Finding Home

Chapter 37

By Voodoo Queen

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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! I hope you're all wonderful on this beautiful day. To everyone in the States, I hope you had a great Thanksgiving. I totally ate myself into a turkey coma, lol...but it was delicious. As promised, here is the second half of the last chapter. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to those who've added this story to their alerts and follows and especially to my fantastic reviewers: SunnyandSidesFemme17, 'Anonymous' (glad I could brighten your day!), KayleeChiara, TheCauldron, jellybeanz513, poppycakes, shelby20125, Alice Gone Madd, Ekeifer, shizzlethis1, o-dragon, xXTheLegendXx, monkeybaby, 'Guests', xIliadx, AmirreaTheArtist, SoundlyManners, BarricadesDemon216, and bambam411

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

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The decided to walk back as opposed to drive. The twins were in no rush to get back and Amy seemed more or less content to go along with whatever they wanted. They'd spent nearly an hour sitting on the beach just talking and trying to figure things out. Eventually, Jazz's comms became frequent and insistent enough that Sunstreaker had finally relented and told the mech they'd found her safe and sound. He suspected the TIC knew they hadn't been completely forthcoming about Amy's whereabouts but figured he'd have to understand where they were coming from. In the end, they'd agreed to head back to the other side of the base.

Amy had found herself plucked from the ground and, after a careful embrace and affectionate nuzzle, balanced precariously upon one of Sideswipe's broad shoulders. Though she guesstimated the mech -only- stood about fifteen or so feet tall, the ground seemed very, very far away. It was enough to make her head spin slightly. To steady herself, she grabbed onto the closest thing she could find, which just so happened to be a small indentation in the armor on the side of the mech's head, and held on for dear life.

"Easy there, Ames," Sideswipe chuckled. "You can relax your grip. That's my ear you're crushing."

"Oh!" She felt her face heat in embarrassment but also felt the itch of curiosity. Leaning in a bit closer, she examined the area she'd been clinging to and, sure enough, spotted the opening to what apparently was an auditory canal camouflaged within the seams of Sideswipe's armor. Not thinking, she released her hold and instead used her index finger to gently trace around it in an exploratory manner.

Sideswipe jumped slightly as a shiver ran through his frame, "That tickles."

"Sorry!" Amy jerked her hand away as if she'd been burned.

"I never said I didn't like it," he teased.

Again, Amy felt her face grow hot.

"Seriously, though," the mech assured with a grin, "you can relax. I'm not going to let you fall. I swear on my spark. It all goes back to that trust thing we were talking about, remember?"

"Right," Amy sighed. Aside from being so far from the ground, she was also keenly aware of the curious stares they were drawing from passers by as they made their way down the street. Amy's voice trembled as she tried to ignore them. "It's just...I can walk, you know."

"I know," Sides agreed. "But this is much more fun. Don't you think?"

"People are looking at us," she commented.

"So?" Sunstreaker shrugged as he walked along beside them. " Let them look. What have any of these fraggers ever done for you?"

"Nothing," Amy quietly admitted.

"Exactly," Sunny continued. "You spend too much time worrying about what a bunch of useless meat sacks think about you and all you end up doing is making yourself miserable. You don't need to ingratiate yourself to any of them. They can all go straight to the Pit. They're not better than you are."

Amy opened her mouth to argue but promptly shut it again. There was truth to what Sunstreaker said. Her entire life she'd spent walking on eggshells, trying to please everyone around her and often at her own expense. It wasn't so much that she wanted people to like her, she'd settle just to be tolerated. She wanted to be accepted at the very least which was a very elusive prospect for someone who'd been basically rejected in some form or another her entire life. She spent so much time worrying about doing or saying the wrong thing that would get her ostracized that sometimes she couldn't think of anything else. It was, at times, all consuming.

"Sunny's right," Sides chimed in, disrupting Amy's train of thought. "Besides, we happen to think you're pretty great and I'm not just saying that because of the whole spark thing. It's true." He began to tick points off on his fingers. "You're smart. You work hard. You're honest. Kind. Responsible..."

"Forgiving," Sunstreaker tossed out.

Sideswipe pointed at his brother in agreement. "Not to mention," he added with a lopsided grin, "You're the most attractive human I've seen since I've been here."

Sunstreaker hummed in agreement.

"And," Sideswipe, seeing how the woman grew flustered, threw in for good measure, "you're amazingly soft and your hair smells really, really good. If other people can't see that, then frag 'em. It's their loss."

"I.." Amy frowned. "I guess..."

"I know," Sides turned his head and winked at her.

Sunstreaker seemed to pick her train of thought right out of the air. "We aren't like them, Squishie. Whatever happens, we're not going anywhere."

Amy's frown deepened as she quietly spoke, "I requested a transfer."

"What?" Sideswipe's head whipped back around so quickly that it nearly startled Amy off her perch. "Why?"

Amy sighed. "I'm sorry. I just...I panicked..."

"Of course you did," Sunstreaker shook his head. "Why wouldn't you? I swear, Squishie..."

"I was thinking about my job and how me being here was compromising mission integrity with you guys being forced to stay on base..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Sunstreaker stepped in front of his brother and stopped walking, placing a hand out for Sides to stop as well. "Pump your brakes. Let's get a couple things straight. First of all, no one 'forces' us to do anything. Ever. Secondly, mission integrity is nowhere near compromised and if it was, it sure as the Pit wouldn't be your fault."

"But," Amy started to argue, "They pulled you from the mission rotation because of me!"

"Partly," Sideswipe conceded. "Well, that was mostly me and Sunny's argument, anyway. No way were we going to leave you here alone after what happened last time. Never. Not going to happen. Of course, Lennox wouldn't have understood any of that so, Jazz put forth a very valid strategic argument."

