Finding Home

Chapter 36

By Voodoo Queen

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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! When I first had this idea pop in my head and decided to jot it all down and share it, I thought there may be a couple other people that might dig it but you guys have totally blown me away! So, thanks so much to all who've faved and are following. So happy you're here with us! To my reviewers, you know I love you! Hugs to SwordOfTheJedi, JessieBWriting, shapeshifterlover, SunnyandSidesFemme17, KayleeChiara, TheCauldron, KHandFF7fanforever, 'Anonymous', Sirenix Prime, jellybeanz513, LaurenA007, The Whispering Sage, adelphe24, monkeybaby, Songbird's Spirit, 'Guest', Alice Gone Madd, SolusPrimeLightblast, PepperCornPie, Leonixon, shizzlethis1, poppycakes, o-dragon, xIliadx, OPPoptart, jgoss, Tai Prime, Quickening, rybkakoi, BarricadesDemon216, .Princess, TheHeizeEffect, Jaxrond, shizzlethis1

P.S. Sorry! This turned into a two-parter so if the ending feels abrupt, that's why. This chapter turned into a MONSTER! Stay tuned!

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, just my own original characters and plot.

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Amy traversed the base quickly. After narrowly avoiding another run-in with Mirage, she stuck to the less traveled paths, slipping between buildings and circling around to the back side of the base complex. The last thing she needed was more of the infiltrator's commentary on her mess of a life even as their last interaction still prickled at the back of her mind. Her cell phone buzzed against her hip nearly non-stop. She paused long enough to fish it from her pocket and look at the screen just an incoming call from Sideswipe disconnected. The display informed her that she had a total of seventeen missed calls and twelve voice mails in just the last twenty minutes. She sighed and was just about to shove the offensive electronic back where it came from when it began vibrating in her hand once again.

"Shit," Amy cursed at seeing Jazz's name pop up on the caller ID this time around. Fumbling for the power button with trembling fingers, she turned the device off before pocketing it once again. She stood there for a moment with her eyes closed, willing with all her might for the entire unfortunate situation to just go away. When she opened her eyes again, however, everything still remained the same. Everything still hurt. Everything was still wrong. Everything was still her fault.

Taking in a shaky breath, she began moving once again. She wasn't as familiar with this area of the base but she managed to find what she was looking for. There was already a shuttle idling at the curb waiting to take passengers back to the other side of the island when she reached the stop. Feeling more dejected than she could remember feeling in a very long time, she climbed on board and made her way to the very back. Ignoring curious looks from the other passengers, she found an empty space and settled into it.

As the small bus lurched out of its parking space and into the street, Amy curled up in her seat and wrapped her arms around her knees. For all the effort she'd put into trying to overcome the life she'd been dealt, she could feel herself slipping back into the mind state of the scared little girl she'd once been. She knew there was no one to blame but herself. She'd let her guard down and had allowed herself to become comfortable, not to mention vulnerable. She'd known better and still let herself become entirely too emotionally involved. In return, she'd single-handedly sabotaged an entire military operation, perhaps the most important military operation in the history of the planet.

For what? So she could pretend for a few moments that she wasn't completely alone in the world? That there were people, from another planet nonetheless, that actually thought she was someone worth knowing? That she had some sort of intrinsic value that, up until now, had been entirely overlooked? That someone could like her, perhaps even love her, simply as she was? That, for once, someone would choose her and not someone else? It was an absolutely ridiculous childhood fantasy that she'd believed she'd purged herself of long ago and it had no place in her current situation. She was an adult now with adult responsibilities and there was no room for childish wishes.

Still, she could vividly remember sitting in Family Court time after time, waiting for her case to be called before the judge to find out where she would be shipped off to next after yet another failed placement. Her assigned social worker would barely acknowledge her presence other than to shoot her the occasional annoyed glance as if being there with her took her away from something else she'd much rather be doing instead. Amy would watch as the parade of other children before her were reunited with joyful, tearful parents or adopted into loving forever homes. She'd watch and she'd wonder what made the others so worthy and deserving and she so obviously not. What she wouldn't have given to trade places with any one of them. Was she that broken, she ask herself? That unlovable?

When it was finally her turn, she'd be made to sit there and listen as they spoke about her as if she wasn't even there. She'd sit there, all her meager worldly possessions sitting next to her inside of a black trash bag and feeling like garbage herself as they went on and on about how she was difficult and troubled, unmanageable, and unwanted. She took every biting comment to heart, believing with all her soul that she must be the problem. The horrible things done to her would be glossed over, merely a footnote in the court's records, as if the actions perpetrated against her were somehow less heinous since she had no one there to be outraged on her behalf. She didn't belong anywhere or to anyone. No one cared for or comforted her. She was completely alone.

When she'd been very young, she used to pray every night to God, asking Him with all her heart to send her a mommy or a daddy who would come and whisk her away to a happy home somewhere far away from the life she was living. She'd faithfully written letters to Santa Claus every year until she was eight, asking for a family of her own instead of Christmas presents, not that she ever received anything worthy of such a trade. Following the cigarette incident, in desperation, she'd even penned a letter in purple crayon and slipped it beneath her pillow with a baby tooth she'd had knocked out of her head asking the Tooth Fairy for any help she could provide. The next morning the letter had still been there, unopened and untouched, right along with her tooth. Apparently, even her teeth were worthless.

After a while she'd stopped praying. She'd stopped crying. She'd stopped asking for help. She began simply going through the motions. Another court hearing. Another foster home or stint at a group facility. Even the callous treatment and occasional abuse suffered at the hands of the strangers tasked to care for her ceased to outwardly move her, even though inside she could feel herself die a little more each time. She stopped living and started simply surviving, counting the years, the months, and days until she could make her escape out into the world. She'd eventually found the navy and with it had come the opportunity to distance herself from her past and maybe even salvage a semblance of a life for herself.

Then, she'd been uprooted once again and sent to Diego Garcia.

