Finding Home

Chapter 53

By Voodoo Queen

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Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! So happy to be amongst you once again with a new chapter—my longest to date! I feel like I owed you guys one. I want to apologize for disappearing for so long, but things have been crazy hectic and I haven't had a lot of time to do the things I enjoy doing—like writing! That aside, I hope you're all feeling fantastic and having a wonderful day. I want to thank all of you who have taken the time out of your life to give this story a read. I am happy you're here! I also want to thank those who took a little extra time to review or even send me a PM just to say hello. I truly do appreciate it. Many thanks to those who commented on the last chapter: Guestybooboo, Rachel0424, fandomsbrokeme, aelfwyne, Freya2Xana, ricketyduck, ScarletSea, No-Shmucks-Given45, monkeybaby, "Guests", Jaxrond, SolusPrimeLightblast, Spoffen, MayTylers, .Princess, Saraceaser, jellybeanz513, the everchanging, KyloRen'sgirl213, NYROIL, Mysine, Wika0304, NothingNooneZero, TomRiddlesTwin, hermonine

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

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The abandoned warehouse was dark and silent, save for the sound of vermin squeaking and scrabbling in the deepest shadows. Starscream moved slowly between the aged and rusting assembly lines, his arms laden with tools and supplies he'd been forced to scavenge under the cover of darkness like he was some sort of desperate, low-caste nobody. The current status of the Decepticon offensive had them living hand to mouth. Had they remained on Cybertron, or what was left of it, the mech lamented sourly, they could have been living like kings, ruling over those left behind on the dying planet with an iron fist. On Earth, they barely had enough supplies to keep themselves going, let alone invest in their fearless leader's dream of ending Optimus Prime and breaking and enslaving his beloved humans beneath the heavy heel of Decepticon control.

Megatron was hellbent on seeing their war with the Autobots and their human allies end in complete decimation and eradication of their opponents' lives and ideologies. No small feat considering the scales of power had shifted on Earth, with Prime and his minions taking up arms alongside the planet's native inhabitants. What should have been a smooth and easy takeover fueled by brute force and terror was proving to be anything but. The humans had turned out to be much more resilient than they'd initially believed. Not for the first time, Starscream cursed his current predicament.

Angered by the lack of progress, Megatron had become extremely restless and frustrated as of late and had taken to releasing his pent up frustrations on the closest available target. Unfortunately, more often than not, Starscream had found himself within striking distance. His frame still ached and his wings throbbed in time to the pulse of his energon pump from the last time he'd dared to critique his superior's he was still Second in Command in title, Shockwave's arrival and subsequent disappearance into parts unknown in search of what was left of the Allspark had relegated him to little better than Megatron's personal slave and nursemaid to his would-be Army. Two roles he loathed with every atom of his spark.

Starscream felt he was neither respected nor appreciated. His hard work and sacrifice neither acknowledged nor rewarded. He was forced to play second place to a delusional, megalomaniacal warlord who, in his opinion, wasn't fit to lead a group of sparklings across a busy road, let alone an armed offensive. His knowledge and skill was wasted on rudimentary pursuits of power and flights of fancy. If he were leader, things would be different. If he were leader, they wouldn't be hiding in this rundown factory like the rats that prowled it's darkest corners. If he were leader, the humans would be trembling, begging for mercy at their feet. If he were leader, he'd have Prime's head on a pike for all to see and know that all hope was lost.

But...he feared Megatron almost as much as he hated him.

Almost.

The Seeker moved deeper into the darkened bowels of the warehouse, faltering slightly as he entered the area where he'd set up his laboratory. The lights were off, save for the eerie greenish glow that emanated from within the tanks he'd set up to house the protoforms he'd painstakingly cultivated. Against the otherworldly phosphorescence, he could clearly make out Megatron's form loitering in the space. The mech stood before one of the tanks, gazing intently into its murky depths at the form of the femme that floated lifelessly within. His razor sharp, claw-like fingers stroked over the glass that separated them in an almost tender gesture. Though his face plates looked almost serene, the fire that burned in his optics implied differently as Megatron turned slowly to face his SIC.

Immediately, Starscream's tank began to churn as a sick feeling washed over him. Self-preservation protocols flared to life as he scurried by the other mech, not daring to meet his gaze, and tried to busy himself with organizing his scrounged supplies.

"Where have you been?"

The low, inquisitive rumble of his leader's voice sent an involuntary shiver straight down Starscream's frame and caused his spark to twist sharply in its chamber. He cleared his vocalizer, willing his voice to remain steady as he answered. "I needed to restock our supplies. We were running low on energon and the protoforms require nourishment if you wish those remaining to survive, your Lordship."

"Starscream..." Megatron's voice took on a darker timber. "I will not tolerate disrespect, especially from you. Look at me when you speak."

The Seeker's back strut stiffened. He swallowed the lubricant that had flooded his mouth and did a slow about face. His optics met those of the Decepticon Warlord and a feeling, as though ice water had been flushed through his lines, washed over him. The mech looked chillingly calm and collected. Starscream realized with growing apprehension that Megatron was in one of those moods. It was going to be one of those nights. He couldn't decide if this was better or worse than the unbridled rage he'd expected to face for leaving without his leader's express permission.

"Apologies, Master." Starscream bowed his head in submission, not wanting to antagonize the mech any more than he already had. The words tasted bitter on his glossa as he forced them out. "I should have told you where I was going. It won't happen again."

"That's better." Heavy footfalls sounded against the concrete floor as Megatron moved toward the other mech, circling him, eyeing him as a predator would their prey. "I do enjoy it when you grovel. Did you find what you needed?"

"Yes, Master," the words left Starscream's vocalizer in a hoarse whisper. He held himself stiffly, jumping in surprise as the other mech's fingers scratched roughly over the sensitive circuitry in his wing flaps causing a jolt of not-quite-pain as he continued to stalk around him. "I acquired some crude petroleum. It isn't much, but I should be able to convert it into enough energon to last the rest of the deca-cycle."

"Good," Megatron purred as he came to stand in front of the mech once more. "For once it seems you've used your time wisely."

"Yes, Master," Starscream internally cringed. He locked his knee joints, resisting the urge to flinch away as Megatron completed his circle to stand before him once more. He loomed uncomfortably close, so close that Starscream could feel the stiflingly hot air from his ventilations wash over him in wave after pungent wave. He dared not make optic contact. He attempted to shift the mech's attention. "I'll get started on the energon right away."

"In a moment," Megatron dismissed the idea. "You should know that I received a communication from Shockwave this afternoon. It would seem he's succeeded where you have failed me time and time again."

Almost involuntarily, Starscream's head jerked up, his optics wide, as he almost forgot why he was afraid in light of this new information. Disbelief colored his tone as he asked, "He's found the shard?"

"He's intercepted an EMF spike," Megatron growled. "It was quickly dampened, but the energy signature matches that of the Allspark. He's estimated the origin to be somewhere in or around the Indian Ocean." He lunged forward, his hand shooting out to wrap itself around the other mech's neck. His lip plates twitched up into a sneer as he squeezed. "Our possession of the Allspark will bring about the end of the Autobots and Optimus Prime. Once the location has been pinpointed, I expect you to be prepared to go and retrieve it."

Starscream wheezed as the sensitive components in his throat were painfully compressed. Unable to speak, he struggled to nod his assent.

Megatron released his death grip, but did not back away. Instead, he invaded the Seeker's personal space, pressing close so that barely a hair's breadth remained between them. He watched, optics narrowed, as the other mechs chest plates heaved, barely brushing against his own with every labored ventilation, while he desperately tried to suck air down into his intakes. A spark pulse passed, and then another, before the Decepticon leader spoke, his voice low and gravely. "Do not disappoint me, Starscream."