"Which," Sunny smirked, "we would have gladly told you about if you hadn't glitched out and ran off on us before we could."

Amy's brow furrowed, "Strategic?"

"Think about it, Ames," Sideswipe explained, "Your office is two doors down from the last remaining piece of the Allspark."

Amy shuddered slightly as she remembered her one and only interaction with the fragment. "Okay..."

Sunstreaker elaborated, "We've literally fought a war over that piece of space junk. We had to beat the Deceptiscum back down into the Pit just to get it here. Who do you think is going to handle them if they ever pull their heads out of their afts long enough to figure out where we're hiding the fragging thing?"

"No offense, sweet spark," Sideswipe chuckled, "but your military is kind of...well...mushy."

"So..." Amy began to connect the dots. "You're kind of staying here to stand guard?"

"Ironhide got himself blown full of holes, Jazz isn't in any shape to scrap either, Bee's always with that Witwicky kid, Ratchet's a fragging doctor, Prime and Prowl are always traveling all over creation to meet with this or that leader, and Mirage is a useless trinket." Sunny asked, "Who else is going to do it?"

Amy nodded, "I...I guess I never thought of that."

"That's why you need to talk to us, Ames." Sideswipe turned his head to look at the woman. "If you have concerns about something, let us know. We can work it out but we can't read your mind."

Feeling thoroughly chastised, Amy nodded. "You're right. It was...I was stupid."

"You're not stupid," Sunstreaker vented as the trio began moving once again. "We get it. You just need to stop jumping to the worst case scenario right out of the gate, that's all. Stop making things harder than they need to be. Primus knows, life's hard enough."

It was silent for a moment as they continued on their way, each absorbing the conversation in their own way.

Then after a beat, Sideswipe asked in all seriousness, "So, where are we going and when do we leave?"

Amy turned her head to look at him, "We?"

"Well, yeah," the mech nodded. "You transfer, we transfer. That's how this works, Ames. You can't break a set. Everyone knows that. It's common knowledge."

"Where you go, we go," Sunstreaker confirmed. "Sides and I share a spark so we're stuck with each other. You've absorbed some of that energy so you're stuck with us."

Sideswipe mused as they continued to walk. "I wouldn't really mind getting off this island, to be honest. Just picture it, Ames...miles and miles of wide open highway, the radio turned all the way up, windows down, wind whipping through your hair..."

Sunny smirked, "No sand stuck up under your aft armor..."

"And there's that," Sides chuckled.

"Well, don't pack just yet." Amy shared, "I have some sort of restriction on my personnel file. I can't go anywhere until it's lifted."

Sideswipe lifted a brow plate in curiosity, "What's that about?"

Amy shrugged, "I turned my paperwork in to Lennox. He's looking into it."

"Don't worry about it, Squishie," Sunny assured the woman. "Stay. Go. We'll figure something out."

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Jazz was waiting right outside the hangar when they arrived. His arms were crossed over his chest and one foot tapped against the concrete in an anxious, nervous fashion. His normally jovial grin had been replaced with a tight, drawn frown. It was obvious to anyone that the mech wasn't happy. Even the passing humans who normally took time to stop and chat with the friendly, social bot when he was out and about gave him a wide berth.

When Amy laid eyes on him, she felt a knot form in her stomach.

It was Sideswipe who tried to break the tension. "Here she is, Jazz. Safe and sound just like we promised. So," the mech shrugged the shoulder Amy wasn't sitting on and turned as if to leave, "If there'll be nothing else, we'll all just be on our way."

"Put 'er down, Sides." Jazz's tone left little room for argument and stopped the other mech in his tracks.

Sideswipe resisted, "But, Jazz..."

"Put. Her. Down."

Sunny growled, "She doesn't need you lecturing her."

Jazz cycled air slowly through his vents to calm himself. "I'm not going to lecture her but there's some things we need to discuss. Alone," he added.

Sideswipe again opened his mouth to argue but received a sharp elbow in his side from his brother.

Sunstreaker shook his head, causing his brother to shut his mouth once more. "Let her down, Sides."

Reluctantly, Sideswipe complied and gently helped the woman to the ground.

"Go back to your berthing," Jazz encouraged the pair. "Get some rest. She'll be fine."

After a moment, Sunny nodded. "Fine." He looked pointedly at Amy, "If you need us, Squishie, you know where we'll be."

Sideswipe looked less convinced, almost petulant at the idea. He knew Jazz had a strong bond with her too, but it felt to him like since they'd been back it had been one thing after another and all he really wanted to do was have a little peace and quiet with his little family without Ratchet or Jazz, or bad memories looming over their shoulders. Why was that too much to ask? Soon, he told himself. Soon this would all blow over, things would settle down, and with he and Sunny not having to worry about being shipped off to some remote corner of the world at a moment's notice they could focus on establishing some sort of domestic routine.

"Alright," Sideswipe sighed loudly, still obviously not impressed by the idea. "We'll see you soon, sweet spark."

Amy nodded, "Okay..."

"Come on," Sunstreaker nudged his brother as he turned to head off into the direction of the rec facility. "Let's grab a cube first. I'm starving."

"Yeah..." Sideswipe started to skate off after his brother, but paused. He seemed to consider something for a moment before spinning back around to face Amy. "Ah, frag it," he vented. Dropping to his knees, he reached for the woman, pulling her in against his chest plates in a careful embrace.

Surprised, Amy looked up at him and started to ask, "What are you do—mmmph!" Her question was cut off abruptly as the mech suddenly bent forward and pressed his mouth plates to her lips. Instinctively, her hands flew up, pressing into the comfortingly warm metal of his cheeks.

He lingered there for a long moment, humming in contentment. "That's better," he breathed as he fnally pullied away. He rose slowly back to his feet and looked down at her, grinning. "You know, your hair really does smell good."