Amy could feel the tears begin to gather in her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. She'd been sent to N.E.S.T. to carry out a specific job, a specific function. She'd prided herself on her professionalism, her ability to perform her duties and perform them well and without distraction. Somewhere between her last command and this one she'd gone terribly off the rails. She'd been sucked in by Jazz and his easy, affable promise of companionship and the twins and the oddly affectionate connection they believed they shared with her. They'd made it all seem so easy, as if all she'd had to do was just show up to be instantly accepted into their little ragtag group of Autobots, no matter that she was human. She'd been blinded by the strange improbability of the situation she'd found herself in and had lost sight of her purpose. As the shuttle arrived at its stop on the other side of the base, Amy promised herself that it wouldn't happen again.

XXXXXXXXXX

There were about a million different things going through Jazz's processor. Nearly all of those thoughts somehow revolved around the small, human femme he'd taken into his care of his own accord. He'd long since suspected that the young woman was burdened by a troubled past but never in a million millennia would he have suspected something of such awful magnitude. Observations he'd made, small idiosyncrasies he'd made note of...they all suddenly clicked into place and the picture they formed didn't please him in the least. In fact, he found the sickening revelation horrifying to a degree he hadn't realized possible.

It was unfathomable to him the cruelty humans were capable of visiting upon the least of their race. Though, it shouldn't have been entirely surprising. As Prime had pointed out on more than one occasion, outward appearances aside, humans weren't much different than they. They were capable of great deeds and selfless kindness, but also cold, callous brutality and depravity. Amy's revelation, however, felt more like a personal affront. He felt almost as if the universe was rubbing his nose in it, as the humans would say, showing him the cost of his own shortcomings and failures. It left his spark feeling like a cold, lead ball sitting heavy inside of his chest. He was weighed down by guilt, feeling as though he, somehow, had personally failed her in her greatest time of need.

As he limped his way slowly from building to building, optics skimming over the humans present for any sign of the one he'd all but claimed as his own, he cursed his current infirmity. Had he ever believed he'd be in his present situation he may have made a different tactical decision back in Mission City. Urgency drove him forward but his body was unable to keep up to the degree needed. With an impatient sigh, he stopped and opened a comm channel and felt his spark constrict a bit more when it failed to ring through to its intended destination, instead going straight to voicemail.

"Scraplet..." Jazz begged, "Please, when ya get this message, call me. Come back to the office or I can meet ya somewhere. Whatever you want. We need ta talk and...and I need ta know you're okay. If ya don't want to talk to me then, please, call the twins. I'm worried about ya, kiddo."

It had been such an incredibly long time since Jazz had had anyone to worry about other than himself. It was strange, he thought, the way the mind and spark could so easily and comfortably slip back into certain patterns of thought and behavior after being bereft for so long. He chose not to dwell on the losses he'd suffered, however. It did no good to dig up what, by this planet's standards, was ancient history. He was by no means special in his misfortune. Everyone he knew had lost someone dear to their spark in this Primus-forsaken war. Prowl was really the only thing he had left of his former life, his oldest and dearest friend. More of a brother, really, when it came right down to it. They'd both suffered and had weathered the storm together. Without him ever even having to speak a word, Prowl had understood, even encouraged him, as instincts even he'd forgotten he'd had rose to the surface.

"To be willing to die for something is all well and good, Jazz, perhaps even heroic by some standards," Prowl had advised him upon landing planet side and seeing the horrifically mangled state he'd been left in following his altercation with Megatron. "But to be willing to live, even when it seems all is lost, is the ultimate show of selflessness."

He'd been willing to die then, ready even. He was exhausted down to his very spark and the thought of having to watch another beautiful, vibrant planet full of life meet the same fate his own had held no appeal whatsoever. Especially as he was in no shape to help prevent it. He'd been strangely disappointed, angry even, when Ratchet had cheerfully informed him that, given time, he'd be just fine. He'd been ready to accept his fate, to move on to whatever existed after this lifetime.

Then, he'd found Amy and though it should have been like trying to mash a square peg into a round hole, things just sort of lined up and snapped into place inside his processor. Even before he'd met her in person he'd been drawn to her particular personnel file for some strange reason. No matter many others he went through, he'd kept coming back to her's again and again. He couldn't explain why. It just felt right. Then, seeing her the first day down in the bunker, looking like a frightened glitch mouse and trying to disappear into the wall, he knew it was right. He did want to live now, more so than he had in quite some time.

After another moment of quiet contemplation, Jazz opened yet another comm channel, this time reaching out to the twins. As soon as a connection was established he asked, "Any luck?"

"No," Sunstreaker growled in frustration. "For such a small human, she's fast."

"It's an island," Sideswipe chimed in. "She couldn't have gone far. Don't worry," he added, sounding quite worried himself. "We'll find her."

"As soon as you do, you let me know." Jazz added, "and bring her straight back here."

"But, Jazz," Sideswipe was about to argue but Jazz cut him off.

He hated to do it, he knew how sick with worry the two mechs were, but Jazz pulled rank. It was of the utmost importance that he speak with her. "That's an order, Sideswipe. Don't make me tell you twice."

There was silence on the twins' end. No doubt they were debating the pros and cons of disobeying a direct order. After a long moment, Sunstreaker answered, "Fine. Sides and I are going to split up. He's going to cover this side of base and I'm going to circle back around by the barracks. In the mean time, if she comes back, you let us know."

"You know I will," Jazz promised before letting the comm drop.

He lingered where he was for another long moment, his thoughts dwelling on the young woman in his care and what he now knew of her. Again, the feeling that he'd let her down terribly washed over him. He knew Prime was a big believer in fate and he clearly recalled Ratchet's admission that he, too, believed everything happened for a reason...yet he could see no logic behind allowing a child to suffer as Amy had. Perhaps they had been meant to end up on Earth. Perhaps he and Amy had been meant to cross paths. Jazz couldn't help but wonder, though, why they couldn't have done so sooner, when it could have actually made a difference.

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Amy figured that the Personnel Office seemed like the most logical place to start. They'd shipped her to Diego Garcia, surely they'd be able to ship her out. She pushed all thoughts of Jazz and the twins out of her mind. Even though the thought of leaving made her heart squeeze in a way she'd never before experienced, she knew it was the right thing to do even if it did put her own life at risk.

