gummibear78906, PepperCornPie, ElleGirl19, shelby20125, the former jojoniles who shall henceforth be known as TheHeizeEffect, xIliadx, SolusPrimeLightblast, jellybeanz513, Pixiekatt, poppycakes, and TheCauldron.
You are loved!
Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, just my own original characters and plot.
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Amy strode through the main hangar trying to project more professional confidence than she currently felt. She kept her head held high and shoulders back. Her hair was neatly combed and pinned into a bun, her uniform was freshly laundered and pressed, and her boots were buffed to a shine she was sure would get an 'outstanding' if an inspection were to be held at that very moment. A carefully prepared report on the status and security of the Allspark shard was nestled in a manila folder and tucked beneath her left arm as she made her way to the morning muster/meeting with Captain Lennox in lieu of Jazz who was on his way to an officer's meeting with Prime. It was business as usual.
Or, at least, that's what she kept telling herself.
She'd been eager to get back to duty but doing so had proved more daunting than she'd expected. Ratchet's tests had ended up being a complete medical battery of labs and imaging that had left her feeling more like a science experiment than anything else. It had also meant that she'd ended up spending an extra two days and a wake up in the med bay while the CMO poked and prodded her to his spark's content. The mech was nothing if not thorough and he wasn't going to be taken by surprise with some exotic ailment again if he could help it.
It hadn't been all bad, though. She'd been in good company at least.
Jazz, of course, had been there often. Not only was he dealing with his own medical issues, the extent of which Amy hadn't fully understood until witnessing first hand what he went through every single day just to stay upright and functional, but he also took extra time just to spend it with her to make sure she was doing okay under the stress and strain. His care and concern always seemed so genuine and she would have been lying if she didn't admit there was a part of her still starved for such affection that she'd been deprived of as a child that ate up every morsel of kindness he tossed her way.
He'd brought her a tablet preloaded with music and movies he thought she'd enjoy to help pass the time between bouts of testing which she'd greatly appreciated. He'd also joke with her about how glad he was Ratchet had someone else to focus on for the time being since it took some of the heat off of himself. She supposed he'd become something of a rock in the midst of the chaos that had engulfed her. He'd stopped constantly hovering over her, however, as he seemed to understand there were others who needed her attention far more than he did and vice versa.
That said, the twins didn't wander far despite Ratchet's vain attempts to shoo them out of his way. Initially, once the shock of their arrival had worn off, Amy had been extremely concerned about the injuries they'd each sustained. Once they'd gone and scrubbed themselves clean, each taking their turn hitting the wash racks so as not to leave her on her own, she could clearly see the extent of the damage done to them, some of which she hadn't even noticed before due to the dirt and grime they'd accumulated. It looked painful and it hurt her deeply to see them hurt. Both the twins and Ratchet, however, had assured her that the damage was mostly cosmetic in nature.
"We know what we're doing, Squishie." Sunstreaker smirked, "And we're the best at doing it."
"Yeah, you should have seen the other guy, sweet spark," Sideswipe had teased, giving her a wink. "This is nothing."
Ratchet had gone on to rattle something off about automated repair subroutines, microscopic nano particles and molecular turnover rates all which had completely gone over her head but she took to mean that they would recover from the damage quickly. Indeed, after a bit of minor medical attention courtesy of the esteemed CMO, a good wash and wax, and a night or two of well deserved recharge, Amy was hard pressed to find a scratch on either of them. It boggled her mind, really, the rate at which they were able to mend themselves. She'd never seen anything like it.
Ironhide, on the other hand, had not been as fortunate. The large holes in his armor had apparently been made by some sort of high-velocity energy weapon fired at long range. It had provided enough punch to go through his heavy, black armor and caused damage to what Ratchet had referred to as a 'protoform'. It was apparently more than the soldier's own systems were capable of repairing on their own and would require more invasive measures to fix. The medic's attitude led her to believe that it was all in a day's work where the Weapon Specialist was concerned. He'd simply vented, ordered the mech to 'strip', and had gone to gather the needed equipment to tend the wounds.
Amy had tried not to stare. Honestly, she had. Intellectually, she knew the Autobots weren't really automobiles. Sideswipe had once described the transformation process to her as a sort of camouflage. Still, she'd not given too much thought to what they'd look like without the aid of said camouflage. Even though she was mostly certain they probably hadn't strolled the streets of Cybertron decked out in Goodyear tires and halogen headlights, it was beyond bizarre to see the bulky, canon-toting mech free of any type of heavy armor and reduced to the much sleeker, but certainly no less imposing, 'protoform' that lay beneath it all. She'd watched, wide-eyed, as Ratchet had gotten underway with his repairs, fascinated, as she tried to envision what the others would look like in the same stripped down state. That is, until Ironhide seemed to become aware of the weight of her stare.
