FINDING HOME
CHAPTER 55
BY VOODOO QUEEN
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, Dear Readers! I'm not going to take up too much of your time. I just want to apologize for the long wait between this chapter and the last. Trying to tie everything thing together in the next couple of chapters before we move along. Thanks for sticking with me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate each and every one of you. Many thanks to those who've read this story and added it to their alerts and favorites. Extra special thanks to all those who've taken the time to leave a review...I love each and every one of you!
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN TRANSFORMERS, JUST MY OWN ORIGINAL CHARACTERS AND PLOT.
XXXXXXXXXX
Amy found herself standing outside of the main hangar, clutching the 12 o'clock report to her chest and shifting nervously from foot to foot. Her heart stuttered anxiously in her chest, and she could feel a clammy sweat break out over her entire body. Her stomach rolled nauseously, and she prayed to whatever deity that may have been listening that the earth beneath her feet would crack wide open and swallow her whole. She would have given anything at that moment to be anywhere else in the universe. To have been anyone else in the universe.
She closed her eyes and breathed as deeply as she possibly could. She held it in, mentally counting the seconds until her lungs burned and begged for fresh oxygen before releasing it with a hiss. Her eyes cracked open, and she sighed in disappointment. It had done nothing to calm her nerves or change her circumstances. She was still standing in the middle of Diego Garcia and was still very much herself. She sighed dejectedly. She should have known better than to hope. Her prayers, after all, were seldom answered.
Though she was sure it probably had more to do with the fact that she was loitering in a high traffic area looking half-crazed, she could have sworn she felt every person that passed her by eyeing her up and down and passing judgement. Was she imagining the disgust? The disdain? The utter revulsion? Probably, she conceded. She was more aware than ever of her tendency to overthink things. That, however, didn't take away from the fact that she felt exposed, as if her entire life had been put on display for the masses. Which it had been in a manner of speaking, she supposed.
She should have been used to it by now. Her entire life had been a spectacle. She been paraded before more judges and authority figures than she cared to count; the most intimate details of her existence discussed and analyzed by rooms full of strangers as she looked passively on, unable to even share her version of the events. Her skin should have been thick enough after enduring a lifetime of abuse and disregard to shrug off the negative opinion of a single man, but it wasn't. She felt heartsick and vulnerable and wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere where she could sort through her emotions and disappointment in peace.
Logically, she understood why the bots had chosen to disclose her relationship with the twins to the one human they felt they could trust with the information. She may have been "an Autobot on paper," but she was still very much a human and the US military still very much owned her life for at least the foreseeable future. Though the Autobots, Jazz and Prowl especially, had tried to soothe her guilt by repeatedly assuring her that she hadn't upset the balance of the mission, she knew better than to believe the situation was as black and white as they tried to make it seem for her peace of mind.
Available manpower and resources had been, at least partly, rearranged and allocated in a manner to benefit herself, and Captain Lennox deserved at least that much transparency. He was not only ultimately responsible for all personnel falling under NEST's umbrella, but the success or failure of the planet's campaign against the Decepticons rested on his shoulders as the human in charge on the ground. Surely, she mused absently, he had bigger things on his plate to worry about than how she and the twins spent their free time with one another. Of course, she reminded herself, the Captain also had a more extensive history of working with the Autobots than she did and was all too familiar with the previous issues surrounding a particular bespectacled redhead, and he also deserved an explanation of how their current troubles came to be if he was expected to lend assistance.
At the thought of Macy Harmon, Amy cringed. That had certainly escalated quickly. She honestly didn't understand how things had gotten to this point. Was it something she'd said? Was it something she'd done? Maybe she should have let the woman's creepy commentary on Optimus Prime and the twins go, but in the moment it had seemed wholly inappropriate, intensely uncomfortable, and correcting her behavior had seemed harmless enough. It was nothing she wouldn't have said to the junior enlisted personnel under her supervision at her previous command had she caught them making disparaging remarks about a fellow crew mate. Since then, however, she'd more than once found herself wishing she could rewind time and avoid making the woman's acquaintance altogether.
Hindsight was 20/20, indeed. She'd been shocked, disbelieving, and perhaps inappropriately amused upon learning what had transpired between the devious tech and an unsuspecting Mirage. That feeling had since twisted into a sick anxiety that made her stomach roll and her insides tremble whenever she thought of it. Her entire life now seemed to revolve around the demented whims of a woman she didn't even know beyond a few upsetting encounters and the whispers of the rumor mill. What she did know, however, was enough to lead her to be worried and cautious because, at this point, who knew what, exactly, she was capable of when it came right down to it? She supposed Jazz's thoughts had run along those lines, as well, and had led him to err on the side of caution. It still didn't mean she was thrilled about her predicament.