"Can I help you?" A pretty, dark-skinned woman wearing an army uniform with Staff Sergeant insignia greeted Amy as she approached the counter. The name tape on her uniform identified her as Dodson.

"Hi," Amy greeted. "I was wondering who I'd need to speak to in order to see about transferring out of here?"

The woman, Dodson, arched a brow, "Being stuck on this island with giant robots not doing it for you, huh?"

Amy sighed, "You could say that."

"Well, you came to the right place." The woman sat aside a stack of files she'd been working on to devote her full attention to Doe. "You're certainly not the first. You'd probably be surprised how many transfer requests we get. From the outside looking in, alien robots seem cool and all but this definitely isn't an assignment for just anyone." She tapped the side of her head with her finger, "Not everyone is equipped to handle it, if you know what I mean. Have you filled out a transfer request?"

"No, not yet." Amy shook her head. "I've never done anything like this before. I'm not sure how the process works."

"Alright, well," the woman smiled, "let's take a look and see what we have to work with and we'll go from there. I need your name, rate, and service number."

"Amy Doe, Operations Specialist, 2nd Class," Amy provided and proceeded to rattle off her service number.

"Okay..." Dodson walked back to a shelving unit packed full of personnel files. Her fingers skimmed along them, eyes searching over the numbers until she came to the one she was looking for. She snagged it off the shelf. "OS2 Doe...here we go."

Walking back to the counter Staff Sergeant Dodson placed the file down and opened it up. Her eyes darted quickly over the page as she muttered to herself, "Completed A school in Great Lakes, previously stationed onboard the USS Harry S. Truman, Top Secret Security Clearance up to date and in good standing, blah, blah, blah...hmm..." the woman pursed her lips as she flipped quickly through the pages and then back again. She made a tutting sound, shook her head, and closed the file. "No, I'm sorry. I can't help you."

"What?" Perplexed, Amy leaned forward onto the counter. "Why not?"

The woman gazed back at Doe over the rim of her glasses, "Honey, you're on an indefinite personnel hold."

Amy's brow furrowed, "What does that mean?"

"Do you know what stop-loss policy is?" The Staff Sergeant asked.

Amy nodded.

"Well," She explained, "it would appear that when your reassignment to this duty station was finalized, you were flagged as mission-critical with a mandatory retention requirement."

Amy huffed in disbelief, "mandatory retention?"

"Mmhmm," the woman folded her hands together on top of the counter. "That means no PCS or PCA without the expressed consent of your Commanding Officer. We can't transfer you. Hell," the woman chuckled, "We don't even have to release you once your EAOS is up if they don't want us to. As far as the powers in charge are concerned, you're here to stay."

"I don't understand." Amy brought a hand to her forehead and tried to massage the tension away that was forming between her eyes. "I am far from mission-critical. I'm the exact opposite of mission-critical."

The woman shrugged, "someone obviously disagrees."

"So," Amy felt a sense of helplessness settle over her. "What can I do now? Is there anything I can do? I can't stay here. I can't..."

"About the only thing you can do in a case like this is take your request right up your chain of command, get your CO to sign a release." The Staff Sergeant gave Amy an encouraging smile. "I can get you the proper paperwork. If you can convince them this assignment is causing undue personal hardship and sign off on it, you can bring it back here and we can start the transfer process. Otherwise, you'll just have to suck it up until they decide to turn you loose."

Amy took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she weighed her options. From what interactions she had, Captain Lennox seemed like a reasonable man. "If I can get the paperwork signed," she asked, "what type of timeframe are we talking about here?"

"A week," The Staff Sergeant Dodson answered. "Maybe two depending on the availability of orders. Shore duty, as I'm sure you're aware, is a hot commodity. Sea billets, I've found, are easier to come by. If nothing else, we may be able to get you into TPU while you wait if you feel it's a time sensitive matter."

"It's definitely time sensitive." Amy nodded in understanding, "I'll take whatever you can get."

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Sideswipe felt himself overcome with a renewed sense of urgency as the conversation with Jazz ended. All he wanted at that very moment was just to find Amy, scoop her up, hold her close to his spark, and assure her that, despite whatever she may have gone through in the past, things would be different from here on out. She would never be alone, never be hurt again so long as it was within his and Sunny's power to prevent it. He was incapable of fully comprehending the utter isolation she'd alluded to. He'd never been alone before, not truly. Even when they were separated, he and Sunny still remained inherently bonded together, each fully cognizant of the presence of the other even if only at a subconscious level. The realization that she'd had no one, not even her own creators, to fill the void of solitude made his spark ache in a way he'd never felt before.

Not only that, but she'd been hurt, scarred even, through a means so despicable that it made his tank churn. He couldn't wrap his processor around it. How could anyone purposefully hurt something so small and soft and kind? What kind of person could look into those beautiful green eyes and do such a thing? A monster, he answered himself. Plain and simple. He longed to be able to rid the world of such a foul glitch if only for her sake but, more than that, he wanted Amy to understand that they couldn't hurt her anymore and that she didn't need to be afraid. They may have been navigating a rocky, unmapped road but they were making the journey together. This bump was no exception. They just needed to get up enough speed in order to get over it.

He knew his Ames was in no frame of mind to hear it and that his brother wasn't in a place where he was ready to flat out acknowledge it, but Sideswipe wasn't too proud to admit, if only to himself, that he had fallen in love with the woman. It went well beyond a passing fancy or simple curiosity about another species. Sure, he'd been infatuated by femmes before. Sunstreaker had, as well. Those instances, however, had been short lived, quickly fizzling out to be replaced by another. Never had they involved such spark-deep longing and admiration for another person. The fact that they had found each other despite light years of distance between them, that they had come to Earth at just the precise time to be placed in one another's path...it was more than just coincidence. It was meant to be. As improbable and impossible as the circumstances were, it had to be. He believed that to be true with every molecule of his being.

They needed to find her. They wouldn't let her go, not like this. They couldn't. It wasn't an option.

Sideswipe looked to his brother, noting the hard look in his optics and the rigid set of his jaw. He, obviously, felt the same even if he didn't voice it. Knowing they were on the same page, he asked, "What's the plan, Sunny?"

