Finding Home

Chapter 52

By Voodoo Queen

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! I hope you're all feeling great and doing well in these crazy times. I've been trying to stay busy. My quarantine project has been to go back through this story and do some minor editing using an actual writing program vs the chaotic scribble stuff down on whatever is available whenever inspiration strikes and copy/paste the mess together as time permits method that I usually use. I'll probably be going back soon and reposting some of the updated chapters. It doesn't change the story, just cleans it up a bit for you guys reading it. Also, I've been dabbling around in Artbreeder lately. If you've never played around with it, I highly recommend as a leisurely way to pass the time. I managed to come up with fairly accurate composites of our OCs in this story, which I posted to DeviantArt because I didn't know what else to do with them, lol—they're the only thing I've ever posted there. If you want to take a look, I put the info in my profile. If you do look, let me know what you think. Do the characters look anything like you imagined? I'm curious!

I thank everyone who has read, liked, and followed this story—I'm glad you found your way here! If you're new...Welcome Aboard! If you've been hanging with us for a while, you know that I adore all of my readers and reviewers. Your feedback is priceless! Much love to: CarsCars2Fanatic, Munto, all my "Guests", xXAyula-ChanXx, Rachel0424, bonnieandjangolove, .Princess, Songbird's Spirit, Sweet Sprinks, HanaeTakahashi, SilverStorm5, Teletraan, Deimoss, monkeybaby, wajagirlliz, Books-n-Harleys, fandomsbrokeme, No-Shmucks-Given45, Wolfsredfalcon, ScarletSea, jellybeanz513, TC Howl, JC3709, Madama Crimson, Spoffen, the everchanging, ImpartingAbyss, Cinematronix, bambam411, Wika0304, daydreaming-galaxygaze, EmzTheSpirit, Jazzbaby12, electrogirl88, Salinia, urafloppywaffle, LanternLady, RedwoodGinger, Freya2Xana, SummerMistedDragon for reviewing!

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

XXXXXXXXXX

'I hadn't lost you both...you were here...'

The words echoed in Amy's head over and over, as if her mind had become a vacuous cavern devoid of anything else. He couldn't possibly believe she was... No. Amy shook her head. It was ridiculous, what he insinuated so far fetched and beyond the realm of belief that it was almost laughable. The mech was obviously delusional. Had Ratchet had been so worried about Jazz's physical ailments that he'd overlooked a serious psychological issue triggered by his injuries? Had his physical impairments brought to the surface a long hidden trauma and plunged him into some sort of post-traumatic neurotic disorder? Was anyone else aware of Jazz's deep rooted belief that she was somehow the physical embodiment of his lost sparkling? Did Prowl know?

Amy's overworked brain paused at that thought, thinking back to all the times Prowl had nudged her in Jazz's direction. He encouraged their relationship, tended to it even, in his own way. The stoic SIC with his calculating looks and subtle smiles, the way he always seemed to be around whenever Jazz and the twins were not, not necessarily hovering, but present and attentive. Jazz had said he hadn't spoken to anyone about this, but Prowl's entire job revolved around the collection and analysis of data, tactical or otherwise. As close as the friends were and as observant as Prowl was, there was no way the tactician hadn't picked up on something. If Prowl was aware, would he encourage such insanity to help his oldest friend deal with his current situation? And it was insane, wasn't it? There was no way anyone could believe something so far fetched, was there?

Amy looked up at the mech with tears brimming in her eyes and realized that, yes, it was possible for someone to be completely invested in this ridiculous flight of fancy. In Jazz's face she saw only the warmth of acceptance and the sheer belief that, in some strange twist of fate or Providence or what have you, he'd had a part his lost family miraculous returned to him in some form or another. Despite the utter unbelievability of the situation, more surprising than Jazz's revelation, was the fact that Amy found herself wishing that it could be true. She thought back to her much younger self, to the countless times she'd sat huddled in the dark, on her knees with tears streaming down her face, flinging desperate prayers out into a cold, empty universe that seemed only to ignore her and brush her aside as if she were no better than the garbage she'd been tossed out with.

Jazz, she realized with a jolt, was everything she'd ever asked for and more. She'd made a list once. Her six-year old self had put blue crayon to orange construction paper and poured out everything she'd had in her heart. She'd been a baby then, unwise to the workings of the world and still a believer in things like happy endings and magical wishing stars. She'd given the list to her social worker at the time and had asked her to please pass it on to the judge they had been scheduled to see later that week. The list, she'd tried to explain in the way only a child could, would help the judge find her forever family, the one place in the universe that belonged solely to her. She'd later found her carefully crafted description of her ideal family in the trash buried beneath the remnants of her social worker's lunch and was soon after packed off to yet another badly vetted foster home where she'd spent a hellish eight months during which she'd acquired the small scars that dotted her arms.

She'd learned a lot in those eight months. She'd learned that happy endings didn't exist and that all the wishes in the world couldn't save you from the human monsters that came out at night to hurt you while you slept. She'd learned she'd had no place, that she had no roots, no identity. She'd learned that no one really cared, that she was just another case number. She'd learned that the only person that she could really depend on was herself. Years upon years of the same treatment, the same disregard for her existence had reinforced the belief that she was an unwanted nobody. She was damaged, unloveable, but then she'd arrived in this strange place with these strange people and all those lessons had been turned on their head. Jazz, in his own way, was re-educating her, teaching her things that should have come easily and naturally under any other circumstance.