"What?" He'd asked in his typical gruff tone. The mech's brow plates had raised in question even as his mouth had pulled down into a frown.
Startled, Amy had whipped her head back and forth in the negative. She'd managed to squeak out a quick, "N-nothing...sorry," before quickly scurrying back across the med bay to where Sunstreaker sat perched upon a stool carefully buffing his glossy, freshly waxed armor with a microfiber cloth. In her mind, it was the safest place in the world to be at that moment. Sunny must have agreed with her assessment as she had found herself plucked from the ground so suddenly it had made her head spin only to be deposited upon the mech's armored thigh just as quickly.
As she'd sat there, awkwardly straddling Sunny's leg, she became aware of the tension that seemed to rest heavy in the air between the two mechs. Sunstreaker glared at Ironhide, as if daring him to speak another word to her. Ironhide, to his credit, had the decency to look not-quite-apologetic before being the first to look away. Sunstreaker had seemed to relax, if only slightly, the thumb of his left hand stroking slowly down the length of her spine a couple of times before he picked up his cloth once more and resumed his polishing as if nothing had transpired. Amy hadn't asked what the deal between them had been. Honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
The rest of her time in the med bay had been rather uneventful.
On the morning of the third day in the med bay, Ratchet had informed her that he had exhausted all possible testing and that she was free to go, at least for the time being. He'd given her a technical rundown of what he'd learned about her condition. Amy was an intelligent young woman but far from a scientist. She certainly wasn't up to speed on molecular biology but she was able to grasp that what he'd learned had proved his initial hypothesis. Her body had somehow adapted to the invasion of an alien energy by opting to utilize the much more efficient fuel source it now had at its disposal instead of its own. He'd gone on about spark core force fields and electromagnetic fluctuations, none of which she really comprehended but his next statement worked to put her somewhat at ease.
"It's my professional opinion that you're going to be just fine," Ratchet declared with a proud look. "However," he warned, "If you notice anything, and I do mean anything, out of the ordinary you are to bring yourself back here ASAP. Do I make myself clear?"
"Crystal," Amy had readily agreed. "Does this mean I'm FFD?"
"Yes," Ratchet had chuckled, amused by the woman's eagerness to return to work. She was nothing if not industrious. It was a quality to be admired. "You may consider yourself reinstated. Just don't stray too far from the twins."
Amy had been too excited at the prospect of escaping her temporary prison to question exactly what all of this had meant for her. She just wanted to get back to her life, to her job. "I won't," she promised.
Receiving Ratchet's blessing to return to work and convincing Jazz she was ready and willing to resume her duties were two totally different obstacles, however.
"I don't know, scraplet," Jazz stood, leaning back against his desk, a worried look plastered on his face plates as he looked down on the woman. "I mean, Ratchet just released ya. Don't ya think it might be a good idea to take it easy for a couple days and rest? Ya know, regain your strength?"
"Jazz," Amy all but begged. "I've been taking it easy for over a week! I need to do something productive! I know you know how that is..."
Jazz frowned, knowing she had him there. There was no question that he'd been less than a model patient since the stunt he'd pulled with Megatron to buy time for the rest of the team to complete their mission. Primus knew the time he'd spent sitting in the med bay afterward feeling like a half-slagged, useless pile of scrap metal had nearly killed him. He tried a different approach, looking for allies in his quest to keep the femme safe and healthy. "Where's Sides an' Sunny?"
She'd shrugged, "I told them I was coming here to see you so they went back to their room to stow their gear finally. Why?"
"Because," Jazz vented, trying to get the femme to see reason, "as much as I worry about ya, they got a lot riding on you bein' well, too, scraplet. If anything happened..."
"I'm fine," she'd insisted, pouting. "I'm really, really fine. Ratchet said so. You can ask him if you don't believe me. Comm him or something. I really need to get back into some kind of routine. I'm begging you. Please, Jazz? Pretty, pretty please..."
After a long moment, the mech finally relented. He'd shaken his head, chuckling. "How can I possibly say no to that face? I'll make a deal with ya," Jazz relented. "I've got a meeting later this morning with Prime and Prowler to discuss some logistical issues that have popped up. If everyone is in agreement and all goes well, we'll see about putting you back to work."
Amy started to argue, "But..."
"Let me finish," Jazz gently scolded. "Until that time, if ya wanna go get yourself all squared away and come back, I'll get ya all caught up on everything ya missed. Deal?"
"Yes!" Amy beamed up at the mech. "Deal!" On impulse, she took a couple steps forward and closed the distance between them. Wrapping her arms around his left leg, her head just barely breaching his knee, and gave him the best hug she could muster. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You're the best!"
