C.M.D: Cutting a wheeeeeeeeeee close this update period, but I wanted to make sure I put something out this month instead of skipping. It's not a lot, just two chapters, but it's all progress. And progress of any sort is something to be proud of!

He felt silly.

Blades sat, staring at the tiny monitor secured to his wall. It had taken a fair amount of cajoling on his part, but the helicopter had eventually convinced Quickshadow to wire a secondary line from the bunker's main terminal to his personal quarters. She argued that it was an easy access point to hackers but Blades wasn't concerned; the ex-assassin had a critical optic monitoring the network at all times anyhow, doing this was the only way to guarantee a little privacy. Still...

The white mech fiddled with the items on the thin shelf beneath the screen, glancing frequently at the tiny clock display in its corner. It was getting late; he should have been online by now.

Rotors twitching, Blades contemplated just turning in for the night. After all, he never did ask if-

The monitor chirped, a white box popping up on its blank face. He almost knocked over a ceramic figurine in his haste, pressing the giant 'allow' button as a smile stretched across his face. "H-heatwave! Hi!," the helicopter vented excitedly.

On the screen, the red mech greeted Blades with his own grin. "Hello, Blades. Sorry to have made you wait; had a minor... situation... to handle," he explained, pausing as he peered past the white rescuer. "...is this your room?"

"Y-yes," Blades answered quickly, blushing at the appearance of a smirk on the other's face. "I-i... I wanted us to be able to talk one-on-one, w-without anyone overhearing... u-um, something?"

"Blades," Heatwave said, the smooth gravel of his tone dragging out the syllables in a way that sent tingles down the smaller rescuer's spinal struts, "Are you suggesting our discussions might get 'inappropriate'? Or is this your way of inviting me to come to your quarters in-person?"

Both were scenarios that the helicopter would gladly encourage, if only so he could be that much closer to Heatwave again. "Y-yes- I-i-i-i-," the white mech stammered quickly, alarmed his mouth would betray him like that, "I-i me-mean, I m-miss you. I-it's been a co-couple months, I-i know, but it feels so long s-sometimes. I keep waking, expecting to find myself back at the firehouse bunker and instead, I'm in Faxian."

Blades slowed his speech, neck cables tightening around his vocalizer. "I-i don't mean to speak badly of Optimus, yet, this assignment is keeping me away from our friends and you. I just-"

A crash resounded in the background, startling Blades. It took a few astroseconds to realize that the sound did not originate from his side. "Fragging glitch!," Heatwave snarled on the screen, the background shaking violently -no doubt from the firetruck storming to his pedes in a fit. "I have to go clean up Blurr's mess. AGAIN. We'll talk later, Blades."

"B-but-," the white mech protested, flinching when the call ended abruptly. He was left staring at a blue screen in the darkness of his room, his crumpling expression reflected faintly on the glass before he reached over and shut off the monitor entirely.

xXx

Soft, almost playful notes of a piano could be heard as sunlight cascaded into the wide room from high-mounted windows, over lemonade coloured walls and chrome-plated furniture, no longer held back by their fences of sheet metal. On the ledge itself sat a series of pots, each with a different type of fauna in brightly coloured ceramic casings, soaking up the sunshine delightfully. The sight of their vibrant stems and colorful buds filled their caretaker with joy, moving with utmost care as he snipped away bad vegetation and giving each individual their necessary nourishment for the orn. It was a rare, blissful moment of serenity and Blades was fully saturated in it... until his beeping comm broke him from his tranquil trance.

"Yes?," he started, one servo at his audio as he rotated the Begonia's pot with the other.

High Tide's vocalizer piped over the comm, his normal grumbling tone amplified this orn. "Sorry to interrupt your hobby time, but we've got a problem with the greenhorn."

"Gre- Do you mean Stormshot?," Blades asked, his attention now fully engaged in the conversation. Exactly what had the flyer done to invoke the sailor's ire already?

"Decided he'd take a lovely flight, he did," the old sea-farer explained, the note of sarcasm elevated in his curt drawl, "He's edging against international highways though; humans are getting jittery about it. I could swim out and try to hail him, but..."

