A/N: Almost forgot to post this. lol. Well, happy 4th of July everyone! And thanks again for all the wonderful support. Please enjoy!
Phase six: Sanctuary
Chapter Twelve
There were a lot of thing Brea had felt bad about in her life, like that Squirrel that decided to commit suicide in front of her car during Driver's Ed in the 9th grade, but none of them compared to her current guilt that threatened to overwhelm her. Her mind was blank; her very thoughts seeming too timid to consider their usual jubilant confusion that often clouded her mind in similar situations. All that time she had spent being Xeon's little guard dog…protecting his sins from those who wanted to expose it all; all those people who were probably dead because of her. People like her, abducted from their homes and families to be shipped to Cybertron. All the people that could have been rescued and brought here…to safety.
She hated herself. Oh God how she hated herself…
Her family had always joked about her bouts of absent mindedness or the cloud she always seemed to be in. It was always a moment of hilarity whenever she jarringly crashed into walls or tripped on air because she was engrossed in a book or magazine. Before she went away to college, her Father had jokingly wondered aloud how she was going to survive on her own when she couldn't even find matching socks in the morning. It had always been funny, a playful jib. Now it was a very real, very big weakness. Her mind wasn't mechanical; she didn't see two objects and try to find what linked them. But now that everything had been revealed, a vague outline of the events that had come together to conspire her abduction and the occupation of Earth, she felt stupid and slow. She felt as though she was suddenly liable for so many atrocities…all because she didn't pay attention.
Why didn't she see it all sooner? Why didn't she do something about it? Who knew how many people had probably died because of her…The thought made her ill and she moaned, sinking deeper into herself. A large hand, hard yet reassuringly warm, appeared on her shoulder and gently rocked her as if to get her attention.
"Brea?" A face slide into her vision, but she didn't seem to really see it. The hand rocked her again, a little more forcefully.
"Come on kiddo, say something. Don't go all mute on us now." There was real concern in his voice. "Brea! C'mon talk to me."
Slowly, Brea raised her head, eyes filled to the brim with tears and she slowly released a shaky breath. Her eyes drifted upwards until they met with the bright blue optics of Fixit. She bit her lip tears streaming, "…I'm sorry."
Blue eyes watched her and his other hand reached up, gently wiping away the droplets of tears. "For what?"
A pause.
"…for everything..." A fresh stream of tears ran down her cheeks and the face suddenly scowled. The other hand appeared on her other shoulder and the face leered at her.
"Stop it. Now you listen to me, girl," Fixit said uncharacteristically stern, almost angry, "And you listen good; none of this is you're fault. It doesn't do anyone any good so why are you beating yourself up like this? You didn't know what was going on. Besides, even if you had, what could you have done? No offense, but you humans are weak and easily damaged. One little slip could severely cripple you. And Xeon's ruthless. He would have killed you if you tried to do anything without a second thought. Mechs a thousand times stronger and more capable then you have tried and failed." He paused and then said more kindly, "All things considered, you did the right thing."
Somehow, his words were of little comfort. "But I should have known…"
Fixit shook her again, hard. She winced as her head yanked at the sharp motion. He had her attention now.
"No. It wouldn't have mattered. There wasn't anything you could have done to stop what's been going on for a while," Fixit said, optics narrow, "So why are you doing this? Why are you sitting here, wallowing in your own guilt about something you could have done nothing about? What are you achieving?"
But I could have done something… She thought to herself. Even if just a little…I could have.
Brea didn't answer him, just sank into herself a little farther. He sighed.
"Look," He said more gently, "I can understand why you feel bad, but instead of being all depressed, why don't, y'know, turn that energy into something constructive? Like…" He paused, taking a moment to ponder, "Well, you can speak Cybertronian right?"
Brea nodded weakly. "Xeon…he taught me…"
"Well, you must have heard him say some things, right?" Fixit asked, smiling. "Things we could use against him. So you can tell Prowl and the others what you heard and they'll bring it up to the Senate when the case is all put together. This way you would be compensating for everything else."
"I…guess. But if I had just…done something. A lot of people would still be alive."
"Maybe," Fixit replied. "Maybe not. Who knows, you might have saved a lot of people by doing what you did for all we know. Don't blame yourself for the bad things others have done, Brea." He placed a hand on her head, smiling, "You're a good kid. If you could have, I know you would have done something to stop 'em. We all would. But we can't change the past. No matter how much we wish we could…"
"I know…but I still feel really bad…I mean…" She felt new tears rise inside her as she came to a sudden realization why she felt so horrible.