"Aww..." Jazz smiled and felt his spark warm pleasantly at the unsolicited show of affection. He bent slightly to ruffle the woman's hair, trying to convey his own fondness for her, as well. "Right back at ya, scraplet. Now go on," he encouraged. "Get outta here. Go make yourself presentable. I'll be here when you get back."
Jazz had watched the young woman hurry from the office with a strange mix of affection, worry, and relief settled deep in his chest. He'd certainly gotten more than he'd bargained for when he'd pulled her from her previous command...and he wouldn't have changed it for all of Cybertron. He'd settled back down at his desk with an amused grin. "Kids..." he'd hummed to himself. "Gotta love 'em."
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Upon her return to the bunker, uniformed and freshly groomed, Amy had found Jazz waiting for her just as he said he would be. She'd listened attentively as he'd recapped the last week for her, filling in many of the gaps in her recollection. He'd started with Sunstreaker's comm asking him to check up on her, recounted the altercation the team had with the Decepticons, and caught her up right through the time the twins had walked through the med bay doors. Then, of course, there was the mysterious Allspark shard that had set off the entire chain of events. He explained a bit more about what the Allspark was and what it was capable of doing...what they had learned, anyway. For all they knew about the relic and it's powers, much was still shrouded in mystery.
Jazz finally asked, "Do you want to see it?"
Mouth dry, Amy nodded, "Yes. I mean, if you think it's okay."
She'd followed the mech as he'd led her to what had once been a storeroom in the very back of the bunker. The track door had been replaced with a thick blast door. A heavy feeling of nervous anticipation settled into her gut as she watched Jazz run the security checks and key in the access code. Goosebumps rose on the skin of her arms and her hair stood on end as the door locks disengaged. The anxiousness she felt magnified tenfold as Jazz pulled the door open and motioned for her to enter.
She hadn't know what to expect as she stepped inside, feeling herself be engulfed by an electric, almost staticky aura that seemed to push and pull against her skin as if it were searching for something. She felt briefly lightheaded, almost the same strange sensation of being disconnected from her body that she'd experienced upon waking in the med bay but it passed quickly. Instead of worrying about potential lingering side effects, she noted it was much, much colder in the room than it had been in the corridor, so much so that she could see her breath puff out from between her slightly parted lips in a wispy white cloud. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. Her eyes landed on a shiny, new temperature control unit that had been mounted on the wall right inside the door set to a frigid 32 degrees Fahrenheit.
Curious, she asked, "Why so freezing?"
"It puts off a pretty intense energy signature. Humans aren't really sensitive to it but we're able to pick it up on our environmental scans. It's less active at lower temperatures," Jazz explained. "Keeping it cold and underground makes it easier for us to keep it hidden."
Amy nodded in understanding and moved deeper into the space. It wasn't a large area, just big enough that a mech like Prime could move around comfortably without banging into everything and breaking stuff. In the center of the space, there was a metal podium bolted down into the floor. Upon that podium rested what appeared to be a clear, glass cube about two foot square. Floating within some sort of field inside the cube there was a ragged piece of metal-like material just slightly larger than her fist. A white mist swirled around the shard, the result of what she assumed was a liquid nitrogen cooling system or similar setup. The mist made it difficult to decipher but she was certain she could see some kind of runes or glyphs carved into metal.
The overall feeling she got from the object was one of eerie unease. She got the sense, almost, that it was alive and sentient, watching their every move and judging them for it. For such a small and otherwise unassuming looking piece of salvage, it had a tremendous presence. She wasn't sure whether to be awed or terrified. What she did feel for certain was oddly exposed and vulnerable. Without any input from her conscious brain, scooted closer to Jazz for comfort.
"Yeah," Jazz agreed in a slow drawl without her even having to say a word. "I'm thinkin' it's probably best if we just steer clear and let it be."
"You don't have to tell me twice," Amy murmured in response.
"Come on, scraplet," Jazz nudged her back toward the door, seeming to be as eager as she was to leave the space. "Let's head back to the office. I was diggin' around in Teletran's data archives and found some files you might find interesting. How'd you like to hear what popular music sounded like back home on Cybertron?"
"Really?" Amy stepped back out into the corridor and watched as Jazz closed and secured the blast door, sealing the Allspark shard safely inside. Out of its presence, she already felt as though a weight had been lifted off her shoulders as the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the containment room was replaced by the warm camaraderie she and Jazz shared. Excitement at getting to share a bit of his culture filled her instead. "That'd be awesome!"
They'd spent the better part of an hour in the office. Jazz had played the music tracks he'd found while enthusiastically explaining to her the meanings and significance behind them. The sound was certainly different and, though mostly electronic in nature, not at all as mechanical and computerized as she would have guessed. Some tracks almost reminded her of downtempo electronica in a way. Others had a more electro pop feel. He'd explained that, prior to the war, there had been places much like dance clubs where mechs and femmes could go and enjoy the music in conjunction with subtle electrical impulses that could deepen and expand the musical experience. Amy had been drawn in not only by the music but also by Jazz's clear love for it regardless of its planet of origin. She could have listened to his insightful commentary on the subject all day.
