Author's Notes: No big news or warnings here! Just hope everyone is having a fantastic day and I hope this update makes it even better! I'd love it if you commented, followed, or really anything along those lines to spread the love! As always, enjoy!

Date: Present Day, September 22nd, 2021 early morning

Steven

It was well into the late morning when he arrived at the front reception of the hospital on base. General Bragg was already there, along with one of the senior residents of the hospital, Dr. Combs. He was talking in his normal terse way to the group of generals, and Steven assumed it was concerning their recent find. They all stopped their discussion when they spotted Steven.

"Is the soldier alive?" Steven inquired.

"Thanks to you finding him," Dr. Combs huffed. "No visible injuries, other than severe sun exposure and dehydration. I suspect he wouldn't have lasted much longer without rescue. He's come around quick with fluids."

Well, at least there was some good news. A selfish part of Steven really needed a win.

"There are no reports of attacks on the sea," General Bragg explained. "We'll assume this was an accidental man overboard situation that went unnoticed until we find out otherwise."

The doctor scoffed with clear annoyance, "Unnoticed. Really, I'll throw whoever didn't notice the poor kid missing into the ocean myself. The amount of oversight to let this happen."

"But he was in an escape raft," Steven pointed out, catching both older men's attention, "If he fell overboard, where did the boat come from?"

"It's fishy, no pun intended," Bragg agreed. He looked to the doctor, "He talking yet?"

Dr. Combs gave a curt, but slightly unsure nod. Steven didn't think much of it as he and General Bragg entered the bright hospital room.

The soldier was sitting up in his bed, relieved of his salty military clothes and instead in dry hospital robes. He looked much more alive than when Steven first saw him through the lens of his drone. And for someone who had either fallen or was tossed off a boat and was marooned at sea for who knows how long, the kid appeared cheerful enough. He was chatting to the nurse who was working to flush his IV line.

The rescued soldier noticed the group enter and he beamed a bright, slightly gap-toothed smile, "More visitors? Hell, I feel lucky. Doubt I earned all this."

The nurse motioned to Steven, "This is the commander who spotted you at sea and facilitated your rescue." She explained.

Steven nodded and walked up to his bedside, "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Steven Welker. What's your name, soldier?"

Oddly enough, after the young man saluted him, he reached down and took his dog tags around his neck to check the name engraved into them. Once reassured of the title, he reported confidently, "Corporal Ben Gilvezan, apparently! Nice to meet you! And thanks for fishing me out of the ocean. That was real nice of you."

Steven wasn't the only one looking to Dr. Combs for an explanation. Bragg was equally puzzled.

"I did say he didn't have any visible injuries. That being said, he has total amnesia, so he'll be headed for a CT scan to rule out any knocks to the head. We're hoping it's temporary."

Bragg was visibly disappointed as he looked down at Corporal Ben, "Really, soldier? Nothing? Not even what happened to you?"

Ben smiled and knocked on his own skull with a light fist, "Yep, it's all gone. All I remember is waking up here! But hey, it's cool I'm a soldier, so the glass is half full there. I can't wait to get back out there and start soldiering again."

Doctor Combs gave a loud and sarcastic laugh, "Absolutely not! You aren't going anywhere until we determine the cause of your amnesia! Between the residual fluid in your lungs from the sea water and the amount of sun you were exposed to it's a miracle you aren't cooked through!"

Ben mulled over that list of ailments. "SO, maybe tomorrow?"

Dr. Combs groaned in a defeated sort of way that only came from a lifetime of hearing equally stupid comments from young boisterous soldiers.

"I'll start on the retrieval report," Bragg started to say, maybe to Steven, he wasn't sure, because something outside the hospital window caught his attention away from Ben's occasional back and forth with the doctor.

In the day light, and not in his peripheral vision. A shadow standing across the road, staring at the window. No, not at the window. Through it, and at him. He could almost make out a form. Something not human, but very familiar. A monster from his nightmares. Large and lanky, long tentacled extremities. It faded into nothing within a second, leaving only Steven's racing heart any proof it was there. He needed to sleep. It had to be lack of sleep. He needed it to be a lack of sleep.