"No, no, I'll go," the white rescuer interjected as High Tide trailed off. "I'm flight capable; it's only logical. Do you have his recent coordinates on hand? Oh, and please notify Quickshadow of the changes. I know she's out on patrol but she'll have to make my meeting with the mayor's cabinet for the next cycle."

"Noted," the submarine replied. He sounded a little less irritable now. "Sending coordinates. I'll be monitoring the fishers if ya need anything from me."

Blades didn't even have a chance to bid his team mate farewell before the comm abruptly ended; unperturbed by it, the helicopter gave his plants one final glance over, set his watering can to a safe, out of the way place and headed out. A few kliks later he was soaring over the Pacific ocean, the silver-edged waves reflecting on the underside of his cockpit as he zoomed across the wide open ocean. His GPS pinged as it noted that he had flown clear past Stormshot's last docked coordinates, but before Blades could begin to worry, his radar picked up motion just a little south. He corrected and half a mile later, the rescuer was finally able to make out the other Autobot's form on the horizon.

It took another klik before Blades felt he was close enough to hail Stormshot- and also comb just under the larger aircraft's tail.

"Good morning, Stormshot! Beautiful orn for a flight, isn't it?," he chirped, his vocalizer amplified to be heard over the sound of the other's engines.

His greeting was met with a wheeze of turbines and a slight wobble from the stalwart jet, a reaction so short to have been easily missed by those with shorter attention spans. It made Blades bob a bit on his own rotors in response. Had he surprised Stormshot, just now?

"Blades...," Stormshot replied, his even tone sliding into the white mech's comm seamlessly. If he had been startled, he certainly wasn't showing it now. "You have much enthusiasm, I am to understand, but is it really pertinent to shout when coming up to a fellow 'bot?"

Ah, so that's what it was. Blades' smile was beaming on his inlaid dash monitor. "Humans are less likely to overhear us vocally instead of over comms. The altitude and rush of ambient noise masks any spoken dialect...," the helicopter informed kindly over the comm, "Unless of course you are using an electromagnetic-derivative communications device. Like the humans do."

There was a beat of silence as the ex-soldier processed this. "Ah," he oh-so-eloquently said.

"But given your unspecified military background, you probably have the securest lines -equal to Quickshadow's no doubt- and if you're more comfortable speaking like this, I'm all for it!," Blades continued cheerfully. "I want you to feel as much at home on Earth as I do."

The multi-coloured mech remained quiet as the rescuer corrected his flight path; hovering next to the globemaster's cockpit instead of under his hull. It was a motion that Blades hoped would be overlooked. Or at the very least, not taken as a threat.

"...I assume you had reasons to fly out to me, Blades," Stormshot began again, still using the comm frequency, despite not vocalizing his preferences. "We are... exactly how many miles out from the coast now?"

"Three hundred and sixteen miles from Faxian," Blades answered. "Or a rounded two hundred and seventy-five nautical miles. High Tide's preference."

"That is quite a distance outside of your alt-mode's manageable range, is it not?," the larger aircraft questioned.

Blades hesitated to reply. "W-well... somewhat... Other than obviously being of Cybertronian make, I have had the time to practice."

"Your records state that you were not flight-bound before your assignment on this planet."

The probing statement hit a little too deeply for the white mech's liking. "I-i... N-no, I was not flight-bound b-before Earth, that i-is true... A-and, I had a lot of trouble adjusting... But," he added, vocalizer dropping to a soft murmur, "B-but I had the most wonderful teacher... and the best human friend, I-i could ever ask for."

"Dani Burns, I presume? She was noted in your profile."

Blades thought his rotors were going to squirm right off his swashplate and into the ocean below. It was quite unnerving to have another 'bot be so familiarized with his past and yet... not, all at the same time. The clinical drilling was certainly not easing his discomfort either. "Y-yes. Dani Burns was my designated partner, and teacher, once our identities were revealed to the Burns' children. I owe a lot to her," the copter confirmed, shaking off the last of his nerves.

Stormshot hummed. "So then I should address my queries to her, about why you are attempting to corral me in another direction, mid-air?"