Sunstreaker grit his denta together, "We split up. You take this side of the island. Search every building, every nook and cranny a human could possibly squeeze themselves into."

Sides nodded.

"I'll do the same on the other side. Like you said," Sunny growled, "It's an island. She couldn't have gone far. I know humans can swim but I don't think they can swim that well."

"Are we taking her back to Jazz?" Sides asked, concerned she'd be pulled away from them before they could say what needed to be said. "What happens when we find her?"

"We fix this," Sunstreaker simply stated. "Whatever it takes."

Again, Sideswipe nodded in understanding, watching as his brother transformed down into his alt mode. "If you find her before I do..."

"You'll be the first person I comm."

As Sunstreaker peeled out away from the curb, Sides again felt that urgent tug at his spark. Wherever Ames was at that very moment she was hurting and alone. Regardless of whether or not it was too soon to make such declarations, as far as he was concerned the three of them were a team, a trio, an inseparable trine, though not technically bonded. There was absolutely no reason she should suffer alone and in silence, not when he and Sunny were there to help bear some of the burden. She'd had little reason to trust or rely on anyone but herself for so long that he was certain the transition would be a difficult one but if they could only get her to see how important she was to them, how irreplaceable, it would be a good start towards binding their little family together as it should be.

Family.

Sideswipe really, really liked the sound of that. They really were kind of like a little family in their own way, he mused. Despite the gravity of the situation, he smiled slightly at that thought. He lingered for only a moment longer, mentally mapping out the base and making a note of the places Amy was the likeliest to be before he, too, collapsed down into his alt form. With renewed resolve, Sideswipe set out to scour his side of the base for the woman he was, admittedly, helm over wheels in love with whether she realized it or not.

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"Transfer?" Lennox looked at the woman strangely. He seemed confused, as if her request made no sense to him whatsoever. "I was under the impression that things were going well between you and Jazz. He's done nothing but sing your praises since you got here. Am I missing something? What's changed since this morning?"

"Jazz isn't the problem," Amy stressed. "Jazz is...he's-he's great. I just..." Amy took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm and professional. It wouldn't do her cause any good to break down into a blubbering mess. "It's come to my attention that I may not be the right person to fill this billet. It's my professional opinion that it would be in everyone's best interest if you found someone else to fulfill my duties. I know there are other people who are just as qualified, probably more so, who would be more beneficial to this team than I am, sir."

"Not to argue but," Lennox shook his head, "I'm really trying to understand what's going on here. Jazz handpicked you out of over 500 possible candidates across all service branches with some civilian contractors thrown in for good measure. The stack of personnel files he and Epps went through was almost as tall as he is. Truthfully, I don't have the slightest clue what criteria he was looking for but when he pulled your file, you'd have thought the guy had found the Holy Grail. Jazz was extremely adamant that he wanted you, specifically. He wouldn't even consider anyone else. Now you're telling me he was mistaken?"

Amy swallowed hard and willed her eyes not to tear up, "Yes, I believe so, sir. I don't belong here."

"This seems awfully sudden," Lennox read over the paperwork and shook his head once again. "You were all smiles this morning. Did something happen? Is there something going on I need to know about? If there's a problem..."

"No, sir. Nothing like that." Amy shook her head and adamantly denied anything of the sort even though her current predicament was forefront in her mind. There was one truth, however, that she couldn't deny even if she'd wanted to. "It's me, sir. I'm the problem. Just me."

Lennox stared hard at her for another long moment, as if by doing so he could unravel this sudden conundrum. He sighed, running a hand through his hair in a habitual manner. "Alright," he huffed, "So, what do you need from me?"

Amy relaxed slightly, hoping she was finally getting somewhere. "I went to Personnel to ask how to get this whole thing rolling and was informed that there's a restriction on my file. I can't go anywhere until it's lifted and I was told the only one that could do that was my CO..."

"So you want me to sign this waiver," Lennox surmised.

"Yes, sir," Amy confirmed.

"I'm going to be honest," Lennox began, "I have no idea what's going on with you or Jazz, but I can tell you without a doubt that mandatory retention isn't N.E.S.T. standard operating procedure. We don't need people here that don't want to be. We're not holding anyone here against their will."

It was Amy's turn to look confused, "Sir?"

"I don't know why there's a restriction on your personnel file, Petty Officer Doe" he admitted. "I certainly didn't put it there but, if you're really serious about getting out of here..."

"I am," Amy nodded.

"I can find out." Lennox sighed, "I like to know what exactly I'm signing off on. Fair enough?"

"Yes, sir," she agreed.

"Alright," Lennox reluctantly tucked the paperwork back into its folder. "I'll look into this and see what's going on and then I'll get back to you."

"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it."

"Yeah, sure." Lennox returned the woman's salute and watched, perplexed, as she turned and seemed to slink from the hangar almost as if she were in hiding. The whole scenario didn't quite jive right in his mind. He had the feeling there was a lot more going on than just a simple transfer request. The Petty Officer didn't strike him as the type to act on a whim. Then again, she technically wasn't his to be fretting over. She was N.E.S.T., yes, but she was also considered TAD and didn't quite fall under the typical chain of command. That had been the agreement struck between the powers that be. Determined to get the unpleasantness done and over with, he grabbed the paperwork and went in search of Jazz.

XXXXXXXXXX

Not knowing where else to go after pleading her case with Lennox, Amy had returned to the barracks. Foregoing the elevator, she chose to climb the back stairs in hope that the physical exertion may help burn some of her nervous energy. It didn't. When she reached her room, she was a bit disheartened to see a collection of sticky notes stuck to her door. Her eyes flitted over the printed text, her throat tightening as she read.

'Call Jazz. He says it's urgent.'

'Sideswipe is looking for you. Please give him a call.'

'Sunstreaker is starting to make us really nervous. Can you please call him so he'll leave us alone?'

And on they went. There were eight notes in total. She carefully peeled them off her door and shoved them in her pocket. Taking her key card out, she quickly swiped it and let herself inside her room. A weariness settled over her and she went to sink down onto the end of her bed. She dug her phone back out of her pocket and pressed the power button, turning it back on. Almost immediately it began to vibrate with an incoming call.