Amy stuttered in shock. She was acutely aware of Jazz's sharp-eyed presence at her back taking everything in. Thankfully, the military personnel that still milled around the area hadn't given them so much as a second glance, probably due to the fact that Sunstreaker's temperamental presence seemed to repel most sensible people of the organic persuasion. Despite the flush that colored her face, her lips still tingled in that weird, electric way and she fought against the urge to dart her tongue out to see if she could catch a taste of that oddly sweet oral lubricant she remembered from the first time they'd kissed her. She shifted her wide-eyed gaze to Sunstreaker who merely smirked at her and winked before moving off in the direction he'd originally been heading.

Sideswipe gave Amy one last lingering look before shooting Jazz a sloppy salute and spinning around to take off after his brother.

Swallowing the nervous lump that had formed in her throat, she turned around slowly to face Jazz. To her astonishment, the mech seemed neither surprised nor disturbed at the public display of affection he'd just witnessed. Instead, he wore a mask of mixed worry and relief. Though his visor obscured his gaze, she could almost feel it as he carefully looked her over to ensure she really was alright. After the longest thirty seconds of Amy's entire life, he finally spoke.

"Do ya have any idea how worried I've been about ya?" Jazz shook his head, "No one had a clue where ya disappeared off to. Ya weren't answerin' your phone..."

Amy's eyes filled up and she felt her throat begin to constrict. She expected Jazz to be angry with her but she hadn't expected him to be so distressed.

"Ya can't just drop somethin' serious like that on a mech and leave," Jazz insisted in a stern voice. "What was I supposed to think? If the twins hadn't been able to find you, I don't know what I was goin' to do..." his voice trailed off.

Amy hiccoughed, her tears finally spilled over, "I-I'm sorry..."

"Aw, Scraplet," Jazz vented, his expression softening. Carefully, he lowered himself into a crouch. "Don't cry..." He spread his arms in invitation, "Come here."

Obediently, Amy stepped forward and allowed the mech to enclose her in an embrace. Though he wasn't flesh and blood, his arms were warm and comforting just the same. She pressed her cheek against his chest plates, her ear to the metal, and could hear the hum of his spark burning deep inside his chest. It seemed to ebb and flow, soothingly, just like the ocean. She sniffled and closed her eyes causing more tears to cascade down her cheeks and just listened.

"Shhh," Jazz soothed, "I'm not mad at ya, scraplet. Ya just scared me is all. Promise me," he vented, resting his chin on the top of Amy's head. "Promise me that you'll never pull a stunt like that again."

"I promise," Amy mumbled.

They remained that way for a long moment with Jazz rubbing comforting circles on her back and Amy emitting the occasional sniffle. With Sunstreaker gone, however, so was the deterrent against prying eyes. They'd drawn the attention of a couple young marines who'd happened to be passing by. The pair stopped to watch the large, alien robot hug the tiny human woman, staring as if they couldn't quite wrap their brains around the concept. Jazz noticed almost immediately, glaring in their direction and shooing them away with a 'get out of here' type of gesture.

"We need to do some serious talkin'," Jazz announced as he finally released her and rocked back on his heels. "But not here."

Amy nodded in agreement.

"First," Jazz continued with a frown, "We have a bit of business to attend to. Prime would like a word with ya since it seems that ya don't wanna be here anymore."

Amy looked up at the mech in wide-eyed horror. Despite the fact that he was of an entirely different species, she could plainly see the look of hurt that flashed across his face. Of course she had to have known her request would get back to him. She worked for him for God's sake but...there was more to it, wasn't there? They were closer than that, weren't they? She felt her heart squeeze. "Jazz, I.."

"Later, scraplet." Her reached out and ruffled her hair. "We'll talk about it later. The Boss Bot's waitin' on us."

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Though every interaction Amy had had with Optimus Prime up to this point had been pleasant, she couldn't deny the sick, nervous churning in her stomach. She was almost glad she hadn't eaten anything since the morning. She certainly didn't want to add projectile vomiting on an alien faction leader to the list of bad decisions she'd made that day. She was sure she'd riled up enough trouble for herself already without creating any more.

Prime was waiting for them as they entered the hangar. The mech stood, tall and proud, right outside his office alongside Prowl. For a moment, Amy felt like she was being led in front of a judge once again to determine her fate. It was all formality, though. The decision was always already made before the evidence was even reviewed. She'd been through the system enough to know how these things went.

This train of thought, Amy realized with a start, was exactly what Sunstreaker had been talking about earlier. She did always head straight to the worst possible outcome. She had adopted a fatalistic worldview based on past experience. She'd been conditioned to think a certain way and though it may have served its purpose by shielding her from disappointment as she grew up, its usefulness in her current predicament was obsolete. The old wasn't working anymore. Something needed to change.

"Man in the Mirror," she murmured to herself as sort of a pep talk.

Jazz looked down at her, "What was that, scraplet?"

"Nothing," Amy flashed him a nervous smile. "Just remembering something the twins told me."

"Ah, gotcha," The mech nodded in understanding.

"Jazz," Optimus greeted the pair as they approached. "Petty Officer Doe, it is always good to see you."

"Indeed," Prowl agreed.

Amy took time to note that Prime didn't seem upset which she figured was a good thing. In fact, he seemed to be his usual cordial self which caused some of the tension she'd been carrying in her shoulders to ease ever so slightly. She also noted, much to her dismay, that she was still decked out in a T-shirt and pair of running shorts, her hair was a wind blown mess, and she could feel grit from the beach still stuck to her exposed skin. It wasn't exactly the presentation one wanted to make of one's self when meeting with The Optimus Prime.