Eventually, however, Jazz had to leave her to go to his meeting. She'd had a sick, sinking feeling as he'd handed her a manila folder, explaining that it contained recommendations for security upgrades to the containment room and asked her to run it to Captain Lennox in his stead while he was gone. She agreed, always happy to be of help, but couldn't help but ask the question heavy on her mind. In a quiet voice she'd asked, "What's the meeting about?"
"Nothing for you to worry about, scraplet." Jazz spoke in a smooth, soothing voice. "Just layin' down some new rules, is all."
With that, the mech had left her, which brought Amy to her current predicament.
Having been sequestered in the med bay for over a week, most of that time unconscious and with only giant alien robots for company, she felt rather conspicuous as she made her way across the base. As bizarre as it sounded, it felt strange to be out among other humans again. For reasons she couldn't really explain, the bots were easier relate to. Perhaps it was the fact that they were still new to the planet, new to mankind, and lacked any real preconceived notions or expectations regarding who or what a human should be or act like. Experience had taught her that the same couldn't be said for others of her own kind. Robots from space she understood. Her own species, not so much.
Pushing those thoughts out of her head, she focused on the task at hand and made a bee line for Captain Lennox. Putting on a friendly smile and throwing up a sharp salute, she greeted the superior officer, "Good morning, sir."
"Hey, Petty Officer Doe," Lennox greeted the woman as she approached, returning her salute. "Long time, no see. I was beginning to think we'd have to send out a search party. Did you finally finish the database archive project Jazz had you working on? From what he told me, it sounded like a big job."
A look of confusion clouded Amy's face for a moment before it dawned on her what was happening. Jazz had covered for her time spent in the med bay so as not to rouse any suspicion surrounding her absence. Her secret, if one wanted to call it that, was safe. "I did," she answered hesitantly. "It took longer than I thought it would, though."
Lennox inquired, "Find anything useful at least?"
"Yes," she nodded and smiled thinking of the music the mech had been so delighted and excited to share with her. "Definitely some useful data in there."
"Glad to hear," the Captain smiled. He nodded to the file tucked beneath her arm. "Got anything good for me this morning?"
"Uh," Amy smiled, extending the packet of documents towards the Captain. "I hope so. It's a rundown Jazz has prepared of the shard's current security status as well as some suggestions for improvements and upgrades to the existing containment facilities. Those," Amy informed him, "will need to be signed off on for budget approval before we're able to begin implementing them. You know how those politicians can be when it comes to money."
"Don't I ever..." Lennox sighed, probably thinking about Galloway, but nodded in understanding as he shuffled through the documents and skimmed over them. "Everything looks solid. Let's get moving on these upgrades ASAP. The last thing we want is for the Decepticons to be able to track the shard to Diego Garcia and pop up in our backyard. If you want to hang out for a minute I'll go ahead and sign off on these req forms for you so you can go ahead and run them up the supply chain."
"That'd be great," Amy nodded. "Thank you, sir."
As Lennox turned to rummage through his workstation for a pen, Amy turned to survey the hangar. Military personnel and civilian support staff hurried back and forth, swirling around one another in a well-coordinated execution of cooperative teamwork. Spending the vast majority of her working time in the bunker with Jazz and her off duty time with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, it was easy to forget just how many other people helped keep Diego Garcia up and running.
Sweeping her gaze over toward the hangar doors, she noted they were open wide, allowing the early morning light to flood the space and soften the glare from the metal-halide fixtures hanging over head. As she patiently waited, a dark silhouette filled the open doorway, backed by the early morning sun. She immediately recognized the figure as Sunstreaker even before she could clearly make out his gleaming, yellow armor. She felt her stomach do a pleasurable little flip, something it had never done before. Before she could think too much on this new phenomenon, she realized the mech was heading straight for her. She felt heat rise to her face as a knowing smirk lifted the corner of his mouth.
Sunstreaker came to a halt just a couple steps from where she stood. He was close enough that she had to crane her neck back to maintain eye contact but not so close as to make it uncomfortable. His smirk widened into an almost devilish grin. Amy felt her mouth go dry.
"Lennox," Sunny greeted the Captain but never took his optics off the woman in front of him.
"Sunstreaker," Lennox replied, still leafing through the packet of paperwork. "What can I do for you?"
The mech rumbled, finally looking toward the soldier. "Prime needs to speak with you in his office."
"Now?" Lennox looked up from the paperwork. "Did he say what for?"
"Yes," Sunny answered looking back to Amy, "and no. I may have some idea about what he wants to discuss but it's not my place to say."
