Author's Note: Hi peoples. I had a little extra time on my hands and with nothing better to do, I typed out another chapter. I sort of lost my train of thought so I apologize if it seems choppy or whatever. I got, erm…distracted about halfway through, so yeah. Sorry. Anyways, I hope you get at least some entertainment out of it. Later!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, no.

Autobot Base

"Hey guys, listen to this..." Mikaela sat at one of the human-sized tables in the Autobot's newly remodeled rec room with a newspaper spread out in front of her.

"What is it, 'Kaela?" Sam quickly glanced away from the giant television screen, where he was locked in a fierce game of 'Guilty Gear XX Accent Core' with the recently arrived Bluestreak, to look at his girlfriend.

The smoke-gray bot with his lip components set in a grim look of determination, took advantage of the teenager's momentary distraction to pummel Sam's character into submission. "Ha, ha! I got you, Sam!"

"WHAT?! HEY! NO!" Sam punched the buttons on his controller in vain even as the voice radiating from the television announced his defeat. "AHH!" Sam slammed down the controller. "No fair, Blue! I was distracted!"

The bot grinned at him, his baby blue optics sparkling innocently. "Sorry, Sam, but you let your guard down. You should have been paying more attention. If this had been a real fight, you could have been seriously injured. I was watching the WWE last night with Wheeljack and this guy looked away for one second and the other guy hit him over the head with a folding chair three times. Three times!" The mech held up three fingers for emphasis. "The guy got up afterward and kept wrestling, but still. I can't believe he didn't suffer some sort of serious head injury. Y'know, Wheeljack says most of the violent acts in shows like that are staged for entertainment purposes and the people don't really get hurt as bad as they make it look. I think he's probably right because Ratchet says such traumatic injuries in humans can be very serious and would most likely result in..."

"AHEM!" Mikaela cleared her throat loudly and glared at her boyfriend and the talkative mech with amusement.

The two looked at each other guiltily before looking back at her. They spoke in unison, "Sorry, Mikaela."

Mikaela arched an eyebrow. "As I was saying..." She flipped back to the story she had been reading. She cleared her throat once again, softly this time before she began to read. "State and Federal Prosecutors are in the process of building their case against a local man for his part in what they are vaguely referring to as a case of domestic terrorism. Authorities are charging that Ryan Cavanaugh, a known trafficker of stolen merchandise ranging from automobiles to military surplus, knowingly provided goods and services to an unnamed terrorist organization in return for monetary payment.

"Bringing the case to trial has been proving exceedingly difficult for authorities due to the lack of forthcoming witnesses and credible testimony. In some cases, individuals have come forward with information only to vanish off the radar or retract their statements leading many involved in the investigation to suspect the possibility of witness tampering. This has further added to the frustration of prosecutors along with the recent disappearance of key evidence used in Cavanaugh's indictment.

"As of the printing of this story, trial is set to begin next week. Prosecutors are hoping by that time to have reinforced their case against Cavanaugh. If convicted, Cavanaugh faces a possible maximum sentence of life in prison without the possibility of parole and..."

"Give me that."

Mikaela nearly jumped out of her skin when the large, cannon-wielding Autobot plucked the paper out of her hands with two enormous fingers. "Christ, Ironhide! Where did you come from? We need to put a bell on you or something. You scared me to death..."

The large, black mech merely grunted as he surveyed the article with narrowed optics. 'Cavanaugh.' He remembered the name well. Ryan Cavanaugh was the piece of organic filth that had hurt Revecca when they had first met. He knew the sorry excuse for a male would have done a lot more than that if he hadn't been there to stop him. He would have violated Revecca in the worst way. His Revecca... He hoped the human authorities threw the man in prison and lost the key.

"Hey, 'Hide?" Mikaela looked up at the mech. "Isn't that the guy Revecca used to work for?"

"Mikaela!" Sam made a frantic shushing motion at his girlfriend, afraid the very mention of the woman's name might bring on one of Ironhide's infamous 'moods'.