#
Amy had been in the rec room with the twins when Jazz had tracked them down to update them on the situation. Up until that point, she'd been watching with great amusement while Sideswipe and Sunstreaker engaged in a lively debate over whether they should watch Ninja Terminator or 2001: A Space Odyssey. She'd adamantly refused to pick a side and, before a decision could be reached, Jazz had dropped the bomb on them that, not only had they informed Captain Lennox of the issues they were having with Crazy Macy but had also brought him up to speed in terms of the status of their relationship with one another. This, of course, had effectively brought their afternoon plans to a grinding halt.
The reaction was mixed. Sideswipe looked almost relieved, as if the weight of some big secret had been lifted from his shoulders and he could finally let his guard down and relax. Sunstreaker looked annoyed and irritated over the fact that his personal life had suddenly become a point of contention in some alien cultural system that he could not have cared any less about if he tried. Amy, on the other hand, found herself feeling mortified, scandalized, and more than a little ostracized. It was as if everything she'd feared would happen when she became involved in this bizarre relationship had suddenly materialized right before her eyes. All she could manage was to stare at Jazz in horror.
"Aw, don't look at me like that. Tellin' the Captain was the best thing we can do right now, scraplet," Jazz tried to soothe. "As much as I'd love to be able to shelter ya from everyone an' everything and send that crazy femme packin' to the other side of the globe, some things are outta my hands for the time bein'. She doesn't have the best reputation around here, but we'll still need someone in our corner if she decides to start runnin' her mouth to the higher ups."
Though it was the very last thing she wanted to think about, morbid curiosity made her ask anyway. "Wh-what," she stuttered, "what did the Captain say?"
His optics may have been obscured by his visor, but the way his brow plates furrowed and the subtle twitch of his mouth into a frown did more than a good job of conveying that the conversation could have gone better. "Don't worry about him. He'll come around," was his softly spoken reply.
"He'll come around?" Sunny demanded, "What the frag is that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Jazz vented, "that this is a lot for some people to take in. Things that seem perfectly normal to us kinda straddle the line of indecency by human standards."
"Indecency?" Sunstreaker scoffed. "What have we done that's been slagging indecent? The only indecent thing about this entire situation is that fragging redheaded freak! I swear," he threatened, "if you can't get someone to wrangle that fragging wingnut, and she so much as looks at the Squishie wrong again, I'll handle things myself. Explain that to Lennox."
"Seriously," Sideswipe agreed. "This is slagging ridiculous. All we've done is mind our own business. She approached us! She's practically stalking Ames! She is the problem!
"I know and I understand your frustration," Jazz began, "however, the Captain did get a little hung up on the small stuff. The dynamics of your relationship aren't exactly socially acceptable on this planet, which made it a little difficult for him to see the big picture. Aside from the three of you, and obviously being different species, he was particularly bothered by the fact that you two are brothers. He also," the mech gingerly added, "failed to see how any of this could be physically satisfyin'…for any of you, and kinda jumped the track makin' assumptions."
"Oh, my God…" Amy felt the blood drain from her face. There it was. She was officially a deranged sexual deviant in the eyes of her fellow man. Not just any man, the man in charge of the base she was stationed on. The man she had to see, speak to, and interact with daily due to the nature of her duties. She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
"We're fragging twins," Sunstreaker practically spat, "and what we choose to do together, physically or otherwise, in the privacy of our own quarters is no one's slagging business but our own—"
Jazz shook his head and held up a hand to stop the mech. "And I'd prefer it if ya kept it that way. If my scraplet is safe and bein' properly taken care of, that's all I need to know. Ratchet told the Captain as much," the mech assured. "He's doin' his best to explain the situation in a way he can understand, but its gonna take him some time to get over the shock factor."
"Time?" Sunny huffed. "Un-fragging-believable."
"Speaking of Ratch," Jazz ignored the yellow mech's blustering and directed his words towards the small femme, "he wants to see us both in the med bay at our earliest convenience."
If even physically possible, Amy paled even further. "Wh-what for?"
"Nothin' bad," he promised the anxious woman. "Just tryin' to clear up a couple things, maybe help make more sense of what's goin' on. For everyone, the Captain included."
Sides interrupted, "So where does this leave us? We have Lennox freaking out over nothing and we still have a redhead problem."
"Just keep layin' low for now and do your best to avoid any further contact with Harmon. If she approaches you or shows up at the barracks again, I wanna know about it ASAP." Jazz redirected his attention to the silver twin and did his best to assure him. "I promise ya, Sides, it's bein' taken care of."
"No offense," Sideswipe shook his head, "but everything you just said doesn't really instill confidence."
"I know it sounds bad," Jazz admitted, "but ya need to trust me on this. I'm not gonna let anythin' bad happen." He dropped his gaze to look at Amy. "Especially not to you, scraplet. I'd die first."