Amy frowned.
"Fine," Lennox sighed, gesturing to the forms now strewn across his workspace. "Just...let me finish this up for the Petty Officer here and I'll head on over."
"Whatever," Sunstreaker quickly lost interest in the Captain, turning his full attention back to the small femme. "Squishie."
"Hi," Amy quietly answered. Her stomach continued to roll in an nervous/excited fashion making her feel not-quite-nauseous.
"I was going to come find you when I was done here," his grin widened. "I think I found something that belongs to you. I thought you might want it back."
Amy's brow furrowed, "Something of mine?"
"Mhmm," the mech smirked. He knelt and stretched his hand out to her. Settled in the center of his palm were two small buttons.
Amy felt herself flush even hotter, then grow pale as she immediately recognized them. "B-buttons?"
"I was putting my gear away and I found them underneath my berth," he explained. His optics glinted in amusement but deep in their depths something dark and heated also flared to life. "I'm pretty sure they popped off of your uniform the other morning. I'd say I'm sorry about that but," he shrugged, "I'm really not."
Amy spluttered, almost choking on her own tongue. She was well aware that the look on his face said he was anything but sorry. She, herself, couldn't muster up any regret over what had transpired right before they'd left either but, of all the places he could have chosen to have this exchange, she couldn't think of anywhere more horrifyingly inappropriate than literally two feet away from N.E.S.T.'s Commanding Officer.
Sunny tilted his head, looking the woman slowly up and down. "Have you ever thought about maybe wearing coveralls instead of BDUs? They look like they'd be much more easily accessible. Might even prevent ruining your uniforms in the future."
He was only half joking. He'd been thinking of how soft the bare skin of her back had been ever since he'd seized the opportunity to touch it. Stumbling upon his brother's sizable collection of 'research' hadn't helped matters. He was a healthy, young mech, after all. He certainly wouldn't have minded the opportunity to get the small femme alone and in private once again. Sideswipe, he was sure, would heartily agree. Besides, he rationalized, Ratchet had ordered he and Sides to remain as close to her as possible in order to combat the unintended side effects of the connection the three of them shared. They'd be doing their duty and if they could have a little fun doing it, it was all the better.
"Th-thanks," she finally forced out as she reached with trembling fingers to pluck the buttons from his hand. She was sure her face must have been colored scarlet. Her stomach did another curious flip. She swallowed hard, "I'll-I'll keep that in mind."
Sunstreaker watched the femme quickly pocket the buttons, finding her nervous embarrassment both entertaining and endearing. Sideswipe was right, he mused. Watching the woman become red-faced and flustered over even the slightest suggestive nuance was fun. He tread carefully, however, well aware that Lennox was standing right beside them. He wanted to tease the woman, not traumatize her. He was in a better mood than he had been over the last week, though, and couldn't resist one last provocative innuendo.
"You could throw on a pair after work," he suggested in a low tone, focusing his gaze on the still barely there marks he'd left on the side of her neck. "The three of us could test them out."
Amy's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, words refusing to come out. The mech was nothing if not blunt. Sideswipe's over-the-top flirtatious antics were nearly scandalous on a good day. She wasn't sure what had gotten into Sunstreaker but hearing these things from him made her brain want to turn into mush. She wasn't sure whether to be flattered or outright mortified.
Lennox cleared his throat. He held the now signed paperwork fisted in one hand and wore a befuddled look on his face as he looked back and forth between the young woman and the mech. "Uh," he pushed the papers towards Doe. "Here you go, OS2."
"Thanks," she stuttered, grabbing the file and clenching it to her chest. She took another tentative glance up at Sunstreaker before looking back to the Captain. "I'll, uh, go ahead and run these."
Sunny offered, "Need a ride?"
She turned her face up to the mech, still embarrassed. "Th-thanks but, after this last week, I think I could probably use the exercise."
Sunstreaker nodded in understanding, "Suit yourself, Squishie. I offered."
Knees still shaking, she quickly saluted the Captain, "Thanks again, sir."
"Yeah...you're welcome." Lennox returned the salute and watched the woman hurry from the hangar before turning on Sunstreaker. "What the hell was that?"
In an indifferent tone, Sunny replied, "What was what?"
"That," Lennox gestured toward the mech, "Whatever that was."
"I don't have a slagging clue what you're talking about, Lennox." The mech twisted his faceplates into a look of disgust, "Then again, I don't know what any of you fleshies are talking about half the time anyway. You're all fragging weird and confusing as the Pit."
"Look who's talking." Lennox mumbled and shook his head. "You know what, never mind. Forget I asked."
"That's probably for the best," Sunstreaker sneered. Then, tapping his wrist with his index finger as if checking a watch he added, "Prime's waiting."
