Finding Home

Chapter 42

By Voodoo Queen

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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! I'll keep this short and sweet so we can get right into it but, I will say that I enjoyed this. Probably too much. Thank you to those who've added this story to their alerts and follows and especially to my fantastic reviewers: 'Guest', bonnieandjangolove, shelby20125, SunnyandSidesFemme17, TheCauldron, jellybeanz513, Deimoss, Songbird's Spirit, o-dragon, Iron-rays, the everchanging, 'Anonymous', poppycakes, astrochrist, KayleeChiara, shizzlethis1, ElleGirl19, SoundlyManners, PepperCornPie

I hope you all had a wonderful Valentines Day! I love you guys! - VQ

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

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One moment Mirage was up on his pedes protesting and the next moment he was stumbling backwards as pain exploded through his face plates. The front liner had moved so quickly that he hadn't even had time to process it. He landed on his skid plate with an enormous thud. His hands flew to his face in order to assess the damage and came away wet and slick with energon.

"See what I mean?" Sideswipe casually commented to the surrounding group of soldiers, "That was just a quick jab. He totally should have been able to avoid that."

Optics wide, Mirage looked between the two mechs, "Siete entrambi pazzi!" He demanded, "Why do you do this?"

Sunstreaker shrugged, "Actions have consequences. Or don't they teach that up in the towers in Crystal City?"

"I do not know what you speak of," Mirage denied, trying to stem the flow of energon from his nasal cavity.

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I speak of," Sunny growled as he again advanced on the mech.

The infiltrator looked to a very nervous-looking Bee in search of an ally in what was obviously a fight he hadn't been prepared for. "Bumblebee...aiutami..."

Bee shook himself free of the shock that had him rooted to the spot and moved to help the injured mech.

"Nope," Sideswipe laid a heavy hand on the younger mech's shoulder, halting him, and shook his head. "Just let it happen. This isn't something you want to get tangled up in. Trust me."

Bumblebee looked torn. He wanted to assist his comrade but he also didn't want to get involved in something that was quite obviously very, very personal between the twins and Mirage. He wrung his hands together worriedly and a low whine emanated from his damaged vocalizer. His processor turned over trying to think of how in the Pit he was going to be able to explain this to Prowl and Prime...and Ironhide. The scout shuddered but reluctantly nodded in acquiescence.

Sides patted him on the back, "Good mech."

Mirage glared at Bee in disbelief before trying to scramble back up onto his pedes but Sunstreaker was faster. No sooner had he regained his balance, he was pitching forward once again. Sunstreaker landed a particularly powerful blow to his abdominal plates that caused his ventilation system to seize up for a moment. It was disorienting enough that it gave Sunstreaker a perfect opening to literally kick his legs out from underneath him.

"Remember what Bee taught you about the center of gravity, kids," Sideswipe chirped. "Shovel hook to the body, quick stomp to the back of the knee and...look, he's on his aft again. See how easy that is? I hope you're taking notes."

"You and your brother are nothing but a pair of delinquenti," Mirage wheezed. One hand was clamped over his leaking face while the other was pressed against his aching abdomen.

"If I were in your position," Sunstreaker threatened, switching over to his native Cybertronian language, "I'd shut my fragging mouth."

"I feel sorry for the girl," the infiltrator grunted, also taking up his native language as he tentatively picked himself up off the ground once more. He wobbled slightly on his pedes. "Tragic...being trapped together with you two . Look how you behave. Completely uncivilized..."

Bumblebee's optics widened, almost comically had the situation not been so serious. He shook his head vehemently back and forth, slashing his hands back and forth in front of himself in a 'stop' gesture in a vain attempt to shut Mirage up before he dug his hole any deeper. He felt Sideswipe stiffen, a low growl building in the mech's chest. Sunstreaker, his optics having taken on an almost purple glow, looked ready to rip the other mech apart at the slightest provocation. Mirage, however, seemed hellbent on his own destruction and completely ignored Bee's silent plea for civility.

"I guess it is what they call karma, no?" Mirage made a snuffling noise, gently wiping at his injured face with his fingers. He was hurt and angry and more than a little embarrassed and wasn't really thinking rationally about what was coming out of his mouth. He just wanted to hurt Sunstreaker back and knew that, physically, it was an impossibility. He used words instead. "You go on and on about how much you dislike this planet and its inhabitants. Now, instead of a real femme, you and your brother are forced to settle for some small, lowly organic. It is a funny joke, yes?"

