Author's Note: Welcome back! First of all, I want to give a big thanks to the readers who followed and favorite this story, and a special thanks to Miz Lil Pitbull, Swiftpaw2012, 1Seventeen7, and TriGemini Prime for leaving their wonderful reviews. The support is already amazing :)

So as you will see toward the end of this Chapter, my story begins roughly around the episode "Crisscross." And it may also be noted that Jane will not be actively involved in the next few episodes, given that she just arrived in Jasper and she still has no idea about either the 'Bots or 'Cons. Have patience: she will begin to join the flow of the show soon enough. She just needs to discover some things for herself first.

On that note, I hope you all enjoy. Leave a review to let me know what you think; and, since I am unaccustomed to writing the TFP characters, please let me know if any of them are acting 'wrong'. Thank you!

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers: Prime whatsoever. However, any characters or scenes not seen in the TV show are rightfully my creations.

Chapter II:

Introductions

"I'm just a believer that things will get better; Some can take it or leave it, But I don't wanna let it go." –American Authors, "Believer"

Jane sat on the floor, back reclining against the side of her bed. In her lap sat her sketchpad, illuminated by the desk's lamp as she moved her pencil across the paper. Her eyes never left her work, focused intently on each new line she traced and every patch of shading she added, always mindful of the faint outline she had sketched beforehand.

Art was Jane's outlet. Sometimes she felt the urge to recreate a nightmare on paper to realize just how childish the dream really was; and other times, she simply enjoyed copying a scene that lifted her heart. She found it amazing how she could bend reality with a swoop of a paintbrush, or make a sunset glow with the perfect blend of pastels, or capture the haunting glare of a tiger with the tip of her pencil. And the triumph of finally finishing an image? After bringing it to life with color and shading and careful lines? That was even better.

However, there were times when she despised the practice – and those times came rarely, resulting mainly from unwelcomed memories. Sparks, Nevada, held such memories that Jane had often vented through art – still vented through art – her worst projects spawning from the car crash.

She remembered that night in brief spurts; and, if she was unlucky enough, she could recall full segments of what happened, the details sharp and clear as if she had actually gone back in time to relive the experience. Aunt Crystal suggested she might have some mild amnesia, or that she had been too young to completely remember everything; Rickey claimed that such a crash would happen too fast for anyone to keep track of; and Melanie said that there was probably a part of her mind that refused to fully resurface the memories. Whichever belief was true – whichever one kept her from remembering – did not stop her from drawing her flashes when they came; and the episode she had on move-in day would be treated no differently.

She started with the warrior she had been coloring before the accident, but the idea was quickly scrapped and tossed in the trash bin. She then attempted to draw her parents, laughing in the front seats; but once again, she abandoned the attempt, disappointed with the outcome of their faces – flat and unrecognizable. Now, she was working on her last recollection: the being who pulled her from the wreckage.

Honestly, she knew no defining features, other than the hard angles that outlined him and the rich blue of his eyes. She had the rough sketch, but the rest was simply dark shadows. That night had not been kind by any means, not even having the decency to shed a single sliver of moonlight on her supposed rescuer. It was disheartening to say the least, but it was the only success she had had so far. Her inner fire burned brighter the further she came along, telling her she would not give up this time – that she needed some peace of mind, even if that meant finishing this drawing.

The mattress bounced behind her, alerting her to a new presence and breaking her concentration. Calmly, Jane glanced over her shoulder and came face-to-face with her cousin.

Melanie, draped across Jane's bed and chin resting on folded arms, stared down at Jane's sketchpad curiously. A minute passed before she decided to speak. "Alright, I give up. What are you working on?" she asked, pulling her hair to her right shoulder so she could see properly.

Jane hesitated. She had no desire to worry her cousin further with her troubles, or to tell her that she was drawing the very thing that only she witnessed that night. Melanie would probably scold her for purposely digging up dark thoughts after only four days in Jasper. "Uh…I'm not sure. Just letting my imagination run wild." Jane shrugged. It was partly true. She did not know exactly what she was creating.

Melanie huffed lightly. "Nice try, cuz. If you're organized with anything, it's this type of stuff." She gestured at the sketchbook for clarification. "You're seriously not going to tell me what you're drawing?"

Jane bit her lip. "It's personal, okay? I just want to get it off my mind and be done with it. Alright?" She glanced up at her cousin, her expression pleading.

Melanie glared, then softened. "I hate it when you look at me like that…"

Jane smiled.