"Yeah, yeah," Lennox nodded and moved to follow the mech as he turned to head back out the way he'd came. "Hey, you think I could get a ride?"
Sunstreaker, without ever breaking his stride, shot the man an offended glare, "Do I look like a fragging Uber to you? Your legs work."
"Asshole," Lennox muttered as he broke into a jog to keep up.
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Amy eventually made it back to the office she shared with Jazz to find that the mech still hadn't returned. It was just as well. Her earlier interaction with Sunstreaker had left her with a residual giddiness that Jazz would have no doubt picked up on only to tease her mercilessly about it. She slowly climbed the stairs to her desk, contemplating how her life had brought her to such a strange place that there were times that she could scarcely believe it herself. Thinking about it too hard made her want to space out.
Sinking down into her chair. She fished the two small buttons out of her pocket and placed them onto the desk in front of her. She looked at them, brow furrowed, and immediately feeling the heat rise to her face once again. Idly, she pushed them around with a fingertip for a moment before moving them to the side, turning her attention instead to the snow globe that now resided on the corner of her desk. Lifting it from its new home, she inverted it before placing it back down and watching the small glitter flowers swirl about inside for a moment then reaching around and winding it. As the first notes of music began to play she folded her hands, resting her chin atop them, and closed her eyes. She wasn't sure how long she remained in that position but it was long after the final strains of the song had finished playing that she was startled back to attention by a light rapping on the office door.
"Hey, Ames? You in there?"
Quickly, she sat up straight and pushed the snow globe back into its corner. She gave herself a quick once over to make sure she still looked presentable before calling back, "Yes, it's open."
The door opened and Sideswipe slipped inside, quietly shutting the door behind himself before making his way over to lean against the railing that surrounded Amy's workspace. He grinned at the woman, "Back to work already?"
"Not officially," Amy sighed. "But I'm hopeful."
"Don't rush it, Ames," The mech gently warned. "You don't want to end up back in the med bay."
"Believe me," she assured, "I'm going to try my very best to avoid it."
"Glad to hear," Sides teased, "because Ratchet kind of puts a damper on date night with his whole 'Guide to Interspecies Copulation' PowerPoint presentation."
"Oh my God," Amy felt herself turn bright red for about the hundredth time that day. "He doesn't really have one of those...does he?"
Sideswipe merely raised a brow.
"Oh my God," she muttered again, sinking back into her chair and wishing a black hole would open up and swallow her whole.
Sides laughed and mercifully changed the subject, "So, what have you been up to?"
"Uh," Amy shook her head, willing the blood to drain from her face. "Nothing much. Just waiting on Jazz to get back. Oh," she remembered the latest addition to her desk and directed Sides' attention to her new ornament, "What do you think? I figured since I spend most of my time in here..."
"It's perfect," Sideswipe smiled, "It's a good start. I'm really glad you like it, sweet spark."
She shot the mech a side glance, "Definitely a lot better than pictures of strangers."
Sides put on his most wounded expression, "I said I was sorry..."
"I know, I know..." Laughing, Amy rose from her seat and stepped over to the rail where the mech stood. Without thinking, she raised a hand and pressed it to the side of his face. "It was the thought that counts."
"Hmm..." Sideswipe nuzzled into her palm. "Good to know...because I think about you a lot..."
Amy felt her stomach do that odd, little flip again. Reluctantly, she dropped her hand. "So, did you need me for something?"
"Always," the mech teased. "I just came from that meeting with Prime and Jazz asked us to meet back here to go over what was discussed. He and Sunny are bringing up the rear. Captain Lennox wasn't too happy so they hung back to see how that all played out."
Amy raised a brow. In a concerned tone she asked, "What exactly was this meeting about?"
"Just some minor operational changes," Sides provided. "It's probably best that Jazz goes over them. You know, chain of command and all that."
"Oh," feeling uneasy, Amy nodded, "Okay..."
About that time, the door to the office opened once more and Sunstreaker stepped inside.
"Hey again, Squishie." He greeted the woman and seeing the flush come to her cheeks once more, smirked in amusement before turning to his brother, "You missed one hell of a blowout. Lennox was pissed."
"He'll get over it," Sides chuckled.
Sunstreaker shrugged as he, too, sauntered over to the railing, "Not like he has much of a choice."
"Seriously," Amy looked between the twins, "what's happening?"
"Something that should have happened from the start." Sunstreaker grumbled, "Took them long enough to pull their heads out of their afts."
Sideswipe nodded, "Agreed."
Hesitantly, Amy asked, "Should...should I be worried?"
"Nope," It was Jazz that answered as he slowly shuffled his way into the room and settled himself on the edge of his desk. "I told ya, D. I always got your back."
"Yeah..." Amy worriedly nibbled her bottom lip. "What exactly were you guys meeting about?"
