Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Jaime jumped out of her lumpy bed along with six other girls, ranging from the ages of three to fourteen. She crouched down next to her bed and reached underneath for her worn canvas knapsack that held all her belongings. She pulled out an old t-shirt and a pair of jean shorts, slipping out of her pajamas to put them on. Quickly sliding the bag (sleeping clothes hurriedly stuffed inside) into its previous position, she straightened and began running her fingers through her shoulder length chocolate brown hair into a presentable manner. Her bright green eyes glanced around the room to see that half of the girls were already gone. Frowning, she quickly grabbed a pair of beat up converse shoes and shoved them onto her feet before sprinting out the door. She could not be late again. Miss Narcissa would just love that. 

The rickety old stairs located at the back of the building moaned in protest as Jaime scrambled down them to the cafeteria where the other children were lined up. She breathlessly slid into her assigned spot, catching in her periphery one of the boys doing the same. Moments later the click clack sound of heels against hardwood floor could be heard echoing just outside the room. Not a single child turned their head to see who it was. There was no need. They already knew the identity of the approaching visitor. It was Miss Narcissa, the headmistress of Rockwell Orphanage for Abandoned Children. She ruled the orphanage with an iron fist. If there had ever been a velvet glove to go along with, then it had been vehemently disposed of years ago. 

The headmistress appeared in the cafeteria doorway with the same aura Jaime imagined the grim reaper would possess. She’d never seen the woman wear anything other than a blazer and skirt, always perfectly coordinated and pressed like she’d just picked them up from the dry cleaner. The headmistress was the epitome of prim and proper, from the ever sharp clothes to her dark hair twisted up into a painfully tight looking bun. She was quick to anger and even quicker to punish, especially if you were on her bad side. An unfortunate fact that applied to Jaime ever since she arrived over two years ago. 

Miss Narcissa sauntered down the line with a cool gaze, confirming that everyone was present and accounted for. The silence was uncomfortable, but not stifling since the silent inspection was a daily occurrence. When she reached the end of the line, she clacked her heels and spun around, taking a moment to pause in front of Jaime. The woman glared down at her with dark beady eyes which she dared not meet. 

“Well,” she murmured, voice deceptively mild, “It seems our little cripple saw fit to be on time today.” There was a brief pause as if inviting Jaime to speak, but she saw the trap for what it was. Instead she bit the inside of her lip and remained willfully silent. Miss Narcissa never missed an opportunity to remind Jaime of her defect. As if she could ever forget. Luckily, the lack of reaction seemed to bore the headmistress and she continued down the line, stopping in front of one of the boys. Brian. 

“Where are your socks?” Miss Narcissa demanded.

“I think someone stole them ma’am,” he replied lowly, eyes glued to the floor. Failure to comply to the dress code usually resulted in a show of displeasure, like yelling and a smack to the head. However the redhead was the closet thing to a favorite (if such a thing were possible with the monstrous woman) so the only reaction his words garnered were a deeper frown. 

“They had better be found by tomorrow morning.” Brian gave a curt nod in acknowledgement. Miss Narcissa marched down the line without any further incidents and turned on her heel to face the line of children. “Attend to your normal duties.” They broke apart to do just that. The quicker chores were completed, the sooner they could return to eat breakfast. Jaime went to follow the other girls but a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her, freezing her in place. 

“You are to gather and empty all the trash and clean every toilet. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jaime answered. It was the only correct response.

“Don’t talk to me in that ungrateful tone,” Miss Narcissa snarled before spinning around and marching into the kitchen, the sharp click clack following in her wake like hungry dogs snapping at her heels. Jaime stood there for a few seconds to reign in her frustration — those were the two smelliest chores! — before leaving to complete her newly assigned duties. 

An hour later found Jaime outside carrying the last garbage bag out to the dumpster. Trash duty was difficult for any child since it tended to be so heavy and bulky. The young girl was rather strong for her age and size but that didn’t help much when you needed a few tries to swing the thin bag over the high wall of the dumpster. Throw it with too much force and the cheap plastic would rip, scattering everything everywhere except where it actually needed to be. Two hands may have afforded her a better grip, but Jaime was forced to make do with just the one — her right arm to be exact. Her left was nothing but a stub that ended just a few inches shy of her elbow (or where it should have been). The stub was so short that she could wear a t-shirt and it would almost be completely covered. 

Jaime gritted her teeth and braced her feet shoulder width apart as she swung the garbage bag into the dumpster. It landed inside with a resounding clang. On the bright side, Miss Narcissa had put her on trash duty so many times that she’d slowly worked out a strategy to compensate for her limitations. She walked back inside to gather soap and a scrubber for the toilets, nose wrinkling at the imminent task. Did the headmistress know Jaime had such a sensitive nose? She must, the girl was forced to conclude, given the increasing frequency of the unenviable chore. 

Jaime managed to finish scrubbing the nasty toilets just minutes after the breakfast bell rang like it always did at eight o’clock sharp. She rushed to return the cleaning items to their designated spots, washed her hand thoroughly and ran down to the cafeteria to finally eat. The children would line up and Cook, the old heavyset lady in charge of their meals that mostly spoke in grunts and looks of disapproval, would hand them a small bowl of plain porridge paired with a single slice of bread. Mondays were the best because it was still somewhat fresh, soaking up the porridge rather nicely. By the end of the week it tended to be more crusty and dipping it into the porridge was a requirement instead of a pairing of choice. They weren’t starved by any means (something Miss Narcissa didn’t hesitate to point out if anyone dared to complain). Wouldn’t want prospective parents turned off by starving kids, or for the police to take an interest in Rockwell, she thought with a scowl. Not like it had worked in the past. No, they received just enough to get by. 

Jaime received her bowl of porridge and bread, along with a cup of water, and sat herself at a table in the corner of the cafeteria. She didn’t really have any friends since most of the kids had been put off at first by her one arm. And Jaime, who had been too intimidated by the new environment, hadn’t made any attempts early on either. 

A small four year old boy with light brown hair and baby blue eyes sat across from her. Well, except Charlie who had arrived almost a year ago. He’d practically latched onto Jaime and, after essentially following her around for half a year, eventually began to refer to her as his big sister. Jaime frowned at the sight of his bloodied lip, leaning across the table to inspect it, gently grasping his chin to turn it slightly for a better look. 

“Who was it?” she sighed, already plotting revenge. Charlie merely looked over his shoulder. Jaime followed his gaze and scowled when her eyes landed on Brian, who seemed to be in the middle of telling a group of younger boys an entertaining story.

“Honestly,” she grumbled as she scooped up her porridge, “the prick needs to lay off.” Charlie’s mouth curled into the beginnings of a smile and he nibbled on his porridge soaked bread.

“Do you really think someone stole his socks?” he asked. Jaime shrugged.

“Doubtful. Who would even want his stinky socks?” she returned with a sharp grin and they both laughed at that.

“What are you morons laughing at?” a voice sneered. They turned to see Brian standing with his arms crossed with a scowl on his face. He was twelve, the second oldest boy, and although he was scrawny he was also tall for his age. His unruly burnt orange hair looked like it had been attacked by a comb and the comb lost. His blue gray eyes were hard and burned with resentment. Jaime looked him up and down.

“Nothing,” she replied. Charlie barely withheld a snicker at her jab and Brian’s scowl deepened. 

“Think you’re funny stubby?” he growled, leaning forward slightly. Jaime eyed his towering frame, wondering if he would be dumb enough to try something here of all places. Surely Cook could see him from here?

“I think I’m hilarious,” she deadpanned. Charlie watched on silently, nervous gaze darting back and forth between the two. 

“Well you’re not.” Before he could continue, Miss Elizabeth entered the cafeteria. 

“All right children, time for studies!” the woman with honey blonde hair clapped her hands together to gain the room’s attention. Miss Elizabeth was the main caretaker at Rockwell Orphanage and was in charge of many of the day-to-day tasks, like schooling. She was also much kinder and gentler than Miss Narcissa and Jaime’s brain had nearly stalled when she found out they were actually sisters. No two people could be more different, being worlds apart in both physical appearance and temperament. Brian gave Jaime one last glare before turning and stomping away. No one questioned Miss Elisabeth, not even Brian. Who would want to get on the bad side (no one could confirm if it even existed) of the only nice person at Rockwell Orphanage? 

The rest of the day passed quickly: studies, lunch (day old peanut butter sandwiches), more studies, then free time at four until dinner at seven — unless, of course, you were unlucky enough to earn some form of punishment. Often times the children would make up games to play, catch up on sleep or (those capable) read something from the limited library of donated books. There weren’t many restrictions on what they could do, so long as it didn’t disrupt Miss Narcissa’s business (whatever that was). 

At four thirty the bell rang again, halting all activity. There was a brief pause before everyone dropped whatever they’d been doing previously. Children scrambled to straighten their clothes, rub off any dirt, and made themselves presentable looking. There was soon a mad dash downstairs to the meeting room, dedicated for just that purpose. Someone was interested in adopting and wanted to look at the children. Each kid passed by Miss Elizabeth who gave them a quick visual inspection to confirm that they were clear to enter. 

Jaime sighed and trudged up the stairs instead. She had quickly learned after the first few visits not to bother. Prospective parents usually weren’t interested in her, assuming she’d be more work than a normal child with two arms. They wanted a healthy kid to spoil that wouldn’t attract stares whenever they ran around. Jaime could run around and play just as well as any child, but adults seemed to think she was completely helpless. Someone to be coddled like a porcelain doll. To be pitied. 

One time a couple had actually been interested in adopting her, but Miss Narcissa had talked them out of it. The headmistress had spun a number of lies, that she was an attention seeking troublemaker, that she was always complaining, that she was ungrateful for the gifts bestowed upon her. Still being rather new to the orphanage, Jaime had angrily balked at the falsehoods and unwittingly given credence to the picture the woman’s words had painted. She scowled at the memory. It still made her blood boil, but she’d learned since then to contain her outrage over the matter. Any type of emotional outburst seemed to delight Miss Narcissa so she tried her best not to give the headmistress the reaction she wanted. 

Jaime climbed the stairs all the way to the roof. This was the one time of the day that Miss Narcissa wouldn’t mind if she wasn’t present, probably preferred it to be honest. The girl strolled to the edge of the building and sat on the ledge, letting her legs dangle off the side. She pulled her eyes away from the alley and now full dumpster below and up to the clear blue sky. 

Over two years had passed since the accident. She’d been seven at the time. Jaime and her parents were driving home from a movie that night, singing along to the radio, when the drunk driver came roaring around the corner and t-boned their car. The impact killed her mom and dad. It should have killed her too. A miracle! The doctors had declared when she survived, though not before they amputated her left arm. Apparently it had been completely crushed by the force of the impact and infection had quickly set in. She had to take their word for it since she’d been unconscious at the time. 

Jaime’s fingers ghosted over the stump — what little remained of her left arm — as she blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. She was nine now and had been counting down the years until she could leave. Once a kid turned sixteen they were allowed to strike out on their own. At least that was the belief. There were never any children over fifteen at the orphanage. Jaime wasn’t sure why that was the case but she had no plans to find out. The moment she could leave without getting dragged back here she was gone.

Jaime closed her eyes and soaked up the sun’s warmth. Images flashed before her eyes: two giant robots fighting with guns and swords, a big robot twirling around a tiny one in its arms, a giant cube with glyphs whispering soft words to her — Her eyes flew open and she forced herself to take deep breaths to calm her now thundering heartbeat. Flashes of old dreams. Just dreams.

They started when she was five, right before kindergarten. For a while they’d just been snippets of the robots doing normal things like talking and laughing — like they were people except made of metal. But after the accident, the dreams had become darker, more violent. Now whenever she saw the giant metal robots, they tended to be fighting. Guns, explosions, bleeding wounds. They were always trying to kill each other. The horrible images scared her. She lost count of how many robots she’d seen die, sparking frames left abandoned on the ground as red or blue lights that looked suspiciously like eyes grew dim before shutting off entirely.

Jaime roughly scrubbed her face and forced her mind to focus on other things. At least she didn’t get sick anymore, she thought. She could only imagine how miserable it would be to get sick here of all places, managing not to catch any of the viral outbreaks whenever they popped up at the orphanage. She peered over the edge of the building as an unfamiliar blue car drove away. Meet and greet must be done, she mused and stood up to head back inside for dinner. 