Orange blades spun choppily for a moment. "O-oh... y-you," Blades squeaked, his monitor colouring a shade of pink, "Y-you noticed that, h-huh?"

"I did," the older Cybertronian replied. His tone had gone curt; clearly, he was not amused by the other flyer's attempted subterfuge and had run out of patience to ignore it any longer. "I am waiting on your explanation."

"Y-yes, yes, you're right. You deserve one," the rescuer said, quickly checking his GPS again, "But, before we do, p-please, we need to shift another fifteen miles over to the right. I promise I will explain everything then."

Silence over the lines.

Suddenly, the transport jet's turbines quickened; with a muted roar, Stormshot twisted to the right, taking care to tilt his wing so as not to clip the smaller aircraft. Shaking off his astonishment, Blades toggled his cyclic control and headed after the other Cybertronian, pulling up nose to nose as his companion slowed to his previous pace. The lack of conversation continued as the pair rode over the ocean; tension easing from the white mech's rotors, as he immersed himself in the brisk wind and gentle, salty mist from below. He even found himself doing a whimsical series of loops beside, over and in front of his wordless audience; any self-conscious doubts or fears of judgment far from his processor in this moment. It had been a while since Blades had last flown... just for the sake of it, that is. If he flew nowadays, it was for intent, not leisure. Back on Griffin Rock, Dani had always found time for flights of pleasure- even if it meant slacking off on a chore or two.

Reminded of her, the helicopter felt a stabbing pang of longing pierce his spark.

"We are past your requested distance, Blades," Stormshot spoke up just then. His vocalizer was a gracious distraction. "I am awaiting your explanation."

Blades carefully rotated back to standard position, buzzing at the large Cybertronian's left side. "I... I apologize for the abruptness," he started slowly, "We needed to move you away from your current path because you were straying too close to published flight routes."

The ex-soldier sounded surprised. "The Rescue Bots do not have dedicated aerial routes."

Blades almost giggled; instead, he settled for a tiny, mirthful smile. "No, we don't. But the humans do. It's the most popular way to travel across the globe commercially; not just for transporting food and supplies."

Now it was Stormshot's turn to be soft spoken. "I... did not know."

"Of course, no one is upset, Stormshot," the helicopter kindly said, gently tapping his tail rudder against the outer tip of the jet's wing. "Humans don't often travel by aircraft on this side of the world, outside of a few aerial highways, so it's not as if you're prohibited from flying entirely. And again, you hadn't been informed. I only wish I'd known sooner that you were eager to get out so I could have given you the data packet back at base to download. It has all the current and pending areas of aerial and oceanic use by the humans."

The other Autobot did not share his opinion on the reassuring words, and just when Blades was beginning to wonder if he'd somehow insulted his new associate and teammate, the larger Cybertronian replied. "I... was brash. I should never had headed out so soon, without your consultation or knowledge. I just..."

Stormshot trailed off, and Blades inched forward so he could tilt somewhat toward his companion's cockpit. Conversational habits with humans were a hard habit to break, even in vehicle mode. "The new scan chafed a bit, and you needed to break in the new wings," Blades finished for the second flyer.

The ex-soldier's vocalizer was notably stunned over the line. "Y...yes," he confirmed, words slow to form in the face of the helicopter's impeccable wisdom. "How-?"

"Same thing with me," the white rescuer answered, his rotors bouncing shortly in imitation of a shrug. "Except, I was too terrified of leaving the ground to grind the itch out of my circuits. Felt like compacted sand was in all my seams for weeks on end. What a nightmare that was!"

The giggling came naturally, and for once there were no snide comments or exasperated huffs at his 'antics'. In fact, his short bit of laughter at himself seemed to ease any remaining tension between the two acquaintances, as if a humid cloud had been swept away entirely. Blades felt practically buoyant in the aftermath, enough so that he completed another sudden loop in the air. Y'know, for funsies.

"You have acclimated exceptionally well to a new form, Blades. A trait not many could manage during the war," Stormshot said, with clear cut sincerity. "You almost seem moulded for the skies. Do you plan on retaking your previous scans when you are finally free of your mission on Earth?"

