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”Any sign of her, Bee?”
“Sorry, Jazz, she’s just… gone. Whoever took her knew how to cover their tracks.”
“Dammit.” Jazz punched the wall, and the pain in hand drowned out his anger and fear for a moment. “We gotta find her, Bee. I can’t lose her, too.”
“We will.” Bumblebee put a hand on his shoulder, though Jazz didn’t feel any comfort from it. “It’s just going to take longer than we thought. But we will find her.”
-_-_-_-
Mikaela was sitting on the concrete floor, knees pulled up to her chest and chin resting on her knees, watching the Decepticon pace back and forth on the other side of the room. He seemed upset, judging by what she knew of Jazz’s body language, and not just because he suddenly had a prisioner to keep track of.
“Ricochet.” The black mech whirled around to look at her so quickly that she heard at least two joints pop.
“How do you know my name?” Ricochet’s optics narrowed behind his amber visor.
“Jazz told me about you.” She tried to sound casual, but she wasn’t sure she was pulling it off. It was much easier to needle any of the ‘Cons when she wasn’t their only prisoner. “You know he’s going to come for me, right?”
“Of course I know! I’m not stupid!”
“Never said you were. But if you know he’s going to come for me, you probably also know that he’ll kill whoever’s here when he comes to pick me up.”
“He won’t kill me. We’re twins.”
“Really don’t think that’s gonna matter at the time.” She watched, as Ricochet started pacing again. “Split sparks and quantum bonds won’t stop him, not when he knows he can survive the–”
“SHUT UP!” Ricochet leveled a rifle at her, one that probably had enough power to vaporize her if he actually pulled the trigger.
“Okay.” Mikaela raised her hands slightly in surrender. Hopefully if she played it cool enough, he would put the rifle away and she wouldn’t give up just how terrified she was right now. “I was just going to say that if you let me go, he’d probably go easy on you.”
“Yeah, so that commander Starscream can–” Ricochet was cut off by an explosion somewhere above them.
Mikaela covered her head with her arms as dust and plaster rained down for a few seconds. “Looks like he’s here.”
“Frag this.” Ricochet looked to the window across the room, then transformed and drove straight for it.
Glass shattered around him as he hit the window adn then Mikaela had a perfect view of Ricochet sailing right into Optimus Prime’s arms. “Huh. Wasn’t expecting that.”
“Mikaela?” Jazz’s voice echoed down from somewhere above.
“I’m all right, Jazz!”
-_-_-_-
“Go easy on him, Jazz.” Mikaela put her hand on his leg before Jazz marched into the brig. “He didn’t actually hurt me, and he didn’t take me. Save your anger for Starscream.”
“Don’t worry, Mik. I got enough anger for both of them.” Jazz stomped away from her, though the door and into the brig.
Mikaela sighed and followed him. They stopped in front of Ricochet’s cell, and Jazz revved his engine.
“Frag off.” Ricochet didn’t even turn to look at them.
“You threatened my partner.” Jazz’s voice was colder than Mikaela had ever heard it.
“I threaten a lot of people, don’t make it personal.” Ricochet shifted so that he was, if possible, facing the wall even more firmly. “Now frag off. Let me get executed in peace.”
“No one is getting executed,” Mikaela said firmly. “No matter what Ironhide said.”
“Easy for you to say, squishie. You ain’t the enemy.”
“You don’t have to keep being the enemy.”
“Mik, what are you doing?” Jazz’s voice was a hiss, and she couldn’t tell if he was angry or confused.
“Reminding both of you that it’s not too late. Not like it is for Bumblebee and Optimus.” Mikaela looked up at Jazz with a frown. “You have a chance here, don’t frag it up.”
“Easier said that done, squishie.” Ricochet didn’t move, and neither did Jazz, and the silence that fell in the brig was heavy.
“Fine. I’ll be in my quarters, when you’re done here.” Mikaela turned and started to leave the brig.
A moment later, she heard Jazz’s soft tread following. “You’re right, Mik. But I can’t talk to him right now, I’m still too mad.”
“I know.” She sighed, and didn’t fight when he bent down to pick her up. Jazz and Ricochet would have to talk eventually, but right now Jazz needed comfort and so did she. “Look, let’s just go home and relax. Ricochet will still be here tomorrow.”
“Yeah. we can figure out the rest tomorrow,” Jazz agreed, cuddling her to his chest.
And they’d better, because Jazz couldn’t dance around the subject of his brother any longer.