Brian seemed to have forgotten about their earlier encounter during lunch and left her and Charlie alone. They didn’t talk much over their diluted chicken noodle soup. Jaime’s sharp ears picked up from chatter that a little girl had been adopted. She quickly downed the rest of her soup and returned the bowl along with her spoon to the counter. Charlie wordlessly followed her, worrying her greatly. The kid was usually a chatterbox. They climbed up the stairs to the small joint bedroom and Jaime pushed open the door to the girls’ dormitory. The shared bedroom was empty since everyone was still finishing their dinner. She headed toward her bed and sat down on the lumpy mattress. Charlie, she realized, was still standing in the doorway with his gaze directed at the floor. 

“What’s wrong Charlie?” she asked.

“…Am I ever gonna get adopted?” A sniffle escaped him as he lifted his head. 

“Oh Charlie,” Jaime exhaled softly and stretched out her arm. “Come here.” Charlie shuffled over and joined her on the bed. Jaime firmly wrapped her arm around him. Part of her — a small and very selfish part — didn’t want her only friend to leave. Her chances of being adopted were pretty much zero. But the same could not be same for Charlie and it wasn’t fair for her to wish such a terrible fate on the boy. So instead she said, “It might happen next week or it might be a year from now. But I’m absolutely certain you’ll get adopted Charlie. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life.” He craned his head to look up at her. 

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” she affirmed, pouring all her confidence into her words. “You’re the most caring, funniest, smartest, four year old I know.”

“I’m the only four year old you know,” Charlie muttered into her shoulder. 

“Ugh,” Jaime rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to have a moment here — ”

“ — Madison’s only been here for two months and she already got adopted!” Charlie interrupted her. “I’ve been here for so much longer!”

“Well, it sounded like they wanted a girl,” she tried. That had been the impression she’d picked up from other people’s conversations regarding the meeting. “So they probably already had a bunch of toys and clothes picked out waiting at home. You wouldn’t want to be stuck wearing dresses would you?” But the attempt at levity fell flat when Charlie’s teary-eyed expression didn’t change. 

“If it meant leaving this place…Yea.” Jaime swallowed a groan. She was so not good with tears.
 
“Look,” she persevered. “I know there’s a family out there looking for a little boy just like you. But they won’t get the chance to adopt you if you don’t wait for them. But they are coming. I promise.” Charlie stared at her for a handful of moments. 

“Best friend’s honor?” he asked in a painfully tentative voice.
 
“Best friend’s honor,” she nodded firmly. He sniffled again and wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt, before pulling out of her embrace to face her head on. 

“Maybe they’ll adopt you too,” said Charlie as his usual grin unfurled. “If they really want me, then they won’t care what you look like.” Jaime barely managed to keep her smile in place, her stomach twisting at the unrealistic hope. Charlie reached out and squeezed her hand. “You’re meant to leave this place too, Jaime.” She didn’t voice her disagreement and instead returned the gesture. A few girls entered the communal bedroom, alerting the two of the late hour. It was close to bedtime. “Can you tell me another story tonight?” Charlie whispered. 

“Hmm, maybe if you can be ready in the next five minutes…” Jaime trailed. Not needing any more prompting, the boy leapt off the bed and ran out the door, causing her to chuckle. She quickly changed into her pajamas and soon Charlie came racing back into the bedroom. 

“I’m ready!” he exclaimed, earning several shushes from the other girls in the room. Jaime bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the boy’s put off expression. She reached out and ruffled his hair, making Charlie dance out of reach with a pout. “Jaime,” he whined lowly as he attempted to fix the mess she’d made. 

“Alright, lay down,” she ordered softly which Charlie quickly obeyed. She preferred to tell the story in the girls’ bedroom and carry Charlie into the boys’ room across the hall. That way there was less chance of being interrupted by others, like Brian. The silver lining of being the unpopular cripple was that no one was eager to have their bed next to her, so she had the corner all to herself. Which was just fine with her, she wasn’t eager for anyone to overhear these bedtime stories that Charlie looked forward to. She didn’t want to provide yet another reason for them to think of her as a freak. “Okay, who do you want to hear about?”

“Optimus!” the boy whispered excitedly. Jaime felt a grin tug at her lips. Like she even had to ask. Her dreams about a robot named Optimus were his favorite to hear. 

“Did I ever tell you how he became Optimus?” she leaned forward, resting her arm on the frame of the bed as support. Charlie shook his head, eyes wide. “You see, his name used to be Orion Pax.”

“Really?” 

“Uh huh, he used to be an archivist on Cybertron.”

“What’s that?” Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“It’s kind of like a librarian,” Jaime explained. “Anyway, the head archivist — librarian — ” she corrected before he could interrupt her again “ — introduced him to Sentinel Prime, the leader of Cybertron at the time. Orion was kind, humble, and modest. But most importantly, he was truthful even when it might have been easier not to be. Sentinel was so impressed with Orion that he took him on as an apprentice. Megatron was gaining more support at the time — ” Charlie shivered at the familiar name. 

“Bad robot,” he mumbled. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “But he claimed to be a freedom fighter at the time which other robots liked. He wanted all the robots to be equal, but then he got greedy for power and wanted to rule over everyone. So much so, that he was willing to start a planet-wide war.” Charlie’s eyelids began to droop shut. “Orion Pax soon took on the name Optimus Prime. He tried to negotiate for peace, but things were so bad on Cybertron that no one would listen. Optimus eventually became the commander of the Autobots and dedicated himself to fight for everyone’s freedom. He defended the innocent and protected those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. He became strong enough to be gentle. So that truth and justice could prevail.”

Charlie’s eyes were closed and his breathing had evened out to the slow deep exhales of slumber, the ghost of a satisfied smile rested on his face. Jaime gently picked him up, he was worryingly light for his age, and carried him to the boys’ dormitory. The few occupants still awake were long-used to this and paid her no attention. She laid Charlie onto his mattress and pulled the thinning blanket over him. She quietly walked back to her own bed and snuggled under the blanket, screwing her eyes shut with a soft sigh.

Please no nightmares tonight, she thought before drifting off to sleep. 

Chapter Text

Jaime had been hoping for a dreamless and peaceful night. It did still happen occasionally, but it wasn’t meant to be this particular night. The girl saw flashes of scenes filled with the giant robots, some familiar and some not. She quickly noticed a glaring difference. They were no longer on their metal planet Cybertron. 

During night time in an alley, five robots of varying sizes were talking to two teenagers, a girl and a boy. Her mind reeled as the tallest robot began to introduce himself and the rest of his comrades. She recognized these robots! They’d all appeared in her dreams before but…now they were on Earth! Why? The scene began to blur but she was still able to hear Optimus utter, “We are here looking for the Allspark, and we must find it before Megatron.” Jaime’s mind went into hyper drive. Megatron was here too? The leader of the Decepticons? And what was the Allspark?

The dream shifted and the same robots were now all leaning up against a regular looking house in a regular looking neighborhood. It would have been humorous watching them awkwardly hide their hulking frames as they peered inside if not for the conversation taking place. The giant black one sounded annoyed.

“The parents are very irritating,” he was saying, canons humming. “Can I take them out?”

“Ironhide, you know we don’t harm humans,” Optimus admonished lowly, as if concerned about being overheard. Perhaps by the occupants of the house? “What is with you?” The scene was already fading as Ironhide replied.

“Well I’m just saying we could…It’s an option.” Parents? Jaime wondered. Although it was reassuring to hear the Autobot leader’s firm stance against harming humans. Typical Optimus, she thought with a burst of fondness. They might not be real, but it still felt like she’d gotten to know many of these robots in a way over the years through her dreams. 

Next she was inside a large cavernous room that felt suspiciously familiar. In the middle was a giant silver robot and her stomach sunk at the sight. She knew who that was. Humans were running around in jerky and panicky movements as alarms blared loudly overhead. Sheets of ice fell off the robot as he began to move. “I am Megatron,” he growled. Again the scene shifted. 

Jaime’s head spun as she watched the teenage boy from the alley run through the streets of a smoking city. Explosions sounded in the distance. “Keep moving Sam! Don’t stop!” a nearby Ironhide shouted. The teenager sprinted even faster. A glint of light caught her attention and Jaime realized that something was tucked close to his chest, some kind of metal box with glyphs carved into it. The sight strongly reminded her of a charging football player racing for the end zone. Although here, she could see, the stakes were much higher. 

The last scene made her stomach churn. She appeared to be in the same city as two silver robots battled against each other, one considerably larger than the other. 

“Is tha’ all ya got Megatron?” the smaller robot shouted at his larger opponent. The taunt had to be for show. He was fighting a losing battle, even she could see that despite her disorientation.

“Come here you little cretin!” Megatron snarled.

“Ya wanna piece of meh? Ya wanna piece?” the smaller robot demanded, holding his own valiantly. Jazz, she recalled from the introductions in the alley. His name was Jazz. Megatron caught him by foot, but the brave robot still managed to fire off a couple of shots. He wasn’t going down without a fight. Where were the other Autobots? Jaime wondered, her stomach twisting with worry. “No,” Megatron replied, voice smug, as he grabbed Jazz on both sides. “I want two!” And he ripped the poor robot in half. Jaime winced at the brutal execution even as her arm unconsciously reached out. It was pointless to do so but she couldn’t help it. The robot was seconds away from dying, she could feel it. But he didn’t deserve such a fate. Not after fighting so fearlessly with the odds stacked against him. If only he could be saved. She found herself wishing, desperately, that he wouldn’t die. 

Then the strangest thing happened. It was only a dream. Jaime knew she was still asleep. But there was a brief moment when the robot’s head turned toward her. Despite the blue visor covering his eyes, she got the uneasy feeling that he was looking right at her. A second later the tinted visor went dark, a dull gray color like the rest of his frame. 

There was a blinding flash. When Jaime opened her eyes, she was on the ground watching Megatron clawing at his chest like he was in agony. The teenage boy from before was lifting the small metallic box high overhead and she stared as pieces of the cube seemed to disintegrate and burn a hole right through Megatron’s chest. She wasn’t able to watch for long because soon she was filled with a burning sensation. She gasped and dropped to her knees as the fire originating from her chest spread to the rest of her body. It hurt so much she couldn’t even cry out as her body overheated from the inside out. Just when she thought she might spontaneously combust, the pain faded as quickly as it had started. She stood shakily and turned away form the cooling corpse of Megatron. 

Jaime blinked when she was met with a gathering of robots and humans, including the same two teenagers from the alley and some military men. 

“Prime, we couldn't save him,” said Ironhide as he handed Optimus two metal pieces. Jaime felt a sharp pang in her chest when she realized what they were.

“Oh Jazz…” Her eyes nearly watered at the poorly hidden grief in the Autobot leader’s voice. She’d heard it before in past dreams, but it felt more profound here. Optimus seemed to quickly gather himself, compartmentalizing his emotions to address those now looking to him for direction. “We lost a great comrade, but gained new ones. Thank you, all of you. You honor us with your bravery.”

The scene blurred and Jaime was left alone in the partially destroyed city. She looked around and waited to wake up but nothing happened. Was she supposed to do something? The girl turned on her heel and gasped when she saw a bright blue orb hovering in front of her just a few feet of the ground. She hesitantly took a step closer to the enchanting light. She reached her hand out to touch it. Instead of coming into contact with a solid surface, her fingers passed through. The light felt warm and comforting.

“’Ey shorty tha’ tickles,” an oddly familiar (yet not) voice chuckled. Jaime quickly withdrew her hand and whirled around. No one was there. Her eyes darted back and forth, confusion marring her face. She checked over her shoulder but she was still alone. A part of her mind noted that the floating orb hadn’t moved.

“Who’s there?” she called.

“Designation’s Jazz, lil’ lady.” Jaime twisted around again. No one was there. Her hand trembled and she took a step closer to the strangely comforting ball of blue light, her elbow almost brushing up against it.

“Show yourself!” she demanded.

“C’n’t get much closuh than this swee’spark,” said the voice. Jaime froze. It almost sounded like it was coming from…she turned to stare at the floating orb. It was about the size of a small basketball and gave off a steady blue light. 