"Fine. Keep it to yourself. Too much heavy shading for my taste anyway."

"Thanks, Mel."

"Yeah, sure. No problem." Melanie rolled onto her back, interlocking her fingers and placing them on her stomach. Jane watched her for a moment, noticing how her eyes followed the circular path of the ceiling fan's blades, before turning back to her sketchbook and continuing where she left off. Silence reigned for a long time, the only sounds coming from the scratch of Jane's pencil and the distant conversation between her aunt and uncle echoing from the kitchen.

Jane had just begun tracing the hard shapes that made up the broad shoulders of her sketch when the bed bounced again. Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Melanie walk around the end of the bed and toward the window. Upon reaching said window, she parted the curtains and peeked through the blinds, squinting as she did so.

Jane sighed. "What are you looking at?" she asked, not halting her hand.

"I heard something," her cousin mumbled. She swiveled her head, looking to the right. "Didn't you?"

"No," Jane replied simply. "What did it sound like?"

"Well if I knew that, then I wouldn't have to look."

"Touché."

Jane paused, curious now as she, too, listened for the mysterious sound. Everything was still, and Jane heard nothing out of the ordinary. Her cousin also seemed to realize that the noise would not come back, and she stepped away from the window and closed the curtains again. She then sat down next to Jane and quietly watched as Jane refocused on her task.

But it was hard to ignore her cousin sitting there, watching, waiting, almost as if she expected something. Jane was caught between being annoyed with her cousin and being genuinely concerned.

She briefly glanced in Melanie's direction. "Are you alright, Mel? Something bothering you?"

Melanie thought for a moment. "Do you miss Sparks?"

Jane blinked in utter surprise, stopping abruptly and staring at her cousin, eyebrows soaring upwards. She wanted to speak, but the words were stuck in her throat. She swallowed. "I…guess. I mean, yeah, I miss a few things, but…" She tensed, eyes darting to her sketch. She resisted the urge to rip it in half.

Melanie suddenly shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. Not after you told me you were struggling with…the past."

Jane felt a worm of guilt in her heart, and she quickly waved aside the apology. "No, it's okay. I mean, it's my hometown, after all. Of course I'm going to miss it," she said, meeting her cousin's gaze. "But my feelings toward Sparks is complicated, too. There are things I hated about that place and I'm glad I left it behind – well, most of it behind."

Melanie nodded dully. "Yeah. I can understand that. To a point." She rubbed her shoulder self-consciously. "I just remember the good times. I hated moving from Wisconsin at first, but…Sparks grew on me. I made friends, visited the shops every weekend, got my driver's license, moved closer to you."

"I thought you said I was obnoxious as a kid," Jane remarked, poking her cousin with the eraser of her pencil accusingly.

"You were!" Melanie chuckled weakly. "But you mellowed out as you got older – at least to the point that I could tolerate you. And when you had to start living with my parents and me, it was like having a little sister around. Actually, that's exactly what it felt like, and I enjoyed it."

Jane studied Melanie, asking cautiously, "Are you trying to butter me up or something? 'Cause it may or may not be working."

"No, no. I'm being serious. Grudgingly." Melanie received the light punch on her arm with a grin. "But the point is that I like Jasper, but I also miss Sparks and I'm…well, I guess I'm homesick to put it simply. I didn't mean to upset you."

"And you didn't," Jane assured. Then, sliding the sketchbook off her lap and dropping the pencil, she wrapped an arm around her cousin's shoulders and gave a tight squeeze. "I'm here for you, too, Mel. Don't worry."

Melanie returned the gesture. "I know. That's why I said I got your back: because you have mine."

There was a long pause. The ceiling fan rocked, the blinds rattled from the gusts of aforementioned fan, the conversation in the kitchen swelled into laughter, the bed creaked as Jane relaxed against it – every little noise seemed to be amplified by the silence between them, making it harder not to fidget.

Melanie must have felt the same.

"…Well this awkward," she commented, eyes drifting around the room. Jane burst into giggles, retracting her arm at the same time as her cousin did. Melanie chuckled too as she stood. "I guess I'm going to take a shower. Now that the house is done, maybe I can finally clear my head of that awful fresh paint smell." She shuddered, scrunching up her nose.

"You do that," Jane said, reclaiming her sketchpad and pencil. "I want to finish this before I go to bed."

Melanie furrowed her brow. "Speaking of sleep, what time is it?"