She wished she'd asked the twins to take her back to the barracks in order to make herself presentable before bringing her to Jazz. She felt self-consciousness creeping in around the edges and quickly tamped it back down. Instead, she smiled politely and replied, "Thanks. You, too."

"I apologize for intruding on your evening," Prime continued. "But Jazz felt it important that we clear up some of the confusion surrounding some decisions that were made recently. There is also the matter of a transfer request that Prowl has brought to my attention. If you'd be so kind as to step into my office, I'm sure that we can find a reasonable resolution for the issues at hand."

Amy looked to Jazz and received an encouraging nod in return. "Yeah," she reluctantly agreed. "Sure."

"Excellent," Prime moved to open the door and gestured for Amy to enter.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward. She'd expected Jazz to follow but when he didn't she turned to look back. "You're not coming?"

"Jazz has recused himself," Prowl politely answered. "Conflict of interest."

"Oh," Amy frowned.

"It'll be fine, scraplet," Jazz assured. "I'll be here when you're finished."

Amy nodded hesitantly and followed Prime inside.

Prowl turned to Jazz, "We won't be long."

"Be gentle, Prowler," Jazz warned. "She's kinda fragile at the moment."

"Of course," Prowl assured his friend. "You have my word." With that, he disappeared into the office and shut the door quietly behind himself leaving the TIC to wait alone.

Though Amy had been in the space before the times she and Jazz had met with the Autobot leader, she still found herself amazed at the sheer scale of the furnishings. To be honest, she was amazed at the sheer scale of Optimus Prime, himself. The mech was more than twice as tall as Jazz and nearly twice as broad. It made her wonder if he ever stopped and marveled at just how tiny and minuscule everything was on Earth.

"Please," Prime gestured toward a set of steel stairs that led to a small seating area that would put visitors to the office at eye level once the mech himself was seated at his improbably large, custom-built desk. "Have a seat and we'll get right down to business. I promise not to keep you long."

"Yes, sir," Amy took a deep breath and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Prime waited for Amy to be seated before seating himself. Prowl remained standing quietly next to the raised platform. Once everyone was settled, Optimus began. "It was brought to my attention earlier today that you were in vehement disagreement regarding our decision to pull Sideswipe and Sunstreaker from the ground team rotation, is that correct?"

Amy swallowed hard and nodded, "Yes, sir."

"First, let me say that I greatly appreciate your dedication to your duties, even at great cost to yourself," the mech gave a weary sigh as if that was something he understood on a personal level all too well. "I, too, have obligations that I must fulfill. Among those duties, one of the most important undertakings is ensuring the safety and well-being of my crew and our allies whenever possible."

Amy nodded in understanding.

"Though I'm sure Ratchet was happy for the company," Optimus smiled kindly at the woman, "Your recent excursion in the med bay came completely unexpected and naturally raised quite a bit of concern among those who care for you, myself included."

Amy frowned, "I'm...sorry."

"It's no fault of your own, Miss Doe," Prowl assured. "No apologies are needed."

"Certainly not," Prime agreed. "Given the circumstances, however, we felt it necessary to take action to ensure that it didn't happen again. We reviewed all of Ratchet's medical data which surmised your illness was the result of separation from the twins. Therefore, the simplest way to prevent a recurrence is to keep the three of you together for now until we understand more about the condition."

"As Prime stated, our primary concern is and always will be the safety and wellbeing of the crew." Prowl continued, "Our biggest worry was the immediate danger posed to yourself as we still aren't too clear on the nature of this exchange you've had with the twins, nor its long term effects on the three of you. Given all the still as of yet unknown variables, we chose to err on the side of caution."

"Plus," Optimus added with an amused look, "I highly doubt even Primus himself could get the twins out into the field again if it meant you'd be in danger. They can be quite stubborn when they set their minds on something. I may be a Prime, but even my power has its limitations."

Prowl, acknowledged, "We're aware your greatest concern was that their absence from the mission rotation would somehow harm us tactically. Rest assured, that isn't the case."

"In fact," Prime agreed, "this all couldn't have happened at a better moment. I'm sure you've probably heard rumblings that Captain Lennox wasn't pleased with our decision to pull Sideswipe and Sunstreaker from the field."

Amy nodded.

"We expected resistance," the mech continued. "The Captain is well aware how effective the twins are in battle. However, with our acquisition of the Allspark shard, we've found ourselves having to reevaluate our strategic planning."

"If you hadn't noticed," Prowl interjected, "We're spread rather thin."

"Unfortunately," Prime vented in agreement. "Due to political obligations Prowl and myself can't always be here. Bumblebee tries his best but he has his own charge to look after. Jazz, and now Ironhide, are both on medical restriction so Ratchet has his hands full. That doesn't leave us with many options for reinforcing security."

"Given the importance of the shard," Prowl added, "we'd naturally want to ensure it's safekeeping. Hence, the containment facilities we've installed in the bunker."

"Beyond that," Prime continued, " we need soldiers available on the ground with the ability to tackle any unforeseen issues should they arise or the current safety measures fail. The twins possess a unique set of skills and abilities that make them perfect for such a task. By allowing them to remain in base instead of sending them out on assignment we've been able to, as you humans say, kill two birds with one stone."

"You're safe," Prowl summarized, "and so is the Allspark."

Prime folded his hands atop his desk and asked kindly, "Any other questions or concerns in regard to personnel roster changes that I can clarify for you?"

Even though she'd heard similar from the twins on the way back from the beach, she felt better about the situation hearing it straight from Prime himself. Thoroughly chastened, Amy shook her head, "No, sir."

"And are you satisfied with the decision?"

"Yes," Amy nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Wonderful," Prime smiled at the woman. "Now, would you please explain your reasoning for requesting a transfer from N.E.S.T.?"

"I guess..." Amy took a deep breath. "Based on the Information I had, I concluded that my presence was having a negative impact on your team and felt it would be in the best interest of mission goals if I wasn't here."