Sunstreaker

She swiped left to decline and was shocked to see that in the time she'd been running around trying to rectify her situation that she had an additional fifteen missed calls and her voicemail box was full. She quickly powered it back off and tossed it to the side. With a groan of frustration, she fell backwards onto the bed and dug the heels of her hands into her eyes. She felt like everything was falling apart around her. Even more disconcerting was that she seemed to be the only one, at least in her eyes, that was upset about it. She couldn't for the life of her understand how they could be so accepting and unconcerned about something as potentially detrimental to their ability to bring an end to a war that had been fought for much, much too long.

Just then, there was a sudden knocking on her door. It startled her and she flew up into a sitting position. She remained absolutely still, not even daring to breathe as she strained her ears to hear who might be outside her room. A moment ticked by, then two, before the knocking came again.

"Hello?" An unfamiliar, masculine voice called out, "Petty Officer Doe, are you home?"

Amy remained still and unmoving. After a few long moments in which she waited with bated breath, she finally heard whoever it was knock one last time and mumble something unintelligible before their footsteps retreated back in the direction of the elevator. She let out a long, shaky breath and rose from the bed. She'd spent her entire life longing for company and acceptance but now that she just wanted to disappear off to herself, her room wasn't even safe harbor.

She couldn't stay here but there really wasn't anywhere else to escape to. There was no port catwalk to disappear to and clear her head. There was no gentle rocking of the waves beneath her feet. She didn't even have the feeling of security being surrounded by 97,000 tons of floating steel had once afforded her. She felt adrift in a sea of uncertainty. She needed to organize her thoughts.

It came to her then. A small whimper of relief escaped from between her lips as she began to jerk the bobby pins out of her hair and work it loose from its bun. She quickly combed her fingers through the blond locks, not so much in an attempt to straighten the waves but in an effort to ease some of the tension building around her temples. With the same efficiency she proceeded to divest herself of her uniform, taking time to carefully hang the garments back up in her locker before digging through the rest of her incredibly limited civilian wardrobe for a pair of gray running shorts and a light blue T-shirt.

She redressed quickly, feeling somewhat vulnerable with her arms and legs now exposed. She studiously ignored the small, circular scars that dotted her skin, instead shoving her feet into a pair of running shoes. She collected her military ID and her room key, tucking them both into the hidden pocket within her shorts, and left her phone still powered off and lying on her bed. Creeping to the door, she carefully opened it a crack and peeped out. A tentative look down both ends of the hallway told her the coast was clear. Stepping out, she closed the door and locked it behind herself only to spy an actual piece of notebook paper now taped to it. With a sigh, she plucked it off. They were nothing if not persistent.

The writing was...strange. It was in English, obviously, or she wouldn't be able to read it, but the lettering was more akin to calligraphy and seemed better suited to the front of a Hallmark card than to be scrawled across a ripped-out piece of wide ruled notebook paper. It almost reminded her of Bellissima font and she paused for a moment to simply admire the quality of the penmanship on display before reading the short note.

Squishie,

This is getting ridiculous. We're not going away so stop acting like your wires are crossed and answer your fragging phone. Please.

Yours,

Sunstreaker

A lump formed in her throat and tears prickled at her eyes. For the life of her, she couldn't wrap her head around their insistence. It wasn't something she'd ever experienced before and, honestly, she wasn't sure how to deal with it. She knew how to make herself scarce. She wasn't as sure how to make herself available. In this situation, she was certain doing so wasn't even an option. There was too much at stake to let personal feelings, wants, and desires strain an already precarious scenario. As Captain Lennox had so vehemently advised Galloway, there was a war going on with soldiers to command and strategies to devise.

Taking a shaky breath, she folded the paper into a small square and tucked it into her shorts as well. She wouldn't even know what to say to them if she did answer the phone, she decided. It was what it was. She had a pretty good idea of what they would say, however. She'd heard it over and over her entire life. She didn't need any more feigned shock or empty apologies. She most certainly didn't want their pity. She didn't think she could stand to see that look of benign sympathy on their faces...the look of someone feeling sorry for her. She'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

The sound of the elevator suddenly moving caught her attention. A quick glance down the hall told her it was on its way back up. Not wanting to be caught standing in the hallway, she quickly turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction. She rounded the corner out of sight just as she heard the ding indicating the elevator doors had opened. Seizing the opportunity to escape, she made a break for the back staircase. She needed some time to decompress.

XXXXXXXXXX

Normally, Jazz was a pretty easy mech to find. Given his current physical limitations there were only so many places he could go. He could usually be found in the med bay with Ratchet, the bunker with Doe, Prowl's office, or in the peaceful solitude of his own quarters. Lennox, however, was drawing a blank. He'd been to all the mech's usual haunts and had come up empty. Though he rarely ventured too far into the bots' actual living spaces, figuring they owed them at least a modicum of privacy to do whatever it was giant alien robots did when they weren't fighting each other, he found himself standing in what they had designated as a rec area.

Jazz was nowhere to be seen but, as luck would have it, a certain yellow scout seemed to be taking full advantage of his down time. Bumblebee looked as comfortable as someone of his build and stature could be under the circumstances. He was sprawled out in a chair that looked as though it had been fabricated and welded together from pieces of a large metal shipping container. He held a half-empty cube of energon in one hand- something that momentarily intrigued Lennox as he had often wondered how the scout ingested his rations given his apparent lack of mouth parts. It was a mystery that wouldn't be solved today given that the mech seemed perfectly content just to swirl it around. His softly glowing gaze was focused on the enormous television mounted to the wall and he seemed totally engrossed in an episode of Maury.

"In the case of nine month old David, Chris, you are not the father!"

"Oh, snap!" Bee sat forward in the chair as if he couldn't quite believe the results either.

Lennox chuckled as he approached, "Watching that crap will rot out your brains, Bee."

The mech jumped, slightly startled by the sudden intrusion. Upon realizing who it was, Bee looked slightly embarrassed at having been caught indulging in a guilty pleasure. He recovered quickly, greeting the man, "Greetings from Starfleet, Captain."