"Free...?," the rescuer hesitantly responded, "A-as in... leave Earth?"

"Yes."

Blades thought he was going to drop from the sky completely. Instead, he only fell back into regular position, rotors thrumming away noisily as the pair continued flying. His processor shoved all that intel to the back of his mind though, strained as it was compiling a short simulation. If Optimus ordered him off planet, even if it was back to Cybertron, what would...?

"...I have insulted you in some way, haven't I?," came the ex-soldier's vocalizer. It prodded like a fine needle into the helicopter's bubble, sharp, despite the regret heavily lain in the other Autobot's tone. "Blades, I-"

"N-no, no, no, it's o-okay," Blades was quick to say, forcing a smile to his face. Even if there was no one to formally see it just then. "I... I couldn't leave Earth. Even with Cybertron being rebuilt now a-and everything over with, it... it's just not home for me. Not anymore. There's just so many wonderful things about this planet! The creatures, the humans, their way of life. Even the weather! The feeling of natural-forming wind currents against my rotor blades and tail fins..." The white mech sighed, revelling in the ocean air that buffeted him that very instant. "I love being here. Especially flying; right here, right now..."

It seemed as if Stormshot was hesitant to speak now, and he did so very gingerly, working to not be insensitive when addressing his companion. "Then... Then, I am very glad that Optimus placed me in your unit, Blades. You clearly have a great understanding, even affection, for the planet and its kin. I look forward to being your pupil on all of its intricacies forthcoming. Oh," the jet added, "And thank you, Blades, for sharing with me thus far."

There was that feeling of self-consciousness again, mixed in with random parts embarrassment and gratitude. It was always so strange meeting new comrades (cue the old age adage about the universe being filled with all sorts) and yet so delightful to see the personality beneath. Stormshot was a veteran, not much different than Quickshadow or High Tide, and though he clearly had some gruffness to him and a tendency to not divulge any personal info, he was turning out to be a very open-minded and fair individual. It was no wonder that Optimus had chosen him to be the Academy's new advisor.

"Oh, y-you don't have to thank me. I was just being... well, me!" Blades gave a short laugh again, swinging to the other side of the larger flyer with a swell of glee. There was more he wanted to say -perhaps give the newcomer a proper tour of the coastal region- but his HDU pinged, flashing a notice up into the corner of his dashboard monitor. "Time to get back to work, it seems," he vented casually, setting new coordinates into his GPS.

"Meetings, I presume?," Stormshot said, rhetorically.

The image of Blades' helm on his monitor bobbed in lieu of a nod. "Thankfully, yes. Quickshadow already covered my last one, so I really must head back to the shore. Please, stay and stretch out your new plating," the rescuer interjected before his associate could speak. "There's no pressing matters that require your attention this orn and it'll help you adjust faster to Earth's shifting climate. Oceanic ports can be really tricky in that category."

"But I have not yet downloaded that packet you mentioned," the ex-soldier replied, sounding puzzled at the suggestion.

Of course, Blades had a cheerful answer, waiting to go. "Oh, don't worry about that! You can download that later. If you stick to this area, and don't stray past the point where I met you earlier, you'll be perfectly safe. I don't do it much, sadly, but this is one of my favourite flight paths. No planes, no fishers- just a hundred miles of beautiful ocean and sky, right outside of Faxian's bay!"

The alerts were now being really incessant, and the helicopter was quick to shut each one down in turn. "Anyways, I really must be going. Have a great flight, Stormshot, and I'll see you back at base later!," Blades bade, shooting forward across the waves, increasing speed as he did.

A few moments before the comm line would have closed due to distance, he heard a polite, "Goodbye, Blades," from Stormshot. Then, static. Blades wasn't bothered by the abrupt ending at all. In fact, he was feeling particularly gleeful and relished going through the rest of the orn. Despite a bit of an awkward start, Stormshot seemed to be adjusting well to everything.

Blades couldn't have been happier.

C.M.D: Doo-do-do, laying the groundwork~ Doo-do-do, it's pretty boring stuff~ Doo-do-do, but it's gotta be done...
Be kind; give me your mind~ REVIEW, please?