That was the exact moment Mirage realized that he should have followed advice and kept his mouth shut. Once it dawned on him what he'd actually said, it was much too late to take it back and it was certainly too late to stop the mech's fist flying toward his face once again. A powerful uppercut caught him square in the nose. He'd felt something crack and heard metal crunch as Sunstreaker's fist made impact. His vision went dim for a brief moment. He'd seen the twins on the battlefield more times than he could could count. Sunstreaker, especially, could be exceptionally brutal, seeming to hold the enemy personally responsible for everything wrong in the universe. He was methodical, but now...Mirage had never seen him look so absolutely enraged. He was a proud mech, yes, but not so much not to admit that he was positively terrified.

"I'll fragging kill you," Sunstreaker seethed. "Never talk about her like that!"

The infiltrator reeled backwards, trying to escape, but the front liner was already charging forward once again. The mech's shoulder rammed into his chest plates, the force lifting him from the ground. A second later he was being slammed back down onto the cold, concrete floor hard enough to rattle his circuits. He lay flat on his back, blinking up at the ceiling. Before he even had a chance to right himself, Sunstreaker had taken hold of his arm, twisting it around in an impossibly unnatural and painful angle, forcing him to flip over onto his stomach for a modicum of relief. It was short lived, however.

Sunstreaker roughly dropped his knee into the center of Mirage's lower back, using his full weight to pin him to the ground and causing the mech's spinal strut to groan and protest in agony. He wrapped his right arm around the mech's neck, the crook of his elbow effectively compressing his vocal apparatus and rendering him speechless. He used his right hand to grasp his own upper left arm, wedging the palm of his left hand against Mirage's shoulder, further reducing his chance of escape. Bringing his elbows together, he exerted lateral pressure on both sides of the infiltrator's neck, effectively cutting off the flow of energon to his processor.

Mirage panicked, flailing in vain to free himself, fingers scrabbling at the arm around his neck. He could feel the delicate components in his throat being slowly crushed and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. His vision started to tunnel and his head began to swim. His struggles slowing as the beginnings of unconsciousness began to press in upon him.

"You don't know a fragging thing about her or us," Sunstreaker growled into the mech's audio. "You don't have a slagging clue the Pit she's been through. I swear to Primus," he vowed, "keep messing with her and I will end you. Do you understand?" He tightened his grip ever so slightly to get his point across.

"This is a handy trick to know," Sideswipe's casual commentary to the training group had taken on an edge of dark amusement as his brother literally choked the life out of Mirage. "Similar to your own circulatory system, there are two main energon lines that run up each side of the neck hidden behind the support struts and dermal plating. It's a difficult hold to master but if you get it just right and apply just enough pressure, you can compress those lines and render a mech unconscious fairly quickly. It's basically the Cybertronian version of a 'blood choke'. On the other hand," he added with tinge of worry, "a little too much pressure and you can snap their neck rendering them, well, dead. Uh...Sunny?"

The humans, unsure if what they were witnessing was an actual fight or simply part of the training program simply nodded as they looked on in awe.

Sunstreaker shot his brother an angry glare but relaxed his hold on the other mech just the same. Not too much, but enough to allow Mirage the opportunity to gasp and suck air down into his intakes and nod his head that Sunny's threat computed.

"Si," Mirage managed to croak. "Capisco..."

Sunstreaker held fast for another few seconds before abruptly letting the mech go and rocking back on his heels. He watched Mirage scramble to his hands and knees, gasping and gagging as he tried to regain his senses. He couldn't resist one final, loud smack to the back of the infiltrator's head before rising to his feet. Without so much as a final glance at Mirage, Bee, his brother, or the humans that surrounded them, he squared his shoulders and strode toward the exit. He'd made his point and there was nothing else to say.

"Alright," Sideswipe clapped his hands together, drawing the humans' attention away from where Mirage sat collapsed on the floor. "So, that concludes today's lesson. I hope you all take away from this demonstration the importance of minding your own slagging business. Bee," he nudged the scout. "You may want to take him to see Ratch, just saying."

Bumblebee, still slightly in shock, simply nodded.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, people," Sides grinned. "I know I will."

"That was fucking awesome," one of the soldiers remarked as Sideswipe quickly skated off after his twin.

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"Feel better?" Sideswipe leaned against the side of of one of the buildings, watching as his brother pulled a cloth out of subspace to clean specks of Mirage's energon from his knuckles. He also noted the small trace's of silvery-blue paint his brother hadn't quite been able to remove from in between the joints in his fingers. The two fluids mixed together in quite the poetic representation of the dual facets of his brother's personality.