The Air Commander shook his head emphatically in the negative. "No, your Lordship," he promised desperately. "I won't fail you."

"See that you don't." Megatron stepped away then, turning his back on his SIC, and moving to gaze into the protoform tank once more.

Believing the danger to be over, Starscream vented in relief. His optics following his leader's movements. The sick feeling in his tank returned as he watched Megatron's talons skim over the glass surface once again before closing into a fist and dropping to his side.

"Feed them," Megatron ordered in a low, rough voice. "Find Barricade and begin preparations to retrieve the shard. I want everyone ready to move as soon as Shockwave reports back with the coordinates." Turning slightly, he looked over his shoulder and pinned the other mech with a dangerous look. "Come find me when you're finished."

Starscream felt his mouth go dry. His glossa stuck to the inside of his mouth as he opened it to reply, "Yes, Master."

Yes, he feared Megatron almost as much as he hated him.

Almost.

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Amy sat in her chair, turned away from her desk, her gaze fixated on the far wall. She gently cradled what was left of her snow globe in her lap, her fingertips gliding absently over the fine, hairline cracks that had been painstakingly repaired. She was grateful for the effort on her behalf, she truly was, but other issues weighed more heavily on her mind at that moment. She kept her eyes focused on the painting Sunstreaker had gifted her. It truly was an incredibly beautiful piece of art, the talent behind its creation immense. She mentally traced the intricate dips and swirls of color, losing herself in the ebb and flow of the alien landscape and, a small corner of her brain acknowledged, looking for anything that may have struck her as feeling familiar. Of course, her search came up empty.

Her eyes continued to drink in the painting for several long minutes before she finally gave a frustrated sigh and spun back around to face her computer monitor. She slid her music box—it couldn't really be called a snow globe any more, she supposed—back into its rightful place on the corner of her desk. Her fingers traced over the pair of grazing horses lovingly for a final time before a beep from her computer pulled her attention back to professional matters. A quick perusal of the data that streamed across her screen told her that Teletraan had completed its geological survey and was continuing to pick up strange and unexplained seismic activity, most recently off the western coast of India near the Arabian Ocean.

As per protocol, she carefully tagged and logged the data, making sure to disseminate it among the proper individuals for review, before authorizing Teletraan to begin the process all over again. Every hour on the hour. She knew the frequency at which the scans were taking place coincided with the uptick in activity associated with the Allspark. That same uptick in activity was directly related to the growing concern among the Autobots and Captain Lennox that current containment procedures for the shard wouldn't be enough to hide it from the Decepticons for much longer. Galloway was dragging his feet on approving security upgrades, probably out of spite, and seemed blissfully ignorant of the danger his political grandstanding put everyone on the island in.

In addition to the constant stress and worry she felt over the possibility of Decepticons showing up at their front door and harming the people she'd grown to treasure more than anything in the world, Amy was again fighting her own internal battle. Since her trip with Jazz out to the overlook and his subsequent confession that he believed her to be his lost sparkling, whom his deceased mate had encouraged him to take in and care for, things had been strange. For Amy, anyway. Jazz, on the other hand, acted like the weight of the world had been suddenly lifted off his shoulders. The mech's relief at having everything out in the open, between the two of them anyway, was nearly palpable.

The relationship she shared with the mech had undergone several shifts since she'd first arrived at Diego Garcia, but the one currently taking place had Amy tied up in knots of worry and anxiety. No matter how much she'd wished for a family in the past, she refused to cash in on someone else's tragedy to make herself feel like she belonged. She resisted Jazz's open invitation for fatherly affection with the excuse of having to sort through her feelings on the bombshell he'd dropped, but her mind always went back to the promise she'd made Prowl all those weeks ago to allow the injured mech to fuss over her if he so wanted. She wasn't sure where to draw the line anymore. She wasn't sure she could. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

Jazz had always been attentive and affectionate, so far as she was concerned, but over the last few days he'd become positively doting. To Amy, it almost felt as though he were trying to make up for lost time. Though they'd often had deep conversations, mostly revolving around culture and the arts, it had seemingly become his personal mission to know everything there was to know about her as a person. What had she wanted to be when she grew up? What was her favorite color? Favorite animal? Favorite food? And on and on it went. He'd soaked up the information like a sponge, filing it away before firing another round of questions at her.

He'd tentatively breached the subject of her life prior to enlisting in the Navy, his optics sad and his countenance solemn as he seemed to brace himself for whatever horrors she may dump upon him. She'd tried to steer the conversation in another direction, relieved when he'd allowed it, but the poignant look he'd given her had suggested that this wasn't the end of the discussion. Instead, he'd asked her if she had any baby pictures of herself. She'd shrugged and answered honestly. The only time anyone had ever bothered to take her photo was once a year in school, for the yearbook. It wasn't as though she'd ever stayed anywhere long enough for anyone to become that attached to her, or vice versa, to warrant a photo op.

If any baby pictures did exist, she guessed, they were probably sitting in a box in a moldy basement somewhere attached to a long forgotten police report or court record. The earliest photo she had of herself was an old Polaroid from when she was about two years old that had been taken by a social worker. She wasn't exactly sure how she'd come to possess it, but she'd hung on to it all these years. It was sad, really. Just a photo of her two year old self, dressed in pink corduroy overalls, her blond hair in pigtails, as she sat cross legged on the floor and stared unassumingly up at the person snapping the photo.

At Jazz's enthusiastic request, she'd turned it over. She hadn't had the heart to refuse him after seeing his optics light up like Christmas upon learning of said photo's existence. One would have thought she'd given him a winning lottery ticket or that he'd discovered the Holy Grail. He'd sat quietly, staring at it with a sentimental look on his face for so long that Amy was afraid she'd broken him. He'd eventually picked their conversation up where they'd left off, and she'd returned from lunch later that day to find that the mech had had the photo framed. It now proudly resided in a prominent spot on his desk. Amy had wanted to cry when she'd seen it—something she'd been doing a lot of lately.

Speaking of crying...

Upon later reflection, Amy had been absolutely mortified following her middle of the night breakdown. She was positive Sunstreaker had probably thought she was a blithering idiot. She couldn't even imagine the discomfort and disgust the mech must have felt watching her cry and spit and snot uncontrollably while clinging to his pristinely polished armor. She knew of his disdain and aversion towards her species. The only humans he seemed to care about one way or another were herself and, to a much lesser extent, those higher up in NEST's chain of command. Namely, Captain Lennox and Master Sergeant Epps whom he tolerated on purely professional basis. She'd tried to apologize, but the only thing she'd received in return was a sympathetic look and a shrug with the softly spoken, "You have to let that slag out, Squishie. Don't be sorry," as he walked them both back to the berth room.

They'd returned to the room to find Sideswipe sitting up tensely on the side of the berth, their absence apparently having roused him from recharge. He'd taken one look at her face and, without a word, opened his arms to her in silent invitation. She'd gone to him gratefully, allowing him to comfort her while Sunstreaker had filled him in on the situation. She'd been glad for that, as simply hearing Sunny rehash everything she'd shared with him was enough to make her weepy once again. After all was said and done, she'd made them both promise not to say anything to anyone. She was still sifting through her own thoughts and feelings and didn't want to complicate things further until she was on sturdier ground, or at least until she could think about the situation without bursting into tears.

The twins had agreed, Sunstreaker reluctantly, and they'd eventually settled back in to try and salvage some sleep/recharge. They hadn't spoken much after that, the twins seeming to sense her need for quiet contemplation. Sideswipe had refused to let her go, however, bundling her in her blankets and nestling her against his chest plates to rest. She wasn't sure whether or not either of them had actually gone back to recharge, but the gentle rhythm of Sideswipe's spark beneath her ear had eventually succeeded in lulling her into a fitful sleep. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly given the circumstances, she'd found herself standing back in that now familiar forlorn expanse of black abyss.