"He's a handful, but I guess it's a good thing you found the idiot," The doctor grumbled.

Steven jolted back into the conversation.

"What?" he stopped short, noting General Bragg giving him a curious stare. Ben was just smiling at him.

"I said," The doctor grumbled, clearly not keen on repeating himself, "'It's a good thing you found the idiot.' Who knows how long he would have lasted otherwise."

The words on the ever-changing note in his pocket were ringing in his brain. He scanned back over to Ben, who wore a very innocent smile, unaware of the storm raging in Steven's mind as he considered if this was the person he was meant to find.

"I wish you a speedy recovery, Corporal Gilvezan." Steven then retreated from the room before his commanding officer could see him get any paler.

Date: May 11th 2020 Early morning on Cybertron

Bumblebee

And here bumblebee always thought he was the goofy one of the group. Then Jazz came back, and he recalled all the shenanigans not even a four-million-year war could change.

"Really, it ain't half bad bein' so far from home for so long," Jazz hummed, leaned very casually in his claimed seat as they waited for their Bridge to the Memorial Garden satellite. He was also not talking to Bumblebee or the others, but rather the Bridge operator, who was a flustered smaller build bot who was crumbling under his smooth advances. "Exotic sights… Perilous quests. Of course, if I knew somebot like you was planet side, I would have given up the adventurous lifestyle and headed home."

"Oh Primus," Arcee groaned, her helm fully falling backwards until it hit the wall at her back, "Here's hoping the Bridge malfunctions in transit and we all get vaporized, so we don't have to listen to this anymore."

Jazz didn't miss a beat, even retracting his optic visor so he could give the Bridge operator a playful wink. "Can I leave my comm number with ya? Would love to continue this chat off the clock."

"I could help the Bridge malfunction by hucking a grenade into it," Wheeljack offered with an irritated grumble, "Put us all out of our misery?"

"Jackie, remember the last time you said something like that, and they had to stall the transport process?" Bulkhead vented a sigh.

Arcee rose a brow ridge with an accompanying smirk, "Why's that? Because declarations of terrorism aren't taken lightly? The gull."

Wheeljack grunted in annoyance, "Because nobot can take a fragging joke anymore."

"Bright side," Smokescreen added with a shrug, "The Bridge operator is too distracted to hear Wheeljack threat mumbling anyway."

They all glanced back at their distant comrade as he swapped comm info with the Bridge operator. That was a true statement if ever there was one. But Jazz appeared appeased as he sauntered back to their company, finally leaving his latest catch to activate the portal for them. "Why's everybot frownin' so damn much? The gang's back together for a few cycles at least. Let's live it up," he paused, glancing about their company as something occurred to him. "Except Ratch. He skippin' out on the visit?"

"He's already there," Bumblebee explained. Though added with a grin, "Ratchet doesn't have the patience to wait for everyone's schedules to link up."

Truly, it was rare for the remaining members of Team Prime to come together for anything other than official business these days. Jazz being back was nice… having everyone here felt right. They had to make time for it more often, even if the trip was less than a leisurely excursion.

Bumblebee walked through the portal with his group, rolling his optics as Jazz waved a final time to the Bridge operator. He stepped from the polished metal of Iacon's Transportation Hub into the serene quiet of the orbiting satellite. A large, domed roof giving an ever-impressive view of Cybertron and its many moons. Memorial slabs and local and off world vegetation lined the walkways. Things here hadn't been prepared for the upcoming event yet. They technically still had half the Orbital cycle before it started. But coordinating the ceremony did take that long to prepare for. Sending out long distance transmissions, extra maintenance of the satellite to assure it could handle the massive intake of bots coming to witness. Really, Bumblebee wished they took the whole Orbital cycle to prep it. He would be less stressed out if that were the case.