"Sorry to interrupt," Lennox apologized. "I'm looking for Jazz. Have you seen him? It's kind of important."

Bumblebee nodded, pointed to the Captain, then tapped himself on the chest plates and made a motion as if using a steering wheel.

"Really? You don't mind? That'd be great, Bee." Lennox breathed in relief, "I've been all over this base once already. You're the best."

Bee made a gesture as if to say he was well aware before sitting his cube to the side, switching off the television, and rising from his seat. With all the strange grace and flexibility Lennox had come to expect from his alien friends, a shiny, yellow Camaro soon stood in the mech's place. The driver's side door popped open in invitation. Without any hesitation, Lennox slipped inside. The door shut gently behind him.

As the car began to move, Lennox thanked the mech once again, "I appreciate this, Bumblebee. I really do. It's been a long, strange day."

A sympathetic sound emanated from the radio as they ventured deeper into the base. They rolled to a halt right outside of the small outbuilding that served as a facility for the storage of crude oil for conversion into energon. Prowl typically oversaw the the rationing of oil barrels given the expense and extensive paperwork involved in procurement. Sure enough, the SIC was there but so also was Jazz. The two seemed to be involved in a serious conversation from what Lennox could see.

Prowl stood rigidly still, door wings held high. He wore a look of concentrated concern which he seemed to reserve for only the most grave of circumstances. Jazz, on the other hand, was much more animated, gesturing almost frantically as the other mech frowned and nodded in understanding. Lennox was loathe to interrupt but the paperwork he carried with him demanded an explanation.

The Captain climbed out of Bee and, as he approached the other two mechs, heard the sound of transformation echoing from behind as the curious scout switched back into his bipedal mode. Lennox cleared his throat, drawing the attention of Prowl and Jazz. "Prowl," he greeted with a nod. "Jazz, I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Will," Jazz returned the greeting, "Now's not really the best time. I'm kinda dealing with a situation..."

"I figured." Lennox extended the request paperwork he'd received from Doe toward the mech, "Wouldn't happen to have anything to do with this by any chance, would it?"

"What is it?" Frowning, Jazz took the offered packet and began to read through it.

Prowl, too, stepped forward, reading over the smaller mech's shoulder, his own frown deepening. After a moment the two paused and looked at each other. Though no words were spoken, Lennox had been around the bots long enough to know that some form of communication had passed between them.

A long moment of silence passed before Prowl asked, "May I?"

After a bit of hesitation, Jazz handed the paperwork over to the SIC who, in turn, carefully rolled it and tucked it into some hidden compartment or another behind his chest plates.

"Well," Lennox looked questioningly between the two mechs, "Does anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on? If we're having personnel problems I need to know about it so it can be dealt with."

Jazz vented heavily and shook his head. He stalked away several feet and planted his hands on his hips, head tilted back, and stared at the sky as it somehow held the answers to the Captain's question.

Prowl finally spoke, "Rest assured, Captain, that we are not experiencing any personnel related issues. We're quite happy with the team as it's been assembled."

"Okay," Lennox drawled. "Great. Glad to hear it. So, why is Petty Officer Doe trying to jump ship? It seems really out of the blue. Kind of out of character from what I've seen of her, you know?"

Prowl seemed to consider his words carefully before speaking again, "We're currently dealing with a rather complex domestic situation, the details of which I won't bore you with as it is quite a private matter and has no bearing on day-to-day operations of this base. What I will say is that we are currently working toward an amicable solution to benefit all parties involved."

Lennox's brow furrowed in confusion, "Domestic?"

"Indeed," Prowl confirmed with a sharp nod. "As a family man, yourself, I'm sure you can appreciate the care and discretion with which these matters must be handled. As for Petty Officer Doe's request, we'll give it the appropriate vetting and consideration it deserves. Will there be anything else, Captain?"

"I, uh," Lennox scratched his head. "No, I guess not."

"Very well." Prowl added in a dismissive tone, "If you'll excuse us, we have business to attend to."

Lennox watched as Prowl laid a hand on Jazz's shoulder and indicated for the mech to follow him. He got the strange feeling that he'd just been blown off. Obviously, they wanted him kept out of the loop of whatever was going on. A domestic situation? He looked back to Bee, as if the mech might hold some answer to what was going on. Unfortunately, he looked just as confused and simply offered a shrug in return before folding himself back down into his alt mode and opening his door in invitation.

With a sigh, Lennox trudged back over to the car and climbed inside. "Thanks, Bee."

XXXXXXXXXX

Sunstreaker was furious. For the most part, he was a straightforward type of mech when it came to dealing with issues that threatened those he cared about. When a problem arose, he handled it in the most expedient way possible...usually with his fists. It probably wasn't the most pragmatic way to handle certain situations but it was a method that had served he and his brother well over the vorns. The situation he now found himself in confounded him, however. This wasn't something he could punch his way out of. His enemy was intangible, the ghosts of a past that couldn't ever be completely exorcised.

It was something he was all too familiar with himself.

As he cruised slowly through the admin/housing side of the base, he kept himself tuned in to his surroundings, looking for even the smallest indication that the human he searched for had been there. Searching for a slagging human...something he would have never ever thought he'd be doing. But, as he'd been reminding himself over and over again, she wasn't just a human. She was their human. She was their...what? It was messy and confusing and, at times like this when he didn't know what to do, more than a little infuriating. He didn't even know how to classify her anymore.

Friend? It was far more intimate than that. She carried part of them, their very essence, within her being. Bonded? She didn't have a spark of her own with which to reciprocate. If she had, things would be so much simpler and make much more sense. Mate? He wasn't entirely convinced such a thing was even physically possible. That, however, didn't stop him from thinking of ways to make it work. She was their's. Just...their's. When it came right down to it, human or no, that's all that really mattered and all he really needed to know.

She was their's, their's to care for and protect, and someone had hurt her. Terribly, and not just in the physical sense. Physical wounds healed eventually, it was the injuries you couldn't see that always caused the worst pain. Every bolt in his body demanded retribution on her behalf, for all the suffering and loneliness. The pain that radiated from her had been a near tangible thing. Like a switch being flipped, something inside of him had snapped to life, demanding justice for the wrongs that had been committed against the small creature that had unwittingly wormed her way into his spark through means that should have been impossible.