She'd felt utterly and painfully alone. No anomalous giant lurking in the darkness. No pinpoints of light on the horizon to guide her way. It was as if she'd been abandoned with all of her demons and self-doubt to fight on her own in the dark. A crushing, almost suffocating loneliness settled over her. What had she ever done to deserve any of this? Even her dreams weren't safe from rejection. Was her mere existence so offensive to the universe that it, too, would abandon her to this nothingness?

Was this how Jazz had felt, she wondered? So much loss. So much death. So much destruction. And when the end finally comes? Nothing. No solace. No comfort. No reunion with those you loved who had gone on before. Hope, she realized, was an easy thing to lose here. Faith even more so. Her heart broke for Jazz and everything he'd been forced to endure. She couldn't even imagine the scope of his pain and loneliness. This place was death. It was the end of all things and it seemed to stretch on forever. Forever was a very, very long time.

"No one ever really dies."

The voice was light, feminine, and barely a whisper, but in the expanse of the void it may as well have been a shout. Amy spun around, looking for its source, only to be met with more blackness so thick it could have been cut with a knife. Her own voice trembled, passing her lips in a barely audible breath that still seemed to thunder in her ears. "Who-who's th-there?"

For a moment, it could have been seconds or it could have been millennia—time had no meaning here—Amy was afraid she wouldn't get a response. She toed her way carefully forward in the dark, arms stretched seeking out in front of her, in the direction she'd believed the voice had come from. Her heart hammered in her chest, the sound of blood rushing in her ears almost deafening as she strained to hear anything.

"Not time...," the voice had faintly replied seeming to grow further away with every syllable uttered, "not yet..."

Amy shouted into the abyss, "Wait! Please!" She felt herself becoming frantic, something deep inside of her desperate to make whoever or whatever was speaking to her stay. "Please," she begged, on the verge of tears and panic. "Please, don't leave me here! Come back!"

"Never gone," the barely audible voice whispered. "Never left..."

"Ames? Ames!"

She'd woken with a start, sitting bolt upright to find Sideswipe looking down upon her with wide, concerned optics. She shivered despite the plush blanket wrapped around her frame. She could feel the cold sweat that dotted her forehead and collected between her shoulder blades. She trembled, but was certain it had nothing to do with the chill. A sense of profound loss and grief had settled into the pit of her stomach and she could feel it resonate throughout her entire body. It was the large, gentle fingers smoothing down the unruly stands of her hair, what she was sure her tossing and turning had turned into a veritable rats' nest, that finally began to thaw her.

"Are you alright, sweet spark?"

She'd swallowed and nodded her head, doing her best to muster what she hoped was a reassuring smile to assuage the mech's worry. "Yeah," she'd mumbled. "Just a bad dream."

"Wanna talk about it?" Sides had offered helpfully, "Sometimes that helps."

"No," she'd declined, adding honestly, "I don't think I'd even know how to put it into words."

"If you change your mind," Sideswipe's fingers trailed over the side of her face, "you know I'm all audios."

"Yeah," she did smile, if only slightly. "I know." Her smile faltered then, realizing Sunstreaker's side of the berth was empty. "What time is it? I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"Nothing for you to be sorry about, sweet spark. It's still early," he'd replied, settling back into the berth next to her and pulling her close, nestling her against his chest plates and pressing a kiss into her mess of hair. "Sunny's already left out for the day. We still have a couple hours before we need to get up. Think you can go back to sleep?"

She'd sighed, snuggling as closely as she could to the reassuring warmth and rhythm of his spark. "I doubt I'll be getting any more sleep," she admitted, "but don't let me stop you from grabbing a couple extra hours of recharge."

"Can't recharge without you, remember?" He'd nuzzled her gently. "Is there anything at all that I can do to make you feel better?"

She'd hummed in thought, closing her eyes only to have them snap back open upon being greeted by that eternal, never ending blackness behind her eyelids. She shuddered, prompting the mech to squeeze her just a little tighter. "Tell me a story," she requested in a small voice. "Please?"

"A story? I think I can do that." The mech seemed to sink into thought for a moment and then, "I don't think I've told you about the time when we were younglings and Sunny accidentally fell into a waste extractor and got his aft stuck, have I?"

Amy snorted in amusement, already feeling slightly better and thankful for Sideswipe's brotherly teasing even in his twin's absence. "No, but now you have to tell me."

"Only if you promise not to tell Sunny I told you," Sides replied, the relief that he'd been able to lift her mood evident in his voice.

"Cross my heart," Amy had replied, allowing the mech and his rumbling voice to soothe her jagged nerves and, surprisingly, lull her back into a light doze.

The sound of a conversation outside of the office pulled Amy from her memories. She easily recognized Prowl's even, steady tone contrasted by Jazz's almost musical drawl. Almost immediately, she felt her heartbeat quicken as a peculiar hybrid of anxiety and worry settled into her gut. She hated feeling this way, especially around Jazz. He'd been nothing but amazing since she'd met him, but she couldn't quite look at him the same since his revelation. Even though he'd claimed not to have any lofty expectations, on top of everything else, Amy worried about letting him down. Even worse, she feared the mech realizing he'd made a mistake with her. She wasn't sure what she'd do if that ever happened.

"Good afternoon, Miss Doe," Prowl greeted with a polite nod as he entered the office first and gingerly perched himself on the corner of Jazz's desk, his hands folded primly on his lap. His optics automatically scanned the space, no doubt filing his observations away in his impressive memory, when they paused on the newly framed photo sitting on his friend's desk. A subtle smile seemed to twitch at the corners of his mouth before his optics darted back over to meet Amy's eyes. "I trust you're well today?"

There was a certain awareness in his gaze that made Amy's skin tingle. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly dry. Instead, she nodded. "I guess I can't really complain."

There was that subtle smile again as Prowl answered, "I'm very glad to hear that."

"There's my favorite femme!" Jazz greeted her enthusiastically with a bright grin as he too entered the space. Bypassing his desk, he moved to lean against the railing. As was the customary greeting between them, the mech reached to affectionately tousle her hair, receiving a halfhearted protestation from the woman that made him chuckle. "Anything excitin' happen while I was gone?"

"Nope. Nothing new to report," Amy replied as she patted her hair back down. Despite her unease in regards to the mech's beliefs as far as the dynamics of their relationship went, she took comfort in the now familiar gesture. Maybe, a small corner of her brain suggested, if she could pretend everything was still normal between them everything would be alright. "Geologic activity is staying pretty consistent," she relayed, "and I just started a new survey. You both should have received a compilation of the latest data."

"We did, indeed," Prowl confirmed. "Optimus is in a video conference with the Secretary of Defense going over it now. He sends his thanks."

"That's my girl," Jazz praised, looking more than just proud. "Stayin' on top of things."

"Just doing my job." Amy shrugged and smiled at the mech before continuing. "Oh, and Mirage brought down a couple more crates of equipment for Ratchet. I asked him to put it in the back with the rest. Also, Ironhide came down here looking for you, Prowl." She glanced at her watch. "About 10 minutes ago."

The SIC's left brow plate raised minutely. "Did he say what he needed?"

"Um," Amy turned back to her desk and reached for a yellow legal pad. "He made me write it down. He said he wanted to make sure I passed along his exact words. He made me read it back to him and everything."

Jazz chuckled, "This oughta be good."