"Damn!" Jazz exclaimed, interrupting the once solemn and peaceful calm of the graveyard. "You all weren't kidding me about how much work you put into the place. Color me impressed."

Right, this was the first time Jazz would be seeing it. Really, it was the first he had been back to Cybertron even after it's restoration.

"Of course it's impressive," Smokescreen said, indulging in a small show of pride in the form of pulsing from his field, "It's made from both teams giving it there all."

"Both teams?" Jazz hummed, but nodded right after, "Right, you did mention the Con's had a servo in it too… Hu. Surprised it's still floating in one piece. No hidden bombs go off yet? That's what's real impressive."

"Ha ha, very funny," Bumblebee grumbled with a dimmed pitch in his voice box. There was a small group of Cons seated in front of a marker as they passed, looking up to glare at their party. He really hoped they hadn't heard Jazz's comment and were glaring because they were tromping loudly along… "We couldn't have gotten it done without their help. It was a great restoration project and did wonders for the collective morale."

"Oh, sure you could have done it without them," Jazz said quickly. "I get the Treaty is important… But really guys, all this extra work keeping everybot so close together is real risky. There is a North side and a South side of the planet for a reason."

"What do you mean?" Smokescreen asked, sounding genuinely confused.

"This little pause for peace is bound to be a cliff note in the overall war if we don't keep ourselves separated," Jazz elaborated. "After my short time back, I'm legit impressed nothing worse has happened."

"Things have been fine," Bulkhead growled. It was odd for him to jump into a verbal conflict with such confidence. Bumblebee was proud of him. "Most everybot's happy. Like how it's supposed to be."

Jazz ex-vented a very sarcastic snort, "You so sure about that Bulk? Have any of ya been keepin' tabs on the open Comm chatter surrounding Cybertron? Because I did. It is vitriol, to put it nicely. Arguments and bar brawls every other cycle. And let's not forget, you all are almost assassinated every other orbital cycle."

"That's an exaggeration," Bumblebee said flatly, "true, there are still arguments, but hey, heated debates over the open comm channels about clashing morals are worlds better than the alternative. And we aren't the only ones that get attacked by fringe groups. The Decepticons have had their fair share of close calls from attackers on our side. Ask Arcee. She was there just recently when two lunatics tried frying Soundwave."

Something about the statement made Jazz grin. That wasn't very assuring. "Heard about that too. Soundwave took a blast in the servo. I'm disappointed he got hit at all. He's gettin' sloppy. Too bad their aim was mediocre."

"He wouldn't have gotten hit if he weren't protecting Rhea," Arcee said with a shrug, remarkably coming to Soundwave's defense. "You recall the bot in the shooting range with me? The one you proceeded to flirt with and almost got strangled by Soundwave for? Yeah, her." She elaborated when Jazz gave her an odd look.

Recollection hit him. He smiled again. "Riiiight. The pretty copper one. Really, we need to get her to our side. I do not want to have to bump into her on the battlefield if the cease fire fails. That would be tragic."

"It's more then a cease fire," Bulkhead chimed in. He was probably contributing so much because he looked uneasy with the topic. At least Bumblebee wasn't the only one. "It's a peace treaty. The war is over."

"Right," Jazz huffed, "And I'm a fraggin' dancing scraplet," He proceeded to laugh at their collective silence, "I never said I want the thing to fall apart. Not always gettin' shot at and chased around space is a perk I would like to hold onto. But recall my line of work? I'm a spy, and my short time here I have been poking around Kaon, otherwise the boredom would kill me. From what I've found, the Cons haven't changed much, we've just given up the moral high ground and ignore whatever scrap that side gets up to."

"Moral high ground…right." Arcee muttered, so quietly only Bumblebee heard it because he was directly next to her. Or he had been before he noticed she was starting to fall behind. Glaring at her peds as she trudged along the path.