Amy felt a knot of emotion form in her throat. She wanted to believe him. It wasn't that she doubted his sincerity—nothing could have been further from the truth. There were a lot of things she wanted to believe. She honestly and truthfully did, but couldn't stomach the thought of setting herself up for the inevitable disappointment that followed putting her blind faith into something. She had already taken a big leap into the deep end and even now couldn't shake the gnawing dread that had taken up residence in her gut and seemed to grow with every moment that ticked by. It was as if she could feel a monster bearing down on her, just waiting for the opportunity to strike.
#
"Hey, Squishie, what are you standing around out here for?"
Amy gasped and jumped as Sunstreaker seemingly materialized in front of her out of thin air. She took a couple steps back, just enough to clearly see his face as she tilted her head back to look up at him. The expression he wore seemed to indicate that he wasn't sure if he should be amused or concerned by her reaction. She felt the heat rise to her face. "You scared me," she sheepishly admitted.
"No slag," the mech quipped. "What are you doing? Sides and I came by the office to see if you wanted to do lunch. Bee was down there stowing some equipment and said you hadn't come back from noon muster yet."
"Oh," Amy nodded. "Yeah. I have to deliver the 12 o'clocks and then I'm supposed to meet up with Jazz and Ratchet in the med bay…" She trailed off as she turned to look back into the hangar. From where she lingered just outside the doors, she could see all the way across to where Captain Lennox had taken up residence on the catwalk. From what she could tell from her vantage point, the man seemed to be engaged in conversation with the Autobot's Weapon Specialist. She told herself that she simply hated to interrupt them, but it sounded like a flat out lie even in her own head.
Sunny raised a plated brow. "Well, you know it's almost half passed, right?"
"What?" Amy's eyes widened as she spun back around to look up at the mech in surprise. "No," she shook her head. "It can't be. I've only been out here for…" She looked frantically at her watch only to realize that she'd spent the better part of thirty minutes trying to muster up enough courage to carry out the most basic of tasks. "Oh, shit."
Sunstreaker vented and looked passed the woman. He easily deduced her dilemma. Though he couldn't have cared less what other people outside of his small familial unit thought of him, he couldn't say he wouldn't be drowning in dread if he were in the small femme's position. Humans were strange, small-minded, and unpredictable creatures, and she, regrettably, had the misfortune of being counted as one of them. It wasn't fair, or preferable for that matter, but it was what it was. He turned the predicament over in his head and decided that there was only one thing he could do in this situation.
"I'll go with you." It wasn't an offer. It wasn't even so much a statement. It was a promise; one of the few things Sunstreaker could provide her with in that moment. "I'm not worried about what Lennox thinks. He can go jump in a smelter for all I care."
Amy seemed to sag in on herself. Her shoulders slumped as both relief and embarrassment struggled for dominance. She shook her head. "I shouldn't need someone to hold my hand just so I can do my job."
"You shouldn't have your personal business laid out for the entire fragging universe to see," the mech shrugged, "but here we are."
"Don't remind me." Tucking the folder containing the 12 o'clock report under her arm, Amy dug the heels of her hands into her eyes and groaned. The action did little to relieve the pressure starting to build there. Feeling defeated, she dropped her arms back to her sides as a feeling of helplessness and melancholy threatened to swamp her. "What am I supposed to do? What if he starts asking me questions? What if he freaks out? What am I supposed to say?"
"Hey," Sunstreaker dropped to a crouch and gently nudged the woman to draw her attention. "Look at me, Squishie."
Amy sighed forlornly, frowning, but did as he asked.
"Listen," the mech began in a stern voice. "I'm going to tell you exactly what you're going to do. You're going to walk in there like you own the fragging place. You're going to march up those stairs, look that slagger dead in his optics, hand him that report, and dare him to pop off at the manifold. You don't own him an explanation. You don't owe him any fragging thing. You're going to handle your business and then you're going to turn right back around and stroll out of here like you don't have a care in the world, go have a nice lunch, and not give any of these slaggers and their fragging opinions another thought for the rest of the day. Do you know why?"
Amy grimaced. "Because I don't have a choice?"
"No," Sunny smirked, "because you're not a slagging punk. Lennox may run NEST, but he doesn't run your fragging life. Don't let him think he does."
Amy chewed her lip and looked at the mech uncertainly.
"Come on," the yellow twin encouraged, nudging her gently. "Let me hear you say it."
"I'm…uh…" Amy mumbled in a small voice that sounded more like a question. "I'm not a punk?"
"Oh, come on," Sunstreaker cajoled. "You can do better than that. Say it like you slagging mean it."
"I'm not a punk," Amy muttered once more, cringing slightly as she did so.
Sunny vented and shook his head. "We'll work on that." Pushing himself back up to his feet, he gazed down on the small femme. Her jerked his chin in Lennox's direction. "Let's go," he all but ordered. "You got this. I'm right beside you."