Jane lifted her arm and glanced at her wristwatch. "Nine forty-eight," she read off the green digital numbers.

There was a resounding smack as Melanie's palm met her forehead. "Oi! And we've got school tomorrow. Time flies, I guess."

"I guess so." Jane paused, glancing over her shoulder. "And since when do you say 'oi'?"

"Since five seconds ago. 'Night, cuz!"

"'Night." Jane watched as her cousin left her room, pulling the door shut behind her with a soft click. She stared at the stark white door, lost in thought, before shifting into a more comfortable position. She lifted her knees up and balanced her sketchpad on her thighs, pencil tip leaving the shoulders she had been detailing and moving to the head. Lines were added, dimension was granted, and shadows were permitted until she was finally left with two small spaces for the eyes – and that was where she stopped.

Human eyes were varied in shape and color, but they were equal in simple design, having irises and pupils and similar mechanics. However, when she thought of the azure eyes that had stared down at her that night, she remembered neither of those features. She did not see the line between blue irises and the white of an eyeball, and she certainly saw no dark circle to serve as a pupil. They had been glowing orbs, like a light bulb had been switched on behind them.

It struck her hard to realize that, perhaps, maybe whoever saved her was not human at all.

She lowered her legs, thinking long and hard. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories of that night to come back – to bring back the image of her rescuer. It was blurred at best, and still dark as ever, but she remembered the glow of his eyes, the sharp angles of his body, and the height at which he stood, making her feel small and helpless. Had he been that tall? No, surely her ten-year-old mind had made an exaggeration. Tall to her back then could have been the height of a normal basketball player. But then what was the shifting metal she heard beforehand? And the metal surface that had pulled her out of the wreckage? That was no human hand lifting her up.

She felt stupid. No, she felt like an idiot. What exactly had she been picturing since she started this sketch? A human or an unknown being? A human or a child's wild imagination?

She tore the page out of the sketchbook and crumpled it in her hands. Her only outlet had failed her, and her inner fire had been doused. Now she was even more stressed than when she started this mission to find some peace.

Standing, she replaced her sketchbook in the top drawer of her desk and dumped the pencil in the pencil-holder while the crumpled paper she held was tossed into the trash. "Maybe I was crazy," she murmured.

A soft noise at her window made her jump. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, only much more subtle. Padding over to the window, she pulled back the curtains and opened the blinds. There was nothing to be seen on the dark, sandy terrain outside; however, when a brief gust of wind whistled past, the sound reached her ears again. Jane lowered her eyes and noticed one of the needles on the cactus just outside her window glided down the glass whenever the wind blew hard enough, producing the chilling screech.

Jane sighed, smiling slightly. So that was what her cousin heard.

Next morning, Jane found herself sitting in the back seat of Aunt Crystal's SUV, parked outside of Jasper's school. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the small strands away from her forehead, while her eyes stared up the front steps. It was hard to ignore the small part of her that dreaded to step out of the vehicle, but her eagerness was much more compelling. Therefore, she only had a slight hesitation before propping open the door and hopping down onto the sidewalk.

Melanie followed a moment later, exiting from the passenger side door and weaving around the front of the SUV to stand beside her. Jane gave her a tight smile, which Melanie returned easily and confidently.

Uncle Rickey rolled down the window. "I'll see you two when I get home tonight. Behave, pay attention, and pray that the principle doesn't call me on the first day." The humorous glint in Rickey's eyes betrayed all seriousness he initially had, creating a genuine grin on Jane's face.

"No problem, uncle. I'll keep Mel in line until then." Jane patted the side of the SUV before hooking her thumbs around the straps of her backpack.

Melanie glared at her briefly before smiling sweetly at Rickey. "Please, dad. You know I'm an angel. Right?"

Rickey chuckled. "Well, as long as you make it home safely and not on the back of a motorcycle, then I suppose so."

Melanie raised her hands defensively. "I've gotten over that thing, I swear! Besides, Jack is Jane's friend. I've only spoken to him once, and that was to say 'hi'."

"And I've only spoken to him once, too! Yeah, sure, I've also said 'hi' a few times, but I don't know him that well," Jane retorted. Melanie just shrugged.

With an amused expression, Rickey shook his head; but when he glanced at his watch, the corner of his lips dropped into a frown. "I have to go. I love you both. Stay out of trouble." He pointed a finger at both of them warily.