"If I could confess something before, we get to our destination," Bumblebee volunteered before they could spiral any further down this dark scenario, "I've been trying hard, like, really hard, to understand more Decepticon opinions. Sure, I disagree with a lot of them, but I'm forcing myself to find things I like. Things I have in common. Shocker, there is a lot we have in common. We're all Cybertronian after all."

"Why bother?" Jazz asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Bumblebee glared at him, "Because it's worth it. And it's not advisable to antagonize one of the Decepticon Lords because you think it's funny."

"Not even if it's really funny?" Jazz snickered.

"No," Bumblebee snarled.

"You can only do it if they are Cyberforming their human conjunx," Wheeljack just couldn't help but add.

Arcee rewarded the comment with a non-lethal but still firm punch to the back of his helm. Bulkhead added to the assault with a slap, both attacks Wheeljack just laughed off.

Jazz stopped dead in his tracks, causing a small traffic jam as they all stumbled to avoid clanking into each other. Jazz was looking down the path, faceplates scrunched up and clear irritation radiating off him. Bumblebee couldn't see where his optics were focused, he still wore his visor. But the large statues facing each other in the center of the gardens were probably where he was focused.

Their mighty leader, immortalized in purified alloys. The likeness of Optimus stood sentinel over the Autobot's side of the gardens. Jazz wasn't looking at him. It was the other statue across from Optimus' he was glaring at.

"I have some strong opinions, about the layout of this place," Jazz grumbled.

Bumblebee walked forward to rest a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "It's in the past now. It's all about how we act now in the future."

Jazz scowled. But he came to look at Bumblebee instead of maintaining a pointed hateful focus on Megatron's statue. "Ya called Soundwave 'lord.' What the scrap is that about?"

"Megatron appointed Soundwave the new leader of the Decepticons while they were in exile," Bumblebee explained hesitantly. He was sure Jazz already knew this. He was always first to know all the interesting gossip. "Then he extended the title to include two others to rule along side-"

"I heard all that scrap," Jazz huffed, clearly annoyed Bumblebee missed his point. "I'm sayin' he ain't your Lord."

Bumblebee blinked. Oh. That's where he was going with the thought. "It's respectful. He calls me Representative in kind."

"Though, has he ever actually used your name?" Smokescreen added. "Like, even when you are sending him private comms trying to be is best bud?"

Because if there was anything this conversation needed it was extra sarcastic commentary.

Oddly, Smokescreen's innocent remark poking fun of Bumblebee appeared to trouble Jazz. "That Con is one of the most brutal," Jazz said seriously, "There was plenty of times he almost ripped my helm off. And the number of Autobots he's personally off lined would be impressive if it weren't so fragging sad. I don't respect that."

"I guess you don't have to," Bumblebee offered.

"You shouldn't either," Jazz insisted, "And you're trying to be friendly with him? That's a bad call. He'll stab you in the back. I don't want to see that happen."

Bumblebee vented again, and he gave Jazz a sheepish smile. He couldn't believe he was about to admit this, "Call it hopeful thinking. It's sort of a concept I'm trying out. I think, if I try hard enough, extend enough friendly gestures, if we actually get to know each other on a personal level, it would make the chances of the war restarting so much smaller. If we are faced with fighting friends, and not Cons, the fight may never start."

Jazz gave him a rare expression of pity, "Make no mistake, Bee. That wouldn't stop the war from startin' up again. It would only make it hurt that much more when you have to start shootin'. Take my advice and keep your distance. From that Con most of all. And if ya care about that human, I suggest you start working those 'friendly gestures' hard on her. Get her away from him before he hurts her."

Jazz pulled out from under Bumblebee's grasp, continuing towards the looming statues.

Bumblebee tried to keep his aura from sulking as the others trekked along after him. A small pat came onto his shoulder as Arcee passed him. "And here I thought I was the biggest bummer. Good to know I haven't hit rock bottom yet."

Bumblebee managed a small chuckle. At least her mood was brightening. Small victories.

The large entrance entering the burial chamber below the statues was already open. The lights were normally set dim, giving off a gentle glow as they descended. Internalized thoughts aside, there was no more war talk as they made their way down the stairs.