Amy thought back to that list now and, though the mech before her looked nothing like she'd imagined when she'd compiled it, he was practically tailor made just for her and the little girl within her rejoiced. Sitting before her, bearing his spark, was everything she'd ever wanted. Unconditional love and affection, safety and security, acceptance and encouragement, and a boundless supply of fatherly pride. Any child would have been blessed to have him as a parent, herself included. Though her heart ached for everything Jazz had gone through, she found herself envious of the life his and Zephyr's sparkling could have had were it not for the ravages of war tearing them apart. To be so profoundly loved and wanted by the people who created you. How incredibly amazing would that have felt? She would never know.

Maybe she could pretend. Just for a little while. It wasn't that hard. She focused on the sense of familiarity she felt with the mech and the ease with which they'd both settled into their respective roles, quickly evolving from supervisor-subordinate and into the closest thing to family that she'd ever experienced. The overwhelming feeling of déjà vu she'd experienced at his retelling of his past had accumulated to send a shockwave through her psyche. The part of her that was still that little girl who had yearned for someone to come along and scoop her up, hold her in their arms and tell her that she was wanted and loved, wanted nothing more than to accept his declaration and curl up in the warmth and shelter he freely gave to her and remain there. A shelter in the storm. It was too easy to get lost in what he was offering. If she wasn't careful, she could easily convince herself it was real.

Still, a part of her mind continued to scoff, thinking it absurd to even entertain the notion that somehow, through the vastness of space and time, fate and the universe had conspired to bring two souls that were ripped apart much too soon back together. Amy wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. She felt a headache coming on as she tried to parse through her feelings and find a bit of equilibrium.

"Hey, now..." Jazz gently pressed the tip of one finger to the space between the woman's brows, smoothing the worry lines that had formed there. "Don't think so hard, scraplet. There's no need to get yourself all wound up. Everything's gonna be okay."

Amy did laugh then, a sound bordering on a desperate sob. "I don't..." she swallowed, her voice trembling. She felt overwhelmed by the mech's absolute conviction. It rocked to her very core. "I don't even know how to respond to all this. I'm not sure what you're expecting me to do here, Jazz."

"Ya don't have to do anything," Jazz soothed. "I know it's a lot to take in. I'm still wrappin' my processor around everything, myself. The only thing ya need to know this: I love ya from the very bottom of my spark. I always have and I always will. Whether ya believe me or not. That won't ever change."

"I don't understand." Amy sniffed, wiping her eyes that had begun to leak. She desperately wanted to tell him that she loved him, too, but was hesitant. This was bigger than her and what she wanted. He meant the world to her and she was worried for him. He'd lost a mate and a child and she was afraid that he'd only end up hurting worse by projecting that grief onto her. She tried to reason with him. "This is...I mean, you know this sounds crazy, right? How can you believe any of this? I'm human," she stated the obvious. "I'm nothing special, Jazz. Something absolutely horrible happened to you, and I'm so, so sorry, but you can't expect me to be someone I'm not. It's not fair to either of us, especially you. You'll only end up hurt and disappointed. I don't want to be the cause of any more pain and heartache."

"Stop it right there. You could never disappoint me, scraplet. Ever. And I don't ever wanna hear ya talk like that again," the mech gently scolded. "I know ya probably think I have a couple bolts loose, and that's alright. Ya may be right." He smoothed a calming hand over the top of her head. "Somethin' horrible happened to both of us and it breaks my spark in two to think about everything you've been through and knowing I wasn't here to stop it. The sad truth is that neither of us can change what's already happened, no matter how much I wish we could, but we can make the most out of right now." Jazz smiled softly down at her, "I don't expect ya to be anyone other than exactly who you've always been, exactly who you'll always be. Human. Cybertronian. We're all made out of stardust, scraplet. A body is a house, a place where you live. It's not who you are. We've been given an amazin' gift. I don't claim to know the ins and outs of how the universe works, but a creator knows." He tapped his chest. "In here. I look at you and I see Zeph and feel the bond we had together and the life we created and I know. I know," he stressed, tapping her on the chest as well, "that you're right in there. Safe and sound. Exactly where you're meant to be. Here, with me."

She wanted to believe. She really did, but it wasn't something she could easily swallow. Amy shook her head. Her voice cracked as she responded softly, "I wish I had as much conviction as you do. I really do."

"I thought you deserved to know where I'm comin' from and how special ya are to me," Jazz comforted the woman as he coaxed her back beneath his arm, giving her an affectionate squeeze. "I know ya haven't had it the easiest since ya got here. I'm not tryin' to stress ya out or pile more on your shoulders, scraplet. We don't have to deal with any of this tonight. We're both here. We're together. It's a beautiful night and, thanks to Prowler, we have a gorgeous view. Let's enjoy it. We've both earned that much."

Amy nodded. There was so much she wanted to ask, so much she wanted to say, but she couldn't even begin to find the words. She was torn. One part of her was ecstatic at the possibility, no matter how slight, that she did belong to Jazz in some shape or form and that he did want her. The other part felt guilty, as if her presence in the mech's life had inadvertently usurped a station and position that didn't rightfully belong to her, like she was some sort of invasive species. Though her gaze had wandered back to the stars, she could no longer appreciate their beauty. Her eyes stared off in the direction where Cybertron lay but, instead of relishing the mystery and wonder of an alien world, she grieved for the femme she'd never knew, whose dying plea had been for her beloved mate to care for their child in her absence. It was a plea that, despite Jazz's adamant belief, Amy feared would go forever unfulfilled.

XXXXXXXXX

They'd remained at the overlook for quite some time, each lost in their own thoughts for a while. Jazz had been the first to break the silence, picking up the conversation as if he hadn't just turned her world upside down once again. The gentle rumble of his voice carried over the sound of the waves down below and Amy tried to focus on his words instead of the tumultuous thoughts that threatened to take over inside her own head. She'd need time to sort her own thoughts and feelings eventually, but she couldn't focus on that now, not when she felt so safe and sheltered and wanted. Later, away from Jazz and his damned theories and unconditional acceptance, she knew it would be an entirely different story.