"Negative?" Prime frowned. "I'm sorry you feel that way Petty Officer Doe. Perhaps you are aware of something I am not. The information I've been receiving is trending quite the opposite."

Amy looked confused, "The opposite?"

"Indeed," Prime nodded. "Don't underestimate your value to the team. The project Jazz and yourself are heading is running ahead of schedule with Teletraan's integration into the defense grid. Jazz is a dear friend and colleague but, his enthusiasm had waned greatly prior to your arrival, in no small part to his current physical limitations, I'm afraid. His renewed motivation and positive outlook has much to do with your presence. He's told me as much himself."

Amy blinked, "He has?"

"As I've told you before, Miss Doe," Prowl's lip plates quirked ever so slightly into a secretive smile. "He's taken quite a shine to you."

"Indeed, he has," Prime agreed. "Jazz cares for you greatly. I'd hope that goes both ways, personally and professionally."

Amy ruminated on that for a moment and decided that, yes, it did go both ways. She'd have been hard pressed to explain it had they asked, but over the time they'd spent together, she'd grown to feel quite close to the mech. They seemed to have a familiarity with one another that extended beyond the typical working relationship. She nodded, "It does."

Prowl looked pleased with her answer.

"Good," Prime smiled. "Then, of course, there is your relationship with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe."

Amy felt herself blush slightly.

"You've had quite a positive influence on them. They're good mechs," Optimus stressed. "They do, however, sometimes have the tendency to run headlong into situations without really thinking through the consequences which ends up keeping Prowl and Ratchet quite busy dealing with the aftermath."

"To say the very least," Prowl let out a weary sigh. "I'm pleased to note that in the time they've spent with you, they seem to have become more sensible and, dare I say, more responsible in their behavior."

Prime shared, "In his last written report prior to your arrival, Ratchet estimated that, on average, he was spending approximately fifteen groons per orn tending to injuries the twins received due to their various misadventures. That number has since been reduced by over two-thirds to less than five. Prowl has also noted a significant decrease in the number of incident reports he's had to submit which has, in turn, improved his productivity by seventy percent."

"Seventy-three point six percent," Prowl interjected.

"I stand corrected," Prime chuckled. "That said, the twins do feel for you deeply and, in all the time I've known them, I've not seen them more content and for that I thank you. Of course, none of these factors take into consideration the quality of your work which, I couldn't be happier with."

Amy wasn't sure what to say so she chose to say nothing as she tried to absorb everything she was being told. It seemed ridiculous, the impact they claimed she had but what purpose would it serve them to make things like that up? She wanted to believe it was true.

"Which brings us to your request for a transfer," Prime continued, taking the woman's silence as an okay to continue. "Lennox has passed your paperwork on to us and it was explained to me that in order for it to be approved, you would need a waiver signed by your Commanding Officer. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Amy nodded. The nervous lump was back in her throat again. "Yes, sir."

"Perhaps you are unaware that when the agreements were drafted with your government allowing us to remain on Earth, certain arrangements were instituted in order to facilitate the exchange of supplies and information in the most efficient way possible." Prime explained, "Under our agreement, we operate much like a foreign expeditionary unit. We retain our own command structure, rules, and regulations without subordinating ourselves to outside forces, but instead operate cooperatively within defined agreements with other allied forces such as your military."

"Okay," Amy nodded in understanding but wasn't sure what any of this had to do with her request.

Prime continued, "Strictly for clerical purposes, we fall under the umbrella of N.E.S.T., which ensures that we are able to procure the supplies, funding, and personnel necessary to carry out our mission here. However, we are, in fact, a separate entity. Though the orders transferring you from your last command indicated that you were being reassigned to N.E.S.T., you were, in fact, being reassigned to us. It was in the fine print, is how I believe the saying goes."

"What?" Amy shook her head. Transferring a human crew member into a very non-human military detachment? That wasn't any protocol she was familiar with. "But...why?"

"Your military has, at least by our standards, an unusually high turnover rate," Prowl interjected. "The average initial enlistment is right around four years in length and you, unfortunately, were about to the halfway point when Jazz found you. To remedy that and prevent a premature departure from the team, we requested that certain retention requirements be mandated in order to preserve unit cohesion."

"This team is built on a millennia of trust, friendship, and cooperation," Prime gently rumbled. "Each member has their own niche and purpose to fulfill and each is equally important to our goal and irreplaceable. Yourself included."

Amy's brows furrowed as she contemplated the mechs' words. "So, what does all this mean, exactly?"

"You're an Autobot," Prowl summarized with a small quirk of his mouth. "At least, you are on paper."

"An..." Amy blinked. "An Autobot?"

"Yes," Optimus confirmed. "Which means I am your Commanding Officer and given that there seems to be no outstanding issues impacting your duties as outlined by your direct superior and your personal relationship with your other teammates isn't causing the quality of your work to suffer, I see no grounds upon which to grant your request to separate from this unit." In his most authoritative tone Prime announced, "Your petition for transfer has been denied."

"If you'd like to challenge the decision," Prowl offered, "I'd be happy to get with you later and explain your options for redress."

"N-no..." Amy shook her head in equal parts confusion and relief. "Thanks but...I-I don't think that will be necessary."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Prime seemed pleased with her response. "For future reference, Petty Officer Doe, I do have an open door policy. Should there be anything you wish to discuss, you're always welcome."

"I..." Amy swallowed. "I'll keep that in mind."

"If there's nothing else you'd like to address at this time, you are dismissed." Prime smiled, "I'm sure Jazz has other things he's eager to talk about."