There were hushed voices within, both Bumblebee recognized. Both were also old and cranky.

"There he is!" Jazz announced to Ratchet, once again breaking the somber quiet.

Ratchet fully winced as his conversation with the Decepticon mechanics' master Rivet was interrupted. He groaned while Rivet glared, "Oh joy. I heard he was back."

"Who's this moron?" Rivet huffed from behind his data pad.

"Jazz," Ratchet grumbled, "He's, ug, an old friend."

Jazz was almost shaking with laughter, "Ya don't have to act so happy to see me again, Ratch. It hasn't been that many millenia since we last talked." He went in for a hug, servos wide open to envelope Ratchet.

The old doctor fully jumped back, using Rivet as a body shield to put between himself and Jazz.

The prospect of accidently embracing the glaring Decepticon killed Jazz's playful mood. "And, who is this ray of sunshine?"

Rivet sneered, "Decepticon's mechanical master, Rivet. Serving under our late Lord Megatron, and now my Lord and Sovereign Soundwave. Ratchet, I'm disappointed in your faction, or more so than usual. I didn't take you for the kind to let any riffraff down here."

Ratchet rolled his optics, "Pa-lease. Since when do I have any say over making the important decisions of the young and reckless. If it were up to me, most of the guest list for the memorial wouldn't be allowed down here."

Rivet snorted a rare cackle, "That I can agree on."

"No more than the assumed amount of rust-decomposition, my old and equally rusting friends," came the smooth and singsong interruption from Knockout across the crypt. He was stationed over the slightly elevated tomb of the Decepticon war lord, chronically polished red armor catching the light from one of the two beams that came down onto the graves within. Knockout's single red optic was carefully scanning over the contents within the coffin. "Nothing some buffing won't fix."

Rivet huffed at Jazz before sculking back to Knockout. "Forgive me for not having faith in the word of a flaunting traitorous fool."

Knockout tisked as he stepped humbly out of the way, "My my, aren't you chipper today?"

Jazz crossed his servos as he observed the two bickering, "I get it, you're all about the whole 'getting along' thing. But why are there so many Cons lurking in Optimus' grave? That gives 'em way too much opportunity to like, write on his coffin."

"Technically, Knockout is Autobot," Smokescreen volunteered in support of their flashy red friend.

Wheeljack snickered, "The word 'technically' is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence, kid."

"It's also in accordance with the Treaty," Ratchet huffed, ignoring them all, "When the crypt is opened for maintenance, one faction cannot be in the shared tomb without at least one representative of the other there to supervise. It's to assure against exactly what you said. We don't want anyone defacing the graves."

Jazz shrugged, seeming pacified somewhat as he walked towards the Autobot's side of the tomb. But it was far too much of a favorable opportunity with Ratchet's backplates turned. He gave the older bot a quick squeezing hug and rushed off before Ratchet could deck him.

"Gah! He's like if Miko had even less self-control!" Ratchet snarled.

"At least you and Rivet didn't have another one of your legendary philosophical debates in the tomb," Arcee pointed out.

Ratchet grumbled, though didn't argue that fact.

Bumblebee found it kind of ironic Jazz had brought up continued conflict between the two factions, and then they bumbled into Ratchet and Rivet. The two older bots were probably the best living proof the war was in the past. Two loyal to their cause old bots who both survived the buildup, original start, and then conclusion to the war. They maintained their views through all of it. Then they fought every other day about conflicting laws, history, or really anything they could fight over. But then, at the end of the day and following some argument of legendary proportions, Bumblebee caught the two calmly reminiscing about shared interests over drinks at Macadam's. Could they be considered friends? They would never admit it, but Bumblebee struggled to find a different word to describe them.

"Aw pits…"

Bumblebee turned quickly, brought out of his musing as Jazz whimpered. Sunk down to his knee joints before the open crypt under the tomb's second light beam. He retracted his visor to pinch away the lubricant his blue optics began to exude.