“What are you,” she exhaled softly, eyes wide with wonder. The orb brightened momentarily as if it were grinning at her.

“Like Ah said, the designation’s Jazz. As for wha’ Ah am, well…Ah’m an Autobot from Cybuhtron.” He paused here and Jaime got the distinct impression that he expected her to ask what an Autobot or Cybertron was. Jazz. The robot from before. Jaime took a deep breath and tiredly rubbed face. 

“Oh, right. You’re the one that — ” died, she almost said. But that felt kind of rude to remind him like that so she changed it last second to “ — took on Megatron.” The blue orb dimmed slightly as if confused by her response. 

“…How did ya know tha’?” Jaime hugged herself and turned away. Wake up! She commanded herself. As if sensing her growing distress, the ball of light — Jazz — glided closer to her chest.

“’Ey it’s okay,” he tried to comfort her. “Ah didn’ mean t’ upset ya.”

“You didn’t,” she sniffed. The warmth of the blue light — of Jazz — chased away a shiver. “It’s just these stupid dreams. I hate them. I’m…” Jaime repressed a hiccup. “…I’m so tired of watching robots kill each other.” Jazz was silent for several beats as if mulling over her words. 

“Wha’s yor name?” he finally asked.

“Why do you want to know?” Jaime scrubbed her face in an attempt to prevent herself from crying. She could feel the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. She wasn’t sure why she bothered though. It wasn’t like any of this was real. 

“Well, Ah told ya mine. Seems only fair ya tell meh yors.” She studied the ball of light. “Unless ya want me t’ jus’ keep on callin’ ya shorty,” he tacked on. Jazz sounded all too willing do just that. Which was kind of insulting since he was previously a giant robot. Any human would appear short standing next to him. Not to mention hypocritical. She was much taller than him now since he’d been reduced to a ball of light the size of a small basketball. But she wisely kept this to herself. 

“…Jaime.” The orb brightened and she couldn’t help but offer a tiny smile in return.

“Well Jaime, ya wouldn’ happen t’ know where we are do ya?” Her brows furrowed at the odd question. Did he not recognize the city he’d been fighting in just moments before? She’d never seen this place, why would she know its name?

“How do you not know where you are?” she asked. “I saw you earlier with Megatron, the jerk.” It was one thing to kill someone. It was a whole nother thing to do it by literally ripping them apart. Jazz chuckled as if he found her response amusing. 

“Yea well aftuh Megsy — uh — finished meh off…Ah expected t’ be sent t’ the Well of All Sparks.” There were a moment of silence as Jaime turned the odd phrase over in her mind. Nope, didn’t sound familiar. 

“…Okay, I’ll bite,” she said. “What is the Well of All Sparks?”

“It’s where a Cybuhtronian’s spark goes aftuh bein’ offlined,” Jazz explained. Offline must mean dead, she mentally filled in. So it was their version of an afterlife? “It’s connected t’ the Allspark.”

“I keep hearing that word,” she muttered with a faint frown. “What is this Allspark?” It must be important since everyone seemed to be after it.

“It c’n also be called the cube. It holds the powuh t’ create life. Tha’s how Cybuhtron was born,” Jazz answered before adding softly, “Ah wonduh if they managed t’ get it t’ safety.” Jaime chewed her bottom lip, debating herself. The image of the running teenager from before appeared in her mind.

“Does the Allspark look like a small silver box about this size?” she demonstrated with her hand. “With little symbols carved into it?” The blue orb brightened and Jazz seemed to perk up at her description. 

“It c’n be bigguh, but yea tha’ sounds like the Allspark. Bee shrunk the cube for easiuh transport. A human — Sam, Ah think — was given it t’ take it t’ safety. Don’ need the Decepticons gettin’ their servos on it.” He said the last part with a note of wry humor. Decepticons. That was the side that Megatron led…who was now dead. Did that mean the fighting would stop now that their leader was gone? 

“Why do they want the cube in the first place?” she asked. Megatron didn’t seem the type to be interested in creating life, quite the opposite in fact.

“It’s powuh would allow ’em t’ build a new army an’ wipe out any who oppose ’em.” There was a brief pause. “Includin’ the human race.” Jaime frowned at that. Unlimited soldiers, she realized. That’s what Megatron had been after? Well he was dead now. And so was the Allspark so to speak. Disintegrated right into Megatron’s chest. Should she…? Just a dream, she reminded herself. Not real. But it sounded important and Jazz had apparently given his life to protect the thing. 

“How pleasant,” she offered, making him chuckle. “Well, that won’t be happening.” 

“No?” Jazz sounded equal parts amused and curious by her confidence. 

“The cube was destroyed.” The ball of light began to pulse rapidly. 

“Optimus? Did he — ” And for the first time since the beginning of their strange encounter, Jazz sounded mildly alarmed. 

“What?” Jaime blinked, suddenly feeling bad for stressing out the dead Autobot. “No, Sam shoved it into Megatron’s chest. Optimus is fine.” I think, she added silently. The blue orb brightened and the frantic pulsing stopped. 

“Ya talk like ya saw it yorself,” he remarked. 

“Pretty much,” Jaime shrugged. 

“These…dreams of yors. They happen a lot?”

“Yea, since I was five.” Before Jazz could ask her another question — his burning curiosity was almost palpable — the city began to shift. The edges blurred and the colors smudged together like melting wax. Jaime let out a relieved sigh. She was finally waking up. 

“Well, this dream was super weird even by my standards,” she offered the ball of blue light, her mouth curling into a tentative smile. “But it could have been worse. Nice meeting you, I guess.” She’d never been able to talk to one of the robots in her dreams before. It was kind of nice. She idly wondered if it would happen again.

“Shor…same ’ere,” Jazz answered somewhat distractedly. 

******

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Jaime’s eyes snapped open as she rolled out of bed to get ready for the day. This morning she was the last girl out the door. Her heart sped up, she needed to hurry. She jogged down the hallway and passed by the broken mirror (which still hadn’t been replaced even years later) that she always walked by. Every morning she’d quickly glance at the reflection to assure herself that she was presentable looking. Miss Narcissa hated lots of things, including scruffy appearances. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Jaime? 

She turned around. No one was there. She gave a little shrug and continued down the hall. 

Jaime. 

The girl spun around again, but she didn’t see anyone.

“Who is it?” she demanded, gaze flitting back and forth as she tried to spot wherever the mystery person was hiding. 

It’s meh…Jazz. Jaime’s eyebrows scrunched together in a confused manner.

“Jazz?” she repeated with a small frown.

Aw c’mon. Ya didn’ forget ’bout meh already did ya? Tha’ hurts lil’ lady. Jaime’s frowned deepened. Oh God, she thought. It’s finally happening. I’m hearing voices.

Wha’ voices? It’s jus’ us. Jaime swallowed and she slowly began to back down the hallway until she reached the top of the stairs. Heart in her throat, she sprinted down the wooden boards and dashed into the cafeteria. Jaime immediately skidded to a stop. Oh no, she was late. Miss Narcissa scowled over at her.

“So our cripple decided to grace us with her presence after all,” the woman sneered. Fear rooted Jaime’s feet to the floor. “Come here!” Her legs felt like they were filled with lead as she shuffled over to the furious headmistress. The line of children watched the unfolding disaster in utter silence. “Apologies if we’re interrupting your beauty sleep,” Miss Narcissa’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “But not all of us can just lounge around in bed all day and let others dote on us.” Jaime bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from retorting. She was being baited and everyone in the room knew it. “You think you should get special attention because you’re handicapped?”

“No ma’am,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Look at me when you answer me!” Miss Narcissa growled. Jaime dragged her gaze from the ground and up to the headmistress, doing her utmost not to let her fear show.

“Yes ma’am,” she replied softly, resolutely meeting the woman’s dark eyes. Miss Narcissa’s head snapped to the line of children pretending not to stare. Charlie’s little hands were shoved in his pockets, balled into anxious fists.

“Out of here — all of you!” she barked at them. Not needing to be told twice, they scattered. Miss Narcissa’s angry gaze refocused on the girl, so she missed Charlie pausing in the doorway. Jaime saw the silent question in his eyes. No she did not want him to stay. If the headmistress caught sight of him he’d be punished severely for disobeying. She gave a tiny shake of her head. Charlie hesitated but eventually scampered off. 

Unfortunately she was not as subtle as she’d hoped. Even worse, apparently Miss Narcissa had just asked her a question…and no was the wrong answer. 

“No?!” the headmistress bellowed. “Don’t you EVER say no to me when I give you an order!” The fuming woman snatched her shoulder painfully tight and dragged her out of the cafeteria and down the hallway to a set of stairs. Jaime gasped when she realized where she was being taken.

“No! No please!” she begged. “Don’t leave me there!” But her pleas fell on deaf ears. They passed by more and more dilapidated walls until they came to a solid and fairly new looking metal door. The headmistress fished into her pocket and pulled out a small gold key. Growing increasingly desperate, Jaime tried to squirm out of her grasp, causing Miss Narcissa to squeeze even harder as she unlocked the door. It swung open with an oily creak and the headmistress shoved Jaime — who nearly faceplanted over the threshold — into the tiny room. She quickly scrambled to her feet and turned. “Please don’t leave me here!” she tried again, pushing the words out of her tightening throat. “Please, I’ll do anything!” Miss Narcissa paused, and for a brief heart-stopping moment she wondered if the woman was actually reconsidering.

“Now, now,” she replied, wagging her index finger in a condescending manner, “take your punishment like a good child.” And the door slammed shut. Jaime stared at the slab of metal with mounting horror, the sound of the lock being turned and footsteps retreating echoed loudly in her ears. She backed up into the damp brick wall, her breathing coming out in short gasps. She sunk to the cold floor and hugged her knees to her chest. 

Jaime was now currently trapped in what the children called ‘the box.’ An unimaginative name perhaps, but exceedingly accurate. It was a small brick room that was only six feet by six feet. It was always damp and it was always cold. The only source of light was the small gap — barely two inches — underneath the metal door. It was one of the most severe punishment methods that Miss Narcissa used because one never knew how long they would be locked up. It could be hours, maybe even the whole day. Time passed slowly this far underground in the dark. 

There was a persistent rumor that one of the kids had been left in here during a thunderstorm and the orphanage had suffered from severe flooding. He’d been in the box for so long that everyone had forgotten he was down there when the building was evacuated. With no way to escape, he had drowned alone in the box. Jaime shivered, trying to think of something else.

Yo’r not gonna drown Jaime. The girl started. Who said that? She was alone in the box…Wasn’t she? She gulped. She hoped so. It’s okay lil’ lady, Ah’m still ’ere. Jaime shivered, although she wasn’t sure if it was from fear or the cold.

“W-who are you?” she whispered. Was that a sigh she heard? 

Ah told ya, mah designation’s Jazz — ’member? The good lookin’ Autobot from Cybuhtron?

“Jazz?” she muttered to herself, mind reeling. “T-the same Jazz from my dream?” 

The one an’ only. Jaime frowned.

“But you’re not real.” 

Who says Ah’m not real? Ya c’n hear meh, can’tcha?

“That just means I’m going crazy,” she rolled her eyes. You probably weren’t supposed to talk back to the voices in your head, but the tight band around her lungs was starting to loosen so she didn’t reprimand herself for encouraging it. 

Yo’r not goin’ crazy. She let out an amused huff. Of course the voice in her head didn’t think she was going crazy. Though, Ah gotta admit this is a bit strange. Jazz was quiet for a moment. That silence lengthened until she began to wonder if she had simply imagined the entire conversation. 

Jaime. Nope guess not, she thought. There was a confused pause. Wha’?

“Nothing,” Jaime cleared her throat, feeling a flush of embarrassment but she wasn’t sure why. What did it matter what the voice in her head thought of her?

…Who was tha’ femme? An’ why was she so cruel t’ ya? Jazz asked. He sounded upset. Sparklin’s shouldn’ be treated like tha’. Jaime scuffed her foot against the stone floor.

“That’s Miss Narcissa. She’s the headmistress of the orphanage,” she explained. Her heartbeat was no longer thumping like a race horse trying to escape her chest. Real or not, the voice was soothing. 

Orphanage? Jazz repeated, like the term was unfamiliar. 

“A place where kids without parents go until they’re adopted or old enough to live on their own.”