"Right." Amy nodded uncertainly as she took a couple halting steps in the direction he'd indicated. It wasn't like she could just ignore the 12 o'clocks and pretend they didn't exist, even though the thought of faking amnesia and wandering off to parts unknown sounded tempting. It had to be done. "I can do this. I have to do this," she corrected, trying to fake motivation that she didn't really have.
"Head up," Sunny instructed as he strolled slowly next to her. "Shoulders back, chest out. Never give them the satisfaction of knowing they've shaken your confidence. The moment you let them know they've gotten under your armor is the moment you hand them all the power. You're better than that," he encouraged. "They don't matter. They're not even a blip on your radar. You've already survived worse than whatever these fraggers can dish out. This is nothing."
"Right." Amy swallowed hard and nodded. She felt like the mech spoke from personal experience, as if he was sharing with her his own personal mantra. As strange as it may have sounded, Sunstreaker's pep talk seemed to be working, if only slightly. Her steps became a bit surer, her gait more confident. Of course, it didn't hurt that she had a massive, yellow bastion of bad attitude acting as her wingman. His brooding presence parted the sea of human bodies standing between them and their destination like nothing else she'd ever seen. Even through her dread, Amy caught herself snorting in amusement as a lowly rumbled, "What the slag are you looking at," sent a small group of soldiers scurrying in the other direction.
Sooner than she cared for, she found herself standing at the bottom of the metal stairs leading to the catwalk. Taking a deep breath, she centered herself before beginning the short climb. She nodded to Ironhide as she reached the top, flashing him a tight smile. "Good morning…well…afternoon, I guess," she greeted.
"Hmph," the older mech harrumphed and crossed his arms over his massive chest, his arm-mounted arsenal glinting in the overhead lights. He eyed the woman with a raised brow. "You're late," was his simple reply.
"Yes, Sir," Amy admitted with a grimace. "I was…"
"Busy," Sunstreaker finished, sounding completely bored and uninterested as he came to rest leaning casually against the railing. His gaze shifted from the Weapon Specialist to the Army Captain who had grown still and quiet at their approach. His optics narrowed as an expression he normally reserved for the Cons he faced down on the battlefield settled over his features. "Hectic morning. You know how it is."
Ironhide surveyed the front liner with an amused smirk. He was old but he wasn't blind. He'd been keeping tabs on the femme from out of the corner of his optic and wondering how long it would take her to muster up enough courage to face Lennox. He'd grown to have a certain respect for the human and had to give her some credit. She at least had enough sense and self-awareness to know that others viewed her situation as distasteful, albeit for differing reasons. He wasn't entirely onboard himself—it was slagging weird—but he had finally reached a point where he could mostly ignore that which didn't directly affect his existence. According to Ratchet, there wasn't much that could be done to change things anyway, and the situation was only further convoluted by Jazz's latest disclosure. The changing situation was almost too much for him to keep up with.
Better them than him, he decided. However, if she was who Jazz purported her to be, he felt obligated to at least extend her the courtesy of his presence to ward off any hostilities lobbed her way by her human counterparts. It was one of the reasons he'd decided to linger in the hangar this morning. If not for her benefit, then for Jazz's. He knew how painful it could be to be parted from family, and if this human helped soothe the TIC's spark, there really wasn't anything left to discuss.
Ironhide shook his head and refocused on the pair. It figured that Sunstreaker would be the one to light a fire under her aft and get her moving. He supposed it helped that the mech had a lifetime of experience getting his bit brain of a twin up and in gear. He could appreciate Sunstreaker's dedication and loyalty towards those he cared about, even in a particularly unorthodox situation. Hide may have been a battle-hardened soldier from way back, but he was a family mech at his core, and couldn't say he'd behave any differently or be any less protective were their positions flipped.
He wouldn't lie. The twins certainly had their faults, and he may have been hard on them on occasion, but he did have a begrudging respect for the pair. They were excellent soldiers and performed their duties with little pushback or complaint. They never backed down from a fight and always completed the tasks they were assigned, even though the means by which they chose to do so were sometimes questionable. Then again, it wasn't as though their enemies fought fairly, and they knew this better than anyone. In all, they'd come a long way from the young, defiant, and undisciplined pair of gladiators they'd been when he first met them all those vorns ago and he was proud of the mechs they'd become. Of course, he'd rather rust to death than ever tell either one of them that.
Ironhide shifted his gaze back to the human and felt a twinge of sympathy for her in the pit of his tank. Despite her best attempts to appear professional and at ease, he could easily see the tension that ran through her frame and the poorly masked anxiety barely hidden by the polite expression she tried her hardest to maintain. If all of that hadn't been a dead giveaway, the way she kept her eyes locked on him and studiously avoided looking in Lennox's direction provided a keen insight into the current state of her mind. This wasn't an ideal situation for anyone, he supposed.