"We love you, too, uncle," Jane replied, giving a brief salute as Rickey rolled up the window and pulled away from the curb. She watched her uncle drive down the road for a few seconds before turning on her heel to face the school building. Melanie was already trudging up the steps, her bright green eyes set on the front doors and her backpack jostling with every step she took. Jane shuffled forward and placed her foot on the first step, intending to follow her cousin; however, before she could push herself up and forward, a flash of movement caught her eye.

Peeking back over her shoulder, she was surprised to see Jack coming to a stop in front of the school – mostly because he was riding a bicycle rather than the motorcycle she, Rickey, and Melanie had just been discussing. But why? Was his motorcycle in the shop? Had it been damaged? Surely he had not been involved in a wreck.

Goosebumps prickled her skin at the thought. Perhaps she should make sure everything was alright – to settle her nerves and to check on Jack. Therefore, she removed her foot from the step and waved to her cousin – who had paused at the top of the staircase – to go ahead without her. Melanie stared at her, confused, until she saw the dark-headed boy hopping off his bike and wheeling it toward the bike rack. She then nodded, waved, and disappeared inside the school.

Jane sucked in a breath and strode over to aforementioned bike rack, hands wrapped around the straps of her backpack tightly. "Hey, Jack," she greeted, giving the boy a good start. She frowned, wincing. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, I….just didn't see you there," Jack said, attempting to act nonchalant. "It's uh…good to see you again, Jane. How's the move-in coming along?"

Jane blinked, releasing the tension in her shoulders. At least he was the same as the last time they spoke. "Great. Actually, I'd say the house is finished. My aunt is finicky about the details, though." She shifted her weight to left foot. "What about you?"

"Me? Everything's been great."

Jane nodded slowly, hesitating as she stared at Jack's bicycle. Finally, she asked, "What happened to your bike?"

Jack paused, following her gaze to his bicycle. "What do you mean?"

Jane shook her head. "No, I mean you motorcycle," she rephrased, cheeks heating in embarrassment. "Did…something happen?"

His bafflement suddenly turned to understanding, and he, too, shook his head. "No, nothing happened. I'm just…grounded from it, that's all."

"Oh!" Jane was relieved to hear that Jack had not been in an accident, but she also felt clamant. He was grounded, and she was certain that that was an embarrassment he would have rather kept to himself. She scratched the back of her head, shrinking slightly. "I didn't know—I mean, of course I wouldn't know. I was just worried something had happened, you know. Like a wreck or something. And if that was the case, I wanted to make sure you were okay and—I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Jack broke into a grin. "A little, yeah."

"Oh," she repeated lamely. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine, really. I appreciate the concern."

There was a few moments of awkward silence that followed, making Jane fidget uncomfortably. If she was not as embarrassed as she was, she might have laughed at her own babbling; however, that was the farthest intention she had on her mind right then. Laughing would make it worse.

Suddenly – and thankfully – Jack gestured toward the school. "We should probably get in there before the bell rings. Don't want to be late on your first day," he commented, jerking Jane back into action.

"Right," she agreed, taking notice to the decrease in traffic into said building. "And to think I promised my uncle I wouldn't get into trouble." She retreated to the stairs before Jack could provide a response, heaving a sigh now that her back was turned. She felt like an idiot, and she had no doubts that she acted like one, too.

The deep rumble of an engine reached her ears, accompanied by a girl's voice; however, she did not bother to look back. She could only guess that it belonged to a student who had arrived just in time. But, before she could open the door for herself and Jack – who was trailing right behind her – the feminine voice she had heard called after them – or, at least, she called for Jack. She did not even notice Jane standing there.

"Dude! Where's Arcee?"

"Miko!"

Jane stared at the girl who had just jogged up the steps to meet Jack – Miko, as he had called her. She was no taller than herself, just built with a smaller frame, and sporting pink and black hair tied back into two pigtails. Her light brown eyes darted around Jack, realization dawning in her gaze.

"Whoops," she mumbled.

"'Arcee'?" Jane repeated, raising a humorous eyebrow. "Is she talking about your motorcycle?"

"No," Jack defended, at the same time as Miko hastily confirmed, "Yes."

Jane switched her gaze between the two, her eyebrow inching higher on her forehead. "Well? Which one is it?"

Jack shared an annoyed glance with Miko before admitting dejectedly, "Yes…"

Jane shrugged. "Okay. If you makes feel any better, I think Arcee is a cool name." She nodded toward Miko. "Who's your friend?"

Jack sighed exasperatedly. "Miko…"

Jane had to smile. Today was certainly going to be interesting.