Ain’t caretakers supposed t’ be — Ah don’ know — gentluh? A snort escaped Jaime. Wha’s so funny? The idea of anyone expecting that kind of behavior from Miss Narcissa of all people made her want to laugh, which was ironic considering her current predicament. 

“She isn’t a caretaker. Not really,” Jaime shook her head. “She’s just in charge of the orphanage. Miss Elizabeth is the caretaker.” Her eyebrows knitted together as her brain finally registered one of the terms he’d used — or rather, how he’d used it. “What are sparklings?” 

They’re the equivalent t’ a young human offspring. Jaime’s eyes narrowed.

“Did you just call me a baby?” she asked, tone bordering indignant. There was a brief pause like Jazz was suddenly rethinking his strategy. 

No.

“You just said — ” 

Ah said they’re the equivalent t’ a young human offspring…An’ yo’r a young human offspring. 

“Well I’m not a baby,” she grumbled. “I’m nine.”

Well, congrats lil’ lady! The corner of her mouth curled into a reluctant smile. She couldn’t help it, his enthusiasm was contagious. She might be hearing the voice of a — supposedly — dead Autobot, but Jazz seemed alright as far as confidants went. It wasn’t like she had a lot of options to choose from. Did it matter if he just so happened to be a voice in her head? She loved Charlie with all her heart, he was her best friend. But he was also half her age and she was supposed to be looking out for him. She couldn’t weigh him down with her own worries. Big sisters weren’t supposed to do that. 

There was a tentative knock at the door.

“Jaime?” She gasped and scrambled over to the door.

“Charlie!” she hissed. “What are you doing down here?” Her ears picked up the sound of the shuffling feet.

“I had to make sure you were okay,” he answered. “And I brought you this.” A plain bagel that had been flattened was shoved underneath the door’s crack. Jaime scooped it up and consumed it greedily. Her growling stomach began to quiet once it was no longer empty. 

“Thanks Charlie,” she murmured. “But seriously! How many times do I have to tell you? Stop stealing food from the kitchen!”

“But Jaime,” he whined. “Cook never notices me. No one pays attention to me ’cause I’m so small.” Jaime sighed and resisted the urge to bang her forehead against the metal door. “Besides I thought you’d be hungry since you missed breakfast.” Her head snapped back up and she stared at the door. 

“What? How long have I been in here?”

“Well, it was almost noon when I came down,” said Charlie. Jaime was speechless. How had the time passed so quickly? She looked over her shoulder at the small room and was surprised when she realized something. She wasn’t terrified. She was still afraid of the room, it made her uneasy. But she wasn’t petrified. She could breathe easily. Her heartbeat wasn’t pounding in her chest. “Jaime?” Charlie whispered when she failed to respond. “Are you okay?” Jaime took a deep breath. It may seem like a stupid question but he needed reassurance that he wasn’t going to lose her.

“I’m fine Charlie,” she said. “Thanks for the bagel. Now get back upstairs before Miss Narcissa finds you down here.”

“Oh, she’s not here,” he quickly informed her.

“What?” she blinked at the unexpected news. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know.” There was the sound of a shoe scuffing the ground. “I think she left to run an errand or something.” Was she meeting with Mr. Jaxon again? Jaime had never met the man, but she’d heard the name mentioned in passing. He dealt more with the upkeep and business side of the orphanage, according to Miss Elizabeth, so he didn’t really have any contact with the children. He seemed to give Miss Narcissa lots of documents though. She always came back with those whenever she saw him. 

“Well…you should still get back upstairs before anyone notices,” she instructed. 

“Okay, I’ll come back after dinner if you’re not out yet.” Before Jaime could respond — and tell him no that was not a good idea, don’t you dare — Charlie’s footsteps faded away. 

“Little smarty pants,” she grumbled.

Wha’s tha’ supposed t’ mean? Jaime startled. She nearly forgot about Jazz.

“It’s a human saying,” she huffed softly, returning to her previous position. “Thinks he’s so smart running off like that.” 

Jaime spent the next few hours talking to the voice in her head. It was still kind of weird, but Jazz was pleasant company. He described what Cybertron was like before the war, filling in the gaps that her dreams hadn’t covered. With her prodding, he told her about his comrades that he’d traveled to Earth with, providing details she hadn’t known before. 

She learned about Ratchet’s reputation and bedside manner, which Jazz was quick to assure her did not extend to sparklings (she rolled her eyes at that). And despite the rough exterior he presented, the medic truly cared about his patients. Jazz soon moved on to the gruff weapons specialist Ironhide, who sounded a lot like the cowboys from old westerns her dad used to watch. It took her a while to compose herself when a snickering Jazz told her that a dog had peed on his foot. As Jazz talked about the team’s scout, Bumblebee, she wondered if there were more Autobots in space. Upon voicing her question Jazz confirmed that there were indeed many of his brethren still up in space. Jazz began to list off a bunch of Autobots to her.

There’s Bluestreak. One of the fastest talkuhs evuh. Then there’s Wheeljack. He’s the resident inventuh. Word a warnin’ tho, he c’n get carried away. Don’ evuh help ’im wit’ somethin’ if he asks for yor help.

“Why not?” Jaime asked, interest piqued.

Let’s jus’ say tha’ his workshop is a designated danguh zone for a reason. Jaime cocked her eyebrow.

“You sound like you’re talking from personal experience.” Jazz didn’t answer right away. She barked out a laugh before she covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle the giggle.

Yea yea, laugh all ya want. Jus’ ya wait til ya meet ’im yourself. ’Course, the twins may be the only ones more destructive than ’im.

“Sideswipe and Sunstreaker right?” She’d had plenty of dreams with those two, before and during the war.

Yup. Jazz then told her all about their greatest pranks, along with their most popular targets which included an Autobot named Prowl. 

“Prowl?” Jaime asked. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

He’s the second-in-command an’ one of the best tacticians evuh, Jazz almost sounded like he was bragging on the Autobot’s behalf. ’Course tha’ doesn’t come without a downside…’is logic processor may be one of the best Cybuhtron has evuh seen, but anythin’ too illogical can make ’im fritz. 

“How is that a weakness?”

It c’n be too much for his processor an’ make ’im glitch. Jaime frowned at the foreign term. He kept sprinkling them in. Go tempuhrarily offline? Jazz attempted to clarify a moment later. Like a reboot.

“Oh,” her eyes widened with understanding. “You mean he’ll faint?” 

…Tha’ sounds about right. Jaime snorted, the corner of her mouth curling upward. 

“Really…” she mused as she considered all the weird things humans said and did. Earth was probably the last place someone like that ought to be.

Primus help ’im if ya ever met the twins. Ya’d get along great — well — at least wit’ Sideswipe…Not shor ’bout Sunstreakuh. Before Jaime could respond, the metal door swung open. She flinched, expecting to see the angry headmistress. Instead she was met with the sight of Miss Elizabeth.

“Miss Elizabeth!” she exclaimed, shooting to her feet.

“Jaime,” the woman let out a relieved sigh. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” She led the girl out of the small dank room. 

“How did you know where I was?” she asked as they made their way up the stairs.

“You have a very loyal friend,” the women smiled. “Oh — eat this. Quickly.” She handed Jaime a folded napkin. Inside rested two small peanut butter sandwiches. Jaime didn’t bother asking questions and quickly gobbled them down. When life handed you food, you ate it.

“Thank you,” she said after finishing, licking her gums clean. The women smiled down at her kindly.

“Now run along to bed. They already finished dinner.”

“Yes ma’am!” Jaime darted away with a wide grin. She reached shared bedroom and quickly changed into her pajamas, the rest of the occupants were already falling asleep. She was about to crawl into bed when she heard a soft gasp from the doorway.

“Jaime!” She turned around at the barely contained whisper to see a beaming Charlie.

“Hey Charlie.” The boy ran into the room and flung himself at her. She scooped him up with her arm, twirling him around, and they both tumbled onto her bed.

“Shh!” one of the girls hissed and rolled over. Charlie and Jaime stared at each other for a handful of seconds before breaking into a fit of quiet giggles.

“Thanks bud for telling Miss Elizabeth where I was.”

“Friends watch each other’s backs, remember?” he grinned at her which she returned. 

When Charlie first arrived, some of the older boys had picked on him for his big ears. Unable to watch the new kid suffer because of something completely outside his control (it wasn’t even a physical deformity!), Jaime had jumped in, resulting in a brief fist fight. The short brawl — if it could even be called that — had ended with Jaime threatening to do worse if she ever caught them picking on Charlie again. Of course, she’d later gotten in trouble and missed dinner. But it had been worth it. That same night Charlie had snuck into the girls’ dormitory and offered her two fresh bread rolls he’d snitched from the kitchen as a thank you gesture. When she questioned him about it he’d shyly told her that friends should watch each other’s backs. And so they’d been best friends ever since. 

“You better get to bed,” she ruffled his short brown hair. He scowled at her and swatted her hand away.

“I’m going, I’m going!” he whispered hurriedly and trotted back to the doorway. He turned to give her one last wave before heading across the hall to the boys’ room. Jaime crawled into her bed and snuggled under her blanket.

“Good night Jazz,” she whispered lowly.

G’night swee’spark, he answered. 

For the first time in a long while, Jaime fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Chapter Text

Jazz

The Autobot saboteur had been in a lot of strange situations during his long life. Like that time he had to sneak out of Kalis disguised as a femme neutral while missing a servo. Or when he’d been stuck behind enemy lines and seduced his way past a checkpoint because his processor had been partially fragmented. And he’d never forget the time Prowl nearly took his helm off because his battle computer wouldn’t shut down. The twins had staunchly avoided the tactician for a solid lunar cycle after that. No, peculiar situations came with the territory of special operations. 

And yet, the strangest of all wasn’t even during his lifetime but rather after it. Instead of returning to the Well of Sparks, Jazz found himself anchored to an alien youngling from another planet. Was this how he would spend the rest of his afterlife? Jaime herself was decent enough company, even if she relegated him to a mere ‘voice in her head’ at first. The more he talked about Cybertron and his comrades, the more her theory lost credence until she was forced to admit okay maybe Jazz was who he said he was. Girl was stubborn, but maybe that was a learned behavior given her environment. 

Jazz scowled at the thought of the orphanage — or he would have been if he’d been in his frame (this disembodied spirit business was weird). It seemed to be the Earth equivalent of a youngling center, though he sincerely hoped it wasn’t indicative of all human orphanages. The headmistress, Miss Narcissa, had more in common with a Decepticon than any guardian he’d ever met as far as Jazz could tell. The caretaker that found Jaime locked up in the small chamber, Miss Elizabeth, seemed alright, but he didn’t understand why she didn’t rid the orphanage of the most definitely unqualified headmistress. 

The first night Jaime recharged with him was an interesting experience. Throughout the orn — day? That was the term being thrown around though it didn’t feel like a direct comparison — he would sometimes receive flashes of what she was thinking or feeling. There didn’t appear to be a pattern of what reached him and what didn’t. If there was then it was too inconsistent for him to determine the parameters. He wondered idly if Prowl could have made sense of it with that impressive processor of his. Then again, this whole situation was crazy so maybe not. 

The veil separating him from Jaime’s mind — he soon discovered — seemed especially permeable while she was offline. He saw flashes of unfamiliar people and places. 

A pair of humans — a femme and a mech — that bore a strong physical resemblance to the youngling he was now anchored to. Creators?

A younger Jaime with two arms kicking around a sphere with the same male human from before. 

An even tinier version of the girl wandering around a cavernous room with smooth metal walls. She looked lost. 

Memories, Jazz realized. He was seeing Jaime’s memories. Curiosity and apprehension clashed like two antagonistic forces. Well, it wasn’t like he could do much about the breach of privacy. He didn’t choose to be here (which begged the question of just how he landed in his current predicament in the first place. Or why). 

That was when a number of scenes centering around Cybertron began to take shape. These were much fainter — almost impressions really. But they were enough to confirm what the youngling had said earlier during their first meeting. Somehow Jaime was tapping into the past events of Cybertron both before and during their civil war. But how? She was human. What could possibly link her to them?

The memories began to dial back in their intensity and frequency, making him realize that the girl was coming out of recharge.