There were a lot of things that, as a senior member of the Autobot's staff, he could say, that he should say, regarding the importance of punctuality and not letting your personal affairs get in the way of your responsibilities, but it was obvious to him that she was already miserable and aware that she was out of regulations. He also knew that, up until this point, her professionalism had been well beyond reproach, and that if ever extenuating circumstances existed, her current predicament would certainly fall within that category. He decided to save them both the time, energy, and embarrassment of a dressing down. Plus, he was a bit curious to see how the rest of this encounter would play out between the humans. So, instead of a reprimand, Hide shrugged. "Slag happens, I guess. Don't make a habit of it."
Amy was a bit caught off guard by the mech's lackadaisical attitude but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She had more pressing things to worry about. She vehemently shook her head. "No, Sir. Of course not."
"It won't happen again," Sunny assured, still never taking his optics off the Captain. The two seemed to be engaged in a staring contest. "Isn't that right, Squishie?"
"Right." Amy nodded once in agreement, finally willing herself to look away from Ironhide to address the Captain. She cleared her throat and saluted the man. "Again, Captain, I apologize for my tardiness."
Her words seemed to pull Lennox from the strange fugue he'd found himself in as he snapped back to the present and pulled his eyes away from the front liner. He scrounged up the wherewithal to return her salute and, as he did, couldn't help but scrutinize her appearance. He'd spent well over two hours listening to Ratchet trying to explain to him in terms he could understand exactly what had transpired to bring Petty Officer Doe and the twins together. He'd read all the materials the CMO had forwarded to his email. Twice. He still couldn't make heads or tails out of it and, for the life of him, couldn't understand why another human being would allow themselves to be drawn into such madness in the first place.
There had to be something he'd missed. There had to be some sign or symptom that have provided him some clue as to what was transpiring right under his nose. Other than her obvious anxiousness, she appeared the same to him as she did any other day. There were no glaring abnormalities or anomalies in the way she presented herself. There was nothing about her that would have raised any red flags or garnered any suspicion regarding her off-duty activities. Then again, he supposed it would have been too much to ask that she walk around wearing an 'I'm Fucking the Aliens' t-shirt over top her BDUs.
Honestly, his animosity over the entire situation surprised even him. He felt lied to and misled, especially given her previous discussion with Jazz and Prowl expressing his concerns about the possibility of a similar situation transpiring. The reality, however, was so much worse than he could have imagined. Check being blindsided by a cross-species, incestuous, polyamorous relationship off his bucket list. He could now die a confused and traumatized man. He now found himself stuck between a rock and hard place, oscillating between the options of 'Cover Thine Own Ass' and 'Circle the Wagons' to protect the people who'd gone out of their way to protect his entire species. It was a good place to be in, and either way, he had a lot to lose. His reputation as a Commanding Officer and the friendships he'd come to highly value was just the tip of the iceberg.
Even though the bots seemed to view the scenario almost as a reason to celebrate, all he could see was a bureaucratic nightmare waiting to swallow him whole. If word got out there would be political fallout the likes of which he didn't even want to contemplate. Inquests. Investigations. How did one explain to the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the President of the United States that giant robots from another planet had decided to strike up a romance with a member of your junior enlisted military personnel, carrying on said relationship for months—even living together—without your knowledge or consent?
He didn't even want to think about the medical and scientific inquiries that would follow such a disclosure should the top brass choose to take Ratchet's theory of how all this came to be and run with it. Nightmarish visions of laboratory experiments danced behind the Captain's eyes causing a shudder to run down the length of his spine. And yet, it seemed the Autobots were more concerned over the actions of a single tech analyst and the upset it could cause to those engaging in the questionable behavior. It made no sense.
"Can we hurry this slag up? Some of us have places to be."
Lennox jumped as a large gunmetal gray and yellow hand appeared right in front of his nose, fingers snapping to get his attention. He jerked his head in the direction of the yellow twin to find the mech glowering at him with a cold expression, and another burning question popped into his mind. Why the twins? Why not someone likeable, like Jazz—his first choice—or even Bumblebee? Hell, even Mirage could lay on the charm when he thought he could get something out of it. He supposed Sideswipe was a nice enough guy, but Sunstreaker? Sunstreaker was an asshole, at least so much as his own experiences with the mech went.
Since he and his brother had arrived on Earth, the mech had seemingly made it his own personal mission to make sure everyone knew just how much he loathed the planet and its inhabitants. A vast majority of the humans on base were terrified of him and tended to steer clear of him as much as was physically possible. Was it possible he possessed some redeeming qualities that Petty Officer Doe was privy to but no one else on the entire planet was aware of? He believed that to be highly unlikely.