He'd asked her how she'd been feeling and she'd answered honestly. She felt great lately, although Ratchet was still no closer to explaining how she'd come to be in her current predicament. Jazz had hummed in acknowledgment and, though he didn't voice it, the look he gave her in response told her that he'd since developed his own theories that were no doubt connected to their earlier conversation. He'd moved on, though, asking how Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had been treating her. She perked up at that. Her relationship with the twins was a whole other can of worms, but one she'd been poking around in long enough to at least have a vague idea of what was going on. She'd answered him honestly on that front, as well, with the exclusion of their recent foray into more physical activities.

"They've been really great," she assured the mech. "Perfect gentlemen, believe it or not."

Jazz had studied her intensely for a moment, as if he could somehow sense everything she wasn't saying. "Ya know," he began, his optics sweeping over her slowly in concern before meeting her eyes with a serious yet tender expression, "ya never have to do anything ya don't want to do or you're not sure of."

Amy swallowed, her skin prickling as Jazz seemed to see right through her. "I-I know that..."

"I'm serious, scraplet." Jazz leveled her with his gaze. "They love you and they may mean well, but don't let those two pressure you into anything you're not ready for. And if they try to do anything of the sort, ya let me know and I'll set 'em straight."

"They would never do anything like that." Amy, though touched by Jazz's concern, defended the two mechs. "I think they're more worried about me than I am about myself. If anything, they've been extremely careful and accommodating."

"That's a relief to hear," Jazz only half teased, "because I'd hate to have to mess up Sunny's pretty face."

Amy released an amused huff, feeling a bit of the tension drain from her body. "That would be tragic," she murmured. "He does have a very nice face."

"I mean it," Jazz rumbled. "I'm always here for ya, in whatever capacity ya need me. I know you're an adult, and I respect that, but if ya ever have questions about anything or just need a bot to talk to or vent at, I'm always ready and willing."

"I know," Amy flashed the mech a watery smile. "If anything comes up, you'll be the first person I come to."

"Good." Jazz vented, seeming pleased with her response. He ruffled her hair, stretching as he did so and shifting to push himself back up onto his feet. "We should get you home, scraplet. It's late and I'm sure Sides and Sunny are probably goin' stir crazy wonderin' where I whisked ya off to."

Amy nodded in agreement, rising from her seat on the ground and watched again, in wonder, as Jazz folded himself effortlessly into his alt form. Wordlessly, she climbed inside and settled behind the wheel. Soft music streamed though the car's interior as Jazz steered them back the way they'd come. Neither spoke, both taking advantage of the drive to absorb all that had just transpired between them. Jazz giving thanks to both his mate and whatever deity had saw fit to bring Amy back into his life, and Amy questioning everything she knew about the strange surreality that had become her existence.

In no time at all it seemed as though they'd reached the building that housed the bots' living quarters. Amy knew she probably shouldn't have been surprised to see Sideswipe lingering around outside, but her heart turned over inside of her chest nonetheless. The bright smile he flashed her when she exited Jazz's alt mode steadied her somewhat and lent her strength enough to appear steadier on her feet than she actually felt as she moved to greet him.

"Sweet spark!" Sides greeted as he approached them, "Have a good visit?"

"Um," Amy glanced up at Jazz and nodded her head. "Yeah. Always. It was, uh, interesting..."

Sideswipe's smile wavered slightly and concern creased his face plates. He opened his mouth to probe further, but was interrupted.

"Ya didn't have to wait up, Sides," Jazz chuckled as he joined the pair. "Ya know I'll take care of her."

"Yeah, I know." Sideswipe shrugged and winked at Amy, momentarily putting his concern aside. "But I can't recharge without her."

Amy felt herself blush. Even in her current state, Sideswipe's open declaration of affection sent a pleasant buzz through her body. It was warm and, by now, familiar. She focused on that feeling to distract herself from her rampant thoughts, at least for the time being.

"Looking good, by the way." Sideswipe's grin widened once more as he lightly punched Jazz on the shoulder. "How're you feeling?"

Jazz chuckled as the trio made their way inside the building. "Like a million credits," he answered. "Nothin' like a night drive with pleasant company to set things right. The doc's still not cleared me for full duty, but we're getting there slowly."

Sides nodded in understanding. "Take it one day at a time, right?"

"That's all any of us can do," Jazz agreed as they came to the junction where they'd have to part ways. The mech hesitated for a moment, pausing to turn and gaze down at Amy. The look he gave her said more than his words ever could. "Sleep tight, scraplet. I'll see ya in the morning."

Amy swallowed the lump that had once again lodged itself in her throat and nodded. "Yeah...goodnight, Jazz."

"Take good care of my girl," Jazz ordered Sideswipe.

"Always," the mech unhesitatingly answered. "You can count on it."

"Ya know where I'll be if ya need me, scraplet." After one final long look, Jazz turned and made his way toward his own quarters.

Amy watched him go with mixed emotions. Part of her was grateful for the space he was giving her and the time to think, while the other part wanted to chase after him and beg him not to leave her. Once the mech was out of sight, she groaned and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to relieve the aching pressure that was building there.

"Ames...?"

At gentle rumble of Sideswipe's voice, she dropped her arms back to her sides and looked up. The softly glowing blue optics that met her eyes were filled with unspoken worry. She sighed and shook her head. "I'm fine."

Side's brow raised. "You don't look fine, sweet spark."

"No," she quietly agreed. "I'm sure I don't." She tried to play it off, needing to get her own thoughts and feelings in order before confiding them to anyone else. "It's been an extremely long and emotional day and I guess it finally caught up with me. I'm exhausted."