Jaime brought her optics online — eyes, the term drifted into his mind — and stared at the ray of sunlight filtering in from the small window high above. The sleeping quarters had a number of narrow panes closer to the ceiling that allowed the morning light into the room. She took a deep breath (unlike Cybertronians, humans seemed to require the act of constantly cycling air) and stretched in a way that reminded Jazz of a cybercat. She blinked a few times and he sensed the distinct impression of confusion. The girl slowly sat up as she seemed to ponder something. 

“No dreams?” she muttered to herself. Curious, he thought. Had his presence influenced that? She didn’t seem bothered by their absence though, quite the opposite in fact. He felt her good mood surge, filling her frame, as she got ready for the day. She didn’t rush out of the sleeping quarters like last time because it was Sunday — whatever that meant. He hoped he wouldn’t have to witness a repeat of the previous day. Just recalling the memory threatened to make his energon boil…if he had any. Right. Primus this was weird. Many of the other younglings were still in the room so Sunday must mean they didn’t need to line up downstairs?

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, the random thought struck him. Okay, that one definitely came from Jaime. The pit was a gift horse?

Don’ wha’? he asked her. The girl jumped at the sound of his voice. Had she forgotten about him again?

“It’s just a human saying, Jazz,” she whispered to him as she rolled her eyes. Little brat, he thought fondly. Not for the fist time, he found himself missing access to the World Wide Web. The network built by the humans had been a wealth of information, ranging from thousands of languages to digitized records of humanity’s greatest milestones to a myriad of different cultures. She quickly padded out the door and down the hallway. She was heading toward the cafeteria, he guessed, noting the familiar route. Though this time it was at a much more sedate pace. 

None of ’em make any sense, he complained, emphasizing his annoyance which brought a grin to her face. Yup, he thought to himself, still got it. Little Bumblebee had always been easy to entertain as a youngling. He hoped the yellow scout was okay. Last he saw, Bee had his legs blown off by that fragger Starscream. Maybe Jaime knew? A moment later he asked her. 

“Yea he seemed fine,” she shared lowly. “I think you were the only…uh…” she trailed off uncertainly. Casualty, his mind easily filled in. 

Got it, he offered so she wasn’t left floundering. Well, at least there was that. Jazz soon fell silent, as Jaime went about her day, mind shifting to recon mode. 

Sunday, he found out, meant free day for the children at the orphanage. Apparently Miss Narcissa left for the entire day to conduct business elsewhere. Good riddance, he thought. Though that did make him wonder what exactly she was doing while away. None of the kids, Jaime included, knew the reason behind it and they didn’t care. All he got was that weird gift horse phrase repeated to him so he dropped it. Sunday also meant no studies or chores, but rather games and activities organized by Miss Elizabeth. The younglings that didn’t participate occupied themselves outside within the fenced in yard at the back of the building. It looked pretty dull with the lack of color and cracked cement. But judging by the enthusiasm the children took advantage of the small area, it was the only outlet they had to get outside. Shortly after breakfast, Jaime hurried back upstairs with Charlie on her heels. 

“Are you gonna visit Jeong Jeong today?” he asked lowly once the two younglings were alone. Their cautious manner (strongly reminding him of the twins whenever they were plotting something) and the unfamiliar designation caught Jazz’s attention. 

“Of course,” Jaime answered. They were standing in the hallway near the younglings’ sleeping quarters. 

“Can you give him something for me?” Charlie asked her. Jaime studied the boy and Jazz felt an echo of her sudden suspicion. 

“…What is it?” Charlie offered a satisfied grin and dashed inside the room that must be designated for the mechlings. He soon returned and proudly handed her a small metal utensil. A spoon, he realized. Though it was much smaller than the ones he’d seen used in the cafeteria downstairs. Maybe it wasn’t for eating then, Jazz thought. Didn’t look like it could fit much on it. The small spoon was also noticeably finer with tiny little detailing and colorful accents. Jaime groaned. 

“Charlie where did you get this?” She didn’t sound pleased. Charlie put his fists on his hips and stood at his full height, which wasn’t very tall.

“I’d tell you but then you’d give me a long lecture and miss your chance to go see Jeong Jeong,” he said. He seemed to be aiming for imposing, but Jazz thought he just looked adorable. The bagel from the previous day and now this. Charlie was a little klepto. Younglings, Jazz mused with no shortage of amusement. They grew up so fast. Jaime tried to stare him down but his stance didn’t waver. The impromptu standoff stretched until Jaime let out a loud sigh. 

“Promise me you won’t do this again,” she demanded. She received an impish grin in return. It was like looking at an organic version of little sparkling Bumblebee. 
 
“Can’t do that.” Jaime actually growled and leaned forward. 

“Charlie — ” Jazz could feel her growing frustration. It seemed to be stemming from the desire to protect. She was almost acting as if…

“He’s my friend too!” the boy interrupted with a frown, expression twisting a moment later. “Even if I don’t get to see him as much.” There was an awkward pause, like the brief flash of vulnerability had tripped Jaime up. “I just wanna give him something for his birthday.” Birthday. That sounded important. Jaime was silent for several nanoclicks. He got the brief impression of Charlie excitedly talking to a much older human (hair startling white and face worn with wrinkles) before the girl seemed to shake herself from her musings. 

“Alright, fine,” she relented and Charlie beamed up at her when she finally accepted the intricately detailed spoon. 

“Thanks Jaime!” he declared and hugged her tightly. “You’re the best!”

“Yea, yea,” the girl grumbled as she hugged him back. The moment stretched for a bit before the pair broke apart. “I’ll see you later.” Charlie offered her a wave before racing down the hall, returning downstairs. To join the other children, Jazz assumed. Jaime’s behavior was suspiciously similar to that of a guardian. Like she felt responsible for Charlie. But she was just a youngling herself. 

Jaime entered the girls’ sleeping quarters to fetch a canvas bag shoved underneath her berth before climbing the staircase all the way up to the top. When the heavy metal door swung open, Jazz realized she was on the roof of the building. An uneasy feeling filled him as the young femme marched around the edge of the orphanage as if to confirm no one would see whatever she was planning. It spiked when Jaime positioned herself so that she was facing the closest building, a somewhat run down structure with a multitude of large windows (a living unit? Or some kind of civilian barracks?) that looked like it had seen better days. 

Jaime, he spoke up. Wha’ are ya doin’? She shushed him. It did nothing to soothe his agitation. Jaime, he tried again in his most serious tone. Please tell meh yo’r not goin’ t’ do wha’ Ah think yo’r goin' t’ do. 

“Can’t do that since I don’t know what you’re thinking,” she playfully countered before sprinting for the edge of the flat roof. The absolute gall. He might have been impressed if he wasn’t about to watch the youngling offline herself. 

Jaime stop! You’re not gonna make it! The sharp warning came too late and Jaime flung herself into the air. If Jazz still had a spark it would have been pulsing frantically. Time stretched as the girl soared between the two buildings. Miraculously, she actually landed on the neighboring rooftop, not even stumbling when the momentum carried her forward a few steps. Like it was habit. The observation only fueled his irritation. Wha’ the slag was tha’? he snapped. Ya could’ve offlined yorself! Primus, now he sounded like Prowl with the twins after a prank gone wrong. 

“But I didn’t. Relax Jazz, I’ve done it dozens of times,” she said in an effort to sooth him. He didn’t reply. That just meant the humans in charge of these younglings’ well-being were even more inept than he previously thought. Jaime rolled her eyes and headed toward a metal framework mostly composed of ladders that was attached to the side of the building. There had to be regulations in place the orphanage was required to adhere to, surely? It wasn’t like they had the excuse of a planet-wide war for such lax practices. Something else must be at play here. He itched to investigate further, but unfortunately he was confined to the passive role of an invisible tagalong. 

Who is this Jeong Jeong? he asked once Jaime was safely back on the ground. The girl strolled down the sidewalk, lone arm swinging casually. He could feel her relax as the distance between her and the orphanage grew. Maybe he could convince her to inform the authorities on what was happening at that sorry excuse for a youngling center.   

“He’s a friend.” For the love of — 

Ah gathered tha’ much, he drawled, knocking loose a short bark of laughter. 

“He’s Japanese,” she shared, like he was supposed to know what that meant. “Well, his dad was from Japan,” she added a beat later. “His mom was American. He grew up here.” Oh, Japan was a place. Earth had a number of continents surrounded by large bodies of water. Japan must be one of them. Jaime continued to fill Jazz in on her way to this Jeong Jeong’s house. 

Apparently he was on old man she met sometime after she was sent to the orphanage. Though her visits were typically solitary in nature — easier to sneak away, he concluded — sometimes she brought Charlie with her. That required more planning since the younger mechling couldn’t leap the gap between the buildings like her. Well, she didn’t say that last bit out loud but he was an expert in interpreting what went unspoken. Vorns spent as the Autobot’s head of special operations and pretty much any interaction with Prowl had seen to that. So her reckless habits only applied to her. Good to know. 

Soon Jaime was standing in front of a small house that didn’t stand out from the others along the street. A residential district, he surmised. She pressed a button located off to the side and a soft chime echoed inside the home. There were some shuffling noises inside before the door opened. A tall old man — the same one he’d seen earlier when Jaime was talking to Charlie — smiled down at the girl. Although his hair was completely white it was still thick. His skin was tan (from a lifetime spent working outside?) and his dark eyes twinkled as if he had just heard the world’s best joke. 

“Good morning Jaime-chan,” he greeted with a small bow of his head which Jaime returned.

“Good morning, Jeong Jeong.” She was ushered inside and slipped her shoes off near the entrance where the floor dropped down a level. Must be one of those traditions she was telling him about earlier, Jazz mused as she followed Jeong Jeong down the hallway in her socks. They entered a room with a low set table and seating. 

“You are right on time,” said Jeong Jeong. “The food is still hot.” The humans sat at the wooden table on opposite ends and Jazz noted the casual ease Jaime used the pair of sticks to eat with. The light banter as they chatted, the lack of her confusion regarding any of the weird looking food, the confidence she wielded the strange utensils — they all indicated a familiarity that made him wonder how many times the girl had been here. Did Jeong Jeong know how she was being treated at the orphanage? He scrutinized the man and the kindness he seemed to exude. It appeared genuine. His behavior reminded Jazz of the femme caretaker.

They soon finished and began to clear the table. The pair transitioned to another room and Jazz could see that the home had a warmth to it that the orphanage severely lacked. The cleaning and putting away of dishes was fairly repetitive but Jaime didn’t seem bored by it. He recalled Chromia saying something about routines being good for younglings. This place was much more in line to how he would expect a guardian to act. Miss Narcissa could learn a thing or two. Wait, scratch that. The femme had no business being anywhere near younglings. Miss Elizabeth then, she didn’t seem like a lost cause.

Task completed, they retreated to a back porch overlooking a well-maintained garden and sat on a low wooden bench. 

“Happy birthday!” Jaime presented the small finely crafted spoon from before with a flourish. “It’s from Charlie.”  

“Thank you Jaime-chan,” Jeong Jeong accepted the gift with a small smile. “This is very beautiful.” He placed the spoon next to the cup of tea he’d brought outside and Jazz had a moment of realization. The teacup bore decorative markings of a similar style to the small spoon. Definitely not for eating, he confirmed. Jaime bent down and rummaged though the canvas bag that hadn’t left her side. 

“And here’s my gift,” the girl said as she pulled out a rectangular piece of blue plastic about a finger width thick. If it had a screen, Jazz would have likened it to a colorful data pad. She handed it to Jeong Jeong who cracked it open at the seam and — oh — it was some kind of flat container to protect the small stack of papers inside. “You said you were running low, so I got you some more,” Jaime added by way of explanation. The term origami filtered into his mind. Another Japanese tradition? The intelligence officer in him bemoaned the lack of internet access once more. 

“Why don’t we try it out?” Jeong Jeong suggested, pulling a couple papers free from the colorful sleeve. 

“Really?” Jaime blinked, like she hadn’t expected him to use it right away. “Don’t you want to save it?”

“What fun is life if we deprive ourselves from simple pleasures?” Jeong Jeong offered with a wink. 

They relocated to the floor and Jazz understood why moments later. The flat surface would make folding their respective papers much easier. 