"A little," Sunstreaker replied simply as he tucked the cloth away and began striding back toward the hangar that housed their living quarters. "Better than the Trinket is, I'm sure."

Sides vented and pushed himself off the wall to follow. "You were kind of hard on him, you know? You had me worried there for a second."

Sunny shot his brother a annoyed glance over his shoulder. "You heard what he said."

"Yeah," Sideswipe vented once more and nodded. "I did. I'm not saying it wasn't fragged up because it was, but...how much trouble do you think we'll be in when he goes crying to Prowl?"

"Who cares," Sunny shrugged. "It was worth it. Trinket's had it coming for a long time. He crossed the line. He needed to be knocked down a peg or two."

"Can't argue with you there," Sideswipe admitted with a frown. "I just...we're supposed to be working all the domestic stuff out with Ames this week. I don't want to jeopardize that. Especially not over that rust bucket."

"I'll take the full blame if it comes down to it. I did it for her. She has enough to worry about without that slagger constantly screwing with her head every chance he gets. I don't care who he thinks he is. No one frags around with my family and gets away with it." Sunstreaker growled, "No one."

Sideswipe couldn't help the fond smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. Regardless of what his brother may say or do, there was no questioning his absolute devotion and loyalty to those he cared for most. "I love you, Sunny."

"Yeah, yeah...you sentimental slagger. Back at you." Sunstreaker continued on without breaking his stride, "Let's go home and call the Squishie. Maybe we'll have time to explain before Prowl comes to drag us off to the brig."

"Yeah," Sides agreed, venting heavily. "Right behind you, bro."

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"Come on, scraplet," Jazz pleaded. "Back me up here. Tell the doc how wrong he is."

Jazz was once again in his usual spot in the med bay undergoing his usual battery of diagnostic tests and repairs. Amy was seated next to him on the edge of the medical berth keeping him company, her legs swinging back and forth in a relaxed motion. He'd been relieved when she'd come traipsing through the med bay doors with a smile on her face. He had to keep reminding himself over and over that she was technically a grown woman, at least by human standards, and that he couldn't baby her, no matter how tiny she may have seemed in comparison. He made a concerted effort to give her space to figure things out for herself but that didn't mean he didn't constantly fret over her. In fact, he'd been up almost all night worrying over how she was faring with the twins.

She looked good, though. The dark circles that seemed to forever hang beneath her eyes—a symptom of prolonged sleeplessness, according to Ratchet—were much less noticeable and hopefully a sign that she'd rested well. She seemed to be energetic and in an upbeat mood. The humans had a saying, 'bright-eyed and bushy-tailed'. He'd thought it completely bizarre when he'd first heard it spoken out loud by one of the marines. Obviously, humans didn't have tails, bushy or otherwise. However, if any a human ever fit such a description, it was certainly Amy at that very moment. He took it to mean that things had gone well and so didn't pry too much, instead deciding to simply enjoy her company while he had it.

"I don't know..." Amy started. "I mean, yeah, Casino Royale was a great movie but...I have to agree with Ratchet on this one. Sean Connery is the best James Bond."

"Ha!" Ratchet paused in his sterilization of medical instruments and turned to face the pair. He grinned at the woman, "Smart femme. I knew there was a reason I liked you. Great minds and all that."

Amy laughed.

"Well, you're both wrong." Jazz declared as he chuckled and affectionately ruffled Amy's hair. "But it's alright. Agree to disagree. I still love ya." He thought a moment and then, "What about...best Bond villain?"

"Ooh...good one." Amy looked back to Ratchet to see where he stood on the subject.

"Hmm..." the CMO pondered the inquiry for a few seconds before answering with certainty, "Karl Stromberg in The Spy Who Loved Me, 1977."

"Mmm..." Amy wrinkled her nose. "Why?"

"Why?" The CMO raised his brow plates. "A scheme to destroy civilization by hijacking the world's nuclear weapons and then rebuilding a new society of his own under the ocean isn't dastardly enough for you?"

"Yeah, but..." Amy shrugged, "He ends up getting shot in the balls."

Jazz snorted in amusement, "She's got a good point, Ratch."

"Oh?" Ratchet planted his hands on his hips and mock glared at the woman. "Then tell me, Miss Doe, which one measures up to your exceedingly high standards for crime and debauchery?"

"That's a no-brainer." Amy stated as if it was undisputed fact, "Auric Goldfinger in Goldfinger, 1964."

Ratchet demanded, "Justification?"