"Mmmm." Ironhide nodded his head almost as an afterthought. His processor was elsewhere, namely on the human femme who still held dominion over his spark. He wondered if she was aware of what was going on with her former employer. Had they tried to contact her for information? Had she been one of those who had 'vanished' or taken back their testimony?

The possibility that she may be forced to return home by legal means briefly lit up his synapses. He thought that if he could just see her one more time, maybe...but no. The thought of trying to rekindle whatever had sparked between them fizzled out. He couldn't make her want to be with him, not after she had so clearly told him she didn't want him. Perhaps it was best to leave things be, miserable as they were.

The sound of a heavy hip-hop beat filtered down the hallway. It grew in volume until it was almost deafening. The deep, resonating bass vibrated the walls and rattled anything that wasn't bolted down. The rec room door slid open on its hinges to admit a very irritated looking black and white mech followed by Jazz, who was bobbing his head to the music unfazed.

Doorwings twitched in obvious annoyance. The black and white mech, unable to withstand anymore punishment to his audios, turned on the smaller, silver mech. He had to yell to be heard over the pounding bass line. "JAZZ! TURN THAT SLAGGING GARBAGE OFF!"

Jazz shrugged, an amused grin spreading across his face. "WHAT'S THAT, PROWLER?! I CAN'T HEAR YA! THE MUSIC'S TOO LOUD!"

"I SAID..." Prowl suddenly found himself screaming in an eerily quiet room when Jazz suddenly switched off the music. His doorwings fluttered in slight embarrassment as he felt all eyes/optics on him. Regaining some semblance of dignity, he straightened himself and looked down on the silver bot with a heated glare. "I asked you to please turn the music down. You happen to be breaking several city noise ordinances as well as obscenity laws due to the lyrical content of your chosen…song. Furthermore, no one, especially me, wants to hear it. It's distracting."

"Music is supposed to be distractin', Prowl. That's the whole point." Jazz flopped down into a large, mech-sized chair. One of his legs dangled over the armrest. "I'm just tryin' to help ya expand your cultural horizons."

Prowl bristled. "I am perfectly capable of expanding my own horizons without being forced to listen to that, that...noise."

"It isn't noise." Jazz folded his arms across his chest plate. "It's a form of self expression."

"Oh, I beg to differ." Prowl brought both hands up to rub his ringing audios.

"A'ight, man. Whatever." Jazz waived the mech off. "Go back to your office and listen to Yanni or somethin'. You're a lost cause."

Bluestreak peeked over the back of the gigantic sofa at the two mechs curiously. "Who's Yanni?"

"Exactly. Thank you." Jazz threw his arms up into the air as if the young gunner had just made his point for him before letting them drop back down into his lap. Noticing Ironhide standing silently off to the side, the mech perked up again, his trademark grin reestablishing itself on his face. "What's crackin', 'Hide? Nice ta see ya out 'n about. Whatcha got there?"

"Nothin'." Ironhide let the newspaper slip from his fingers and drift back down to the table where Mikalea still sat. He had been having a pretty good day up until he had seen the article in the paper. He hadn't thought about her quite so much today. Now, he had once again been brutally reminded of the one thing he so desperately wanted and couldn't have. He had the sudden urge to be alone with his thoughts. "I'm goin' out for some target practice if anyone needs me."

Jazz shook his head sadly as he watched the large mech amble slowly out of the room. "Somebody needs ta do somethin'. That ain't right."

Prowl shot the mech a warning glance. "Leave him be, Jazz. You'll just make things worse than they are."

"I don't think that's even possible..." Jazz pushed himself up and wandered over to pick up the discarded newspaper. His optics, hidden behind his visor, wandered over the pages, stopping on the very same article. "Ahh..."