“Do you remember how to make a crane?” the old man asked.

“I think so,” Jaime gave a hesitant nod. The two humans fell silent as they concentrated on folding their papers. So origami was folding paper into shapes, Jazz deduced. What a curious pastime. He wondered how such a thing came about. 

“Jeong Jeong?” Jaime spoke up a while later. The half-formed crane didn’t look much like anything yet, a narrow diamond shape maybe. The old man seemed to be making some kind of flower. 

“Yes?”

“…Do you believe in spirits?” Jeong Jeong paused and curiously peered at her but Jaime’s eyes were glued to her not-yet-crane. 

“Of course,” he replied, “the soul must go somewhere when someone passes on.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I mean like…ghost spirits.” Jazz snapped to attention. She was referring to him. 

Jaime, he said in a warning tone. Don’. She was walking a fine line right now. Optimus had been adamant about the Autobots keeping their presence secret. Besides he didn’t want Jaime to get targeted by that Sector Seven organization due to her peculiarities. She’d probably get locked up and never see the sun again. 

“I did not think such things interested you,” Jeong Jeong commented blandly and returned to folding his paper. “Has something happened?” Jaime chewed her bottom lip but she ultimately heeded Jazz, merely shrugging in response. The old man hummed and his movements remained unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. “I believe, that if a spirit lingers on the material plane it is because they have unfinished business.” 

“…Do you think they can attach to people?” This garnered another curious look. 

“Perhaps,” he allowed. “Depends on the spirit.” Jazz directed his full attention on the old man, wishing he had access to his scanners. The saboteur analyzed every micro twitch and response to determine what Jeong Jeong was thinking. His sharp eyes hinted that he knew something was up, but as the conversation progressed he appeared content not to pressure the girl for answers. 

“So…” Jaime’s fingers tapped uncertainly on the wooden porch. “A spirit needs closure before they can pass on?” Jeong Jeong nodded. 

“A spirit is often driven by emotions or a personal link,” he added, making Jaime frown. 

“Why would he — ” the girl cut herself off before she could reveal more, but Jazz could tell by the look on Jeong Jeong’s face that she’d already said enough. He felt the urge to bang his helm against something. If Jaime got herself in trouble, he wasn’t in much of a position to help her. 

If you’re gonna tell ’im anythin’, it should be ’bout tha' Miss Narcissa, Jazz complained. Jaime immediately rejected that idea, pushing it away hard. Rude.

“And what does this spirit want from you?” Jeong Jeong asked, forehead wrinkling. He looked the embodiment of concern, but Jazz couldn’t be sure it wasn’t just an act. 

For ya t’ end this convuhsation. Jaime actually rolled her eyes and repeated him word for word. Primus she was worse than Bee as a sparkling. Sideswipe would be delighted to meet her if they ever crossed paths. Jeong Jeong raised an amused eyebrow. 

“He’s very opinionated,” she tacked on with a grumble. 

“I see.” Jeong Jeong studied the girl for several moments. “Has he encouraged you to do anything that would endanger you?” Jazz didn’t know if he should be insulted or pleased by the insinuation. Jaime threw her head back and laughed. 

“No,” she shook her head as she attempted to regain control. “Definitely not. Quite the opposite.” Her response seemed to put the old man at ease and Jazz reluctantly bumped up the human’s ranking on the list of adults in Jaime’s life. “I should get going,” Jaime sighed, shooting a glance toward the sinking sun. Jeong Jeong handed the girl a rectangular box which she carefully packed away in her bag before leaving. 

Jazz spent most of the walk back trying to convince her not to return to the orphanage. He gave up the impossible task when she stopped answering him and began to straight up ignore him. Alarm filled him when Jaime climbed the same metal infrastructure scaling the abandoned building.  

Ya got lucky before, he insisted despite her unwavering confidence. Ah’m serious, yo’r gonna offline yorself. 

“No I’m not,” Jaime retorted before sprinting to the roof edge closest to the orphanage.

Jaime! He could only watch with mounting horror as the youngling soared through the air. Impossibly, she landed on the neighboring roof without injury. 

“See Jazz?” she said with the same nonchalance as Sideswipe after nearly crashing the first time he used his jetpack on Starscream’s trine. “I’m fine.”

Primus femme, stop slaggin’ doin’ tha’!  If he still had a frame he was pretty sure witnessing that spectacle would have taken vorns off his life. He muttered a few other choice words too low for her to hear. Was this how Optimus felt when the more rambunctious Autobots under his command caused mayhem on base?

“Oh stop grumbling,” she rolled her eyes at him. Jazz fell silent. He was not overreacting. He wasn’t. Jazz was no human expert by any means, but he was absolutely certain Jaime shouldn’t be able to leap over such a large gap. Even an adult would struggle to clear such a distance. 

“Are you…sulking?”

No. Did she not realize the impossibility of what she just did? On a regular occurrence apparently.  

“Oh my God, you are sulking aren’t you!” She sounded inordinately pleased at the idea.

The Jazzman don’ sulk, he playfully snapped at her. Jaime laughed and went to lean against the brick wall a few feet from the metal door leading back inside, carefully setting her bag next to her feet. Jazz debated himself for a handful of nanoclicks, but he had to ask. How are ya even able t' do tha’? 

“Do what?”.

Jump ovuh tha’ gap like tha’. An’ don’ try t’ tell me othuh younglin’s yor age can do tha’. Jaime let out a heavy sigh. 

“…I can do a lot of things other kids my age can’t do.” He didn’t say anything, letting his silence prompt her. “I’m faster and stronger than the other kids. I can see and hear better than anyone I know. I don’t get sick anymore…” she trailed off with a shrug. Anymore. The word stood out to him like an emergency beacon. 

So ya weren’ always like this?

“No, I don’t know what caused it exactly,” she shook her head. “But I was five. I was starting kindergarten and the dreams began around the same time.” Jazz considered the unfamiliar term. 

Kinduhgarten?

“School,” Jaime filled in. “It’s — uh — the level before first grade.” Oh, their education system. He made a sound of disagreement. That didn’t sound like something that would trigger the changes she’d listed off though. Especially if it was a common milestone the rest of her peers experienced. 

Did anythin’ else happen before ya started kinduhgarten? he asked. She was an untrained youngling. It was much more feasible the mysterious trigger had entirely passed beneath her notice. Or she knew what it was and just didn’t realize its importance. 

“I don’t know,” Jaime let out an annoyed puff of air. “…we had to push back our vacation for my grandpa’s funeral.” Oh, that sounded like a sensitive subject. 

Vacation? he gently prodded. 

“Family trip,” Jaime offered, idly scratching her jaw. “We were gonna go earlier in the summer but had to push it back a few weeks.” The girl paused with an air of indecision before continuing. “We almost didn’t go at all, but mom said grandpa wouldn’t want us to cancel on his account. So we went right before school started.” 

Where’d ya go?

“Hoover Dam.” Jazz felt a chill at the familiar name. Wasn’t that the human-made structure located at the same coordinates imprinted on the Witwicky glasses? “It’s like a barrier that restricts water flow,” Jaime explained, misinterpreting his silence. “It can be used for a lot of things like generate electricity. It’s named after one of the presidents and they built it like a hundred years ago or something.” That sounded an awful lot like the place Sector Seven had used to house the Allspark. Bumblebee had provided them with a brief report when they met up on the road en route to Mission City. 

Tha’ so? he offered, because she was clearly waiting for a response. 

“Yea, it was okay I guess,” she shrugged. “Mom wasn’t happy I got separated from the tour group though.” He recalled the image of a younger Jaime wandering around a cavernous room with smooth metal walls eyeing her surroundings like she was lost. Before Jazz could dig for more answers, the door providing roof access banged open. Jaime whirled around to see a grinning Charlie. 

“Charlie,” she hissed, placing a hand on her chest. “Don’t scare me like that.” He pouted up at her. Jaime grumbled under her breath and bent down to retrieve the rectangular box from her canvas bag, handing it to a visibly excited Charlie. It was filled with food, Jazz realized when the boy opened it. Did Jeong Jeong suspect? Or was it some Japanese custom?

“I love chocolate,” Charlie moaned, eyes briefly slipping shut, after eating one of the brown spheres covered in a powdery substance. 

“The mango flavored one is pretty good too,” Jaime remarked as she glanced at the orange sphere. 

“All mochi is good,” the young boy agreed before shoving the last one in his mouth. Once he’d demolished the contents of the box (leftover from what Jaime had eaten earlier, Jazz suspected), Charlie handed it back to Jaime who crumbled the flimsy material into a ball. The whole thing felt routine, like this was a regular occurrence. Unease filled him when she strode toward the edge of the building. 

Jaime, Ah swear t’ Primus — 

“Relax,” she muttered. “I’m not jumping.” The girl seemed to be aiming for the container overflowing with trash down in the alleyway below and dropped the crumbled ball directly over it.

Score! Jazz whooped when it landed right on top. She chuckled lowly and returned to Charlie who was watching her expectantly. 

“Well?” he asked with growing impatience. 

“Well what?” Jaime cocked her head. He suspected she knew exactly what Charlie wanted to know judging by the flash of mischief. 

“What did he say?”

“What did who say?”

“Jeong Jeong,” Charlie groaned, practically vibrating. He looked set to burst any moment. “What did he say about my gift?” She put a finger to her chin, feigning the need to think. “Jaime!” he whined, stomping his foot. She laughed and her hand shot out to rub the top of his head. 

“He loved it of course,” she revealed as Charlie attempted to smooth down his messed up hair. “Nice job.” The scowl dropped from his face and Charlie beamed at the praise. 

“C’mon Jaime,” he grabbed her hand and gave it a firm tug. “If we hurry we can still make it to dinner!” The girl let out another laugh and allowed herself to be dragged inside.  

Jazz set his mind to work, piecing together everything he’d learned. So Megatron offlined him, and instead of returning to the Well of Sparks, the saboteur had somehow been linked to a youngling that previously visited Hoover Dam which just so happened to house the Allspark. Had Jaime come into contact with the powerful artifact? Surely she’d remember such a charged encounter?

The cube is raw power. It could destroy you both, Ratchet had protested when Optimus revealed his intentions. 

“The cube was destroyed…Sam shoved it into Megatron’s chest.”

…But could pure energy truly be destroyed?

Chapter Text

Jaime idly kicked her legs under the table as she ate her dinner with Charlie. The days began to bleed together with Jazz as company and before she knew it almost a month had passed. She paused when the thought crossed her mind, earning Charlie’s attention. 

“What?” he looked at her curiously.
 
“Nothing,” she shook her head and resumed eating. Charlie frowned at her with a hint of suspicion. 

Everythin’ cool? Jazz prodded. Ya kinda froze there for a click.

“I’m fine,” she smiled. Charlie gave her a look that indicated she was being weird again (the primary downside to having a secret out of this world friend) but focused on slurping up the rest of his potato soup. 

“Can you tell me another story tonight?” Charlie asked later that evening as they climbed the staircase leading to the dormitories to get ready for bed.

“Yea just give me five minutes.” He beamed at her and they parted ways in the hallway. 

Shor yo’r okay? Jazz spoke up once she was alone. Jaime huffed a quiet laugh as she entered the girls’ room, attracting a few strange looks. 

“I’m fine — really,” she murmured, once she reached the corner with her bed that afforded some level of privacy. “Just realized something.”

Wha’s tha’?

“It’s been almost a month since we met,” she shared lowly. “Can you believe that?”

Weeks of forced proximity meant that Jazz probably knew her better than anyone else. She’d told him a little bit about her parents, that she lost her arm in an accident, and provided a highlight reel of the last couple years here at the orphanage. In return she learned more about the Autobots, many of the tamer stories being repeated to Charlie during bedtime. Jazz thought the boy’s idolization of the Autobot leader was equal parts adorable and hilarious — pushing Jaime to share the more embarrassing stories involving the mech.  

Really? Jazz answered. Tha’ went fast. 

“Well you know what they say,” she finished pulling on her pajamas. “Time flies when you’re having fun.” She immediately stilled. “Huh.” Jazz’s mild annoyance at the human phrase dissipated. 

Wha’?

“…Just — never thought I’d say that,” she sat down on her lumpy bed. “Here of all places.” 