Sideswipe nodded, but didn't look entirely convinced. "Why don't we get you in bed," he suggested. "A good night's defrag can cure just about anything."

Amy tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "That sounds like a wonderful idea."

XXXXXXXXXX

Sunstreaker had been lying in the berth, reading a data pad, when his brother and the Squishie had returned to their room. He'd sat up, placing the pad aside in preparation to greet the pair, but stopped when he saw the haunted look on the woman's face. He looked to his twin who must have sensed his unvoiced concern because he received a puzzled look and a shrug in response.

Sunny's relaxed countenance twisted into a frown as he asked the woman directly, "What the frag happened to you?"

"N-nothing," she'd stuttered. "I'm just tired, is all. It's been a long day."

The yellow mech's optics narrowed in suspicion as they tracked her through the space they shared. He watched her like a hawk as she gathered the things she'd need to prepare for sleep. He waited until she once again exited their quarters, toothbrush and pajamas in hand, to turn on his brother. "What in the Pit happened? She looks like someone lubricated in her energon."

"No idea," Sideswipe shook his head. "I asked and got pretty much the same answer you did."

Sunny demanded, "Did Jazz say anything?"

"Nope," Sideswipe denied. "He seemed pretty upbeat and chipper, actually. You know how he is about her, Sunny. If something was really wrong, he'd be the first mech to throw down. Maybe she is just really tired."

Sunstreaker scoffed at that. "And I'm slagging Omega Supreme. Something's wrong with her."

"Yeah," Sideswipe vented defeatedly and sank down to sit on the edge of the berth to await her return. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I know. I guess I was hoping that if something was bothering her that she'd feel like she could confide in us. Especially now that we've been intimate, you know?"

Sunny didn't reply, but the pensive look on his face suggested that his thoughts ran along the same lines. He and his brother were doing the best they could, but he would have been a liar if he didn't admit to the occasional feelings of inadequacy that creeped into his processor where the woman was concerned. Everything about their relationship was so far outside his realm of experience that he was never quite sure what to say or what to do in order to make things right. He'd learned quickly that his typical way of dealing with problems through the use of brute force wasn't well received. Their current predicament was no exception. It wasn't that he doubted that he and Sides had gained the woman's trust and confidence, but it was troubling that she seemed unwilling or unable to share what had her so unnerved. His processor churned, wondering what could have possibly happened to put her in such a mood.

Amy reentered the room as quietly as she'd left. Wordlessly, she returned her toiletries to their proper places. On silent feet, she approached the berth and allowed Sideswipe to lift her from the floor. She didn't meet either mechs' optics, instead crawling to the center of the berth and burrowing down into her little nest to try to make sense of things. She jerked the blankets up over her head in an effort to block everything out and curled herself into the tiniest ball possible.

Sides vented and moved back across the room to cut off the lights.

Sunstreaker stared down at the unmoving lump of blankets as if trying to burn a hole through the human buried within them. When she didn't so much as twitch or make a sound, he grunted in irritation and settled back into the berth, rolling to his side to watch her. Not even sure whether or not she was breathing, he reached out, pinching the blanket she'd cocooned herself in between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a tug, revealing her too-pale face. His frown deepened.

"You're going to suffocate in there, Squishie."

"It's fine," she murmured, refusing to look at him. Whether she was trying to convince herself or the mech was hard to say. "I'm fine."

Sideswipe slid into the berth behind her, immediately cuddling her to his chest plates. If she wouldn't share what was on her mind, he could at least offer her a bit of comfort in the best way he knew how. "Comfy?"

"Yeah," she sighed, forcing her eyes closed. "Goodnight."

"Night, sweet spark," Sides murmured, his glowing blue optics met his brother's for a moment in concern before he settled in behind the woman to try and recharge.

Sunstreaker stared hard at the pair for another long moment before venting heavily and rolling onto his back to stare up at the pitted metal ceiling instead.

XXXXXXXXX

Time ticked by slowly, slower than Sunstreaker could ever remember. A check of his internal chronometer told him that it was just passed one o'clock in the morning. It had only been a little over an hour since they'd settled in for the night, but to the mech it felt like eons had crawled by. There was no possible way he could recharge. Not tonight. Not when the small bundle of human laying next to him kept sniffling and shuddering. How his brother had managed to drift off he couldn't even fathom, but he couldn't take it anymore. Something had to give.

The mech drew air down deep into his intakes, exhaling harshly as he again rolled to his side and jerked down the blankets that covered the woman's upper half. He was, perhaps, a bit more forceful than he meant to be, nearly flinging the covers from the berth entirely. He'd obviously startled her with the sudden action. It was also obvious that she was crying and failing miserably at hiding it. An unpleasant twisting sensation reverberated through his spark, causing even Sideswipe to groan and shift uncomfortably in his recharge. Even in the dark he could tell that her face was damp and splotchy, her normally vibrant green eyes were red and puffy, and her nose seemed to leak a fluid that he didn't even want to think about. Sunstreaker suppressed a grimace at the thought of organic bodily secretions, the affection he'd grown to feel for the human overriding his disgust.

Amy looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes flitted briefly in the direction in which her blankets had been flung before reluctantly meeting the softly glowing optics that glared down at her. Her voice barely above a whisper, she asked, "Did...did I wake you up?"

Sunny frowned and shook his head, "That implies that I was actually able to recharge with all the moaning and groaning you've been doing over here."

Amy's eyes widened and her face reddened even more with embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Save it, Squishie." Sunny rumbled, cutting her off. He shook his head. "I'm not interested in some lame aft apology. You were perfectly fine this morning, then you disappear with Jazz for a few hours and come back a slagging wreck. I want to know what the frag is wrong with you."

"It's nothing," she insisted quietly, even as her eyes began to well up once more. "I'm fine."