Bumblebee stepped quietly along to be by his side. His own focus couldn't help but land on the bot laying peacefully inside the coffin. Ratchet had already done wonders to remove any signs of the natural rusting process from Optimus' face and armor. Now their leader looked just as Bumblebee recalled. As if he were just in a deep recharge. Star Saber in his grasp and resting on his chest plates. It had gotten easier after ten years, but he still had to fight the pit in his tanks every time when beholding Optimus Prime's remains.

Bumblebee knelt as well, servo falling over Jazz's shoulders. Soon they had company. The whole gang arrived behind Bumblebee, Smokescreen and Bulkhead's hands coming to rest on Jazz in kind. Arcee, Wheeljack, and Ratchet remained reserved, but were not far.

Jazz huffed, trying to pull himself back together. He attempted a laugh, but it wasn't convincing, "Damn. I knew the big guy couldn't do anything without me there to bot sit. Really, I'm proud he made it as far as he did."

"What are we then? Scrap?" Ratchet grumbled, but it was free of any real malice.

Jazz managed a few more muted chuckles before he gave up the act and started sobbing. He leaned into Bumblebee hard, because the sight of Optimus pulled more grief from his core each time he attempted to look him in the faceplates. Bumblebee glanced up when he noticed movement. The other two occupants were headed up the stairs. Despite the treaty, it appeared Rivet and Knockout intended to give the group their privacy.

Jazz got himself back together soon after that. Bumblebee caught the taste of awkwardness from Jazz's field before he pulled it back against himself. He engaged his visor and shook his helm a few times. "Welp, that was embarrassing. Sorry gang."

"No shame," Bumblebee insisted, still not releasing Jazz from the half embrace even when they stood up. "We gotcha."

Jaz nodded a few too many times, semi-permanent smirk back in place. He forced himself to look back at Optimus. "It wasn't sadness, I swear. I was just horrified by the sloppy job Ratch did to our boy's buffing job here," He pointed to Optimus' right shoulder, "His damn emblem has a bit of rust. Really Ratch, ya need to get your optics checked."

Ratchet pushed Jazz out of the way so he could inspect the point of interest. He grumbled as he pulled open his tool kit and retrieved a fine detailed brush, "Bah, what optical setting did you even notice this with? Everyone's a damn critic." He continued to grumble as he carefully buffed out the Autobot emblem on Optimus' shoulder, mumbling to his former leader as he worked, "Seriously Optimus, I am never going to forgive you for leaving me here with this collection of excitable children. I envy every cycle of peace you are enjoying in the All Spark without me. Even Megatron gets to enjoy the bliss of the afterlife? Yeah, that seems fair."

He stood up, still grousing, and shoved a digit at the newly polished emblem. "There. Is it up to your ridiculous standards now, Jazz?"

Jazz grinned. He leaned forward, his visor activating with precise spy grade tech so he could get the closest look possible. "It's perfect. Would make anybot proud to wear that servo."

Ratchet rolled his optics before packing away his tool kit for a second time. Jazz stepped to the side, letting Knockout and Rivet back into the crypt without much fuss beyond a sarcastic smirk. They must have been summoned by the lack of sorrowful voices and the resuming of laughter. Jazz headed up the stairs but paused to give Bumblebee one of his harder to read expressions, made harder with his visor gatekeeping his optics. "I'm not the only one holdin' onto hard feelings, Bee. Ya know it's not uncommon. I'm trying my best."

"I know," Bumblebee assured him with a nod, "But trust me, it gets easier the closer you are to them," He gave Jazz more of a hint by glancing Rivet and knockout. "Sure, it's dangerous, but I think it's worth it."

"So you're sayin', if the time came and a Con had a good reason to blast your brain pan out the back of your helm, they wouldn't take the shot, all cuz you're actin' friendly?" Jazz asked with a smirk.

"Who said it was an act?" Bumblebee said. Then added with a similar smirk, "And I guess that's up to the Con in question."