Lennox set his jaw, grinding his teeth to keep from voicing his thoughts out loud in the middle of a busy military installation, and refocused on the task at hand. Without any further ado, he reached for the manilla envelope the woman presented to him. He had questions he wanted answers to and plenty he wanted to say, but Optimus Prime had advised him against confronting any of the trio without the proper authorities being present—i.e., Jazz, Prowl, Ratchet, or himself. The Autobot leader had effectively barred him from disciplining his own troops, citing the paperwork that had temporarily transferred to woman to his Chain of Command as well as appealing to his sense of professional courtesy. Optimus reasoned that if he, as her acting CO, took no issue with the situation, then neither should he. Then, in the same breath, had asked him to stick his neck out to help them keep their festering secret under wraps.
Yeah, right.
As if he didn't already have enough to worry about. As if they didn't have more pressing issues like an intergalactic war to focus on. Now he had to fret over fraternization on an epic scale. He didn't get it. They'd been outraged, disgusted even, when the tech analyst had shown interest in one of their own. He hadn't understood the redheaded woman's infatuation with robots. He didn't see the appeal and he'd assumed, based on their reactions, that it went both ways where humans were concerned. Then again, asshole or no, the protective stance Sunstreaker assumed and the way his steely gaze and expression would soften when he allowed his optics to drift in the woman's direction suggested that the mech may not find humans quite as disgusting as he would have others believe. The thought alone made Lennox's guts twist and caused a sour taste to form in the back of his throat.
Lennox huffed and shook his head as he slipped the papers from the envelope and rifled through them. Clearing his throat, he tried to keep his voice as steady as he could, though it came out sounding harsher and colder than he'd intended. "Anything going on I need to know about?"
Amy swallowed hard and, in her most polite and professional tone, answered the man's question. "No, Sir," she denied. "Nothing new to report. We're still monitoring for any changes in geologic activity, but all seems quiet for the moment. All incoming data is being rerouted through Teletraan for analysis and all systems and readings are within normal operating parameters. Everything is green across the board."
Lennox slipped the papers back into the envelope to sort through later and tossed them onto his desk. "Is there anything else?"
Amy shook her head. "No, Sir."
"You're dismissed," Lennox waved her off, eager to have the woman and her looming, mechanical bodyguard gone from his space so he could think straight once again. "Next time, be on time."
"Yes, Sir," she quickly agreed, popping to attention to salute him once more. "I absolutely will."
Lennox watched, a strange sense of relief filling him as the woman spun sharply on her heel, executing a perfect about face, before advising Ironhide to "have a nice afternoon" and retracing her path back down the stairs to carry on with her day as if she weren't the root cause of his current stress. Sunstreaker, however, lingered. Lennox could feel the weight of his optics burning into the side of his head. Irritation and anger rolled off the mech in waves, but Lennox refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead, he retreated to his desk without another word and sat down. He picked up the envelope, dumped it contents back out, and pretended to sort the documents into neat little stacks.
"Carry on, Sunny," Ironhide rumbled. "I know for a fact you got places to be." He nodded his head toward the hangar doors, to where the human had stopped and stood waiting for the mech to join her. "If you want to hang around, I can find you something to do, but I guarantee it won't be as pleasant as whatever you already have planned."
Sunstreaker responded with something in his native language that Lennox couldn't understand. Whatever it was drew a snort of amusement from Ironhide. With a final scowl, Sunny pushed off the railing and casually strolled back across the hangar, pausing just outside the doors to kneel and speak with his human companion before folding himself down into a bright, yellow Lamborghini and popping the door open for her to climb inside. The woman didn't hesitate to slide into the driver's seat, as if she done so a million times before. Lennox wasn't sure why he found the whole exchange so unsettling.
The man let out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. "What did he say?"
"That you're a wise human to keep your mouth shut." Ironhide added nonchalantly, "He was hoping for a chance to backhand you off this catwalk if you got mouthy. If I were you, I'd keep any opinions I have to myself. That mech is just looking for an excuse to blow off some steam."
"What the hell?" The Captain looked at the Weapon Specialist with wide eyes. "What did I do? If anyone has the right to be pissed off here, it should be me!"
"Well," the mech drawled, "for starters, you were staring at his femme like you just found out she was fragging the entire Decepticon army. Can't say that wouldn't rub me the wrong way if I were in his position. He's defending someone he cares about. Can't be mad at him for that."
Lennox stared at the mech incredulously. "So, you're on board with this, too?"
"I didn't say that," the mech denied. "I think the whole thing is fragging ridiculous. I'd just as soon give up my guns than settle down with an organic, but who am I to argue with medical science? I'm a soldier, not a doctor. I'm just saying," Ironhide shrugged, "if someone treated my spark mate and our relationship the same way those three are being dragged through the smelter, we'd be having more than just words. In fact," he added with a fond, longing look, "she'd probably be the first to throw punches."