"As you know," Jazz began, "This last mission ended up causin' quite a few glitches in the program. The least of which," Jazz continued, "was the Cons showin' their ugly mugs. We've come to expect that from them and plan accordingly. What we didn't expect or plan for was the effect the twins leavin' would have on you."
"Right," Amy frowned and pressed her fingers into her temples, already feeling a tension headache building behind her eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry..."
"Don't be sorry, Ames." Sides nudged her, "We're just happy you're okay."
"It's not your fault, Squishie." Sunstreaker crossed his arms over his chest plates, "Ratchet's the doctor. He's supposed to know these things. That fragger should be the one apologizing."
"No one is to blame here," Jazz corrected, shooting Sunny a warning look. "It's just somethin' that happened and now it needs to be dealt with to prevent it from happenin' again."
"Okay," Amy took a deep breath in, stealing herself for what she knew was to come. "I'm assuming that's what this big meeting was about? Dealing with it?"
Whatever came out of Jazz's mouth, Amy promised herself she wasn't going to let it get to her. She wasn't going to break down and cry just like she hadn't broken down the other two dozen or so times she'd been uprooted and shipped off. At least in this situation she possessed a modicum of professional clarity. She knew was a liability. She was a drain on resources. She diverted valuable time and attention away from more important matters. She wasn't irreplaceable...that she knew from personal experience. She knew in her heart what the right thing to do in this situation was and she couldn't even bring herself to be upset about it. In a military situation, when you run up against an obstacle that impedes the mission or compromises tactical readiness you remove that impediment. By force, if necessary.
"It was...partly," Jazz confirmed. "After analyzing all our options, we've decided that the best course of action in this situation is to pull Sides an' Sunny from the mission rotation for now. They'll be assigned strictly to base support duties from here on out which means they get to stay here with you until we can figure out all the in's and out's to this whole human-Cybertronian spark thing."
"What?" Amy's head shot up. The look on her face was one of absolute confusion and surprise. "You're pulling them from the mission roster? Why?"
"Why?" Sunstreaker raised a brow plate. "Did you seriously miss the part where Ratchet said you could have died while we were gone?"
"I don't understand," Amy looked to Jazz. "You need them out there! If that's how you guys want to play it, why can't Ratchet just do the same thing he did this time with the IV fluids?"
"Scraplet," the TIC tried to explain, "it's dangerous. Humans aren't meant to carry spark energy let alone be pumped full of energon. Ratchet wasn't entirely sure it wouldn't do more harm than good this time around. He's sill worried about side effects that could pop up later. We took a gamble on it because we had no other option at the time but it's not a viable solution in the long term."
Amy felt like yanking her hair out, "And pulling your two best front line soldiers out of the field is?" She argued, "Prowl said this wouldn't affect combat readiness!"
"Prowl said we'd revisit the issue when more information was available," Jazz spoke gently. "Now that he's got the data, he's crunched the numbers, and statistically this is the safest option for everyone."
"For me, you mean?" Amy shook her head, disbelieving. "I've messed everything up..."
Sunstreaker rumbled, "You haven't messed anything up."
"This is supposed to be a good thing, sweet spark." Sideswipe frowned, "We thought you'd be happier to have us around."
"No!" Amy quickly backpedaled her words at the hurt expression that flashed across Sides' face. "I meant, yes...ideally, but there's a war going on out there! You can't prioritize the needs of one single individual over the success of an entire military campaign! That's not how you win the battle. The last thing I want is for you to be out there in harm's way but from a logistical and operational standpoint this makes absolutely no sense!"
"Maybe not to you, D," Jazz explained. "But this isn't a decision we made lightly. A lot of thought and planning went into makin' it and Prime, Prowl, and myself are all in agreement that this is the best course of action to take in this situation. There's a whole list of other factors we took into consideration other than just the obvious. I know it may be hard for you to understand the logic behind it seein' that you're not one of us-"
"Exactly!" Amy could feel hurt, frustrated tears burning in her eyes but she quickly blinked them away. "That's exactly my point! I'm not one of you! I'm just one person out of over seven billion people on this planet! I'm not out there on the front lines dodging bullets. I sit in front of a freaking computer all day! It would make a whole hell of a lot more sense to just replace me. Find someone else with the same skill set. It's not that difficult! There are plenty of other people who could do my job and wouldn't interfere with tactical coordination."
"None of those people are you," Sunstreaker stubbornly argued. "That's not happening."
"Just..." Sideswipe tried to reason with the femme. "Forget about us for a second, Ames. Primus knows we adore you, Jazz does too, but take us out of the equation. Think of all the other people in your life that care about you, how spark broken they'd be if something happened to you. And if there was something we could easily prevent from happening just by being here with you, why wouldn't we do that?"
