Okay so being stuck with nothing to do at the hospital is apparently a good thing for my muse at the moment... At least with this story... I am currently working on Broke not Broken as well but well that one I'm arguing with Crescent and Cassie so um yeah...

Anyways I am not completely sure how long I am going to make this story. I don't expect it to be along one... not with how fast the chapters keep coming to me. but hey I'm not going to argue with my muse anymore than I have to.

Many thanks to Reader103 and Meep15 for faving/following this so far.

Word count: 2385

Disclaimer: I don't Own Transformers.

Chapter 2

~x~

~Bay~

-~x~

The government had paid for the burials... All thirty seven of them. There was no real chance for the funeral... there was just too many of them to bury... As it was Bay was stuck dealing with the mass amount of estates left over from her family... She was currently sitting in her brother Daniel's kitchen going over the paperwork for selling off most of the possessions... It was a pain.

The twenty-seven year old ran a hand through her crimson hair, as she set the pen down. She had agreed with the lawyers to do this at the behest that the other relatives- the in-laws got their choice picks... but the amount of paperwork was just too much. There was her father, Her brothers Micah, Isa, Hamish, and Piers, Her sister Ivy, Micah's oldest three, Isa's four, Hamish's three, Piers only son, Ivy's five, and Daniel's four oldest children who had their own places, debts, and lives that she was now being force to cleanly tie off neatly as she could even if that was damned near impossible...

It had been three days since they had come to stay here almost two weeks after the incident. It was the closest place to Mission City... A decent sized house in a town called Tranquility. It was far too big for the two of them... Six bedrooms... three and a half baths.. and even if one of the rooms had been turned into Game central, and the other for Daniel's at home office... It was still echoingly quiet seeing as it was devoid of it's usual rambunctious group of children..

As for Octavius, or Eight as he asked her to call him, had closed himself off in his room on the first day. She had taken him plates of food which turned up empty several hours later, which proved that he was at least eating. But that was the only sign that the eleven year old was even there.

She was worried for the boy. Not just because of the fact that he was shutting the world out but because she was inexperienced when it came to children. Having been the youngest out of seven children, a glorified oops child, born just as her brother Daniel was entering junior high school, she never really had to deal with children. Hell she had grown up with a few of her nieces and nephews... And when she was old enough she never really babysat for anyone... her siblings had scattered to various parts of the country...

The typical, I can't do this... came to mind more often than not. Just as much as the counter thought of I have no choice.

Bay sighed pulling off her temporary glasses. At this point in the game there's no turning back. That is what Pop woulda said...

~x~

~Jazz~

~x~

Jazz had been placed on the desk in the boy's room. The room a blend of blues and greens, It had been a mess when he first onlined to the room, but the boy, Octavius had began to clean the room... and once it was done he had smiled once before sitting on the bed to silently cry once more. The kid was not doing good.

Sure he was eating but it was like he was on auto pilot, not really caring about what was around him. And recharging was almost out of the question seeing as he spent most of the time crying for someone called Simon... and he woke screaming.

Jazz had seen very little of the boy's caretaker in the last three day seeing as the boy had taken to locking the door shut after his first night terror.

Jazz decided to use the times the boy was asleep for trying to get to his bipedal mode... The bot had tried transforming several times with little success but the last time he had come close. He had gotten halfway through the transformation before he was forced back into his altmode from the lack of energy...

Jazz could have sworn that Primus was laughing at him. He was mildly disheartened by the fact that the bots hadn't yet picked up his spark signature. The only thing he could figure was that his spark just wasn't strong enough yet in this frame for it to be picked up by them.. Maybe the trauma of dying had something to do with it...

The only bright side that Jazz saw to this was that if the Autobots couldn't detect his signature, neither could any remaining Decepticons... He just wish he had a working commlink.

"Simon..." The boy muttered as his eyes snapped open.

~x~

~Octavius~

~x~

Eight blinked away the tears in his green eyes as he sat up on his bed. He blinked over his now clean room with regret in his eyes. He finally sighed as he pushed himself off of the bed making his way over to the door. Like the last three days a tray sat there with several granola bars and a banana, and a bottle of water. His aunt had yet wrote him a note telling him that he was more than welcome to come join her downstairs if he wanted to.., He just shook his head and crumpled the note, aiming for the basketball net that hung on the other side of the room. The paper ricocheted off of the edge to land in the floor, just shy of the waste basket.

Eight set his food down on the desk beside the remote control car and went to pick up the paper before finally sitting at the desk. He stared at the toy car, littered in scratches... The worst was the windshield... but the boy could have sworn that the Plexiglas had been cracked all the way through... With a shake of his head he sat the die cast toy down and began to eat his breakfast, the whole time watching the toy car deep in thought.

The remote had been lost, more than likely destroyed in the explosion that destroyed his Aunt Bay's place... actually out of everything in the back pack the remote control car was the only thing that hadn't been smashed to pieces... Eight had to have Bay empty the bag of all of the broken items... A picture of him and his siblings that he and Simon were going to give Grandpa Val, and several other things... including his Psp...

He had had her scrap everything except the picture, and the toy car... The only two things he really had left besides the stuff gathering dust in the house... He wasn't for certain that he could take seeing the now empty house... the thought alone threatened to bring on more tears to his sore reddened eyes... He polished off the banana and finally decided that he needed something to take his mind off of things...