XXXXXXXXXX

Amy was still in a bit of a daze as she stepped out of Prime's office. Her brain was a swirl of information, some of which was just beyond her ability to process at the moment. She did feel a great sense of relief, though. She apparently wasn't singlehandedly carrying the entire operation to Hell in a hand basket. There did seem to be a method to the madness going on around her and at the moment that was really all she could ask for.

She still felt a bit off kilter but seeing Jazz waiting for her right outside the door as he'd promised made her feel slightly more grounded. She flashed him a watery smile, "Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Jazz carefully knelt down and, using one finger, delicately brushed aside some of the hair that had fallen into the woman's face. "Are we good?"

"Yeah," Amy nodded. "I think so."

"Good." Jazz smiled tiredly and motioned for the woman to follow him as he rose carefully back to his feet. "Come on, scraplet. Let's get outta here."

Amy could plainly hear the weariness in the mech's voice. It caused a lance of guilt to slash though her knowing that she was more than likely the cause. She couldn't help but notice as she obediently followed, however, that they were traveling in the opposite direction of the bunker as well as the shuttle that would take her back to her barracks.

Curiosity forced her to ask, "Where are we going?"

"Home," he replied simply. "It's been a long day and I'm exhausted."

"Oh...okay..." Amy started to inquire further but decided Jazz was right. It had been a long day and, truth be told, she felt weary all the way down to her bones. Wherever they were headed, she trusted Jazz enough to let him lead the way.

It wasn't but a few minutes later that they neared the warehouse that had been converted into housing for the Autobots. For a brief moment, she thought he may have been taking her back to the twins and her heart lifted slightly at the thought. Instead, upon entering, they turned in the opposite direction and passed through a corridor and into a small common area where the bots could choose to congregate if they didn't want to stay in their rooms. The sole occupant of said area happened to be the Autobot's scout.

Upon seeing the pair, Bumblebee chirped in greeting and waved before approaching and handing a small bag over to Jazz.

"Thanks, Bee." Jazz gave the young mech a pat on the back. "I appreciate it. I owe ya one."

Bee waived off Jazz's thanks. "Ain't no thang," a voice emanating from his speakers assured before the scout waved again and headed off to parts unknown.

Jazz chuckled as he watched him go. Then, turning to Amy, he handed her the bag. "Here ya go. I asked Bee to swing by your barracks and grab some things. I hope ya don't mind. I thought ya might wanna clean up a little."

Amy raised a brow in curiosity before opening the bag and rummaging through it. Her curiosity was quickly replaced by surprise. Inside she found her bottle of shampoo and conditioner, a bar of soap, her toothbrush and toothpaste, her hairbrush, a towel and washcloth, a pair of red flannel pajama pants she'd forgotten she'd had, a clean white T-shirt, clean socks and, at the very bottom, a clean white bra and a matching pair of panties. Immediately, Amy felt her face heat in embarrassment. "What in the...why?"

Jazz looked concerned, "He didn't miss anythin', did he? I can send him back."

"No!" Amy choked, "Looks like he pretty rummaged through everything..."

Relieved, Jazz grinned, "I knew I could count on the youngling. Come on, scraplet, I'll show you where the wash racks are."

Amy's looked up at the mech, "Wash racks?"

"Showers," he corrected. "You look like you could use a nice hot one."

Amy looked uncertain, "You want me to shower here? I can go shower in the barracks."

Jazz raised a brow, "Ya don't honestly think I'd let ya outta my sight after your little disappearing act today, did ya? The last thing ya need is to be sittin' alone in your room overthinkin' things. So yeah," Jazz confirmed, "I want ya to shower here and then we're gonna go home an' have a little chat."

Amy opened her mouth to argue but promptly shut it again. Jazz had a point about her propensity for overthinking and a steamy shower did sound heavenly. She was gritty and sticky. She felt slightly clammy due to the nervous sweat that had dried on her body. Her scalp itched and she was sure that if she dug her fingers into her hair she'd find sand clinging to the strands. Not to mention that her body ached from tension and the thought of near-scalding water sluicing over her tight muscles nearly made her moan. Then, of course, there was the fact that she didn't really want to be alone, not now, and Jazz was some of the best company she could have asked for.

"Okay," she reluctantly agreed, "you're probably right."

Jazz guided her to a huge set of swinging double doors. He held one open for as he explained, "When they installed the was racks, they tapped into existing utilities from the human shower room off to the right. There's no one in there," he continued. "Take your time. I'll wait."

Amy nodded and stepped inside. She jumped slightly as Jazz released the door causing it to swing softly shut behind her. Clutching her bag to her chest, she headed to the right and found another door that, just as Jazz had indicated, lead into a very human restroom complete with shower stalls. The lights must have been motion sensitive as they flared to life as she ventured further into the space. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. She placed the bag down onto the counter next to a row of sinks and quickly retrieved the items she needed, transferring them into the closest shower stall.

Even though Jazz had advised her she could take her time, she felt out of place in the empty space and wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible. She stripped and stepped into the stall. She turned the hot water on full blast and waited for it to heat up, filling the shower with steam before stepping under the spray. The let the water saturate her hair, scratching her nails against her scalp to loosen any trapped sand before squirting a dollop of shampoo into her palm and massaging it into her wet locks. After a quick but thorough washing, she rinsed the suds out and followed up with conditioner, then immediately reached for the bar of soap. She washed her body with the same fast efficiency, rinsed, and though she would have loved to stand beneath the hot spray until it grew cold, she shut off the water and reached for the towel.

She ran the brush through her damp hair and dressed quickly, putting on the clothing Bee had somehow managed to liberate from her room. She didn't want to think on it too much. She knew the mech couldn't have done it himself and the thought of some stranger rifling through her things made her shudder. Packing away her dirty clothes and shower supplies, swung the bag back over her shoulder and made her way out of the restroom. Instead of heading straight back out to Jazz, however, curiosity got the best of her. What exactly did a shower for giant robots look like, anyway?