What if her compliance to Xeon had doomed her family? What if they had been captured too and sent here? What if they were amongst the numbers that her actions had condemned? Or were they still on Earth, being hunted down like animals? They could be dead! What if they were here on Cybertron, where were they?
But her epiphany was cut short by a warm voice.
"Brea," Fixit smiled and slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her out of the little bed, setting her on her feet in front of him, "There's a lot you can help us with, like I said. Prime and Prowl and a bunch of us are putting a case together to bring before the Senate. We need to prove to them that Xeon and all his cronies did something wrong. Illegal."
She looked up into his face and found an odd sense of composure there. She felt her frazzled nerves begin to settle.
"You could give us a big advantage here." He continued, "But we need you to be responsive and cooperative. None of this…" he gestured vaguely to her face, not quite sure what to call it, "…leaking stuff."
Brea couldn't help but laugh and she reached up to scrub at her moist cheeks. Fixit smiled and placed an arm around her shoulders.
"You can't change what's already happened," he said, "Believe me, there are a lot of us Mechs who wish we could change the past, but we can't. As much as we wish we could, we just can't. All we can do is look forward and try to make sure we don't screw up again. Right?"
Brea nodded, smiling weakly. "…right."
"Good." He paused for a second, seeming to consider something. "Y'know, I think you're recovered enough to see the others. Forget what Ratchet said," He declared, "Some socializing with other humans might chipper you up some, Hm?"
She didn't answer right away. For so long it seemed as though that was all she wanted, but now in the light of what her time in Xeon's office meant in the grand scheme of things, she wasn't sure if she was up to it. What if they found out that she was the reason Mirage couldn't successfully infiltrate the office? What if they hated her? Brea wasn't sure if she could take that kind of rejection.
She looked down at the floor with a forlorn expression. "…maybe…"
"C'mon, they don't bite. Well…Izzy does, but he's just playing most of the time."
"How many are there?" Brea asked, her inner desire to mingle with other humans popping up despite of her fears. Despite everything, it was what she wanted.
The Mech considered, using his fingers to tally. "Well let's see…there's Annie, Becky, Isaac (but we call him Izzy) and Zoë, Craig, Preston, Caleb, Sean, and Rodney. And Kimberly."
Taking a deep breath, Brea decided.
"I think I'd like that," She replied, her voice popping and croaking like a frog.
"Great! I'll give Jazz a call and have him bring ya down to the Sanctuary."
Brea was fidgeting. She picked at her fingernails, digging the dirt from under them, and trying hard to quell the growing nervousness.
The doors to the infirmary opened with a sudden hiss, startling her, and a black and white Mech strolled inside. Upon seeing the black and white paint job, Brea's mind automatically brought up the image of the stoic Prowl, but she quickly erased the mental image upon seeing the Mech's face. He didn't look a thing like Prowl. For one thing, he had no optics, well…he had a visor, and his general body structure was different, with no wing panels or red chevron. And also, he was smiling.
"Hey there, Fix," the Mech greeted Fixit cheerfully as he entered. Brea couldn't help but notice the way he walked, it was almost like he was bouncing on his feet, but just so happened to be walking. And he made it look so smooth, cool. It was almost like he was dancing.
The smaller medic was standing near the smaller cabinets set inside the walls of the counter and turned to issue his own greetings.
"Hello Jazz," Fixit replied. "Thanks for coming up."
"No problem. I've been looking for an excuse to come up here and see the little guy anyway," Jazz replied, smiling widening when he looked over to find Brea sitting on the counter across the way. "Oh-! Excuse me, little lady."
Brea felt the edges of her mouth twitch in a small smile. I like him.
"She's been wanting to see the others," Fixit added with a grin, "I think she might be getting lonely up here with nothing but us mean old medics for company."
Jazz laughed as he crossed the room to stand near the counter, placing one hand atop it and leaning on the arm casually. "I bet. Ol' Ratchet hasn't blown yer hearin' yet has he?"
Brea shook her head.
"That's good to know," Jazz tilted his head, his smile seeming to grow smaller as he got a better look at her. Something crossed his face for a split second, but Brea didn't catch it. "No much of a talker are ya?"
The question caught her off guard and she paused and blinked. "I…uh…"
"Nah, she's just shy," Fixit replied walking up beside her and patting her on the head teasingly. She swatted the Mech's hand away with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment.
Jazz looked back down at Brea, bending low so he was more at her level. "Alright. So what's your name then, little lady?"
"Brea," she answered, feeling her face heat in a blush.
"Well then, hello Brea," Jazz said, extending his finger towards her as if to shake hands, "And welcome to our humble compound."