Not fit for sparklin’s, Jazz muttered. Ain’t fit for younglin’s eithuh. The rest of his response mostly consisted of insults directed toward Miss Narcissa. Jazz had made his displeasure quite clear over the last few weeks, never missing an opportunity to disparage the orphanage or the headmistress. He kept urging Jaime to go to the authorities — to tell someone. But she didn’t trust the police. She tried that before and…well, she wouldn’t be making that mistake again. When that didn’t work, he tried floating the idea of just running away and not returning but the thought of leaving Charlie behind made her gut churn. And Jeong Jeong wasn’t an option because that would bring Miss Narcissa’s wrath down on the old man. He didn’t deserve that. 

Ah think yo’r unduhestimatin’ ’im, said Jazz. The Autobot seemed to go back and forth on his opinion regarding Jeong Jeong. It was weird. 

Charlie returned and joined her on the narrow mattress, just barely fitting on it. 

“Ready?” she whispered. He nodded eagerly. 

“Who do you want to hear about tonight?” Jaime asked, like she didn’t already know what he was going to say. 

“Sideswipe and Sunstreaker!” Okay, Charlie didn’t always want to hear about Optimus. His second favorite robots — Autobots, she corrected herself — were the frontline warrior twins, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Or as Jazz (Ah can’ take credit, tha’s all Hatchet) had dubbed them, the terror twins. 

Wha’ ’bout the Jazzman? the saboteur in her head whined. Charlie enjoyed hearing stories about Jazz too, but he just couldn’t compete against Optimus and the twins. Rude.

Jaime grinned and told Charlie about one of the twins’ pranks involving Ratchet’s precious med bay. Jazz was in the story too since he helped them acquire some of the necessary supplies. It ended with the twins dashing off base for three whole days (or whatever was their equivalent, Cybertronian and human units of time didn’t line up nicely) while the CMO’s temper cooled down. After tucking Charlie into his own bed, Jaime returned to the girls’ dormitory and snuggled under her fraying blanket.

“Goodnight Jazz,” she yawned. 

G’night swee’spark, he answered. Jaime drifted off to sleep and dreamed of shining crystals that seemed to hum like they were alive, a faint chorus of alluring song echoing in her mind.

******

The next free Sunday, Jaime headed to Jeong Jeong’s house once more. This time Jazz spent the entirety of the walk asking her questions primarily about education. He recently discovered (courtesy of Miss Elizabeth) that many humans continued to receive schooling even after reaching the age of majority due to career requirements and found the drawn out process confusing. 

Ah mean, Ah get the whole lifelong learnin’ aspect, Jazz was saying as she neared Jeong Jeong’s house. But wha’s the point of an occupation if the schoolin’ takes most of yor lifetime? Sounds awfully inefficient.

“I think it mostly applies to the more — uh — academic fields,” Jaime offered as she pressed the doorbell. “Like, if you’re operating on someone or something.” 

An’ ya don’ have a way t’ jus’…download the info?

“Not really,” she giggled, trying to imagine people hooking up computers to their brains. “Is that what you guys do?”

Aftuh a certain point, yea. That did sound more efficient, she mused. She didn’t really have a problem retaining information when it was presented to her, but slotting in a data chip would be a lot faster than — say — reading a textbook. 

Jaime frowned and hit the doorbell again. Jeong Jeong didn’t usually take this long to answer the door since he was expecting her. 

Maybe he ain’t home, said Jazz. 

“No,” she disagreed. “He doesn’t go anywhere on Sundays.” Those were the days she came over so errands and other activities were saved for any other day of the week. If Jeong Jeong was planning on going somewhere — like when he had to visit his son a few months ago — he would have told Jaime the last time she was here. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as the feeling of wrongness filled her. 

Somethin’ could’a come up. Doesn’ have t’ mean anythin’. Jaime peered through the frosted glass that bordered the doorway but couldn’t see anything inside, except that no lights were on. Maybe he left a note for her? She tried the door. Locked. A frustrated groan escaped her and she went to check the mailbox. Empty. Tamping down her growing anxiety, Jaime strolled around the side of the house. A pristine wooden fence enclosed the backyard. Checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching, she hauled herself over the cedar planks with a running jump. 

Breakin’ an’ enterin’ now? Jazz remarked, though his tone wasn’t chastising. He sounded on edge too. 

Jaime landed on the balls of her feet right next to the water fountain. She paused for a moment to eye the still basin of water. Weird. She’d never seen it turned off before. The girl cautiously made her way further into the garden, aiming for the back porch. Maybe Jeong Jeong left the sliding door unlocked and she could get in that way. She passed by the koi pond and halted in her tracks. Jeong Jeong had installed it almost a year ago. It was his pride and joy. And it was currently empty of fish. Where did they go? What happened to them?

Something was very wrong. 

Jaime hurried up the wooden porch steps and tried the back door, letting out a small breath of relief when it slid open. 

“Jeong Jeong?” she called tentatively. The house was deathly quiet. “Hello?” She shuffled inside, pausing by the pair of house slippers Jeong Jeong kept on hand for her use. Uneasy, Jaime slipped her shoes off, taking a moment to ensure the laces were loose enough for her to shove them back on without needing to retie them. “Jeong Jeong?” she tried again, slowly making her way toward the kitchen in her socks. “Are you home?”

Ah don’ think he is, Jazz murmured. 

“He has to be,” Jaime argued. “He wouldn’t just leave. Not on a Sunday.” She held fast to the belief despite the increasing signs not all was as it should be.

The kitchen was as empty as the rest of the rooms she passed. She checked the fridge and then the counters for a note. The blinking light at the base of the landline phone caught her attention. There was a new message saved on the answering machine. Jaime hesitated for a split second before reaching out and pushing the play button.  

“This is Peggy from Sunset Funeral and Cremation Services calling to touch base about possible dates for your father’s service. We have an opening on — ” The rest of the message didn’t register, the words blurring into a low background hum. There was a roaring in her ears and her heart pounded in her chest. Why was a funeral home calling Jeong Jeong’s house? His father had been gone for years. Jeong Jeong was almost ninety — Where.was.he?

Ah’m sorry swee’spark, Jazz offered — piercing through the fog that had descended over her brain. No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

“He’s gone?” The small voice that came out didn’t sound like her. Jaime’s lungs burned and her eyes itched fiercely. It wasn’t true. Jeong Jeong wouldn’t just leave her like that. He wouldn’t. Not like —

The doorbell rang and Jaime’s head snapped to the front door. She could just make out the blurry silhouette of a person though the frosted glass.

Probably jus’ a neighbuh, said Jazz. 

“This is the police.”

Or not.

“We got a call about a suspicious person in the vicinity.” Crap. Jaime clenched her teeth and slowly backed out of the kitchen. She flinched at the firm knock on the front door. 

“Is someone there?” Jaime quickly slunk back to her shoes and shoved them onto her feet. The prolonged silence made her pause. Did he leave? Her breathing hitched at the sound of a doorknob turning. She hurriedly slid the back door open and leapt over the porch steps. Jaime used the tiny gap between the fence and the house to check her way forward was clear and clambered over it in a flash. She peeked around the corner of the house. There was a police car parked on the street out front — a black and white Dodge Charger — but no sign of its driver. He must be inside. 

Jaime fast walked as casually as she could toward the sidewalk, ducking behind the vehicle so the police officer couldn’t see her if he happened to look out the window. 

Ya should talk t’ him, Jazz suggested earning a scowl. Not this again. Ah bet he could tell ya wha’ happened. Jaime blinked and actually considered the idea despite her reservations.

“I don’t know Jazz, what if — ” the car she was kneeling next to jolted forward slightly. Jaime jerked away from it and stared. “…You saw that too, right Jazz? I didn’t just imagine — ” A shadow fell over her and Jaime’s skin crawled with realization. 

Found the drivuh, Jazz stated the obvious. She gulped and fearfully looked up at the nearby police officer. Where had he come from? She hadn’t even heard his approach! The man’s dark hair was cropped short and a small mustache decorated his upper lip. Stubble lined his jaw as if he didn’t spend much time taking care of himself. Blue eyes stared at her with an intensity that made her heartbeat thump even faster. God, not again. Miss Narcissa was gonna kill her. 

No she ain’t, Jazz cut through her spiraling with a growl. Tha’ femme — 

“Miss?” Jaime turned on her heel and launched away, dodging the officer’s attempt to grab her by mere inches. “Wait!” She ignored his order and took off like a bat out of hell. When she made it to the end of the street, Jaime risked a glance over her shoulder in time to see the police car accelerate toward her, the lights on top switching on. Double crap. She cut across a neighbor’s yard, hopping their fence. She did this several times until she was a handful of blocks away from Jeong Jeong’s house. 

She paused to cobble together more of a plan than just run away. Colorful banners in the distance snagged her attention. The farmers market. The same one she visited over a year ago. The perfect place to lose someone. She took off again with a clearer goal in mind. The short whoop of a police siren somewhere behind the girl urged her to run even faster. 

She cleared one of the orange plastic barriers that lined the street and acted as a physical perimeter for the farmers market, drawing a few surprised gasps. “Sorry!” she offered as she pushed her way through the crowd, leaving a trail of grumbling people in her wake. Halfway through the market, Jaime ducked behind a stall selling a variety of herbs, the owner busy chatting to a customer on the merits of two different varieties. She cautiously peeked out behind her improvised cover, searching for any sign of the cop on her tail. 

The police cruiser was parked near the temporary street barriers. Even if they hadn’t been in the way, the crowd certainly would have slowed it down. The driver was nowhere to be seen — wait, there he was. He was attempting to cut through the crowd of distracted shoppers, mouth twisted into an impatient frown. Jaime let out a soft exhale. She could probably outrun him on foot, so long as he didn’t return to the car. Her gaze flicked back to the motionless vehicle, recalling the strange encounter outside Jeong Jeong’s house. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled the longer she looked at the black and white Charger. 

“Are you getting a weird vibe too?” she whispered lowly. 

Yea. Something about the police officer — maybe the way he looked at her — unnerved Jaime. And no normal car just moved on its own like that. She swallowed uneasily as an idea took shape in her mind. It should have been outlandish, but given the robot alien in her head… 

“You don’t think it’s a — you know.” 

Shor lookin’ like it. Fantastic. Her gaze darted back to the police officer and her blood drain from her face. He was staring directly at her. No way he heard her…right?

“Can I help you young lady?” Jaime’s head snapped to the direction of the voice. Oops. The stall vendor was staring down at her with a faint frown. 

“Sorry,” she straightened, pasting on her best innocent expression. She glanced back at the police officer who was now striding toward her. 

Jaime. Move. The girl turned heel and took off like a shot. 

“Stop!” Jaime ignored the cop and sprinted for the other side of the farmers market and past the plastic street barriers. Her sharp ears picked up the sound of squealing tires just over the droning of the crowd and she pumped her legs as fast as she could. She ran, and ran, and ran. A few blocks away from the orphanage, she ducked into an alley and gasped for air. Minutes passed as she greedily sucked oxygen into her burning lungs but no cop car nor its intimidating driver appeared. She didn’t dare relax though, remaining on edge even long after she caught her breath. 

Jaime stayed there until the sun began to kiss the horizon, only half registering what Jazz was saying, before she finally pulled herself together — making sure to scrub her face of any tears — and snuck back into the orphanage. She headed straight for the girls’ dormitory, ignoring the dinner bell. She didn’t have much of an appetite. She didn’t even bother to change into her pajamas before climbing into bed and pulling the worn blanket up to her nose, back facing the rest of the room. 

Ah evhuh tell ya ’bout the first time Ah sparklin’ sat lil’ Bumblebee?

Jaime didn’t answer, just continued to stare at the wall. It had been been a light blue once before most of the paint peeled off. 

Well, he latched on t’ Optimus when we first found ’im. But bein’ Prime an’ all meant othuhs would have t’ watch the lil' guy. Jazz kept talking, his steady voice filled her mind and slowly pushed out all other thoughts. So Hide’s runnin’ late for his monituh shift an’ Chromia ain’t on base t’ keep Bee outta trouble. Mech hands ’im to meh sayin’ it’s jus’ for a few groons, Ah c’n handle tha’ right? Ah thought t’ mahself, how hard could it be?