He reached into the bottom drawer of the desk and pulled several cans of model paints, some small tools, and pulled some paper out of his printer to cover the desk. Simon would have a fit if he were to see you like this... He thought as he set to work on the toy Solstice.

~x~

~Bay~

~x~

Bay noted that the plate had disappeared off of the tray. She smiled sadly at the empty tray before gently picking it up. She slipped it under her arm and headed to the stairs before pausing. This isn't working out... she thought before turning back around walking to the door and knocking. "Octavius?"

After several minutes of silence she sighed and tried the knob finding it unlocked for once. "Octavius?" she carefully poked her head into the room not quite sure what to expect... It certainly was not a mostly clean room... Nor the boy engrossed in touching up the model car at his desk. He was touching up the white paint in silence. She slowly set the tray down on the unmade bed and made her way over to the quiet boy.

"Octavius."

"I told you not to call me that."

Bay rolled her eyes. "Fine. Eight. I think we need to talk."

"What if I don't want to talk?" The boy said not looking up from task.

Bay felt like beating her head against the wall. "Look I know that you don't want to talk about it. Trust me I know. But that's not what I want to talk to you about..."

"..."

"Look kid, I can't say that I'm the best Aunt in the world. God knows that I barely remember everyone's names with the way our family repopulates like rabbits. There were too many us to remember correctly. And being the baby of the family I never really had to deal with kids." She settled down in the floor. "But I don't really have a choice now do I? So I figured that I should just talk to you, get to know you; Because if we're stuck together I need to know stuff like... What you like to eat, what you hate, are you allergic to anything? What do you like to do you know? I just don't want you to be miserable."

"But... I am miserable." Green eyes met her own caramel brown ones.

"I know that you don't want to face the what has happened. You don't want to deal with the looks that people will send you, or the fact that no matter what you do you won't see them again. But you can't just shut the world away. Eight you aren't the only one that lost their family, I did too. I want you to lean on me, because god knows I don't want to have to send you to therapy... even if I think both of us need it." She said noting the dark bags under his eyes. "I know you aren't sleeping well. Eight crying isn't something to be ashamed of at this point in the game. It's a way to let out all of the frustration and sorrow. Bottling it all up will only make things worse."

"Right..."

Bay sat there looking up at him as he returned to working on the toy car, Bay used this to change the subject. "So um... what kind of car is that?"

"It's a 1/16th scale of a 2006 Pontiac Solstice. It was Simon's."

"I see. So what are you doing with the red and the blue paints? Flames or racing stripes?"

"Racing stripes... my painting skills are no where as good as Si's was and with my hands bandaged like this I'm only good for straight lines..." The boy said as he quietly worked on.

"So did you have a RC car too then?"

the boy smiled sadly. "Yeah. I had dad's old Martini Porsche 935 turbo... Timothy was playing with it..."

"I remember that thing. Your dad tripped me down the stairs once with that old race car." she grinned. "He and Isa weren't expecting me to dart out of my room the one time they were racing on the landing. They knocked out most of my baby teeth that day.. You should have seen your Grandmother Shea she tore into them pretty bad."

"I believe dad told me that story... It's the reason it was confiscated right?"

"Yep... It joined all the other toys she confiscated."

"Is the story dad told me about the demon furby true?"

Bay smiled. "Demon furby? Well that's a bit of an over exaggeration... however it is true that that thing was still talking after having the batteries taken out of it."

"Creepy."

"Indeed." Bay agreed before stretching her arms. "So kid. What would you like for lunch hmm? You name it I'll cook it."

"Enchiladas?"

Bay blinked. "Um... Okay... I may have to go to the store..." And find a cookbook...she added silently before continuing on with, "You wanna tag along or chillax here?"

Eight shook his head. "I really want to get this guy back up to par."

Bay raised a brow as she smirked. "Guy eh? I thought cars are supposed to be girls."

"Nah Si always referred to him as a he. Why break that tradition?" the boy shrugged.

"Okay... Well.. no burning down the house or answering the door for strangers got it?" she pointed at him for emphasis.

Eight blinked at her. "Burning down the house?"

"Your uncle Hamish was a pyromaniac."

"Right..." Eight said as he opened a drawer and pulled out some black paint.

~x~

~A little while later ~

~Jazz~

~x~

The boy had finished his touch up of Jazz's altmode. The scratched that his nanites had been too slow to repair were buffed out and his paint was retouched. The boy had finally left the room for the first time in three days.

Jazz was lost in his thoughts. When he had finally managed to overcome the shock of his current predicament, the mech had spent his time listening to the two humans... most particularly to the mostly quiet boy. Jazz had been positive that there was something familiar about the youngling, but he hadn't put the pieces together until the boy's most recent talk with his caretaker.

Simon was the boy's twin brother... And the last thing Jazz had seen with his dimming optics had been two younglings, one coated in his energon, the other trying to help the other... The youngling, Octavius had been the one trying to help his brother...

It was a bitter irony that Jazz would get stuck as the boy's toy... Primus was definitely laughing at him... Him and probably some of the Thirteen Primes..

The paint was dry. So Jazz decided to have another go at transforming. And for the first time in days his T-cog finally worked, each gear, wire and plate shifting into his technical (even if smaller) true form. As his visor clicked into place over his optics Jazz smiled widely and stretched.

"Finally." he vented a relieved sigh. "It's good ta be back..."

What he didn't notice was that he had company.