Feeling more then a little silly, Brea reached out with her own hand and shook the metal giant's finger. "T-thank you…"
The Mech's smile suddenly disappeared and his finger rose and gently nudged at her collar. "What's this?"
Brea tilted her head down as if to get a better look at the collar around her neck, which she had completely forgotten about, despite the fact it was physically impossible. She brushed her hands across the metal and was about to reply when Fixit jumped in.
His optics narrowed and he growled, "Her collar."
"Oh. So are we gonna get around to removin' it soon or…?" Jazz left his question open ended.
Fixit scowled. "Not right now. We can't remove it."
Brea blinked up at the medic in surprise. What? I didn't know that…
"Is it stuck?" Jazz asked.
"No, it's one of those fragging sealed collars. Like the one Kimberly had. But we don't have the sequence for hers."
"Ah." A pause. "So how're you gonna get it off?"
"Not sure. If worse comes to worse we might have to split it open with a low powered torch."
"Y-you can't get it off?" She asked, feeling alarmed at the news and even more so of their recommended method of removal. She had sudden flash backs of the processing facility when she first came to Cybertron before she forcibly shoved them out of her cognitive thoughts. "How come?"
Fixit seemed to regard her with a look of sympathy before gesturing vaguely to the collar.
"Touch the back of it and tell me if you feel anything," he instructed.
Brea did as she was told, reaching back and running her hands around the metal. Nothing, It was all smooth metal, no grooves or notches. And she suddenly understood. There was no where for it to open. There was no facet to unlatch or buckle to undo or anything! She felt a little panicky.
"Those collars are designed to be almost impossible to remove," Fixit explained. "They carry a hefty price tag too so the fragger that put that on you didn't want you going anywhere. That's for sure."
"Typical Kaon engineering," Jazz muttered sourly.
"But...you said they're almost impossible to remove…so there's a way. Right?"
Fixit sighed and shrugged. "Well…yes, but it's more complicate then that," He explained. "The lock is activated by a certain sonic wavelength. It will give way at a certain frequency; trouble is that we don't know the frequency and testing for it would be irresponsible. Most certainly dangerous."
"Why?"
"There are some frequencies that can do serious harm to a human's systems. There's another human here named Kimberly. She had a collar like that too, but Sideswipe managed to get the sequence to it and we got it off. But we don't have yours," He explained. "It's simply not worth the risk testing for it. We'll just have to find some other way of getting it off."
"No torches or welders." She said flatly.
"We'll think of something," He said, sending her an encouraging smile. "So, are you ready to go meet the other then?"
Brea's face immediately lit up. "Yes!"
Somehow, she felt as though she should be walking under her own power. But logic reminded her that it would likely take ten times longer to reach their destination had she been 'walking under her own power' and would probably take even longer considering her body was feeling the 'still healing' effects of Xeon's wrath. So she resigned herself to be carried through the halls of the compound by Jazz without complaint. The Mech held her cupped in both hands, close to his body. His canter didn't jostle her as much as it should have given the speed at which he toddled, but Brea wasn't complaining. She was grateful that his careful yet quick steps prompted only the barest ache from her bruised ribs.
Even though Fixit (a medic) had given her clearance to go see the other humans, Jazz had asked the Micromaster to call him with a warning if Ratchet should return before his shift started so he could get a running start. The two Mech had a laugh, but then turned serious as they left, Jazz making sure Fixit would indeed send warning ahead.
While the concept bewildered her, Brea supposed that had Ratchet been present for the meeting, she would not have been allowed to leave the infirmary at all. But if both Fixit and Jazz were both in on it, she doubted any repercussions would be directed at her if they were found out. She knew she should have felt remorse at the thought of using the two Mechs essentially as scapegoats, but really…she didn't. Ratchet was scary when he yelled she had learned early on. At that moment, she was just happy to be getting the chance to talk with other humans again. To her, it was well worth the risk.
"Everyone been treatin' you alright?" Jazz asked, bringing Brea out of her thoughts.
Brea tilted her head up t him. "Yeah, everyone's been really nice so far…" she paused and frowned when a memory surfaced, "Well…actually there was one guy…"
"Hm?"
"Some guy named Prowl came in and well…he wasn't mean…just a little…"
"Indifferent?" Jazz said with a grin. "Cold? Stoic? Little too heavy on the logic circuits?"
"…ye-e-e-ah."