Jazz shrugged before heading back up the steps, "For the sake of your helm, let's hope it ain't my favorite enemy Soundwave holding the gun."

Date: May 11th 2020 late morning on Cybertron

Rhea

Oh lord, everything hurt.

She groaned, shaky hands going to massage her temples. Feeling hair on her head threw her far more than it should have. Seeing the ceiling of her transfer pod should have been the only info she needed to make the connection she was human again. Right… They had set a timer for the switch back.

She pulled the wires from her skin and started the cycle to open the pod. She had taken Macadam's advice to start taking migraine meds before she transferred herself, but it always just took the edge off. At least she was about to face the light of the Cybertronian morning without having her corneas sizzle.

The gentle buzz of Laserbeak's boosters welcomed her back into the real world. He was there hovering over her, massive again, but holding out a cable for her to take to help her out of the pod. In the grasp of his other appendage was her bag. She took him up on the help with a groggy "thank you."

She fumbled for her glasses in the bag, then the translator, and finally her water bottle and pain meds.

'I trust all went well?' His voice was quiet, but still intrigued.

She nodded her aching head as she sucked down her water to chase the pills. "Yeah, thanks for filling in… Where is-" she answered her own question as she scanned the room and located Soundwave. Laying still on his berth, arms cradling her Cybertronian avatar. Both their optics were closed, one still in recharge, the other vacant of a mind. It explained why Laserbeak was whispering.

She decided not to wake him.

Rhea kept her own voice down, "How was the meeting?"

Laserbeak chirped a little laugh, 'An utter waste of time. Master Soundwave was right to send me in his stead. The Autobot representatives from off world were opinionated and misinformed. And to think we were ever worried about these new bots outnumbering us. I am now assured.'

Despite the lingering migraine, Rhea cracked a grin. With Laserbeak's company she got herself breakfast from her little fridge on her elevated window platform. The pain was mostly gone thanks to the meds, leaving her to contemplate the previous night's events while overlooking the city. She found the spacious balcony outside and decided to indulge in the recent memories. Holding fast onto Soundwave, utterly surrendering to him… It made her get up and head for the berth. She climbed up the little steps and side stepped her limp metal form to get to him. Finding the familiar crook in his neck, she settled in. Laserbeak was very correct. All had gone well that evening.

'I assume you now know of Master's feelings of insecurities as it pertains to your human self?' Laserbeak asked quietly.

She just nodded as she rested her small hand on his face. It was a strain on her brain, jumping back and forth between realities. He felt so different under her skin. "And he now knows all about my annoying human tendencies. What do you recommend?"

The minicon hummed thoughtfully as he landed on near silent wings at the foot of the berth. 'I have a simple solution, but Master has told me countless times not to share it with you. As suggesting you abandon your human life immediately was deemed, in his words, "Inconsiderate." I am only concerned about any potential for misfortune while you are in your human form. Consider something catastrophic were to happen before your mind and soul can be permanently transferred into your Cybertronian vessel. This is what keeps me from acquiring a full recharge.'

"Laserbeak," Soundwave's groggy voice growled.

Laserbeak chirped in alarm, helm falling in a childishly guilty fashion.

"No worries," Rhea promised, coming to Laserbeak's defense by distracting Soundwave with a kiss on his cheek. "It's a good point. I've considered it too. Like, this would be a hell of a lot of time and effort gone for me to just, get hit by a bus or something," she snickered before giving her Cybertronian form a little wrap on the helm.

Soundwave was still for a few contemplative moments, looking between her on his chest, and her other larger self-nestled in his arms. She hoped she wasn't the only one here who was having a hard time wrapping her head around the oddity.

He stirred. His cables deployed to assure she didn't tumble from his shoulder as he stood, the limp Cybertronian vessel carried bridal style in his arms. He laid her avatar onto the berth, now appearing to rest alone. Laserbeak took the opportunity to latch back onto his chest with an apologetic chirp. Rhea, her current conscious self, became his main focus. "Are you ok?"