"It's the middle of the slagging night and you're in bed crying," Sunny pointed out, his voice raising slightly and causing his brother to shift restlessly in the berth beside them. He lowered his volume, practically growling at her, "Where I'm from, that's not fine, that's a fragging problem."

She tried to deflect, "It's-it's...personal."

The mech grew eerily still, his optics narrowing into almost menacing slits. "So that's how you want to play this, huh? I thought we'd already had this conversation." He pushed himself up into a sitting position to glare down at her. "Maybe that lump of mush you call a brain has a hard time retaining information. Maybe you need a reminder of how all of this works."

"Hey!" Amy squealed as Sunstreaker, in one swift motion, rose from the berth while simultaneously extracting her from his brother's grasp, shoving her pillow and pile of blankets into the other mech's arms as a sort of placeholder.

"Hush!" Sunstreaker hissed, silencing her. "You'll wake Sides." He was careful with her, but not necessarily gentle. He was tired from lack of recharge and irritated at her lack of openness. Wrapping his fingers around her middle, he carried her in much the same manner as one would a can of soda, as he stalked toward the door.

"Where are we going?" Amy demanded as they exited the berth room into the passageway. She half feared the mech would carry her down to Jazz's berthing. She could imagine Sunstreaker pounding on the door, demanding Jazz come out and explain what had transpired between them to have upset her so. She wasn't sure she was up for seeing the mech so soon after the revelation he'd dropped on her and she felt her stomach churn nervously in response. Her anxiousness was unfounded, however. Instead of continuing on down the corridor, the yellow twin turned and headed toward the rec room.

The lounge was dark save for the flickering glow of the television on the far wall. On its screen, Maury continued to wreck the lives of his guests by revealing questionable paternity results and lie detection failures. In the midst of it all, Bumblebee sat sprawled in his seat, arms and legs all akimbo as he recharged soundly. With little regard for the peacefully snoozing scout, Sunstreaker strode to the television and, rather than searching for the remote, yanked the cord out of the wall and plunging the room into silence.

"I don't understand how he can watch this stupid scrap," Sunny murmured to himself as he crossed the room and used the fist that wasn't gripping Amy to rap on the top of the younger mech's head. "Get up, Bee," he ordered.

The scout roused, blinking slowly as he warbled in protest at being woken up.

"I don't care if you were comfortable," Sunny snapped, taking on an almost parental tone that Amy would have found funny if she weren't feeling so completely out of sorts and miserable. "You can't recharge worth a flying frag like that. Go get in your berth."

Bumblebee pouted, clicking and chirping in disagreement even as he rose from his seat to follow the other mech's instruction. He stretched lazily, taking a moment to rub his tired optics with his fisted hands like an overgrown toddler, when he suddenly spotted Amy in Sunstreaker's grasp. All vestiges of recharge seemed to leave him then, a look of deep worry taking the place of fatigue. He took a couple of steps toward the pair, instinctually reaching for the human he'd befriended only to have Sunstreaker place a halting hand on his chest plates.

"Go. To. Bed." Sunstreaker growled, his tone taking on a hard edge. "Now."

Bee knew a warning when he heard one, but was hesitant to obey. The little femme looked completely tired and worn down, infinitely sad, and nothing like her usual pleasant self. Bumblebee didn't have many friends, not on this planet, and the idea of abandoning one in such a state to Sunstreaker's unpredictable temper, even if he knew the mech would have thrown himself into a smelter rather than cause her harm, didn't sit well with him. A soft ticking sound emanated from the scout's busted vocal processor as he looked at Sunstreaker questioningly. Despite the lack of verbal confirmation, it was obvious that some form of communication passed between them.

"I know, dumb aft," Sunstreaker ground out in response to whatever the mech had said. "What the Pit do you think I'm doing up? Now frag off."

Bee stepped back, raising his hands in a sign of peace. His optics wandered over to Amy once more, his head tilting in silent question.

"I'll be fine." Amy managed a small, sad smile for the young mech's sake. She tried to diffuse the situation. The last thing she felt like dealing with at this moment was an argument. "Good night, Bee. I'll see you in the morning."

The mech hummed in understanding. Seeming to harbor no ill will towards Sunny, despite his atrocious attitude, Bee gave the pair a parting wave before carrying on his way, presumably to his own berth to settle in for the night.

"That was completely unnecessary," Amy admonished Sunstreaker in a disapproving tone as soon as Bumblebee had cleared the space. "He was just worried. You didn't have to be so mean to him."

"This whole situation is completely unnecessary," Sunstreaker retorted as his attention shifted back to the human he held. "I'm worried, and you don't have to be such a fragging pain in the aft."

Amy's mouth snapped shut at that. She wasn't even sure how to respond. Her silence didn't deter the mech, however. In a few large strides, he'd crossed the room to the high counter where the energon dispenser was housed and plopped her down next to it.

He stepped back, hands planted firmly on his hips, and glared down at her. "Well?"

Amy sighed and looked away, her fingers tangling together nervously in her lap.

"I can stand here all night," the mech threatened. "What happened with Jazz?"

The woman sat silently for a moment, not even sure what to say. She turned the situation over in her head, searching for a starting point, before finally daring to speak. "I'm not even supposed to be here," she murmured softly.

"You're not supposed to be here?" Sunstreaker looked at her doubtfully. "Jazz told you this?"

"Not...not exactly." Amy swallowed hard and explained. "We were just talking, and enjoying the evening and...and he said he needed to tell me something important. One thing lead to another and...and he said that him receiving my file for consideration for my position was a clerical error. Someone pulled the wrong one."

"Okay?" Sunstreaker shrugged. "So? Who the frag cares? You're here. That's all that matters."