"Wait," Lennox shook his head. "Hold on. You have a…a…what did you call it?"
Hide raised a brow. "A spark mate?"
"Yeah," Lennox nodded. "I read something about spark mates in the mountain of medical mumbo jumbo Ratchet sent me to try to justify this dumpster fire. The way I understood it, it's kinda like getting married, right? How come you never mentioned that you have a wife?"
"Her name is Chromia. She's not my wife. She's my spark mate," he clarified and then shrugged. "You never asked."
"That's the kind of thing you're supposed to mention in the getting-to-know-you part of a friendship, buddy," Lennox insisted. You know, aside from the fact that you like old Clint Eastwood movies and blowing shit up." The soldier huffed and shook his head. "Okay, so, she isn't your wife. Enlighten me. What's the difference?"
"The difference?" Ironhide scoffed and rolled his optics. "It may be the closest comparison on this planet, but human marriage is nothing like spark bonding. The two aren't even orbiting the same fragging star."
"Really?" Lennox tilted his head in curiosity. Talking to Ironhide about the differences in relationships between their respective species was preferable to the dry medical journals Ratchet had sent him by a long shot. "How so?"
"Look," Ironhide turned toward the man and leaned on the railing, "you have a beautiful family. You should be proud of that. Sarah is a good femme and the bond you have with one another seems strong, but it's not permanent. Either one of you could wake up tomorrow and decide that you're done and walk away."
"That would never happen," Lennox denied, feeling slightly offended and defensive at the mech's statement. "We love one another. We have a daughter together. We took vows. Till death do us part."
"You took vows?" Ironhide rumbled in amusement and shook his head. "I've seen the slag Bee watches when he thinks no one is around. There are plenty of humans out there who've taken vows and turned right around and broke them. They'll mate with anyone willing to pop their panel and end up producing offspring who don't even know who their creators are. Human culture is the dumpster fire."
"You can't base your opinion of an entire species on trash TV," Lennox argued. "That's the worst our society has to offer. It's not a fair comparison."
"No?" Hide challenged, "What about the two marines Epps caught fornicating in one of the supply closets a couple weeks ago? They were both married. To other people. It wasn't the first time something like that has happened, and I'd bet my favorite plasma cannon that it won't be the last."
"Okay," Lennox sighed. "I get it. Shit happens. People cheat. Marriages fail. People break up."
"On Cybertron, we don't even have a word for divorce. It doesn't happen. It can't happen," Ironhide shared. "Not for those who have bonded. For Cybertronians, once you make the decision to go forward and forge a spark bond with someone, that's it. You're slagging done. There is no going back. You are forever tied to that person. You give up a part of yourself, your spark, and are gifted the same in return." He pressed one hand to his chest plates. "I carry a piece of my mate with me wherever I go. Not even death can undo that."
Lennox's brow furrowed. "And if it doesn't work out? What then? You're stuck with that person for eternity?"
"Are their bots who shouldn't be bonded to one another? Probably," He admitted, "but it's rare and doesn't change the permanence of it. A spark bond isn't something you just jump into and hope for the best. It changes your entire life." Ironhide advised, "Most bonded partners have known each other for vorns before they even start thinking about taking things that far. Even then, it isn't something you enter into lightly."
"I'm going out on a limb here and assuming a vorn is a really long time." The Captain postulated, "So this whole situation is even more fucked up than I first thought. Petty Officer Doe has only been here a few months. If this spark stuff is such a big deal to you guys, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker should have had enough common sense not to get involved with a human they barely know to start with."
Ironhide shook his head. "Did you actually read any of the scrap Ratchet sent you? Those three weren't given a choice or the time to get to know one another before all this slag hit the fan. All things considered," the large mech absently commented, "they're doing alright."
"Okay," Lennox reasoned, scrubbing a hand down his face, "but they aren't really bonded, right? It can't happen. It's not possible. Ratchet called it imprinting. This is some kind of weird medical fluke. She's human. They're not."
"Like I said," Hide rolled his shoulders, "I'm a soldier, not a doctor. According to Ratchet, they're about as close as a trine can get without doing the deed."
Lennox's face screwed up in distaste at the thought of what deed they may be doing. "They're brothers," he argued the first objection that came to his mind. "On what planet is interspecies incest considered okay?"
It was Ironhide's turn to look offended and disgusted. "It's not incest. They're twins. They're not in a relationship with each other. They're both in a relationship with her."
Lennox made a sound of exasperation. "That doesn't even make sense! Everyone keeps telling me that they're twins like that should explain everything!"