"He said, and I quote," Amy's eyes flitted over her writing and she cleared her throat, "If someone doesn't do something about that annoying, slag sucking sack of organic pulp strutting around here like he's fragging Omega Supreme, I'm going to ram my pulse cannon so far up his aft that he's going to be shooting fragging lasers out of his beady, little optics. End quote." Amy looked back up to find Jazz holding back laughter and Prowl wearing an expression that was a curious mix of amusement and resignation. "He didn't come right out and say, but I'm assuming he was referring to Advisor Galloway."

"Of course," Prowl emitted a long suffering sigh. "I don't suppose Ironhide told you what Galloway's done to grind his gears this time?"

"No," Amy frowned and shook her head. "Sorry. Wish I could be more helpful."

"Don't apologize." There was that smile again. "You've been more helpful than you could possibly know." He rose from his perch on the corner of Jazz's desk and addressed the mech. "I suppose I should go see what the problem is. When I get a free moment I'll go over those numbers we discussed in the meeting and get back to you."

"Take your time, Prowler." Jazz assured, "Me and the scraplet have things under control down here for now. Don't stress it."

Prowl looked grateful for the affirmation as he said his farewells. "Comm me if you need me."

"Will do," Jazz confirmed with a nod before Prowl vacated the space as quickly as he'd entered.

Amy waited until the door had shut securely behind the Second in Command to murmur, "Poor guy. I can't imagine having to deal with Galloway face to face every day. He definitely needs a vacation."

Jazz chuckled and turned to face the woman. "I've been tellin' him that for more vorns than I can count, but I can't get him to listen." Jazz grew serious once more. "Speaking of Galloway," He reached out, the very tips of his fingers gently pressing against Amy's cheek to draw her focus up to his face. "Ya haven't had any more run ins with that slagger, have ya scraplet?"

Amy swallowed and shook her head. It was one thing to have Prowl in the room with them as a sort of buffer. It was another thing altogether to be completely alone together. She could feel her nerves creeping back in and the energy in her chest shifted uncomfortably as the atmosphere in the room became almost imperceptibly heavier. "N-no," she denied. "I think I've seen him maybe twice since he was down here and both of those times were from a distance."

"Good." Jazz seemed relieved by the response. "He's under the impression that he should have free rein of the place and wasn't too happy about bein' called out for bein' down here without proper clearance, so he's decided to make life as difficult as he possibly can for us to make up for it. Unfortunately," he admitted, "that also extends to draggin' his heels on improvements for housing the Allspark. Ratchet's latest readings indicate periodic sharp spikes in electromagnetic activity, and combined with those geologic readings, that means we need those upgrades ASAP. Optimus is workin' on a workaround with Defense Secretary Keller, but the whole situation has poor Prowler on edge."

"What an ass," Amy mumbled, shivering involuntarily as she thought of the ancient alien relic that resided down the hall. "You'd think Galloway would care more about base safety and security given that he's the National Security Advisor..."

Jazz hummed in agreement. "What's the human sayin'? Cuttin' off your nose to spite your face?"

Amy sighed, nodding. "Yeah...that's the one."

"That said," Jazz leveled his gaze on the small femme, "I need ya to let me know if he says anything else to ya so I can write it up. Optimus asked us to document any further occurrences to pass on to the SecDef. He wasn't too happy with Galloway's behavior and wants to know if we have any more issues."

"Of course," she quickly agreed. "Do you think it'll help?"

"Keller's got a lot of pull." Jazz shrugged, "It can't hurt."

Amy thought it over and nodded. "Yeah, I guess not."

"Hey," Jazz's voice softened as he changed the subject. Gone was the tone of the TIC and in its place was another facet of the mech's personality that Amy had become well acquainted with over the last few days; the part that made her eyes want to well up with tears and her heart ache for things she wasn't sure she deserved to have, not from him. "Have ya had lunch yet?"

Amy blinked, willing herself not to show her turbulent emotions on her face, as she shook her head and quickly turned away to retreat to the safety of her desk. She sank down into her chair, her eyes immediately gluing themselves to her computer screen where an alien language that she had only the most basic of understandings of, scrolled by so rapidly that it was almost a blur. "No," she answered. "I was going to finish this scan and do a quick inventory first so I can run the supply requisition this afternoon."

"Scraplet," Jazz murmured, "look at me, please."

Amy swallowed down the emotions lodged in her throat, slowly swiveling her chair around to face the mech. The look on his face was a grieved one, and she didn't have to see his optics to know that they were wide and sorrowful behind his visor. She felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. She held her breath, feeling the burn deep in her lungs as she waited for whatever he wanted to say.

"I'm sorry," Jazz vented sadly. "Tellin' ya all this...it was never my intention to make ya uncomfortable."

Amy's eyes widened and she shook her head in denial. "Y-You haven't—"

Jazz held up a hand to stop her. "Ya don't have to lie to me to spare my feelings, scraplet. I know things have been kinda weird and tense between us the last few days and I know it's my fault."

"It's...n-not," Amy's words came out in a halting stutter. "Not your fault. It's...it's all this. I-I just...I don't know..."

Jazz picked his next words carefully. "I know you've been through a lot. We both have. And," he admitted, "I know I caught ya off guard and, like I said, you're free to think I've got some bolts loose, but I want ya to know that I meant every word I said."

Amy sniffled and looked down at her lap, her fingers tangling nervously together as she listened. Instead of backtracking as she'd half feared he would eventually, it seemed Jazz was doubling down on his beliefs. She wasn't sure whether to be comforted or even more worried.

"I love ya to pieces, scraplet, and," Jazz vented, "I don't want this to cause a rift between us. Primus knows, the last thing I wanna do is scare ya away. Ya don't have to tiptoe around me or be afraid to talk to me about what's on your mind. I never want ya to feel like ya can't come to me, even if it's just to tell me that ya think I've gone off the deep end."

Amy took in a deep breath and nodded, not really meeting his optics, and looking for all the world like she wanted to get up and bolt from him and hide away somewhere. She'd had plenty of practice on how to behave when someone pushed her away, but had absolutely no experience on what constituted proper behavior when someone desperately wanted her to stay.

It made Jazz's spark hurt just to see her sitting there, folded in upon herself, too scared to really let anyone else in. He'd watched the progression of her relationship with the twins, not as an impartial outside observer, but through the eyes of a worried and protective parent who wanted nothing more than to see their child happy and content and loved. Given the circumstances of all parties involved, it had been an uphill battle to get them to where they currently stood, and Jazz knew that some days were still a struggle. That said, her reaction to their conversation out on the overlook hadn't really taken him by surprise. He'd expected just as much, if not more, pushback from the small femme given the information he'd shared with her, but Jazz was willing, prepared even, to go to war for her if it meant keeping her close and keeping her safe.

"Talk to me, Little One," he encouraged in a gentle tone. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Amy sucked in a ragged breath. Jazz had been so good to her, better than anyone in her past had ever been. She supposed she owed him at least an explanation for her sudden aloofness, but so many doubts and questions plagued her mind that it was impossible to find a place to even start to explain her thoughts. Yes, she worried incessantly for Jazz's mental and emotional health, but also for her own should everything that she'd gained since setting foot on Diego Garcia be suddenly yanked out from under her as it had been so many times before...Jazz included.

In a small voice she finally conceded, admitting her most basic of fears. "I'm...afraid."

Jazz softly rumbled, "Ya never have to be afraid. Not here, not with me. I'd never do anything to hurt ya, scraplet. Never. Not intentionally."

"I-I know." Amy shook her head. "It's not you, not really. It's...it's me, mostly."

"Ya sound like you're breaking up with me." The corner of Jazz's mouth lifted slightly. He tried to inject some levity to alleviate some of the sudden tension that permeated the room. "You're not, are ya?"

"No," Amy insisted, a slight huff of amusement escaping from her mouth at the mech's comment despite herself. "I'm not breaking up with you."