"Because it's completely counterproductive to the cause," Amy laughed but there was no humor in it. "If your big concern is upsetting friends and family then let me put your minds at ease. I could drop dead right now and not one single person would give a shit."
Sunstreaker's optics narrowed at the woman, "That's a load of slag and you know it."
"Do I?" Amy's voice cracked. "My own parents didn't even want me. When I was born, they left me in the fucking garbage for someone else to come along and find. I grew up in state-run group homes and foster care whose sole purpose is just to keep you alive and breathing until you turn eighteen and they can throw you out on your own." Amy jerked one of her sleeves up as far as it would go, revealing a couple of the small, circular scars that dotted her arms. "They couldn't even care less when a grown man holds a little girl down and burns her with lit cigarettes because she won't just lay still and let him take advantage of her. They just show up, dump what few possessions you do have into a trash bag, and pack you off to the next hell hole to start the cycle all over again so I highly doubt they'd start giving a damn now."
"Scraplet..." Jazz looked horrified, as if he couldn't quite parse the information he'd just received.
Amy wanted to stop but the words just kept coming. She was sick over the entire situation. She felt so angry and frustrated and guilty that a small part of her thought that if she could just make them see that she wasn't worth the effort or the trouble that everything could go back to the way they had been, when things were simple and she knew her place in life. She was expendable. She didn't want to be responsible for wrecking their one real chance at winning a war that had been going on for God only knew how long. Death, even a slow and uncomfortable one by Ratchet's calculations, was preferable to the potential of damning an entire planet full of people to the whims and desires of the Decepticons.
"Do any you even know what Doe means?" Amy asked the question, not even expecting an answer. "It's just a generic name they give to people when they don't know what else to call them. It's just something they can put on the paperwork to make everything look official. I don't even know who I am and no one has ever bothered to come forward and claim me. So, no, no one is going to come banging on your door demanding to know what happened to me or petition the government for answers because there is nobody. Save yourselves all the trouble and send me back where I came from. It won't be the worst thing that's ever happened to me and I promise it won't hurt my feelings. Problem solved."
The office was eerily quiet for a long moment. The only sound Amy could hear was the whoosh of blood in her ears as her heart pounded away furiously inside of her chest. She was staring at the toes of her boots but she could feel their optics on her. She couldn't bring herself to look up and see the pity she knew would be there. She didn't want pity. She wanted to be a productive member of the team and that couldn't happen if she was there holding the twins back from doing what they were there to do. The only recourse she could see was to remove herself from the picture entirely and this was the only way she knew how to do that.
It was Sunstreaker who finally broke the silence. He snarled, demanding, "Who was it? Who did that to you? All I need is a name. Tell me who they are and I can guarantee you the cogsucker won't have the opportunity to do it again."
Amy answered in a quiet voice, "It doesn't matter."
"The frag it doesn't matter!" The mech was livid. "They put their hands on you! They hurt you!"
Amy merely shook her head and with as much dignity as she could muster, grabbed her cover from her desk and put it on before turning to make her way down the stairs to the floor below. She needed to get out before she broke her own rules and started bawling her eyes out in front of the three of them.
"I asked you a question," Sunny growled as his optics tracked her down the stairs. "Where in the Pit do you think you're going?"
"Noon muster," she lied. It wasn't her duty day and she knew Jazz knew it as well as she did. Hell, the mech hadn't even officially invited her to come back to work. At the rate she was going, she doubted he ever would. She half expected him to call her out on the fib but instead what she received was a softly spoken request that was almost her undoing.
"Stay, scraplet." Jazz pleaded with her. "Don't leave it like this. Let's talk it out."
"I can't," she sniffled as she edged closer to the exit. "There's nothing else to say."
"Ames...sweet spark, please..." Sideswipe wore an absolutely heartbroken expression. He tried to reach for the woman but she twisted out of his reach as she scooted by on her way toward the door.
"Don't," she warned the mech. "Just...leave me alone."
He may have said something else but Amy hadn't stayed around to listen. As soon as she cleared the office door she moved as quickly as she could down the corridor, keyed her way through the secure blast door, and out into the common area. She kept her focus on reaching the elevator even though she could hear two sets of heavy footsteps gaining ground behind her. By the time she reached the elevator and was frantically slapping the button, they were calling out for her to stop, to wait, to come back. Once the doors rolled open and she slipped inside the first tear managed to finally overflow down her cheek. She wiped furiously at it as she punched the arrow to take her back up to the surface. The last thing she heard as the car began its upward trek to the surface was Sunstreaker's rather impressive litany of profanity as the doors rolled shut again, sealing them out just as they reached them.
On the way up she turned the situation over in her head again and again. No matter which way she looked at it, she always came up with the same solution. A sacrifice would need to be made. She knew what the right thing to do was and if they wouldn't do it, she would.
End of Chapter 35