'"Uh," Amy ticked off on her fingers, "Irradiating the gold supply in order to get rich. Industrial lasers. He holds Bond hostage almost the entire movie and would have killed him if it wasn't for Pussy Galore. He gets sucked out of a decompressing plane—way more dignified than getting shot in the crotch. Most importantly," she finished with a smile, "he had Oddjob who is, like, the best henchman ever."

"My baby girl," Jazz proudly announced, throwing an arm around her shoulders and hugging her to his side. "I couldn't have said it better. You have redeemed yourself."

"Well that's a relief," Amy laughed and relaxed into Jazz's embrace.

"Yes," Ratchet chuckled and rolled his optics. "I suppose I'll let you have that one."

The med bay doors burst suddenly open, startling its occupants. Mirage came thundering inside, one hand clamped to his face while the other arm swatted angrily at the Autobot's scout who was following close behind and attempting to lend assistance. Amy could clearly see the sticky-pink of energon oozing slowly between his fingers and splattered in fat droplets across his chest plates and armor. She couldn't understand the heated litany of words that came rapid fire from the mech's mouth but it didn't sound in any way happy or pleasant. Bumblebee made a calming gesture which only resulted in further verbal abuse.

Ratchet dropped the tools he'd been cleaning onto the counter, all good-natured banter immediately forgotten, as he stomped over toward the pair meeting them halfway. "What in the name of Primus is going on here?"

Mirage continued to spit and curse in what Amy assumed was a mixture of both Cybertronian and Italian. That is, until the CMO reached out to pull his hand away from his face plates to examine the damage for himself. His verbal barrage turned into a whine of pain. Amy sucked in an involuntary breath, her own hand going to cover her mouth. It wasn't pretty.

The mech normally had quite sleek features. The bright red of his armor plates swept down over his forehead where it met the bridge of his nasal plates in a very fine seam. Now, however, the plating was lifted and crunched upward and outward away from his nose. It looked almost as if someone had crushed a giant red soda can and glued it right between his optics. A spidery web of what looked almost like cracks spread out from the damage. ruining the normally glossy finish. Energon slowly oozed from the wound. Through it's almost-oily sheen, Amy thought she could see shiny silver beneath. She also hadn't missed the dents and dings covering both his chest plates and abdomen.

As badly as she hated to admit it, the first thought that popped into her head upon seeing him centered on Sunstreaker.

Ratchet demanded, "What happened?"

Bumblebee shook his head back and forth, his hands raising into a defensive gesture, "It wasn't me..."

"I will tell you exactly what happened," Mirage yelled, once more finding his voice. "Those two criminali assaulted me for no reason!"

Bee made a noise like he was clearing his throat, "Well I wouldn't go that far..."

Mirage whipped around to glare at the mech, "No one is talking to you! You just stand there and watch!"

The scout shrugged, "Not my circus, not my monkeys..."

"Go sit down," Ratchet snapped, seizing the irate mech by the shoulders and forcefully propelling him toward the nearest empty berth. "And stop yelling in my med bay!"

Reluctantly, Mirage did as he was told. As he passed by he finally took notice that Amy was in the room. He narrowed his optics at her, pointing at his ruined face, "You see what they do? Is it not like I said? They are indegno! Worthless!"

Amy's eyes widened. She wasn't sure whether to feel sorry for Mirage, hurt by his accusations, or angry at the way he constantly berated the twins in her presence. She settled for sympathy given his condition, softly asking, "Are...are you okay?"

The mech retorted sharply, "Do I look like I am okay?"

"That's enough," Jazz ordered, his voice taking on an authoritative tone that he seldom found need to have to use. He pointed to the berth, "Sit your aft down, close your mouth, an' let Ratchet look you over."

"You cannot speak to me like that..." Mirage began to protest.

"I just did," Jazz cut off his rant before it even started. He dared, "Do you wanna make somethin' of it?"

Mirage huffed angrily but remained silent, crossing his arms over his chest plates defiantly as Ratchet wheeled a cart full of equipment over and began assessing the extent of his injuries.

Just then, Amy's phone buzzed in her pocket. Fumbling, she fished it out with trembling fingers and thumbed the screen on to see that she had a text message. She read over it quickly, her eyes darting between her phone screen and the injured mech.

"Scraplet," Jazz lowered his voice to a gentle murmur, pulling the human's attention away from her phone and back to him. She was no longer so bright-eyed or bushy-tailed, instead she looked pale and slightly shaken. "Go home," he quietly instructed as he reached to help her down to the floor.