Earth was filthy, organics were disgusting, and yet here he was getting all bent out of shape over one despite it all.

He'd gone building to building, more or less demanding cooperation from the hapless humans unfortunate enough to find themselves in his path. She hadn't been in her barracks or the chow hall or any of the other surrounding structures. He'd questioned people, all denied having seen her. He was growing irritated, not so much with her but with himself for allowing her to walk out in the first place. This was something that needed to be discussed and dealt with as a cohesive unit. At least, that's how these things were supposed to work, or so he'd always been lead to believe...if they could figure out where the frag she'd run off to, that is.

With a growl of frustration, he suddenly stopped dead in the middle of the road, causing the Jeep driving along behind him to have to slam on their brakes to keep from plowing into his aft. He transformed back into his bipedal mode, giving the driver a menacing glare that had them immediately reversing and flipping a u-turn. He watched the vehicle disappear down the road before returning his attention to the task at hand. Heedless of the humans that scattered in his path, he strode down the street, optics sharp and his head on a swivel.

He followed the road around, eventually ending up directly in front of the MWR building, and paused. A memory tugged at his processor and he stepped out of the street and up onto the sidewalk. He moved around to the side of the building and spotted it. Sure enough, a footpath had been worn into the scraggly grass, leading back away from the street and down toward the beach. Toward the ocean.

The Squishie loved the ocean.

Though not thrilled about the prospect of trudging through sand, his distaste for the grainy particulate was overridden by his need to see Amy safe and sound. Hoping to finally put this whole horrible situation to rest, he followed the trail around until it opened up into a small dune field that sloped gently downward into the back shore of the beach. There, sitting in the sand about ten feet from the waves that lapped at the shoreline, sat the object of his search. The relief that washed over him felt unreal.

"Sides," Sunstreaker immediately commed his brother, hoping to ease his tension as well. "I found her."

Sideswipe's reply was instantaneous, "Where?"

"On the beach," Sunny replied. "Behind MWR. Follow the path around the side of the building."

"Don't let her leave! I'm on my way," relief filled the silver front liner's voice and the comm immediately cut out.

Sunstreaker stood there a moment longer, simply watching the woman from a distance. She seemed completely lost in her own thoughts, not really even seeing the ocean waves rushing up the beach just a few feet away from her. She looked small and alone set against the backdrop of endless ocean spread out before her. He considered coming Jazz as he knew the mech was probably worried out of his processor, but he hesitated. He wasn't afraid to admit that he was greedy in some aspects. Though it may have been selfish, he wanted her to themselves. Just for a while. Just until they could figure out where things stood.

Sunny drew air down deep into his intakes, venting it out slowly, and set off across the beach. He grit his denta against the feel of the sand shifting beneath his pedes as he walked. He tried his best not to think about how much time he'd be spending in the wash racks later. "Of all the places you could have run off to," he grumbled to himself, "it had to be the dirtiest place on this entire slagging island."

The woman didn't even seem to acknowledge his presence as he came to a halt right next to her. Frown firmly engrained on his face plates, he studied her for another long moment before turning to gaze at the ocean as he collected his thoughts. He wished Sideswipe would hurry. He was much better at all the flowery emotional stuff. Personally, Sunny preferred showing over telling. Actions speaking louder and whatnot. A hopeful glance back the way he came, however, told him his twin had not yet arrived.

Sucking in yet another deep inhalation, the mech lowered himself down into the sand, grimacing at the feeling of the small, gritty grains of sand immediately working their way into tiny cracks and crevices that he'd just as soon not think about. Once he was settled, only a couple inches of space remained between them. Forearms propped on his knees, his fingers twitched as he did his very best to resist the urge to reach out and touch her.

"Gotta hand it to you, Squishie," he spoke, finally drawing the woman's attention. "You're almost as good at disappearing as Mirage...and that trinket has it down to a science, especially when there's work involved."

Amy sniffled but said nothing. Instead, she focused her attention back on the water.

Sunny looked her over and decided that she looked miserable. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes. Her face was blotchy and red and a telltale moisture glittered upon her cheekbones. He bit his glossa as an almost automatic retort about leaky organics popped into his processor. Despite not having the gift of words his brother possessed, he knew there was a time and place for everything—this wasn't it. Instead, he noted that she'd changed from her uniform into civilian clothes at some point leaving her arms and legs exposed to his view.

In a different place and under different circumstances, he may have found all of that strange, smooth, alien softness intriguing enough to explore. Now, however, his optics seemed to search out every single unnatural blemish and imperfection, analyzing and cataloging each one, mentally adding to the list he was compiling of wrongs that needed to be righted. She must have felt the weight of his stare as she shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny and wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. Sunstreaker vented and looked away.

"Look, Squishie," Sunny shook his head, "I'm not very good at this. Sides is on his way and he'll know what to say but I want you to know that...I'm sorry."

Amy made a snuffling sound and buried her face in her knees.

Sunny kicked at the sand with one foot, sending a small plume of it up into the air. "I'm sorry you were stuck here by yourself on this filthy fragging planet while we were out there," he gestured to the sky.

Amy lifted her head slightly, seemingly confused by the turn in his apology. She'd expected pity. This...wasn't it. This was...anger.

"We didn't plan for any of this. I know that ignorance isn't an excuse but I'm sorry just the same. I don't know how these things are handled between humans but, where we're from, we take things like this very seriously." The mech continued, "We weren't here then, but we're here now so, you need to get it through that small, boney head of your's that all the going it solo survival slag is over. It's done. No more running away and hiding when something doesn't go your way. That's not how this works. Whether you like it or not, your problems are now our problems and vice versa. We deal with them together. That's just how it is so cut all the stoic loner slag and pull your head out of your aft. We're not doing this again."

Amy looked taken aback and slightly offended

"That said," Sunny ignored her stunned expression and gentled his tone slightly, "I don't guess you want to talk about it right now? Maybe write down some names and addresses for me?"

She huffed in incredulity.