"Well, that's a relief," he teased, hoping to put her at ease enough to voice her thoughts. He prompted gently, "What's got you so scared, scraplet? I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong."

"I don't know that it can be fixed," was her quiet answer.

For a long moment, Amy remained silent while Jazz waited patiently for her to continue. Finally, she sighed and busied herself by picking invisible lint from her uniform trousers, her fingers plucking at the carefully ironed crease that ran down the center of her thigh. "What if," she began in a slightly trembling voice, "one of these mornings you wake up and figure out that this whole situation has been one huge mistake and I don't belong here?"

Jazz felt his spark squeeze. Despite how hard he'd tried to reassure her, it was obvious that she still viewed this as some sort of transient situation in her own mind, a temporary arrangement that could come to an end at any given moment. It couldn't have been further from the truth, but given her past he could see how she'd feel that way. He shook his head, wanting for the life of him just to scoop her up and hold her close.

"There is no mistake, scraplet," he tried again to get her see. "Call it whatever ya want to call it, but I know the two of us are here together in this particular place at this particular time for a very particular purpose. You being here with me, the twins...there is no way in Creation that any of that can be a mistake."

"What if I'm not who you think I am?" Amy shook her head. "What if Ratchet figures out a way to cure me of...of whatever this thing is with the twins? You'll realize that I don't really belong here and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker won't need me around anymore."

"Who ya are or who ya aren't has absolutely nothing to do with how I feel about ya," Jazz emphatically stated. "We've had a special connection since day one, and I knew the moment I saw ya, before I figured any of this out for myself, that I'd made the right decision in bringin' ya here. You are exactly where ya belong, and as far as the twins go, those two are crazy about ya. They need ya like they need the energon flowing through their lines and there's nothin' Ratchet can do to ever cure that. Ya don't have to go it alone. Not anymore, scraplet," he softly encouraged. "We're right here. Let us be there for ya."

"You know," Amy sniffled, "when I was little, I used to daydream about what it would be like to be a part of a family. How wonderful that would be." She hesitated, her voice wavering slightly as she finally met the mech's optics directly. "I'm-I'm s-sorry you lost yours, but I can't be a replacement for them. I c-can't. It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

"Aww, scraplet." With no regard whatsoever for military protocol or decorum, Jazz gave in to his urges and reached over the railing and plucked Amy from where she sat. If she had any real objections to the move she didn't voice them. Instead, she clung to his armor as he nestled her against his chest plates, tucked her head beneath his chin, and simply held her. "Is that what you're thinkin'?" His vocal processor buzzed gently against her ear. "That I'm usin' you as a replacement to make myself feel better?"

Amy didn't respond, and Jazz took her silence to mean that he'd hit the nail on the head.

"I'd never do ya that way." He vented sadly, holding the woman just a little tighter. "I never want ya to feel that way. You're not replacin' anyone, scraplet. I promise ya that."

"But..."

"No buts." He affectionately nuzzled the top of her head. "That's one worry you can put right outta your mind. I know there are a lot of things that don't really make sense right now, but believe me when I tell ya that in the entire Universe, there's only ever been one you. Tryin' to make you into anyone else would be doin' ya a disservice. I never want you to think I'm tryin' to shape ya into someone you're not. That couldn't be any further from the truth. I know exactly who ya are and you're exactly where you're supposed to be."

"I wish...I wish I could be as certain about everything as you are." Amy's voice cracked, her breath fogging the mech's paint job as she spoke, her fingers curled into the nooks and crannies in his armor, holding on in a death grip. "It never lasts, not long. Being here...I don't think I can go through that again," she admitted in a trembling voice. "If you change your mind, or when the time comes that I have to leave—"

"Stop right there," he gently shushed her. "Neither of us are going anywhere and no one is changin' their mind about anything. I promise you," he vowed to the small femme, "regardless of whatever happens from here on out, it's me an' you. I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again, as many times as ya need to hear it and until ya start believin' it. As long as my spark is burning, you'll always have a home and someone who loves ya. We're family, scraplet. We always have been and we always will be. There's nothing anyone can say or do that will ever change that."

"Family," Amy murmured. "I'm not sure I even know what that means."

"We can figure it out together," Jazz insisted. "But ya gotta let me in, scraplet. Don't shut me out."

"I'm sorry," Amy hoarsely whispered, her words catching in her throat. "It's not that I don't want to, I just...I don't know if I can. I-I think I'm broken, Jazz."

"You're not broken," Jazz emphatically denied. "You're not broken unless you choose to give up on yourself, and neither of us are gonna do that. Right?" Amy didn't respond for a long moment, which prompted the mech to gently jostle her. "Do I need to tell ya again?"

Finally, Amy sniffed and shook her head. "N-no..."

The mech hummed. "Are ya sure?"

"Yeah," she mumbled against his armor. "No giving up."

"I think I'll tell ya again, just in case." Jazz gave her a gentle squeeze and pressed his mouth plates against the crown of her head in a warm show of affection before carefully lifting her back over the rail and setting her gently on her feet. He leaned into the railing, close enough that he could still feel the aura of the woman's body heat radiating from her small form. "I love ya, scraplet." He poured every ounce of sincerity he posed into the words. "With all my spark. Nothin' is ever gonna change that. Ya don't have to tiptoe around me or be afraid to voice what's on your mind. I'm here for ya, in whatever capacity ya need me."

Amy swallowed hard and looked away, no longer able to meet the mech's gaze. She sucked in a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah," she croaked, still reluctant to put her faith completely into something so profound after having been disappointed and let down so many times before. "Okay..."

Jazz vented softly, his spark both full and aching at the vision she made. She was here, yes, and he gave thanks to Primus for that very fact alone, but so much had happened. So much had gone wrong for the both of them and time had done neither of them favors. Hearts ached and wounds remained raw and open after having been left to fester on their own. The damage ran deep and, despite how desperately he wished for the two of them to begin the mending process, he wasn't even sure where to begin other than offering her his unconditional love and support. It was an extremely delicate situation and it terrified him to his very core that he was going to screw it all up somehow. He couldn't go through the pain of losing her again. He didn't believe he could survive it.

"I think..." Amy's voice cut through the silence that had grown between them, low and trembling. "I think I'm going to head to lunch."

"Want me to drive ya?" He offered, wanting to make sure she knew he was available to her, even under the most mundane of circumstances. "Ya know I don't mind."

The woman shook her head. "I'd rather walk." She declined the offer, but was quick to clarify, "I think the fresh air would do me some good."

Jazz nodded in understanding, but was just as quick to extend another invitation for her to reach out if she so chose. "If ya get there and decide ya want a ride back, call me. I'll swing by and pick ya up. I'm at your beck and call."

Amy managed a stiff smile and a nod as she grabbed her cover and made her way down the stairs. Lunch was the last thing on her mind. She felt dizzy and slightly nauseous. The energy tucked behind her breast bone roiled in a way that made her chest hurt. She wanted to believe. She really did. Something about the whole situation unsettled her, however, and she couldn't shake the notion that, no matter how much reassurance Jazz gave her, something was bound to go wrong. She could feel it—a tingle of nervous anxiety that would slither down her spine to coil into a tight ball in the pit of her stomach whenever she was alone with Jazz or the twins. It was like a monster that lurked on the edge of her consciousness, coiled and ready to strike the moment she let her guard down, preventing her from ever truly being able to relax or let go.

She couldn't tell him that, though.

Instead, she put on a brave face as she settled her cover atop her head and deliberately smoothed a stray piece of hair back behind her ear. "I'll, uh, see you after lunch, then." She waved awkwardly before slipping out of the office and making a beeline for the elevator. She hadn't been lying. She desperately needed some air.