"I care," Amy insisted, looking up at the mech with glassy eyes. "All the other candidates were engineers and computer scientists. I'm...me. I'm not qualified."

"Jazz thinks you are," Sunstreaker argued. "He wouldn't have sent for you otherwise."

Amy shook her head. "Jazz is..."

"What?" Sunstreaker probed as she trailed off. "Jazz is what? Wrong? I hate to break it to you, Squishie," he argued, "but that mech has has been running combat Ops for longer than your military has even existed. He's probably got a better grasp of who is qualified to do what job than you do."

"I'm more qualified to work with a piece of ancient alien technology than an aerospace engineer with a PHD?" Amy scoffed, "I don't think so."

"Education does not equal intelligence or skill," Sunstreaker argued. "Some of the most educated bots I've ever met have been as dumb as a pile of scrap metal. Some of the least educated have been the most capable I've ever met. I'd trust any one of them with my life before I'd trust somebot just because they have a bunch of fancy fragging titles after their name." He tried to rationalize with the woman. "Error or no, if you weren't up to the task, it wouldn't matter how crazy Jazz was about you. Prime would have found a new position for you a long time ago."

"But—" Amy tried to rebut, but the mech stopped her.

"There is no but," Sunny said with an air of finality. "You can like it or not, but that's the way slag works around here. Optimus is a good mech and a great leader. As long as Sides and I have known him, he's always gone above and beyond for his people. He'd bend over backwards for any one of us, yourself included, if he thought it would make a difference, but," he clarified, "his primary goal is to make sure we all survive this war. He can't do that if he has people in positions they can't handle. Trust me, bright spark, if you couldn't do the job, you wouldn't be here."

Amy sighed as she mulled over Sunstreaker's words. She knew Prime was an understanding mech, but she'd also had to learn the hard way how carefully he weighed the pros and cons of each and every decision he made. Yes, he cared deeply about the feelings of his comrades, but, as Sunstreaker had pointed out, he was also trying to win a war. She wasn't sure whether or not the Autobot Commander was aware of the circumstances surrounding her introduction to his ranks, but at no time during any interaction had he ever given her the impression that he wasn't pleased with her presence or that he doubted her abilities. That, however, was the least of what was weighing on her mind.

Amy shook her head. "If I wasn't here, if someone hadn't made a mistake, I'd still be on my ship, this whole spark fiasco would have never happened, and you'd be—"

"Alone," the mech finished, a pensive almost hurt expression on his face plates. "Sides and I would be alone."

"You'd be better off. Jazz would be better off. Everyone would be better off." She shook her head. "Ever since I got here it's been one thing after another. Every day it's something new and tonight...I...I just don't belong here. I've never belonged here."

"That's a load of slag." Sunny looked pointedly at the woman, his spark churning in his chest. "When the frag are you going to stop feeling sorry for yourself and start living your slagging life? Someone made a mistake. Big fragging deal! It worked out in your favor. You still earned your spot on this team through hard work. You belong here as much as Sides and I or anybody else...and don't think I'm just saying that to blow smoke up your tailpipe because we share a berth. All feelings aside," the mech confessed, "even if we weren't involved, you'd still be one of the most intelligent and competent humans I've ever met."

Amy felt herself warm at Sunstreaker's words. Coming from him, they may as well have been a declaration of eternal devotion as much as he avoided actually addressing his own feelings out loud. She considered him for a moment, chewing her bottom lip. Though the revelation that she was essentially a typo wasn't the most pressing of her concerns, Sunstreaker's words had actually eased the ache in her chest ever so slightly. Her voice cracked slightly as she asked, "You think so?"

"I know so," Sunny stepped closer and, in an uncharacteristic display of affection, pressed his forehead to hers. He vented, nuzzling her ever so slightly. "The logistics of how you got here don't matter, bright spark. Not to me, or Sides, or Jazz. All that matters is that you're here. The rest is just details. Stop beating yourself up all the fragging time."

Amy released a breath she hadn't even been aware she was holding and felt herself leaning into his touch, taking comfort in the warmth that emanated from his frame. "Maybe you're right."

"I know I'm right," the mech replied without missing a beat, pulling away slightly to look at her. "I usually am."

Amy huffed in amusement, "And so modest."

"Not even slightly," he smirked, "but," he continued, "I know that's not what's really bothering you. So, spill it. What's really overheating that little meat brain of yours?"

Amy looked up at him, wide-eyed and slightly startled by his ability to see through her so easily.

"What?" Sunny quirked a brow plate. "Don't look so surprised, Squishie. We've known each other long enough for me to be able figure out what makes you tick. I can read you almost as well as I can read Sides." His optics dilated slightly as he practically purred, "I've felt you, and I know you wouldn't be crying in bed in the middle of the night over a slagging paperwork mixup."

Amy felt a shiver work it's way down her spine. Though he'd certainly felt her, she knew the touch he was referring to went beyond the physical senses. Despite the fact that she'd never been completely nude before them, being as the kind of intimacy they shared didn't require it, she'd never felt so completely naked and vulnerable as she did at that moment. As much as she wanted to huddle back into herself, she couldn't. The determined look on his face told her that he wasn't going to let her off easy. Sunstreaker got what he wanted. One way or another.

Looking up at his large and imposing form looming over her, she knew any rational human being would have been terrified and, at one point in time, she would have been one of them. In fact, she'd probably been more terrified of him than most, and for good reason. That time had passed, however. She knew him much better now. Despite outward appearances, in spite of his reputation or attitude, regardless of what anyone else may say or think about him, she knew he'd never purposefully do anything to harm to her. He was straightforward and didn't mince words. She appreciated that about him. There was no hidden agenda with him, no judgement. He simply told it the way he saw it. She didn't have to be afraid to unload what was on her mind with him or his brother, but she was still learning how to share. There was no time like the present to practice, she supposed. It was the only way she was ever going to get back to bed.