Amy blinked up at him as her feet touched the ground, "But..."

"Please," he asked again. "For me. Lemme find out what happened, do some damage control, and get this scrap sorted out, alright?"

"Yeah," Amy hesitantly agreed. If she could trust anyone, it was Jazz. "I...Okay..."

"Bee?" Jazz waved the scout over. "Do me a favor and see that she gets home, yeah?"

Bumblebee nodded enthusiastically, eager to put some distance between himself and the entire mess.

Amy allowed the mech to herd her quickly toward the exit. She took one last glance over her shoulder at Mirage as the doors closed behind them before shifting her attention up to Bee. "What happened?"

Bumblebee shrugged, not wanting to get any more involved than he already was. "Your guess...is...as good...as mine."

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Sideswipe paced the berth room nervously. He'd sent Amy a text letting her know they'd returned from their 'duties' and was anxiously awaiting her return. He wasn't sure what they were going to tell her when the 'Long Arm of the Law', aka Prowl, showed up to cart the two of them off to the brig. It was an inevitable scenario. He was sorry, not for Mirage as the mech had definitely had it coming. He was sorry that they'd made plans and promises to Amy and now they were falling apart right in front of his optics. So much time and encouragement had gone into convincing her to just give them a chance and they'd gone and fragged it up...good intentions or no.

A soft tap at the door had him nearly sprinting across the small space to open it. He wrenched it back on its track, finding Amy standing right outside, her hands buried in her pockets and her eyes staring sullenly down at the floor. Despite the anxiety he felt, he forced a bright smile, "Sweetspark! I told you we wouldn't be long."

Amy said nothing. She simply walked passed him into the room and headed straight for the couch. She collapsed down upon it, scrubbing her hands down her face before asking in a quiet voice, "Where's Sunstreaker?"

"He, uh," Sides fidgeted. "He ran to the wash room really quick to clean his hands. He'll be right back. How was your visit with Jazz?"

"It was great," Amy sighed and looked at the mech pointedly. "Until Mirage stormed in half out of his mind, bleeding everywhere, with half of his face looking like crumpled up tin foil. I don't suppose you know anything about that?"

"Ames," Sideswipe's face fell into an expression of guilt and concern. He moved quickly to where she was seated and knelt down in front of her, carefully taking her very small hands into his own. "Sweetspark...please, please don't be mad. We can explain..."

Ames looked at the mech incredulously. "He said the two of you came up and assaulted him for no reason!"

"That's not what happened," Sideswipe denied. "I swear, Ames. I'd never lie to you, not in a million years."

"Then tell me," she pleaded. "What the hell happened?"

"He got exactly what was coming to him." Sunstreaker answered casually as he casually walked through the open door, closing it behind him. "Does that answer your question?"

"How can you say that?" Amy shook her head, staring at the mech in disbelief. "Have you seen his face?"

"Seen it?" Sunstreaker raised a brow. "Squishie, I'm the one who rearranged it. Don't feel sorry for Mirage. The only one he has to blame for the state he's in is himself. If he'd minded his own business his aft wouldn't be sitting in the med bay right now."

"But," Amy blinked, trying to wrap her head around what had went wrong. "Last night...I thought we were okay..."

"We're just fine," Sunny smirked. "The Trinket was the problem. Now, he's not."

Amy again shook her head, "I don't understand..."

"Oh, come on," Sunstreaker rolled his optics. "Don't give me that slag. You're an intelligent femme. You understand perfectly fragging well. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

Sideswipe frowned at his brother's tone, "Sunny..."

"No," Sunstreaker cut his brother off. "She wants to know what happened. Fine." He glared down at the woman. "His entire life Mirage has has everything handed to him on a goddamn silver platter and it doesn't compute in his head how a couple nobodies from the fragging slums of Cybertron managed to find the single good thing this mud ball planet has to offer while he's still sitting in his room alone watching slagging soap operas. Being the pompous aft he is, he tried to get to us by messing with you. I called him out on it and he had the ballbearings to say that you're not good enough, that you're some kind of slagging joke. So," he shrugged, "I caved his fragging face in."

"Why?" Amy demanded, unshed tears burning in her eyes. "Why would you do that? I don't care about any of that! I told you, what he says doesn't matter!"

"It matters to me," Sunstreaker snapped back. "As much as I want to, I can't go back and fix all the horrible scrap that you've been through but I can shut that slagging Trinket's mouth in the here and now! I'll be damned straight to the Pit before I'll let him talk about you like you don't matter because you fragging do, alright?"