The Mech chuckled. "He's always been like that, as long as I've known 'im. And that's a long time, understand. But don't get the wrong impression of 'im though; he's one of the most loyal Mech's I've ever worked with. Aside from Prime, he's probably the most respected too, at least of our group. Just don't get on his bad side. Worse place to be in my opinion; except for maybe the wrong end of a charged blaster."
Brea locked onto the familiar and yet unfamiliar name the Mech had mentioned. She had heard that name before…somewhere…
"Who's Prime?"
Jazz glanced down at her with an incredulous expression that gave her the impression she might have just asked the stupidest question she could have possibly asked; like she might as well have just asked the Pope 'Who is Jesus?'
"You don't know…?" He asked slowly.
Brea shook her head, feeling a twinge of awkwardness. "…is that…bad?"
Jazz seemed to come out of his initial shock and just chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, it's all fine. I guess it's understandable that you don't know about the Primes. Considering where you've been and all," He replied. "But anyway, I was talking about Optimus."
"What? So, does that mean there's more then one Prime?"
"Well, yes and no. We only have one Prime right now," Jazz explained. "Optimus Prime. Well, I say we only have one, but we can only have one at a time really. When one Prime dies, another is chosen."
"So is he like a King or something?"
"Nah, nothing like that. We have a Coalition government, not a Monarchy," Jazz said, "Traditionally, Primes are leaders of some sort; sometimes military, sometimes civil. It's really up to them, wherever they feel they can do the most good. Some past Primes were more like figure heads or spiritual leaders. But that was before the Wars. The current Prime is also Emirate of Iacon—er, that's where you are right now. He was the supreme commander of the Autobots during the three Great Wars so when the coalition was formed about half a Vorn ago, he was chosen as this territory's Emirate. He's also the one who's funding this place," He took a sweeping glance of the halls in a vague gesture, seeing as his hands were currently occupied, "It was all his idea to begin with and he got Prowl to set it all up and run it. Prowl's good at that type of stuff. This place is totally secret from the rest of Cybertron. Only a select few former-Autobots know it even exists."
"This is probably a stupid question but…What are Autobots?"
Jazz gave her a patient smile. "Well, I'm an Autobot. Or I was. Before the Coalition formed. All factions were disbanded when the war ended. It was part of the agreement. Every Mech here was an Autobot during the Wars. Except Mirage. He joined up half way through the second war. And Bluestreak. He was still a protoform when the last war broke out. Joined up about five Vorns before it ended."
"Who were you fighting against?"
"Decepticons." The way in which Jazz said the name gave Brea a strange impression that despite there being a coalition, there was still bad blood running between the two parties.
"Decepticons? Ha. Charming name."
Jazz chuckled. "Ain't it? They certainly deserved it too. A lot of them were never trialed for all the slag they did during the war either. Even Megatron got off free, although he disappeared a while back. Can't blame him really; if I were 'im I'd skedaddle my skid plate as far away from here as I could too."
"...Mega…wha?"
"Megatron," Jazz replied with a vague hint of disdain coloring his tone. "He was the commander of the Decepticons. He started the whole mess."
"Doesn't sound like someone I'd ever like to meet in a dark alley way." Her off-the-hand comment seemed to bring the Mech out of his momentary grouse and he grinned.
"There are a lot of former Autobots who would attest to that. So what about you?" He asked abruptly, "What part of Earth are you from?"
"America."
"Which one?"
Brea blinked. "Uh…north. The US."
"Gotcha'. So you're not Canadian?"
Brea laughed. "No. I'm a pure blood Yankee."
Jazz paused in confusion.
"…I thought Yankees were a baseball team…"
Brea waited until her bout of laughter died down before answering, slightly winded. "No…no. Well, yes, they are a baseball team, but 'Yankee' is also slang for an American." Her brain paused, something inside saying waitaminute, "How did you even know the Yankee's were a baseball team? How do you even know about baseball?"
"Craig. He's been telling me about Earth sports for a while."
"Really? Cool," Brea smiled. "What else have they taught you?"
"Well, Annie's been trying to teach us all some of your history and culture and things like that.'Course, the Micromasters and the twins aren't really interested in that sort'a stuff as much as me, I guess."
"Oh. So if I asked you who the first President of the United States was, would you know?" She asked slyly.
"George Washington."
"Alright smart-guy, how about the second?" Brea grinned. "No one ever remembers him…"
Jazz grinned smugly. "John Adams. Lawyer and Massachusetts Delegate to the Continental Congress, signer of the Declaration of Independence and father to John Quincy Adams, the sixth president of the United States of America."
Brea's eye brows rose in amazement. "That's…impressive."
Jazz just grinned. "I'm a good student."