Jazz watched her go with an ache in his spark. He wasn't upset, not with Amy. Never with her, but he was disappointed in himself. He couldn't move beyond the belief that he was failing her. He'd meant every single word he'd said to her that night at the overlook and again this afternoon. He didn't care what science or biology or spirituality had to say on the matter. She was human, yes, but it made no difference as far as he was concerned. He would have recognized her anywhere, regardless of what body she wore. She was a part of him—a part of Zephyr. He knew who she was without a shadow of a doubt and he wanted with everything he was for her to see it, too.

A creator knew.

Convincing Amy, however, was an entirely different matter.

Jazz vented sadly and spoke aloud to the empty room. "Zeph, starlight, I could really use your help here. She's been through so much...I don't know how to convince her that it's okay to let it go; that she's exactly where she's supposed to be. All I want to do is love her and keep her safe." He candidly admitted, "I'm scared to death that I'm gonna lose her again. I don't think I could keep goin' if that happened. I wish you were here. You'd know exactly what to say to make everthin' better." A sad smile came to the mech's lips. "Ya always knew just what to say to make things better."

Silence answered Jazz's plea for help, not that he'd expected anything else. What he did receive, however, in the very core of his spark where the remnants of a bond that would last until the end of time still resided was a flicker of warmth, a whisper of comfort, and the ghost of a touch that he missed and craved with every fiber of his being. He held onto that feeling, taking it as confirmation that he'd been heard. Zeph was still here with him, perhaps not in body, but in spirit. Everything would work itself out. It had to. There was no other alternative.

XXXXXXXXX

"Primus, I'm so bored." Sideswipe was sprawled on his back across the top of a metal shipping crate, staring up at the hangar ceiling. "What's taking so long? I wanna to go home."

Sunny snorted. He was leaned against the side of that same crate, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked out over the hangar. "Why? Gotta hot date?"

"Don't we?" Sides raised his head to look at his twin. He grinned, a mischievous gleam in his optics. "You know, Jazz would probably cut Ames loose early for the day if we asked nicely. We could take a drive or go down to the beach. Pit, we could go back to our room and stare at the wall together. Anything would be better than this torture."

Sunstreaker hummed in agreement. He was completely over this fragging supply offload. What should have been done in an hour had stretched into three when Galloway had decided to show his sorry aft and start a verbal sparring match with Ironhide. The situation showed no signs of resolving itself any time soon and the idea of ducking out of the working party, kidnapping the Squishie, and just getting lost together somewhere was extremely appealing. He'd never admit to it, not out loud, but he missed the tiny femme whenever they were apart. It was a thought that would have given him serious pause had Prowl not just entered the hangar looking for all the world like he was about to March into battle against Unicron himself.

"Well," Sunny smirked, "we may get out of here soon. Prowl looks pissed."

"Thank the Creator." Sides pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the container and the pair watched as the SIC ushered both Galloway and Ironhide toward the hangar doors where they could discuss whatever the issue was that was holding up progress in relative privacy. They fell quiet for a moment, observing as Galloway stomped his feet and flailed his arms like an overgrown sparkling throwing a fit. Sides vented. "What a slagging wing-nut."

Sunstreaker snorted in amusement and shook his head. Losing interest in the National Security Advisor's temper tantrum, he turned to lean against the container once more. "Has the Squishie said anything else to you about the situation with Jazz?"

"No." Sideswipe shook his head and hopped off the container to lean next to his brother. "You?"

"Not a word," Sunny confirmed. "I tried to ask her about it, but she changed the subject."

"Yeah," Sides vented. "Same here. She gets really anxious if you mention it. I don't want to push her, but I worry."

Sunstreaker hummed and nodded in agreement.

"So," Sides prodded, elbowing his twin in the side. "What do you think about all this?"

A slight frown tugged at the corners of the yellow mech's mouth. "I don't know what to think anymore. None of this should be possible." He gestured between the two of them. "This shouldn't be fragging possible, but here we are. A blind mech could see that loves her like he sparked her. Familial bonds are strong and Jazz would know better than either of us whether or not theres one there. Who am I to say there isn't?"

"Good point," Sideswipe agreed. He grew thoughtful for a moment and a lopsided grin spread across his face. "You know, I was only half joking, but we may have to start calling Jazz 'dad' for real."

"Fragging bit brain." Sunny huffed in amusement and rolled his optics. "Family or not," he cautiously added, "I can completely see how dropping something like that on someone who's been alone their whole life, wondering where they came from would be fragging terrifying."

Sideswipe vented and slowly nodded, his grin fading into a contemplative expression. He opened his mouth to share his own thoughts on the subject when he was suddenly interrupted.

"Excuse me!"

A breathy, feminine voice rang out, drawing both mechs' attention down to the ground. An instantly recognizable shock of red hair met their optics causing an irritated rumble to pour forth from Sunstreaker's vocalizer and a distasteful expression to settle over Sideswipe's features. The woman in question was dressed in a hunter green pantsuit, hands clasped before her, as she peered up at them. Her own face was set into a smug smirk as she waited for the pair to acknowledge her.

It was Sunstreaker who spoke first, his tone dripping with disgust. "Yeah? What the frag do you want?"

Macy batted her eyes, looking back and forth between the mechs. "I've been looking for Petty Officer Doe. I was wondering if either of you had seen her around."

"Why?" Sideswipe frowned, his irritation at the woman from a few days prior still fresh in his processor. "What do you need her for?"

"I wanted to apologize for the other day in the office...for accidentally breaking her doodad. But," Macy's smirk grew, "I can't seem to find her anywhere. I thought you two may have some idea where she's been hanging out after work. I know she hasn't been in the barracks."

"Nope, sorry." Sides shrugged and pasted on a bored, disinterested expression. "We can't help you. What Petty Officer Doe does on her own time, is her own business. We don't get paid to sparksit humans."

"So frag off," Sunny added in a loathsome tone. "We're busy."

Macy's smirk morphed into an angry scowl. Her eyes narrowed behind her glasses. "Really," she huffed, "because I've noticed you three spend a lot of time together outside of working hours. Some may even argue an inappropriate amount of time given the circumstances."

Sunstreaker looked positively murderous as he pushed off the crate and took a couple menacing steps towards the woman. "What exactly are you accusing us of, you slagging freak?" He took another step towards the now rattled-looking woman, encroaching into her personal space and looming over her dangerously. "Before you open your mouth, I advise you to think carefully about your answer."

Macy swallowed hard and lifted her chin in a show of defiance. "I'm not afraid of you," she hissed, cutting her eyes to look at the silver twin, as well. "Neither of you," she insisted.

Sideswipe scoffed and shook his head, stepping next to his brother and sending his own annoyed look at the human. "Hear that, Sunny? She's not scared."

"Not only is she a freak," Sunny surmised, still glaring at the woman, "she's also too slagging stupid to realize she's about three klicks from being punted across this hangar."

"You can't hurt me," Macy's smirk slowly returned. "The government would have you people booted off this planet so fast it would make your head spin."

Sideswipe shrugged, "Wouldn't hurt our feelings."

"As far as we're concerned," the yellow front liner growled, "the Decepticons can have this fragging mud ball. Not like there's anything here of any value." He looked the woman up and down, a disgusted look on his face plates. "Just a bunch of greasy, uncivilized meat sacks."

"What about Petty Officer Doe," Macy challenged. "She's greasy and uncivilized? Not valuable at all?"

"Keep her name out of your fragging mouth, human." Sunstreaker threatened, "If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, I suggest you go crawl back into whatever hole you oozed out of and get out of my face before they have to send a crew in here to clean you up off the floor with a mop and bucket."