She stepped around to the area designated for the bots to use. Not surprisingly, the area was cavernous. It had to be in order to accommodate someone as enormous as Optimus Prime, she figured. The floor was industrial concrete coated with a blue-gray epoxy to make it smooth. Large drains about the size of manhole covers were recessed into the floor to facilitate the drainage of water. The actual showers- wash racks- reminded her of the high-powered sprayers one could find at a touchless, automated car wash. There were four large bays in total, each equipped with a panel allowing for hot and cold water control as well as another option for dispensing 'solvent'. Amy raised a brow at that but, really, the setup wasn't too different from its human counterpart. She supposed alien robots were entitled to a nice, hot shower, too.

With a sigh she turned and made her way back out the way she came. She exited, finding Jazz posted up next to the door right where he said he'd be. She gave him a sheepish smile, "All done."

"That was fast," he commented with a grin, pushing himself off the wall. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," she answered honestly. "A little."

"Good." He motioned for her to follow as he resumed their trek back down the hall. "Come on. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to call it a day."

Amy followed as he lead her deeper into the warehouse complex. It wasn't long before they came to a set of folding industrial doors similar to the ones that the twins' quarters possessed. She stood to the side and watched as Jazz keyed in a security code to disengage the lock before sliding them open.

He gestured her in with a flourish, "Ladies always first."

Without a word, Amy stepped inside and paused, taking in this new space. It was immediately obvious where she was. The walls weren't the stark white that the rest of the building seemed to be painted. Instead, someone had painted it a soft gray just a few shades lighter than the concrete floor. As in the twins room, one wall contained a built-in shelving unit. Instead of car polish, however, these shelves were stocked with what appeared to be a very sizable collection of neatly organized music CDs, vinyl records, cassette tapes and, she wasn't sure but thought she spied what may have possibly been a couple of 8 tracks. That said, a large stereo system seemed to be the focal point of the entire room and was proudly displayed along the back wall. Aside from that, a berth was pushed into one corner and next to it sat what, at least to Amy, looked like some sort of huge, dark blue bean bag chair.

A small smile pulled at Amy's lips as she turned to look up at the mech, "This is your room?"

"Yep," Jazz grinned at the woman.

"It's nice," she stated sincerely.

"It ain't fancy but it's better than floatin' around in space. Trust me." Jazz edged by her and made his way to the berth. Instead of seating himself upon it, however, he grabbed the strange, squishy-looking bean bag and dragged it out to the middle of the floor.

Amy raised a brow in question as she watched the mech gingerly sink his mass down into it. It was much bigger than she thought it was.

Jazz chuckled at her expression. "Ratchet threw this together for me," he explained. "I can't lay flat for too long. The doc says this is easier on my frame than the berth."

"Ah, gotcha." Amy nodded in understanding.

"It's also plenty big enough for two." Jazz patted a spot next to him. "Come sit, scraplet. Let's talk."

Taking a deep breath, Amy complied. It took a bit of maneuvering giving the almost gelatinous consistency of Jazz's odd, cushiony chair but she was soon settled comfortably next to the mech. She had to admit, she was a bit impressed at how comfortably it conformed around her body. Not wanting to be the first to speak, she waited patiently for Jazz to start them off.

The mech was silent for a long moment before drawing air down deep into his intakes and venting it out slowly. For the first time since Amy had known him, he retracted the visor that obscured his optics from view. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly with the heels of his hands before shifting slightly to face Amy, and leveling her with his unobstructed gaze. Though he may not have been human, his optics were no less expressive than a set of human eyes and Amy felt her heart squeeze in her chest.

"I'm sorry, scraplet," Jazz apologized sincerely. "I feel like I've let ya down."

Bewilderment colored Amy's expression, "Jazz..."

"Please," he interrupted. "Let me finish. I feel like I've failed to live up to my end of the bargain. I told ya that I always got your back. I told ya that I'd be here when ya needed me...and I wasn't. You were alone and you were hurtin' and ya needed me and I wasn't here."

Disbelieving, Amy shook her head. "You're not responsible for things that happened to me before we even knew each other existed."

"I knew somethin' was wrong," he insisted. "I knew ya had somethin' rattlin' around in that head of your's but I just let it slide. I don't expect ya to want to dredge up everythin' right now but I want ya to know that it's not true...whatever those other slaggers have told ya. Your a beautiful person, scraplet." Jazz stressed, "Inside and out. Don't ever let anyone make ya feel any different. Any creator would be proud to have ya as their sparkling...myself included, and as long as my spark's burnin' in my chest you can know for sure there's at least one person in the universe that loves ya and thinks the world of ya."

"Jazz..." Amy felt tears prick at her eyes. Twenty years of being alive and she was just hearing for the very first time that someone loved her. It was a bit overwhelming and she wasn't sure how to respond.

Jazz smoothed a hand over the top of the woman's head in a comforting gesture. "This should have been said a long time ago. I feel like me and you...we have somethin' special. A bond...like...family. I just knew...before I even met ya, I think. Does that make sense?"

"It does," Amy sniffed and nodded. It was strange how someone could feel a greater kinship with someone from an entirely different planet than with people of their own species, but she did. She hadn't been able to put words to how she felt but hearing Jazz put voice to his own feelings gave her's the validity she needed to acknowledge them. "I...feel the same way."

"I don't know that humans put the same kinda faith in things like fate or destiny that we do," Jazz continued in a soft rumble. "But I want ya to know that you're always gonna have a place here with me regardless of anythin' else that might happen. Always."

The tears did fall then. It was like some omnipotent power out there in the universe had finally decided to grant her prayers—years after her initial intercession, but still. Words she'd longed to hear her entire life came not from her own kind but from an alien who'd traveled light years through space and time just to be sitting in the same room with her. What were the chances of that being probable, let alone possible, without some other force being at work?