Amy's bottom lip trembled and a single tear managed to escape her right eye. She quickly wiped it away. "Sunstreaker..."

"I'm not apologizing for what I did," the mech added in a more subdued tone. "I'm not sorry. You deserve better than the way you've been treated. I'm not going to just stand there while some self-important piece of scrap runs you down." He shook his head and vented heavily, "Primus, bright spark, I just..."

"Open up," Prowl's voice filtered through the door followed by three solid knocks.

"Slag it," Sideswipe muttered, rising to his wheels. He called out, "Can you give us a klick? We're kind of in the middle of something."

"Now," the SIC commanded.

"Spawn of Unicron," the silver twin cursed as he moved to the door. He looked to his brother but received no input on whether or not to let the mech in. So, Sideswipe drew air down deep into his intakes and pushed the door back on its track. He offered the mech standing on the other side of it an anxious grin. "Hey, Prowl."

The SIC raised a brow, "Do I need to tell you why I'm here?"

"Uh," Sides rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Is it about that training incident earlier?"

"Indeed," Prowl answered crisply, his sharp optics carefully surveying the room and its occupants. Sideswipe fidgeted under the intense scrutiny which was highly unusual as he typically had a lackadaisical attitude toward breaking what he believed to be nonsensical rules and regulations and viewed punishment as par for the course. Sunstreaker, on the other hand, tended to rail against authority and all the trappings that came with it. He was currently leaned up against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest plates, and staring at the floor. Neither twin had a scratch on them which, honestly, wasn't too surprising. Mirage, on the other hand, was still in the med bay with Ratchet having the dents beat out of his face with a ball-peen hammer.

The only person Prowl felt sorry for in the entire situation was the young woman sitting across the room on the couch looking utterly hurt and confused. None of this was her fault and yet the look on her face said that she believed otherwise. She was in a situation well beyond her control and the current circumstances couldn't be helping. He hated to add to the strain he was certain she was under but he still had a function to perform. Rules were rules.

He acknowledged her with an apologetic tilt of his head. "Petty Officer Doe, I'm sorry for the intrusion, but I'm going to have to ask Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to come with me. You do understand?"

Amy said nothing, merely nodded her head in the affirmative.

Sunstreaker pushed off the wall with an irritated huff, "Let's get this slag over with." He brushed roughly by the SIC on his way out into the hall.

Sides was more hesitant to leave. He looked worriedly to the femme, "Ames...?

"Just go," she answered in a small voice colored with disappointment and disbelief.

"Don't leave," Sideswipe begged as the SIC took hold of his arm to lead him away. "Stay here..."

"Sideswipe" Prowl tugged on the mech's arm as he locked his wheels, refusing to move. "Let's not make this any more difficult than it has to be."

Sides glared at Prowl, "Wait a second." He turned back to Amy, "Don't go anywhere, Ames, alright? Just wait here...please?"

"Sides..." Prowl warned. "I'm not asking you again. I'm sure you don't want this to turn into a scene."

"Okay, okay," the mech relented. He cast one final look back over his shoulder at Amy with pleading optics. "I'm going..."

Prowl vented heavily as he finally managed to maneuver the front liner out of the room. He turned to Amy, "I'll do my best to have this matter expedited. Again, you have my sincere apologizes."

Amy shook her head, "It isn't your fault."

"Nor is it your's." The SIC gave the woman a small but sincere smile, barely a quirk of the lip plates. "Don't worry over the twins. These things have a way of blowing over. They'll be fine."

She nodded in understanding and watched as Prowl turned and left, shutting her inside the twins' quarters all alone.

Not knowing what else to do, Amy curled up on the couch and clutched one of the pillows to her chest. Her eyes darted around the now silent quarters. The space seemed much too big and much too quiet without the presence of the twins filling it. She honestly didn't know what she was going to do with the pair of them. One day into their trial period of living together and Prowl was already hauling them off to only God knew where and for how long. She didn't doubt their sincerity or their motivation but their method...well, that was another story.

She thought seriously about it for a moment but decided that couldn't just pack up and go back to the barracks. Well, she could, but if she were honest that wasn't what she wanted. Regardless of what they may or may not have done to Mirage, good reasoning or no, she couldn't just leave and it had little if nothing to do with her physical dependency on the two of them. They, like Jazz, had become an integral part of her life. It was hard to explain without ever having had a point of reference by which to compare. Despite Prowl's reassurance, she couldn't help but worry. She just hoped he was right and that this, too, would blow over.

End of Chapter 42