Jack poked at his hand again; the skin pushed inward as it would. It looked like skin. It looked like the hand he had for the past sixteen years.

Licking his lips left the impression of moisture behind.

Lifting an eyebrow pulled at his face.

Rolling his shoulders, he felt no stretching of muscles, only the motion of his action.

"This is so weird." He moaned into his hands.

"Yeah, well, you should be thankful we even managed to scrounge together an advanced holo form."

Shockingly that statement did very little to make Jack comforted.

"To recap, you made a holo form projector and placed it in Crossroads. Activated it and waited for the best?" He incredulously asked the usually realistic medic. These past events proved otherwise. The sheepish expression directed toward him made him roll his eyes.

"There are several nuances and technical aspects you glossed over, but yes." Ratchet nodded while passing by him. Jack watched the medic check over Crossroads for the fourth time that hour.

"Does the team know I'm up?"

"No." The curt no didn't surprise Jack.

"Does my mom know?" Jack was fearful of the answer.

The pause was all he needed.

"Ratchet..." He whined; the medic just glared at him.

"You are so dead. Mom is going to dismantle you." Jack choked out, imagining his mom taking a bot apart with a drill.

Ratchet tsked, putting down his tools as he gave Jack his full attention.

"Giving hope to those who lost can be worse if it doesn't work. It was a logical response not to tell until it worked."

"So you're going to tell them now?" Jack questioned, crossing his arms.

Ratchet suspiciously looked the other way.

"Come on! You have to tell them I can't stay locked in the medbay with Crossroads for the rest of my life. If I may add, I have no clue how long my lifespan is now." Jack shrieked; the wince from Ratchet told him he reached the desired audio-piercing tone.

The old bots huff was more irritating now that Jack knew he was being kept from his family.

"Relax. Raising your spark beat isn't healthy when using a holo form."

"That's not answering my question, Ratchet!" Jack cried, pacing on the berth he hadn't moved from.

"Your condition is fragile; I need longer than a few hours to confirm the stability of the..."

"Ratchet! I need to see my mom!" He was begging, pleading with the bot in front of him. His eyes were dry, he couldn't feel his toes, and there was nothing but silence where his heart was meant to beat in his chest.

Ratchet stared at him with emotional optics before nodding. Jack watched as his optics dimmed slightly. Jack knew them well enough to pick up on the internal comms they used.

"You better get ready. Be lucky Miko and Raf were dropped off earlier."

The warning was all he got before the entrance slid open. The frantic plates of the team stared back at him.

Since waking, Jack could feel the weighted worry releasing him for the first time. They were safe; he was safe.

A joyful smile split his face, which he still couldn't feel much of, as he waved his projected hand at them.

'Why does it always feel like it's been an eternity since I saw them when something happens.' He pondered listlessly as he watched the bots, his family, pile in around him.


He occupied himself by examining the screens in front. Soundwave dragged up information compiled ages ago once more. Reports, sightings, and images were incorporated. One thing was in common with all the files. They all ended around the same time.

During the beginning of the war, many remained in the in-between between the two factions. Some fools had the idea the civil war would resolve shortly, others didn't care for the conflict. Neutrals become more and more scarce later in the war, either driven out or into a faction.

It wasn't something Megatron truly thought was a threat. The undecided peace lovers were nothing more than tools to be used by both sides. Arachnid was proof of that very thing. Her loyalty has always been a fickle thing, but she was a useful tool when she corporated. A bug he could crush if needed.

Both sides took advantage of the faint spark to gain benefits, and out of all the neutrals, few shined better than others.

Crossroads had been one of those undecided tools.

Both sides hired the mechling. He was reliable and persistent to some, sneaky and conniving to others.

Paint job constantly changing, never the same place twice, only one constant.

Golden blue optics.

A color Crossroads shared with the Autobot's pet human.

Megatron stopped his scrolling on said mechlings' blurred form on the screen.

It was the last known sighting in the file.

When Crossroads betrayed the Decepticons, not even a full megacycle after joining the ranks.

All for a simple file.

A file they now had once more, thanks to Crossroads pod.

Megatron smirked, remembering Prime's confused face as they were let go.

Prime had suspected he would fight for the mechling.

In another time, that would have been true.

If Soundwave hadn't connected the dots.

They had everything they needed to get Crossroads to come to them.

The same thing caused the lone mechling to choose the Decepticon's side long ago.

Information.

The information the mechlings adopted carrier unknowingly gave them by telling them where his frame was.

They had to wait, but Megatron was never good at being idle.

Clicking the file closed, he smiled fully, eyes glowing brightly at the coordinates an old friend gave him.

There was much to look forward to, but he currently focused his processor on the treasures those three sites would reveal.

Prime would despair before his pedes.