"No?" Sunstreaker sighed, "Later, then. It's not like Sides and I have poured our sparks out to you or anything, is it? I guess it's technically our turn, right? It's only fair. So," he rumbled, "what do you want to know?"

Amy said nothing, not yet trusting herself to speak.

"Right," he vented. "Well, let's see, Sides and I are from a city-state called Kaon. I guess you humans would say it was on the wrong side of the tracks. Completely Decepticon controlled."

That seemed to draw Amy's full attention. She sat up straighter and turned her gaze up to the mech fully, the look on her face a cross between curiosity and perplexity.

"Kaon was famous for two things," Sunstreaker continued, his gaze far off as he remembered. "The smelting pits where anyone who was brave or mis-clocked enough to stand up against the regime were sent to be executed and the gladiator pits where those self-important fraggers would all go to watch mechs far less fortunate than themselves beat the everliving slag out of each other until one of them dropped in exchange for a few credits."

Amy drew in a small, shocked breath.

"The only other real viable options not involving death or dismemberment were to either join the Decepticon Army or go to work in the energon mines." A sad smile lifted one corner of the mech's mouth. "Our creators...parents...," he corrected for her benefit. "They worked the mines. They busted their afts every single day to keep our tanks full and a roof over our heads." He mused, "We were rust poor and didn't even know it. We never lacked for the important things and despite everything else going on, we had a pretty good life together. Then," his smile fell, "one day they just didn't come home."

A moment passed in which the only sound was that of the rolling ocean before Amy finally spoke, asking in a small voice, "What happened to them?"

"There was an accident at the mine," Sunny rumbled. "The Decepticons needed the energon to fuel their army. They didn't care how they got it so long as the cubes kept coming. The safety of the bots mining it wasn't high in their list of priorities and the whole thing just sort of...caved in on them. They didn't even bother to try to retrieve the bodies. They just left them there like they were nothing but scrap metal and opened a new mine shaft."

Amy once again felt tears fill her eyes. They weren't for herself this time, however, they were for the two mechs she'd grown so close to. It was obvious they had loved their creators/parents very much. Though she'd never experienced that type of familial bond herself, she couldn't imagine what it must have felt like to have that all taken away in an instant. She was under no delusion that she was the only one to ever experience grief but with Sideswipe always seeming so mischievous and upbeat and Sunstreaker being so, well...himself...she would have never guessed such a trauma was buried in their past. Guilt washed over her and she felt suddenly selfish for focusing so much on her own issues without any thought or consideration for anything else.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered brokenly.

"We were young," he continued. "Too young to be left on our own. They sent us to what they call a Youth Sector. Supposedly it's a place they send younglings and sparklings who've ended up on their own where they're taken care of until they can take care of themselves. What it really was is a cheap labor camp. We weren't there long. I'd be damned straight to the Pit before I'd have let us becomes slaves to the same system that killed our creators. We left and took our chances on the streets."

"It was hard," he admitted. "We did whatever we needed to do...lied, stole, cheated. We got involved in a lot of things we're not too proud of. We learned how to fight in order to survive. Eventually, we got good at it." He smirked, "Really, really good. So good that we went down and signed up to fight in the pits. Most bots outside of Kaon looked down on gladiatorial combat and those that participated in it but, it was legal and paid better than hustling credits on the street corner."

Amy nodded in understanding even as her heart felt like it was breaking.

"Then this slagging war broke out and we jumped at the opportunity to give the Decepticons a little taste of what they'd put us through. Now we're here. So there you have it, Squishie. That's the condensed version." Sunstreaker gave a self deprecating snort. "You've managed to get yourself tangled up with a couple of lowlife scrappers from the bad side of town. You really know how to pick them."

"You're not...lowlife scrappers...," Amy softly disagreed.

Sunny shrugged, "Well, I know at least one person who disagrees with you on that point."

"They're wrong," Amy emphatically stated, feeling in her gut that she knew exactly who Sunstreaker was referring to. After a moment of contemplative silence, she quietly asked, "What were their names? Your parents?"

"Tempest and Redline."

Sunstreaker and Amy both startled slightly at the sound of Sideswipe's voice. They turned to find the mech standing a respectful distance away.

Sunstreaker demanded, "The frag you doing all the way over there?"

Sides shrugged, "I didn't want to interrupt."

Sunstreaker rolled his optics as he twin finally approached and joined them in the sand. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough," Sideswipe gave his brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder as he settled himself down next to Amy. He refocused his attention on the woman, "Sweet spark...are you ok?"

"Yeah." Amy shrugged, "I don't know. I just...I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. I feel like everything is just slowly coming apart and the only one bothered by it is me and that makes me feel even worse."

"Maybe it isn't coming apart," Sides theorized. "Maybe it's finally coming together and it's the sudden change that's scary. It doesn't have to be, though. Sunny and I made it through some pretty dark times together." He gestured between them, "We, the three of us, we can figure this out too. We know it can be hard," Sideswipe admitted. "Being twins and sharing a spark, sometimes it can be difficult to relate to people on the outside that don't share that same connection but you're a part of that connection now, too. You just have to let us in."

"I'm not sure I know how," the woman admitted.

"It has to begin somewhere, Ames," Sideswipe nudged the woman. "Sunny's right. Stop running and hiding. You need to talk to us. Tell us what's on your mind. Let us know when there's a problem. Like one of your famous philosopher's once said, if you wanna make the world a better place, take a look at yourself, and then make a change."

Amy raised a brow even as she contemplated the wisdom of his words. She wished it were that easy. "I'm pretty sure those are lyrics to a Michael Jackson song."

Sunstreaker snorted, "Man in the Mirror."

Sideswipe gave a half shrug, "He was the King of Pop. Same difference. The sentiment still stands."

For the first time since that morning, Amy actually smiled a bit.

Sunstreaker's comm suddenly crackled to life in his audio.

Jazz's voice poured over the connection, "Please tell me you've found her."

"Not yet," He lied. He was loathe to disturb the quiet moment of peace they'd managed to carve out for themselves. He felt they were teetering on the verge of some sort of breakthrough and could tell Sides felt it as well. Jazz could wait...at least for a little while longer. "We'll let you know when we do."

End of Chapter 36