She gave him a thumbs up, "Never better. Though a lot of what I saw from your end was a little foggy. I assume a few million years' worth of memories went over my human ability to absorb it all and remain sane. My life was probably boring by comparison."

He caressed her hair with a finger, "Nothing about you is boring, love. That hadn't even crossed my mind."

She had no idea why she even bothered trying to hide her blush. Pet names were rare from him. That meant he was in a particularly good mood. She wished she could still feel his emotions. She was sure he had her enveloped in his field, but her human brain was too stubborn to pick up the alien frequency. Oh well. Not like they had to limit how often she jumped back and forth between bodies. They could always repeat the whole thing that night.

"Rhea," he rumbled, and she didn't need to feel the regret, she heard it clearly enough. "Again, I'm sorry-"

She pressed a finger to his lower lip plates, "Nope. Not another word about it. Regrets about things you didn't even do are where they belong. In the past."

He leaned gently into her touch as he closed his optics. "Thank you. For everything."

Her translator buzzed with an incoming comm. In order for them to get back to their moment as fast as possible after the interruption, she activated it. Then she regretted it as the frequency screeched at her. She yanked it from her ear with a yelp. Really, she had to get used to this. Whatever poor bot, or whatever it was, was trapped in some other dimension was trying it's best to reach out and she kept failing to figure it out.

Soundwave's hand came to cradle her whole back, because she probably almost fell off his shoulder from the shock. Without needing to ask he placed her next to her desk so she could plug in the translator into her laptop. One of his data cables linked into her computer before she could sit in the chair. Good, her brain was still foggy, and she could use the help.

Between his presence working in the system and her knowing what to look for from last time, they retrieved the correct frequency to translate the offensive sound. And from the pitch came a single word.

JAW.

"Um, ok. Not helpful," she grumbled when the frequency died back into silence.

She looked up to see Soundwave's pondering expression. He was onto something. "Could we be missing the rest?"

She blinked at the screen, rolling the thought around a bit. Maybe… It was a continuation of a message left unfinished. She pulled up the message from not long ago. The final thing it managed to say, "Find Steel-"

"Find Steel… Jaw?" she pieced together. Steeljaw. That sounded like a Cybertronian name if she had ever heard one. And seeing the familiarity flash across Soundwave's faceplates confirmed it. "You know them?"

"Yes. He is a Decepticon and was a master tracker during the war. He was taken prisoner by the Autobots and was placed in suspended stasis aboard an Autobot prison ship, the Alchemor."

Rhea felt her own jaw fall open, "The ship that crashed on Earth ten years ago and the Rescue Bots had to deal with?"

He nodded on his way to one of the windows. A wave of his hand turned the view of Kaon into a wall sized screen. He quickly scrolled through the files until he arrived at the profile of a gray colored Decepticon. And Rhea risked falling out of her chair. "I remember him!" She exclaimed, fully pointing at the scowling picture. "He was the one Cody and Franky called me and Raf about! Or at least, he was one of the many escaped prisoners they were having trouble with. Then I called you to Bridge him and the other said troublemakers back here…"

Soundwave narrowed his optics at the oddly animal coded bot. "Odd this is the bot the message sender is referring. After he returned with the others to Kaon, he resumed a fairly normal life. He maintained a low profile, as many have after the war. He travels often…" he paused, unease pricking his optics and it made her nervous.

"What?" she asked, unsure if she really wanted to know.

"He was an associate of many off world enterprises, and even dabbled in resource delivery to reestablish Decepticon Colonies. His most recent exploits were headed for one very colony, on the ship the Dark Marvel."

She recognized that name too. It was one of the many ships that had vanished without a trace. Rhea again looked to the scrolling pictures of the Con that ranged from his Decepticon conscription profile to his mugshot taken aboard the Alchemor. Then there was the last security clip of him boarding the doomed Dark Marvel. Crap. That complicated things to say the least. Their finding Steeljaw, would now be harder than the message sender may have assumed it would be.