Amy took a deep breath, tried to steady herself, and looked him square in the optics. She steeled her spine, trying to prepare herself for the onslaught of emotion that was sure to follow. "What do you believe happens to people when they die?"

Sunny looked slightly taken aback by her blunt question. Of all the things she could have had rattling around in her bony, little head in the middle of the night, this hadn't even made his list. "The frag, Squishie? Why on Cybertron are you even thinking about slag like that?" Worry hit him then and his facial expression morphed into one of grave concern. "Did Ratchet say something to you that you're not telling us?"

"What?" Amy's own eyes widened as she realized the mech was probably thinking the worst about the connection they shared. "No," she insisted. "No, no, no! It's nothing like that."

The mech gave her a scrutinizing once over from head to toe, looking for anything out of place or any sign she wasn't being forthcoming. If something was wrong with her, he wasn't about to let her shrug it off. He met her eyes once more. "You're sure? Because we can go wake Hatchet up right now and hear it straight from the source."

"I promise," she insisted, shying away from his intense gaze. "I'm a perfectly healthy sample of the human population. Ratchet's words," she shared, the ghost of an amused smile on her lips, "not mine."

Sunstreaker released the air he'd been holding in his intakes in a relieved rush of warm air. "Then what in the Pit happened?"

Amy looked away from him, choosing instead to pick at the hem of her nightshirt. A pained expression fell over her face as she confided, "It...its Jazz..."

Sunny's brow plates furrowed in renewed concern. "I thought he was doing really well."

"He is," she confirmed. While a half of her rejoiced at this fact, the rest of her hung in a limbo of uncertainty and concern. "Physically speaking."

"What are you talking about?" Sunstreaker leaned forward and tucked a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him once more. "What happened out there?"

Amy looked up at the mech, imploring. "You didn't answer my question."

Sunny studied her for a long moment. Whatever this was, it was obviously important to her. He wished he had a better explanation for her. Instead, he shrugged, answering honestly. "Frag, I don't know. I've never really given it much thought."

"But you have to believe something," she insisted. "Everyone believes something, even if it's that we just wink out of existence."

Sunstreaker had been prepared for many ways this conversation could have gone, but he hadn't been expecting it to take a turn into the existential. He vented and tried to formulate an honest and articulate response. He wasn't a particularly spiritual mech. He never had been, but he would have been a liar if he didn't admit to at least loosely holding on to some of the beliefs his and Sides' creators had tried to instill in them when they'd been very, very young. Time and war, however, had tarnished any faith he may have once had and the concepts felt almost foreign as he tried to put them into words for the femme's sake.

He shook his head. "I don't believe anyone just winks out of existence," he haltingly began. "I don't believe anyone just winks into existence, for that matter."

Amy looked up at him in rapt attention. "How do you mean?"

Sunny's own gaze softened as he recalled late nights in their home back in Kaon, when his and Sides' creators were still alive and well, before their lives had gone straight to the Pit. He and his brother, snuggled together in their berth. Their father perched on the edge, telling them stories that would send them both into fits of giggles while their mother leaned in the doorway, a proud, loving expression on her face plates as she watched her family wind down for the night.

She'd let them play, make one last happy memory before drifting off to recharge in the hopes it would keep any bad dreams away, before breezing into the room and shooing her mate out, declaring it well past their bedtime. She'd tuck them in, making sure to tell each of them how much she loved them, and asking if they'd each said their prayers. Being dutiful sons and wanting to please the mother they'd both adored, they had of course said yes. In the end, he lamented bitterly, all the prayers in the universe hadn't been enough to bring them back.

Sunstreaker blinked, shaking his head to try to rid his processor of the haunting remnants of the past and focus on his current predicament. "Our...mother," he began, "she always told us that everything came from a single source of Creation. The planets, the stars...us. When the planets crumble, the stars burn out, or we die...that's where everything returns to and waits for the cycle to start all over again." He looked back down at the woman. "Don't humans have some kind of law about that? Something about energy not being able to be created or destroyed?"

Swallowing hard, Amy nodded. "The First Law of Thermodynamics. Energy in a closed system remains constant. The universe is a closed system, so the total amount of energy in existence has always been the same, but the forms it takes are always changing."

"If that's true," the mech hypothesized, "wouldn't that mean that our spark or our soul, or whatever the frag you want to call it, existed in some form or another before now? And when we die, it would have to go somewhere else. It couldn't just stop existing. If it did," he shook his head, "that makes life pretty pointless, don't you think? All this pain and struggle and suffering for nothing?" His thoughts drifted once more, the faces of friends he'd lost to the depravities of war, innocent victims who'd been caught in the crossfire, and the creators he still grieved when no one was around to see, all flashed through his processor. He shook his head once more. "I can't believe that."

Amy drew in a trembling breath and nodded. She didn't need him to say it out loud to know he was thinking about those close to him that he'd lost. As long as he'd been alive, as much as he'd seen, she couldn't even imagine the amount of pain and grief that rested on his shoulders. It should've been too much for one person to bear, but he had his brother, she reminded herself, and each kept the other moving forward. They were fortunate in that sense.

Sunstreaker shook off the melancholy that threatened to impose itself upon him an looked pointedly at the woman, the tips of his fingers grazing the side of her down turned face to gain her attention. "Now you answer my question."

Amy chewed over his answer for a moment before nodding slowly and swallowed the lump trying to form in her throat. She wasn't sure if Sunstreaker's explanation had helped or hurt, but she could already feel her eyes begin to burn once again with unshed tears as she answered. "Did...did you know that Jazz had a, uh, a m-mate?"