Despite her bravado, Macy paled at that. She balled her hands into fists, willing them not to tremble as she took a daring step toward the mech. "Fine," her voice didn't shake, though it did rise an octave. "I know there's something going on with you two and Petty Officer Doe and I don't appreciate all her talk about professionalism and appropriate behavior when she's obviously playing by another set of rules."

"You don't have a fragging clue what you're talking about, lady," Sideswipe snapped. His annoyance was quickly turning into full blown anger. "Petty Officer Doe has more professionalism in one finger than you do in your entire body. I'm sure even Mirage can attest to that."

"Does she?" Macy gasped and brought one hand to her mouth in mock surprised. "I guess I just imagined the human lip prints all over your face, huh? There's a glaring double standard here that I have a serious issue with. I was reassigned for less."

"You were reassigned because you're a fragging screwball who can't take no for an answer," Sides spat.

"Regardless," Macy shrugged, "imagine what would happen to your little girlfriend if the higher-ups found out she's getting a little too cozy with the guests. I'm guessing having her desk moved would be the least of her problems."

Sunstreaker lunged. It was only his brother's fast reflexes that prevented him from flattening the woman where she stood. Macy scrambled backwards away from the seething mech, her eyes comically wide behind her frames. Perhaps, her brain chimed in, she'd miscalculated just how close the trio actually were.

"You want to make threats, human? You better make fragging sure you're willing to carry them out. I'm only going to say this once," Sunstreaker seethed, "If I see you near her, if I so much as hear you breathe her name, I will end you."

"What's going on here?"

Prowl's voice cut through the angry haze as he stepped between the twins and the human. He'd walked back inside the hangar after yet another heated exchange with the National Security Advisor to find an enraged Sunstreaker being held back by an equally angry looking Sideswipe, squared up against a technician who'd been involved in a now infamous—at least in his own processor—assault on a recharging Mirage. He could only imagine what had set off the current chain of events.

The SIC, ever observant, had noted the smug look on the woman's face, clouded though it may have been with fear given that she was inches away from being a red smear on the floor if Sunny's current mood was any indication. She'd hit a nerve and it pleased her. Upon noting his presence, however, Prowl watched as her expression changed. A carefully cultivated and practiced expression of surprise and hurt distorted her expression. A sob escaped her throat and she pushed her glasses atop her head to wipe at her eyes, though no moisture leaked from them.

"I-I asked a question," she warbled dramatically, "and then he tried to attack me for no reason! He-he threatened me!"

"You're a fragging liar!" Sides released his brother only to push passed him. He pointed an accusing finger at the woman. "That's not what happened. She's the one that came over here and started slag, Prowl, not Sunny."

"Enough." Prowl held up a hand to silence the agitated mech. "Both of you, go to my office and wait for me there. We will not be discussing what did or did not happen in the middle of a supply detail."

"But..."

"Now." Prowl turned and looked at the pair. His tone and expression leaving no room for argument. "I'll be along shortly."

Sideswipe looked like he wanted to protest, but finally relented. He vented, nodding sharply at the SIC before hooking his arm around his brother's and tugging the still glowering mech along with him. "Come on, Sunny..."

Prowl waited until the pair were out of audio shot to refocus his attention on the human. She'd quieted while he'd been speaking with Sideswipe. Once she sensed his focus return to her, however, she began her sniffling once more. Prowl grit his denta together. This particular human made his plates crawl and he'd hoped he'd never have to deal with her again following her molestation of Mirage. Squaring his shoulders, door wings held high, he addressed the woman.

"Ms. Harmon," he began, "as you are well aware, given your past behavior, you've been asked to refrain from unsupervised contact with Autobot personnel. Do I need to remind you of the rules and stipulations that were agreed upon in order to allow you to keep your current position?"

"No!" Macy's eyes widened. "I-I wasn't trying to cause any trouble. I was simply asking a question. They attacked me!"

"Indeed." Prowl looked less than impressed. "May I ask what question you posed as to illicit such an extreme response?"

"I asked if they knew where Petty Officer Doe was." Macy cleared her throat and readjusted her glasses. "I wanted to apologize to her for the other day in her office."

The SIC raised a brow at that. The woman may have wanted to speak with Amy, but judging from the twins' reaction Prowl was certain an apology was the last thing on her mind. "The gesture is appreciated, but not necessary, Ms. Harmon," he quickly replied. "I'll pass on the sentiments to Perry Officer Doe, however, I must remind you that she falls under the Autobot chain of command. Therefore, I'd ask that you refrain from contact unless necessity dictates."

"What? Why?" Macy's face began to redden in anger. "She's military personnel! She's human!"

"Perhaps," Prowl looked down upon the woman with a carefully schooled expression. "However, those are the agreed upon rules and it would be in your best interest to follow them if you wish to continue your service here. Consider this your warning. We'll not be having this conversation again."

"You can't do that! You don't have the authority!" Macy was quickly becoming livid. "You're not in charge here!"

Prowl responded dismissively. "I guess we'll see. I'll have a word with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Have a pleasant afternoon."

The SIC turned smoothly on his heel and headed out of the hangar. He intended to have a word with the twins, but first he needed to speak with Jazz. There was an urgency there, a hollow feeling in his tank that told told him this argument was far from over. He'd resolved nothing, merely delayed a conflict that reason and logic assured him would raise its ugly head again in the not so distant future. Already, a small corner of his processor was busy analyzing the available data, running the numbers, predicting the likely outcome of the various avenues of recourse he had at his disposal. The human was right, he wasn't in charge here, but he would do whatever was in his power to ensure a favorable outcome for the people he cared about.

XXXXXXXXXX

Once she was outside, Amy decided to skip chow. Her conversation with Jazz had left an empty, nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach and food was the last thing on her mind. As she stepped out into the afternoon sunshine, she took in deep lungfuls of the salty ocean air, feeling it wash over her and slightly soothe her ragged nerves. She hated feeling this way. Powerless and at the mercy of outside forces she didn't recognize or understand. Her life may not have been pleasant prior to coming to Diego Garcia, but it had been simple. She'd known what to expect day to day. Now, everything had been set on its head and, for better or worse, she didn't know which way was up anymore.

With a sigh, she'd begun wandering in the general direction of the barracks. She passed the shuttle stop, preferring not to be cooped up inside of a bus when the sun was so pleasantly warm and bright overhead. The sky was a dazzling blue and white, fluffy clouds drifted lazily across the heavens. She wished she could have enjoyed it fully, but her mind was too busy. She was full of worry for Jazz and herself, and even the twins. She wished she knew what to do. She wished she could relax. She wished she could be as accepting and open as everyone else around her seemed to be. Jazz had insisted that she wasn't broken, but she wasn't entirely convinced. A pervading sense of dread had settled into her being over the last few days that she couldn't seem to shake. There had to be something wrong with her.

Amy was so engrossed in her own thoughts, that she almost missed the streak of yellow that went flying down the street next to her. It wasn't until she heard the distinctive sound of transformation and a cheerful chirp of greeting that she realized that she had company. She craned her neck back to look up at her newfound companion. She managed to muster a smile for the scout. "Hey, Bee."

The mech fell into step next to her, a slight bounce in his movements as he matched her pace. He tilted his head inquisitively as he gazed down at her, a questioning hum resonating from his busted vocalizer.

That made Amy's smile widen ever so slightly. Bumblebee may have been effectively mute, but he didn't have to say a word for her to know exactly what he was thinking. She'd realized early on that even the mech's use of audio clips to communicate was wholly unnecessary if you just stopped and paid attention to what he was trying to say. She'd found Bee to be an extremely expressive individual, empathetic, and seeming to have an uncanny knack for reading people and situations. It was easy to see why everyone thought so fondly of the young mech. There was no doubt in her mind that he'd seen her roaming down the sidewalk looking lost, had been worried, and wanted to stop and see if she was alright.

