Hey ladies and gents! Welcome back to another chapter! Before you carry on, I want my readers to know that I will be on another long hiatus. Reason being, I am going to basic training on June 9th. That being said, I wont be back until Christmas. If I can, I will make arrangements to pass this story off to my roleplayer buddy who helped me create this world.

I hope this chapter will suffice and I promise to get back to you as soon as I can!

Please read and review!

Chapter 20

Pixie awoke the next morning, listening to unfamiliar thrums; she heard a much-stronger spark pulse behind her compared to the spark pulse in front of her. She onlined her optics, blinking wearily as she looked up at Bluestreak with confusion until last night's memory played before her optics and her spark sunk. She wasn't in her house, something bad had happened to Carrier. The little femme tried to move, but she was sandwiched between Bluestreak and Sideswipe. Pouting, Pixie wriggled until she managed to get out of their hold and crawled out of the covers. The femme was curious, never have been in her uncle's house, as she slid off the berth and walked to the door. She had to reach to touch the press pad and left the berthroom.

The house itself was small compared to her house. It was a single-floored home with three rooms, washracks, a living room, and kitchenette. It was plain and simple. Pixie found her way to the living room, sitting on the couch and holding the pillow that adorned it to her chest. Her processor pondered last night's events, trembling slightly as the face of the mech that had touched her flashed before her optics; she could still phantomly feel his servos on her legs. With a sniff, the small femme curled tightly into a ball around the pillow and offlined her visor, wishing that her Sire could come get her and keep her safe.

In the midst of her sniffling, Pixie did not hear the approaching pedefalls and she thrashed when a servo touched her side, letting out a shriek. "NO! DON'T TOUCH MEH!"

Sideswipe leapt back, optics widening in alarm. "It's okay, calm down! It's just me, Blue's mate, Sideswipe." Pixie's optics were wide behind her visor as she looked at the red twin, trembling under her armor. Sideswipe took a cautious step forward. "It's alright. I won't hurt you."

Pixie clutched the pillow, sniffling before jumping into his open arms. "Ay want mah Mommeh! Ay want Daddeh!"

Sideswipe held her almost awkwardly as he sat on the couch, keeping her against his chest. The red mech pet between her wings. "I know, sweetspark."

'Sideswipe, what's wrong?" Bluestreak asked as he entered the living, giving his optics a rub.

"She's wanting her Creators."

Bluestreak stepped forward, collecting the femme into his arms. "You want to go see your Creators, Pixie?"

Pixie nodded. "Pwease?" she puckered her lower lip as her visor brightened.

"We'll go see your Creators after we get you fueled up, okay?" In all honesty, Bluestreak didn't know if Pixie could go see her Creators yet. The Praxian carried the femme to their kitchenette, setting her down on the counter. Pixie fumbled around with her servos, sniffling.

Sideswipe looked at the little femme as his Praxian mate went to fetch energon from the dispenser. "Hey… what's wrong?"

Pixie's wings flickered as she raised her helm, showing her cheeks with fresh coolant streaming down them. Her voice was small and trembling. "Ay-Ay want mah Mommeh…"

"You'll get to see him soon, bitlet."

"Pwomise?" her visor brightened significantly and expectantly.

[[Don't make her a promise you can't keep, Sides.]] said his twin down their bond.

[[We're going to take her to the IMF at least to see Jazz. Poor little thing.]] replied Sideswipe. He smiled softly for the femme, rubbing the coolant from her cheeks. "I'll do what I can, sweetspark."

Pixie showed him a soft smile.

Bluestreak came back with a warmed cube of energon, giving it to the youngling. Pixie sipped it, humming as it warmed her tank. "Yummy!"

The Praxian rubbed her helm with a soft smile. "Drink up, Pixie. We'll go see your Creators soon."

Jazz rubbed his visor, sniffling as he sat outside Prowl's ICU. He was stressed beyond belief, in grief, and exhausted. His spark was placed through too much strain just keeping Prowl's spark sustainable throughout the numerous surgeries to keep him alive. For now, Prowl was stable, but it was only a matter of time before his systems would leave a calm pattern and return to erratic behavior. The two presences in his spark, his twins, were being pushed to the brink and his spark energy was being siphoned in order to keep sustaining their sparks. A cube passed between his servos before it was raised to his lips, the mech taking a large gulp of the energon with additives.

"Daddeh!"

Jazz lowered the cube, helm turning in the direction of the femme running his way. He set the cup on the chair he was sitting on as he stood up and met with his daughter halfway down the hall; Jazz scooped her up, kissing her helm as the little femme clutched around his neck. "Hey, babeh. Did Uncle Blue bring ya?"

Pixie nodded. "Mhm! Ay missed chu an' Mommeh, Daddeh."

"Ay know, Pix. Ay'm sorreh."

"Where's Mommeh? Es 'e okay?"

Jazz's spark twisted. "Mommeh es nat feelin' good, babehcakes. Tha doc es gonna make 'im feel bettah."

"Can Ay see 'im?"