Jazz did a quick search of court records and airline rosters. One corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a mischievous smirk. This had to be more than a happy coincidence. He turned back toward the tactician. "You're right, Prowler. I'll just leave him alone…" Jazz checked his internal chronometer as he headed toward the door. "Well, would ya look at the time? It's been fun, y'all, but I've got places to go and people to see."

Prowl looked after the mech suspiciously. "Where are you off to, Jazz?"

"Just goin' for a drive." Jazz waved. "Later all. Don't wait up."

XXXXXXXXXX

Airport

Revecca waited anxiously at the luggage carousel for her bags. She had been a bundle of nerves for the passed two weeks since she had received the subpoena ordering her to provide testimony against her former employer. To be quite honest, she was scared stiff…and not all of it had to do with Ryan. Some of it had to do with her sudden geographical closeness to a certain mech.

On the plane ride, she had actually weighed the pros and cons of actually taking a drive out to the Autobot base while she was in town. On one hand, the prospect of laying eyes on Ironhide again made her heart leap into her throat. Given the opportunity, she would gladly beg his forgiveness for treating him so heartlessly. On the other hand, she didn't think she would be able to stand it if she found he had moved on and no longer wanted anything to do with her.

Scratching off the possibility of a happy reunion, Revecca lugged her bags out to the trunk of her rented Toyota Camry. Sliding behind the wheel, she cranked the engine to life and headed out into the city to find somewhere to spend the night. Hopefully things would look better in the morning after she met with her lawyer.

XXXXXXXXXX

Jazz cruised through the city streets and waited. He had just missed Revecca at the airport apparently. She had used her credit card there to rent a car allowing him to verify that she had indeed arrived in town right on time. Now he was just waiting for her to try to use it again in order to secure herself shelter as he was certain she would. Then he would be able to track her down and drag her back to the base to hopefully kiss and make up with 'Hide and set the universe right again.

A credit inquiry from a local hotel caught his attention. Intercepting the query, Jazz sent back his own answer. He snickered to himself. She wouldn't be staying anywhere but the base tonight. Altering his course slightly, he headed off to capture the wayward femme and bring her back where she belonged.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I'm sorry ma'am, but your card has been declined."

"What do you mean 'declined'?" Revecca looked irritably at the clerk. "That's impossible. I just used it twenty minutes ago. Run it again."

"I've ran it twice, ma'am." The clerk shook his head. "It was declined twice." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Maybe you forgot to pay your bill."

Revecca scowled. "No, I did not forget to pay my bill." She dug through her purse and pulled out another card. "Try this one."

The clerk accepted the card with a bored look and swiped it. He let out a huff of air as he turned back toward the woman on the other side of the counter. "Declined."

"What?!" Revecca slammed her palms down on the counter in disbelief. "Well…Your machine must be broken."

"If you say so, ma'am." The clerk handed her card back with a disdainful look.

Revecca snatched her card back and shoved it into her purse. She spun away from the counter and stalked towards the exit.

"Have a nice evening."

Revecca fought the urge to flip the guy the bird as she stormed angrily back out into the evening air. "This is such bullshit." She rummaged around in her bag for her cell phone. She pulled it out with every intention of calling Tisha to bitch about what just happened when the sound of a finely tuned engine pulling up beside her entered her consciousness.

"Trouble gettin' a room, baby? Cause ya know, you're always more than welcome to come crash at my place."

Rev froze in her tracks at the sound of the all too familiar voice, her phone call forgotten. She turned on her heel slowly to see the sleek form of a Pontiac Solstice idling at the curb. Her mouth went dry and her heart felt like it was about to beat through her ribcage. She bent down slightly to look through the lowered passenger side window at the 'man' behind the wheel. "J-Jazz?"

The dark-skinned man in the driver's seat pulled his sunglasses down and flashed her a brilliant smile. "The one and only. Did ya miss me?"

End of Chapter 2

Hmm…I got nothing. Didn't quite turn out the way I wanted, but…oh well. Let me know what ya thought. Peace!

VQ