"A sparkmate?" Sunny nodded. "I've heard it mentioned before in passing. It isn't something he talks about, not with us anyway. I know she died, but I don't know any of the details. From what I've heard, it happened a long time before we ever met him."

"Her name was Zephyr," Amy shared, her voice already trembling. The sound of the femme's name passing her lips caused a hollow ache to begin in her chest. "She didn't just d-die, she was k-killed...by D-de-cepti-c-cons..." Amy's breath began to hitch, a tell-tale sign that she was losing the battle against her emotions. She wiped at her eyes, trying to will the tears away, but to no avail. Her words slurred, forced out between poorly stifled sobs. "Th-they had...w-would have had," she corrected herself, "a sp-sparkling. She-she made J-Jazz pr-promise to take ca-care of them, but...the spar-sparkling...d-duh-died, too..."

"Slag, Squishie...come here."

Sunstreaker may have lacked his brother's emotional aptitude, but he wasn't soulless. No mech worth anything would stand idly by and watch their mate suffer an all out emotional breakdown without doing their best to offer comfort, and anyone with a working set of optics could see this information had affected her deeply. Without hesitation, he gathered the femme to himself, nestling her against his chest plates and allowing her to cry in the security of his embrace. The fact that she was more than likely leaving tears and snot and Primus only knew what other disgusting organic bodily fluids all over his armor didn't even register in his thought processes. The only thing on his mind at the moment was fixing whatever was wrong.

"What in Primus' name possessed Jazz to dump all this on you?" Sunny growled, "I know you two are close, but I'm about three nano clicks from dragging him out of his berth and beating his aft into the ground for making you cry."

"N-no..." Amy shook her head vehemently back and forth, digging her small fingers into the grooves in the mech's armor as if she could somehow hold him in place. "It...it isn't his fault."

"The Pit it isn't," Sunny snapped. "He takes you out and you come back a complete mess! Pretty fragged up considering how hard he's been riding me and Sides about treating you right ever since he found out about us!"

"It's not his fault," Amy insisted, practically wailing. "He duh-died!"

This was news to the mech and it showed on his face. "The frag you mean he died?"

"He d-died," Amy tried to explain before her emotions swamped her once again. "He d-d-died and R-Ratchet had to revive him. A-after M-Mission City. No-no one was there. Ev-everything was bl-black..."

"Hold on, Squishie," Sunny did his best to dial his temper down a notch. Yes, he was furious with Jazz for putting his femme in such a state, but his gut told him this was one of those situations where his fists would be useless. He momentarily considered taking them both back to the berthing and waking Sides to get his input on the situation, but he was afraid she'd clam up again if they stopped now. He pressed on. "You need to pump your brakes and calm down. You're not making any slagging sense. Take a deep breath and explain it to me again, slowly."

Amy took in a shuddering breath and nodded, trying again. "Jazz...he...died," she spoke the words haltingly, each syllable weighing heavy on her. "When, when he was hurt in Mission City."

"Okay..." Sunstreaker's brow plates furrowed again with concern, but he motioned for her to continue.

"He...he said," Amy swallowed hard, trying to force the bitter sadness back down before it could send her back into hysterics. "He said...he always thought that he-he'd see them again. His fa-family," she clarified. "But there was n-nothing...no one..." She shuddered. "Just blackness. H-he was an-angry about it when it happened, but said he knows why now. Why they w-weren't there. It's my fault," she hiccuped. "I'm not even supposed to b-be here..."

It was a terrible story, a heartbreaking story, one that too many of his fellow Cybertronians could relate to, himself included. Sunny didn't know anyone that didn't have a similar tale to tell. War didn't discriminate. It cut down anyone and everything in its path. It took the good along with the evil, the innocent along with the guilty. No one was immune from the carnage. Amy, as much as she'd been through in her short life, had been spared that at least and Sunstreaker was thankful for it. He had also learned that she was extremely empathetic and wasn't really surprised that she'd been affected so. He was surprised, however, that she had somehow twisted things around and was blaming herself for something she couldn't have possibly played any part in.

"Listen, Squishie," Sunstreaker ran the tips of his fingers up and down the dip of her spine in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. "I don't know what Jazz hoped to accomplish by unloading all this slag on you, but you can't possibly think anything that happened is your fault. You weren't here when Jazz got hurt, and you sure as the Pit didn't have anything to do with him losing his family."

Amy's stuttering breath fogged the yellow armor pressed beneath her cheek as she murmured, "He thinks I am his family."

Sunny rumbled, "He loves you. He's your guardian. Of course he considers you to be his family."

"No," Amy shook her head, smearing tears across Sunstreaker's chest plates. "He-he said that I-I am...was...his sp-sparkling."

Sunstreaker ceased all movement, his facial expression twisting into one of curious concern as he stared down at the top of the woman's head. "What?"

"He thinks my being here is some sort of Divine Intervention," she hoarsely whispered. "He believes Zephyr told him to pick me because he promised her he'd take care of their sparkling. I'm only here be-because Jazz is convinced he's m-my f-father."

"Primus," Sunny muttered.

"That's not possible," Amy sniffled. "How could he believe so-something like that? What am I supposed to do? He's obviously un-unwell. It's too crazy, right? I should tell someone, shouldn't I?"

"Squishie..." Sunstreaker started, but hesitated, unsure of what he could even say in this situation. Everything he knew about Jazz and Amy and their current situation flashed through his mind. Her questions about what happened after death suddenly making a lot more sense to him. He could also sense that, as much as she expressed her worry and concern over Jazz's claims, the part of her that longed for belonging and a connection to her roots wanted to believe that the possibility was there. His concerns aside, he wouldn't be the one to take that from her. He pressed her the slightest bit closer. "We'll figure something out," he quietly rumbled. "I promise."

End of Chapter 52