"No, Pix. He's sleepin' fer now."

Pixie's wings drooped, pouting. "But-But Ay wanna see 'im…"

"Ay know, sweetie." It near broke Jazz's spark, seeing Pixie upset and near crying. He held her tightly, stroking her small wings. The two remained in silence, taking comfort in their own presence. Bluestreak and his mates stood only a few pedesteps away, watching the black and white mech and his daughter. Jazz raised his gaze, blinking in surprise when he saw the twins in Bluestreak's company. Yet, he asked, "Did she fuel up?"

Bluestreak nodded. "One full cube."

Jazz smiled. "Thank ya, Blue."

The doors to Prowl's ICU opened up and Smokescreen walked out, looking very fatigued. His armor's colored were paled from the many transfusions he had given and he did not hesitate to sit on one of the few chairs sitting out in the hall. The Praxian rubbed a blue servo down his face, leaning back and resting his helm on the wall behind him. Jazz stood up, carrying Pixie.

"Smokey, ya doin' alright?" he asked in mild concern.

The said mech barely looked in Jazz's direction. "Tired… Ratchet told me to fuel up, but the refueling court is so far away."

Bluestreak walked towards his brother, sitting next to him. "Are you able to come home yet?"

Smokescreen turned his head in the other's direction, not expecting to see the youngest of his brothers there. "I am told that I can if I can walk for a while without feeling dizzy or nauseous, I can go home. Unfortunately, I can barely walk before the ground starts spinning and I am not to drive for the next orn."

Bluestreak frowned. "They took that much from you?"

Smokescreen spared his brother a sad look. Prowl was a mess when he came in to give a transfusion; he had never seen his brother or any bot for that matter as badly mangled and tortured, even during the war. It was a miracle the tactician was still alive. Sheer stubbornness, Smokescreen told himself. Prowl was most definitely a trooper. "Had you seen what I saw, Blue, it would make sense why they wanted so much."

Grey wings flickered as they lowered. "How is he now?"

Smokescreen's gaze went to Pixie, who was undoubtedly trembling in Jazz's arms, listening to their every word. He didn't want to make their little niece worry more than necessary, given how she was already. "Prowl is recovering. Ratchet isn't expecting him to wake up today or tomorrow, given his injuries. Hopefully, we don't have to give him another transfusion if his spark doesn't relapse. Another surgery is the last thing we need." he left a hint hanging in the air with the sorrowful look he gave his brother.

If another surgery were to happen, Prowl may not be able to survive it with his already weakened state.

"When can Ay see 'im?" Pixie asked with a small voice. She felt Jazz stroke her lower back with his thumb and she buried herself in his neck.

"I don't know, Pixie." Smokescreen replied. "When Ratchet says it's okay for you to come see."

"Ya know what ya can do, babeh?" said Jazz.

Pixie raised her helm. "What, Daddeh?"

"Ya can make Mommeh some get wells cards."

That made the little femme nod and smile. "Ay wanna do one now."

Jazz chuckled softly. "O' course, babeh. Ay gotta stay here though, just in case Mommeh needs meh."

Pixie pouted.

"We can watch over her a little more, Jazz, if you need us too. We have no problem with it." the saboteur blinked in surprise as Sideswipe spoke. Bluestreak smiled at his mate and nodded towards Jazz. Pixie looked over at her uncles, smiling.

She looked back up at her Sire. "Ay pwomise Ay'll be ay good femme."

Jazz kissed her helm. "Ya always are, babeh."

Jazz was walking down the hall of Prowl's room several orns later, holding Pixie in his arms. The mech was rather content that Prowl was finally awake and for Pixie, that meant she could finally see him. Pixie nestled softly in her Sire's arms, listening to the thrum of his spark. Her wings fluttered softly as Jazz stroked her frame. "Are ya readeh ta see Carrier, babeh?" Pixie gave him a soft nod. "An' ya wanna know what he said 'bout yer 'Get Well' card?"

The little femme raised her helm, visor brightening significantly. "What did 'e say?"

Jazz showed her a soft smile. "He told meh dat 'e loves et."

A beaming, denta-showing smile spread across her face. "Realleh?"

Jazz came upon Prowl's room door and gave it a knock just in case someone was inside the room with Prowl. The Praxian inside moved his gaze from the window towards the door. His voice was rather weak, but audible. "Come in."

The door was palmed open and Prowl smiled. Pixie perked up and squirmed in Jazz's arms, wanting to be at Prowl's side.

"Hold on, babeh. Hold on." Jazz laughed softly.

Pixie was set down beside her Carrier and she crawled forward to hug him. Prowl moved his arms, wincing slightly, and he embraced his creation. "Hey, babycakes." his voice was rougher than usual, static coating his words.

"Hi, Mommeh." she buried her face into his neck, sniffling as she tried to hold her tears. "Did Daddeh give ya mah card?"

Prowl kissed her helm, carefully stroking her wings so as to not reopen his wounds. "Yes, he did and it is beautiful. It was the first thing I saw when I woke up. Thank you, baby."