"I'm fine," she assured the concerned youngling. "Just a weird day. I was feeling cooped up and thought I'd take a walk."

The mech emitted a series of clicks and patted his stomach while miming as if he were eating. He then pointed between Amy and himself, gesturing as though he were steering a car.

"Thanks for the offer, Bee." Amy wrinkled her nose. "I'm not really that hungry, but I appreciate it."

The scout nodded in understanding, continuing to walk alongside the small human woman.

"So," Amy ventured to start a conversation, "what are you up to today? Anything exciting?"

Bumblebee shook his head, his shoulders slumped, and a glum aura seemed to radiate from him.

Amy picked up on his change in mood immediately. A frown tugged at her lips. "What happened?"

Bee vented and his radio crackled to life. "I'm a bad, I'm a bad, I'm a bad friend...So don't ask me where I've been..." He shrugged. "Guess we fell out, what was that all about?"

A wave of sympathy washed over Amy for the scout. Bee had confided to her how his absence was affecting his relationship with the boy he'd originally been sent to Earth to locate and now watched over. From what she understood, the kid wasn't pleased that his car was still playing soldier half a world a way as it was apparently cutting into his social life. Though Bee tried to check in as often as possible and keep the lines of friendship and communication flowing, the teen made sure to let him know how unacceptable he found the situation to be. The mech had obviously been hurt by their latest interaction and it pained Amy's heart to see the normally upbeat bot looking so down in the dumps.

"Aw," Amy leaned into the mech, bumping his leg with her shoulder as they walked. His feelings, at least for the time being, took priority over her own. "You know that's not true, Bee. You're a great friend. It's not your fault that you have a job to do. You can't be everywhere at once. He needs to understand that."

A soft huff of sorrowful agreement escaped the mech.

"And why can't he get an actual car to drive when you can't be there," Amy wondered aloud. "You have a life, too. It would save the both of you a ton of stress and frustration."

"She loves my car, she loves my car," a voice twanged from the bot's speakers. "It's just a machine. She loves my car, she loves my car. I wish she loved me the way she loves my car..."

"Ah," Amy frowned. "He's trying to impress a girl with his super awesome muscle car and he can't do that if you're here, huh?"

Bee nodded in confirmation.

Amy raised a brow at the mech. "Has anyone ever told him that if a girl is just interested in him for his wheels, she probably isn't worth his time?"

"Mama tried, Mama tried..."

"I'm sorry, Bee." The woman reached out and gave the mech an affectionate pat on the leg. "Try not to take anything he says personally, okay? I'm sure he doesn't mean it, especially if the opposite sex is driving his narrative. Teenage hormones and all that, you know? You really are a great friend and I'll fight anyone who says any different." A bemused expression crossed her features and she chuckled at herself. "Maybe I'm spending too much time with Sunstreaker."

That seemed to tickle Bumblebee and he let out a crackle of static that Amy knew would have been a laugh had his voice box not been crushed. Their shared mirth seemed to lighten both of their loads and the pair fell into a friendly banter for the rest of their walk together. They parted ways in front of the barracks. After gracefully accepting Bumblebee's invitation to come to his room to play video games after her shift, she turned to jog up the concrete steps and pushed her way into the building. As she stepped into the cool air conditioning, the reality of her situation seemed to settle upon her shoulders once more. With a heavy sigh, she headed toward the elevator.

It had been a while since she'd spent any significant time in her own room. She really shouldn't have been surprised at the fine sprinkling of dust that seemed to have settled over every flat surface. She wrinkled her nose as she drew her finger along the top of her nightstand leaving a gritty grey residue embedded in the grooves of her fingerprint. She quickly wiped it off on her pants before flopping onto her bed, stifling a sneeze as fine particles of dust were flung into the air on impact. In the back of her mind, she made a note to herself that she desperately needed to field day the room as surprise inspections did happen.

"Ugh," she threw and arm over her eyes and groaned. "Why me?"

She lay there, taking a moment to just breathe before flipping onto her stomach and crawling to the head of the bed and burying her face in the slightly stale-smelling pillow—she definitely needed to clean. How long had it been since she'd spent a night in this very bed, tossing and turning all night, and trekking hopelessly through the never ending expanse of her dreamscape? The bed felt foreign to her now. It was too soft. Too small. Too lonely. Instead of feeling safe and sheltered in her own space, she now felt isolated and lonesome. It was bizarre how a lifetime of being conditioned to think and feel and behave in a certain way could be flipped inside out under the right circumstances and in just a short amount of time.

She wasn't given long to contemplate these thoughts as a knocking on her door roused her from her musing. She sat up, a confused expression on her face, as she pushed herself off the bed, and crossed the room to open the door. He confusion changed to curiosity when the door swung open to reveal a slightly anxious-looking Monroe dressed in his working whites.

"Hi," she hesitantly greeted. "Long time, no see."

"Hey, OS2," Monroe returned, shifting from foot to foot. "I thought I saw you come in, but I wasn't sure."

"Chow break," Amy replied. "What's up?"

"Well, uh," Monroe raised a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "I'm not sure, really."

That piqued Amy's curiosity. She stepped back from the door and motioned for Monroe to come inside. "What do you mean?"

The man accepted the invitation and, once inside, surveyed his surroundings. The room must have been grimier than Amy realized, as Monroe pulled a face and chuckled. "Damn, OS2, clean much?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Amy wrinkled her nose. "I know, I fell behind in my housekeeping. I'm working on it. What's going on?"

Monroe shook his head and turned to face the woman. He shrugged, "Like I said, I'm not really sure. This chick has been here looking for you...a few times, actually. Got really bitchy when she knocked on my door asking if I knew where you were and I told her you worked odd hours. Accused me of being part of 'the conspiracy', whatever the hell that means."

"She knocked on your door? Looking for me?" Amy raised a brow in question. "Who is she?"

"She was going door-to-door looking for you, apparently. Snuck in passed whoever was on watch and had to be escorted out. Threw a goddamn fit about it. I don't know her name, but I've seen her around. Works for Galloway, I think," Monroe supplied. "Redhead, wears glasses. Totally off her fucking rocker, if you ask me."

"Geez..." Amy grimaced. "I know exactly who you're talking about and she is definitely a little nutty. Let's just say there's a reason why her workspace is in a place where Captain Lennox can keep an eye on her."

"Damn," Monroe frowned. "Do I even want to know?"

"Probably not," Amy shook her head. "She didn't happen to say why she was looking for me, did she?"

"Nah," Monroe denied. "Seemed hellbent on finding you, though. Look," he leaned in closer to the woman, "not that it's any of my business, but this bitch is whacked. I'm not sure what crawled up her ass, but I'd be careful if I were you. She looks a little deranged."

"You do not know the half of it." Amy sighed, "We've been having some issues and I'm supposed to let Jazz know if Galloway or any of his cronies make contact. I'll let him know and he'll get it taken care of."

"Good." Monroe nodded. "That's good. Bad vibes, ya know?"

"Yeah," Amy agreed. "Believe me, I know."

"So..." Monroe ventured, "were you gonna go to chow or just hang out in your room or...?"

"Oh, uh..." Amy looked around the room. She really should clean it.

"Because I'm heading over," the man continued. "If you wanna come with?"

"Um," Amy turned the invite over in her mind. When was the last time she'd sat down to share a meal with an actual human being? Sunstreaker wouldn't be pleased, but then again, she had promised the mech way back when that she'd have a talk with Monroe about boundaries. Who knows when she'd have another opportunity. "Yeah," she nodded. "I'll go with you. There's something I've been wanting to talk to you about anyway..."

End of Chapter 53