Amy threw her arms around the mech the best that she could manage and hugged him for all she was worth. Her ragged breath fogged his armor as she sobbed, hot tears streaming down her face. Any other time she would have been mortified by putting on such as display but this was different. The dynamics of their entire relationship had subtly shifted, small elements finally tumbling into place, which made it okay to let her guard down. Everything she'd been holding back for only God knew how long came out in a rush of emotion.

"There ya go, let it all out, scraplet," Jazz encouraged as he rubbed comforting circles on her back. "Let it all go. I'm right here. I got ya."

XXXXXXXXXX

"One thing!" Megatron bellowed, his claw-like fingers tightening around the neck of his much-abused Second-In-Command. "I task you with one simple thing and you fail at it!"

With a snort of disgust, the Decepticon warlord slung the other mech across the room sending him crashing into a stack of old, rusty shipping containers. Unsatisfied, he continued to pace, his eyes glowing an eerie crimson in the dim light of the abandoned warehouse. A snarl played on his lip plates as he contemplated the latest in a string of tactical disappointments. Cybertron had fallen beneath his might and yet a mud ball planet full of small organics continued to resist his advances. It made no sense.

And yet, he knew exactly who was to blame.

Prime had aligned himself with the people of Earth. He had their armies and equipment at his disposal. If Megatron had his own army, as he'd had on Cybertron, there was no doubt in his processor that he'd be able to squash the human resistance like the insects they were and finally rid himself of the Autobots once and for all. To accomplish these goals, however, he needed the remaining piece of the Allspark...which brought him full circle back to Starscream and his inability to carry out even the most basic of tasks.

Starscream cowered as his leader stalked toward him one again, his intent clearly burning in his optics. He raised his hands in a vain attempt at protecting himself. He begged for mercy, "Please, Master...it-it wasn't my fault! We prepared for human resistance...we didn't expect an entire Autobot squad! The weapon specialist was there, and the scout and, and...those infernal twins!"

"Silence!" Megatron grabbed the Seeker by his throat once again, hauling him back up to his feet. "I ask for results and all you can offer is excuses!"

"Lord Megatron," Starscream choked, "if you'll give me another chance, I'll retrieve the shard! You'll have your army!"

Megatron studied the other mech for a long moment, seeming to debate the the merits of allowing his continued existence before once again dropping him unceremoniously to the ground. "You're right about one thing, my traitorous friend," Megatron rumbled, "I will have my army."

Starscream scrambled to his feet, "Yes, sire! A glorious army that shall crush the Autobots beneath its might! I'll see to it myself!"

Megatron laughed, "Oh, no, Starscream. You've had your chance. I've chosen someone more competent to carry out my next plan."

A mix of confusion, offense, and hatred warped the Air Commander's features. He never received the respect, the reverence he deserved. His brilliance was wasted on his leader. Still, when Megatron stalked toward the loading bay doors, he'd followed him out into the night. He noted Barricade was leaned up against the side of the building as they passed, still nursing the wounds he suffered at the hands of the silver twin, but not so damaged as to spare him a condescending smirk. He studiously ignored the mech, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

As Megatron continued deeper into the darkness surrounding the warehouse, Starscream felt dread enter his spark as he took note of a slight trembling beneath his feet. The sensation seemed to grow in intensity the farther they walked, until it became an almost constant rumbling. His optics scanned constantly over the landscape, seeking the source of the disturbance even though he was fairly certain of the cause. He was so focused on this task that he nearly plowed into Megatron when the mech came to a sudden stop. Much to his horror and disgust, a large, crater-like hole began to open in the ground before them.

Starscream shuddered as, out of the dark, cavernous space, the enormous form of a Driller emerged. The tentacled beast rose above them, its ragged, open maw still crunching and crushing the rock and Earth it had excavated. It's thick, worm-like body coiled round and round pushing ever upward out of the depths. Rising from darkness like Hades ascending from the Underworld, Shockwave came into view. The entire scene was as awe inspiring as it was horrifying.

Starscream knew Shockwave well. The mech was the very definition of a killing machine, a cold, emotionless husk that operated solely on logic. The mech seemed to thrive on violence and where he and his pet went, death and destruction followed close behind. It was no secret that Shockwave was one of the very few in existence who could rival Megatron for power should he want it. Though Starscream loathed his leader, the idea of Shockwave taking up the mantle instead made his energon run cold in his lines. He'd hoped never to have to face the mech again. Long ago, Megatron had left him on Cybertron to oversee what small contingent of Decepticon forces remained there. For him to show up on Earth spoke volumes of their leader's growing desperation.

"Shockwave," Megatron greeted. "You're arrival couldn't have come at a better time."

"Lord Megatron," Shockwave retuned his leader's greeting with a bowing of his head. "I stand ready to execute your command."

"You see, Starscream," Megatron grinned, his jagged, serrated denta shining in the moonlight. "That is the proper way to address your superior, not with whining and insipid excuses."

Starscream bit his glossa to prevent a scathing retort from escaping. Instead, he tried to focus on the situation in order to ferret out some way to twist it to his advantage.

Megatron pressed on, "You know why you've been summoned?"

"To restore the glory of the Decepticon Army," Shockwave rumbled. "To subjugate the inhabitants of Earth. To annihilate the Autobot presence."

Booming, almost maniacal laughter emanated from deep within Megatron's chassis. "Yes!"

Starscream seethed in silence.

"The Allspark was destroyed," Megatron informed his newly arrived Commander. "Yet, a small piece still remains. With it, we could rule this dirt ball of a planet!"

Shockwave's single, crimson optic glowed ominously in the dark, "Then you shall have it."

End of Chapter 37