"Chromia and I knew some twins," Ironhide absently shared. "Way back before the war. Two pairs of them, believe it or not. They're not that common. Lived next door. The four of 'em bonded and ended up having a couple sets of sparklings of their own. Great family. Couldn't have asked for better neighbors." He leveled his unwavering gaze on the man. "You're human," he emphasized. "I could stand here and explain Cybertronian society and culture to you till my spark burned out and you'd still never understand. If you want to know how twins work, ask Ratchet."
With that, the mech stood back up to his full height and went back to tinkering with his cannons, leaving the Captain speechless and bewildered. Lennox's brain turned over this new information in stalls and starts, trying to make connections that made logical sense. There was an obvious disconnect between what he considered normal and what his alien friends considered to be acceptable. Though Ironhide didn't seem to be an ardent supporter of the situation he currently faced, he was apparently a serious advocate for family values. Who would've guessed? At any rate, the mech had given him some things to think about before proceeding with a course of action.
#
"Oh, my God," Amy's head fell back to rest against the driver's seat, her fingers digging into her thighs to stop their trembling. "I'm going to have to do this again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…"
"Easy, Squishie," Sunstreaker soothed. "You did good. There's no point in worrying over something that hasn't happened yet. We'll deal with tomorrow when it gets here. If I need to escort you to give report every day for the rest of whenever, that's what I'll do."
"I thought I was going to throw up," she confessed. She drew in a deep breath and shakily released it as she raised her head to focus on the scenery that passed them by. "Wouldn't that have just been the cherry on top? Projectile vomit all over the man who basically holds your entire life in his hands…" she trailed off.
Sunny made a sound of disgust as he turned off the main thoroughfare to follow the road that ran along the coast of the island. "This is Lennox's problem," he advised, "not yours. If he can't get over himself, then frag him."
"Easy for you to say," Amy mumbled, "you don't have to interact with him every day." She perked up a bit as the Harbor Control Tower came into view. "Is that where we're going?"
"Sides thought getting you out of the bunker and out into the sun and fresh air would do you some good," the mech confirmed as he turned into the pull off and cut his engine. "Give you some time away to decompress."
"That was sweet of him," she murmured.
"He's worried about you," Sunstreaker stressed as he opened his door for her. "We both are."
"I know," Amy quietly conceded as she as she dutifully climbed out and stepped away from the car while the mech transformed back into his bipedal form. "I'm sorry."
"We don't want you to be sorry," Sunstreaker vented as he completed his transformation and motioned for the woman to begin their trek down toward the water. "We want you to get it through that gelatinous meat brain you call a processor that you don't have to deal with all this slag on your own. Whatever is going on with Jazz, that redheaded freak, or fragging Lennox—we're here to help you, if you'll just let us."
"I know," Amy sighed. "I'm—"
"Say you're sorry one more time," Sunny threatened, cutting her off, "and you'll be swimming home."
"Fine," Amy conceded. She knew deep down that she was being difficult. It wasn't intentional but she also couldn't stomach the thought of dragging others down with her—especially people she cared so much about. "I apologize."
Sunny snorted and rolled his optics. "Slagging smart aft."
"Sweet spark!"
Despite the melancholy and anxiety that still pressed in upon her. Amy couldn't help but smile at Sideswipe's enthusiastic exclamation as soon as she and his brother came into view. The mech quickly covered the ground between them and, without warning but with a zeal she'd come to expect, scooped her up from the ground to properly greet her with a careful hug and gentle nuzzle. Even though her stomach rolled at the sudden change in altitude, her heart felt soothed by both the gesture and the proximity.
"Is everything okay?" The mech pulled back from her to better see her face as he turned to continue the trek down toward the water. "You never came back from muster, and we started to worry."
Amy sighed heavily and frowned, settling in against the mech for the duration of the journey. "I guess everything is as okay as it can be under the circumstances. I'd say things could be worse, but I don't want to tempt fate to prove me wrong."
"Everything is not okay," Sunny grumbled as he fell into step with his brother. "Lennox is a misclocked son of a scrapheap He didn't say anything, but I could tell he wanted to. He was staring at her like she'd just strolled up and announced the second coming of the Quintesson Empire."
"What?" Side's faceplates screwed up in disbelief. It was hard for him to comprehend that anyone could look at the relationship he and his brother shared with Amy and see it for anything other than the wonderous thing it was. He understood their cultures and beliefs somewhat differed, but surely this wasn't so far outside the realm of things they shared. He couldn't wrap his processor around what Lennox could possibly find so distasteful. He shook his head. "Why?"
"Because he's human," Sunny snapped. "She's human. We're not."
Sideswipe vented as they finally reached their spot down by the rocks. He gently sat the woman down onto the soft spread he'd carefully laid out over the sand, murmuring softly as he did so, "It shouldn't matter."
"It shouldn't," Sunsteaker agreed, "but it does. It matters to these slaggers a whole fragging lot."
End of Chapter 55