Jazz maintained a steady stream of dialogue, switching over to stories about the other pair of twins (Skids and Mudflap), to Wheeljack’s most impressive experiments gone wrong, eventually progressing all the way back to Cybertron’s Golden Age — when Jazz had been a youngling himself. 

“Jaime?” Charlie’s tentative voice cut Jazz off and the saboteur fell silent. “How come you didn’t come to dinner?” Jaime tensed, warring with herself. She could hear Charlie kneel next to her bed. “Are you okay?” She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath, and rolled over to face the boy. He stared at her, brows furrowed when she took too long to answer. Jaime swallowed and lifted her blanket in wordless invitation. Charlie crawled into bed with her, eyes wide with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I… Jeong Jeong…he wasn’t there,” she stumbled over the words, tongue heavy and tasting like ash. Charlie’s expression twisted with apprehension. He knew what Sundays meant just as well as she did.

“You mean he’s…” 

“Gone,” she forced out after a handful of seconds. “Yea.”

“Oh,” Charlie’s face fell and he buried it into her chest, little arms wrapping around her torso. The two of them didn’t speak for a long time after that, only breaking apart when the rest of the girls began to enter the dormitory to get ready for bed. Charlie reluctantly got up and left to do the same. Jaime didn’t feel like it but eventually did so as well due to Jazz’s persistent prodding. When Charlie returned, she didn’t have the heart to turn him away. It took her much longer than usual to fall asleep even with her little brother in all but blood snuggled up against her. 

For the first time since meeting Jazz, she spent most of the night tossing and turning. 

******

The next day dragged by at a snail’s pace. Jaime felt like she was walking through a haze and only just managed to stay out of trouble thanks to Jazz stubbornly pulling at her attention. Miss Elizabeth kept looking at her with growing concern, but Jaime managed to dodge any attempts of a conversation with the caretaker. The last thing she wanted was a lecture about sneaking out when one of her only friends was dead. Jaime withheld a wince at the caustic thought. 

When the bell rang — signaling prospective parents were interested in meeting the kids — she escaped up the stairs back to the girls’ dormitory. Without needing to be worried about being interrupted anytime soon, Jaime crouched next to her bed and grabbed the hidden canvas knapsack. She pulled out a worn leather jacket and put it on. The brown suede coat had belonged to her dad — one of the few possessions she had left from her life before the accident — so it hung loosely over her four and a half foot frame. Sometimes, when she wrapped her arm around herself while wearing it, she could pretend he was giving her a hug. 

She sunk back onto her mattress, hoping to just space out for a while, but her mind wouldn’t stop buzzing. Her legs itched to move, making her scowl. After an indeterminate amount of time Jaime got up with a huff and decided to go downstairs. What passed for their library would be empty right now, maybe she could read something to pass the time. Since everyone was still in the meeting room she cut toward the front of the building. This staircase was in much better shape than the back stairs (which she was supposed to use but that would take longer and Miss Narcissa wasn’t around to see), they were almost pristine as was the rest of the front entrance. She reached the bottom of the staircase and rounded the corner, wondering if Miss Elizabeth had added any new books since she last perused the small collection, and promptly ran into someone. 

“S-Sorry,” she stuttered, rubbing her bruised nose. She stumbled back a few steps and anxiously stared up at the man she accidentally collided with. He was on the tall side with spiky brown hair and soft brown eyes, his skin a rich tan like he recently spent a lot of time outside.

“It’s okay,” he smiled at her. “I should have been paying better attention.” Jaime swallowed uneasily, feeling like she should be the one saying that, but didn’t want to argue with the friendly stranger. Curiously, Jazz’s attention seemed to sharpen at the sight of the man. “I’m Will by the way,” he offered his hand. “Will Lennox.” He must be one of the prospective parents, she realized. Jaime’s gaze nervously darted down the hallway — expecting to see a fuming Miss Narcissa — but they were alone. 

Go on, Jazz urged. No one ’round t’ catch ya. Feeling emboldened, she accepted the extended hand and shook it. 

“Jaime Hawthorne,” she answered. His smile widened like he was actually pleased to meet her. The reaction, she realized with a pang, reminded her of Jeong Jeong. Will Lennox had the same kind eyes and it made her wonder why he was out here with her instead in the meeting room. 

Chapter Text

Will Lennox

Damn Decepticons, he grumbled in the safety of his mind as he strode down the halls of Hoover Dam. Why did they have to cause trouble on his day off? The surprise call had been vague on details but sounded urgent, so here he was back at NEST’s temporary headquarters on a Sunday when he’d been planning on spending the evening with his girls. Qatar had been a close call, Mission City even more so. Now his days revolved around building and training a special military team to coordinate with giant robots from space. This was his life now and he still found it difficult to wrap his mind around. He entered the hangar where most of the Autobots were already waiting, it was the only one that could comfortably accommodate them all at the same time. 

“What’s going on?” Will asked, taking advantage of the catwalk that ran the length of the massive room. It brought him up close to chest level so he wouldn’t be forced to crane his neck so much. He was surprised to note that even Bumblebee, the yellow scout that spent more time with the Witwicky boy was present. A sensitive matter, he’d been told over the phone. 

“I thought your presence may be warranted, Major Lennox,” said Optimus, the Autobot’s baritone voice filled the hangar. There was something about it that made you want to sit up and pay attention whenever he spoke. He offered a curt nod. 

“What’s the damage?” Optimus blinked down at him. 

“Damage?” Will glanced at the other Autobots. There was an air of tense anticipation, but no one appeared injured.

“The Decepticons?” Will offered, suddenly wondering if he’d misunderstood what little he’d been told over the phone. Why else would he be called in if it wasn’t a NEST matter? “That’s what this is about, right?”

“Not quite,” Optimus shook his head. “Though the news I received is no less troubling.” Well…that didn’t bode well. 

“That’s a matter of opinion,” said Ratchet, their medic, sounding rather put out that his presence had been required in the first place. Will had barely seen the Autobot since Mission City. At first he’d been busy with repairs (Bumblebee’s being the most time intensive), then he’d been preparing their fallen comrade for burial — or the closest they could get to honoring him on Earth. 

“We don’t know the full story yet, Ratch — ” said the yellow scout but was interrupted by a series of scratchy coughs, earning the medic’s ire. 

“How many fragging times do I have to tell you Bumblebee? Give your voice a rest!” The yellow Autobot offered a chagrined shrug. It was strange to see giant robots use such human expressions and gestures, but they were an exceptionally adaptable species he’d learned during this three week diplomatic affairs crash course. They were mimics, not unlike humanity. Again. Weird. 

“What’s the pit forsaken news already?” Ironhide growled impatiently. Will squashed the grin before it could form. At least he wasn’t the only one annoyed by the interruption. Misery and company and all that. His daughter Annabelle had been playing with the weapons specialist when the call came through and was not happy about her newest friend leaving so abruptly. And when Annabelle wasn’t happy…Ironhide wasn’t happy. He and Sarah had been somewhat anxious at first about the metal behemoth around their daughter, but the Autobot absolutely adored the young girl — despite his protests to the contrary — behaving with an utmost gentleness that was at odds with his massive size. 

“It would seem that our presence is not as secret as we previously thought,” Optimus answered. Before he could explain further, the roar of an approaching engine could be heard. A familiar black and white police cruiser accelerated into the hanger, tires screeching to a stop next to the Autobot leader. Soon a familiar cacophony of sound echoed in the hangar. Even weeks later, the fluid transformation of metal plates breaking apart — clanging segments twisted and hissing gears emerged — was a breathtaking sight to witness. Where a Dodge Charger had been parked moments earlier, a giant robot taller than Bumblebee now stood at attention. 

“Prime.”

“Prowl,” Optimus answered with a nod. Will studied the newest Autobot that had arrived soon after the events of Mission City. Apparently he was the Prime’s second-in-command and top tactician.

“I encountered a human youngling,” Prowl informed them. “She…” The Autobot paused for a brief moment and shifted ever so slightly as his gaze flicked over to the Autobot leader. It was the closet Will had seen Prowl display any type of emotion besides his usual stoic demeanor. The tactician quickly recovered. “She was alone, but I overhead her addressing a Jazz.” 

The name fell upon the Autobots like a cloud of grief. Jazz. He died in Mission City while fighting Megatron in a desperate attempt to buy the rest of them time until Optimus could arrive. Will glanced at the Prime, noting the regret that filled every inch of his frame, before refocusing on Prowl. He didn’t want to, but he had to ask. 

“Are you sure she wasn’t talking about the music genre jazz?” he asked with as much tact that he could muster.

“She was speaking to a person,” Prowl confirmed without any hesitation. His speakers crackled and then the air was filled with the sound of a young girl’s voice. 

“I don’t know Jazz, what if — ”…“ — You saw that too, right Jazz? I didn’t just imagine — ”…“ — Are you getting a weird vibe too? — ”…“ — You don’t think it’s a — you know — ”

The ringing silence was suffocating. Okay, Will admitted to himself, definitely not referring to the music genre. Maybe she was talking to an imaginary friend, or maybe she was just crazy. But that last part, her voice laden with suspicion, it almost sounded like she knew. 

“…That’s not possible,” Ratchet exhaled softly, the first to speak.

“Prowl,” Optimus straightened to his full height, “can you relocate this youngling?”

“She lives at Rockwell Orphanage for Abandoned Children, approximately sixty three minutes from here.”

“What are we waiting for?” Ironhide demanded, looking much more interested than he had moments earlier. 

“Hold up a sec,” Will raised his hands before the group of Autobots could actually descend upon an orphanage. “It’s like eight o clock at night.” He received several blank looks in return for stating the obvious. Right, Humanity 101 time. “The kids are gonna be asleep by the time we get there, if they’re not already. And I doubt the staff will be accepting visitors so late.” The Autobots shifted in place as they absorbed his words with varying levels of understanding and patience. “We should at least wait until tomorrow if we want to avoid causing any alarm.”

“…Very well,” Optimus nodded slowly with a small degree of reluctance. “We do not wish to cause any undue stress.” Will let out a small breath of relief at the easy agreement. He understood their eagerness to learn more about a human possibly knowing their brother-in-arms, but they needed to be smart about this in case it ended up being a fat load of nothing. 

“I should probably be the primary contact too,” Will added a beat later, earning a few frowns from the more restless of the group. They didn’t need to send everyone either, just two or three. The staff might actually be more receptive to their presence and allow them to ask the girl questions under the pretense of someone interested in adopting…much less scary than a team of military men. 

Ratchet huffed and muttered something under his breath. The Autobots and humans hadn’t been working together for long — barely a couple weeks — and they were all still adjusting to this strange new normal. 

“Look,” he said in his best placating tone. “I’ll talk to Sarah. A pair of prospective parents will garner a lot more goodwill and cooperation than someone belonging to a secret military branch. Less messy all around, especially if this girl really knows nothing.”

“Unlikely,” Prowl cut in. “Her behavior indicated she knows far more than she should.” Something akin to confusion flashed across his metal face. “She was also considerably more mobile than online resources stipulate is within normal parameters.” Will frowned at the observation. The fact that he voiced such a detail hinted that it was something worth noting but he wasn’t sure why exactly the tactician had deemed it worth sharing. 

“You wish to adopt the youngling Major Lennox?” Optimus asked him, head tilting with thinly veiled curiosity. 

“Not exactly,” Will shook his head. Such a commitment deserved a talk with Sarah first before he even considered such a thing. “But the implication should allow me to at least talk to the girl without scaring her.” Optimus considered the suggestion for a few moments before glancing at this second-in-command. 

“The reasoning is sound.” There was a brief pause before he continued. “And my presence may have frightened her,” Prowl admitted with some reluctance. “If she knows of the Decepticons, then it is likely she mistook me as one.”

“Very well,” Optimus nodded his head at Will. “Ironhide shall accompany you while the rest of us…hold back as you say.”

“I am in the process of analyzing their records,” Prowl informed Will a beat later. “I shall send you what I have compiled so far to assist in your investigation.”

By the time Will arrived back at the farm, it was going on eleven. He tiredly rubbed his face as he silently got ready for bed, joining Sarah under the covers. She made a noise of protest and opened her eyes a handful of seconds later. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. 

“’s fine,” she stifled a yawn and wriggled closer. “Everything okay?” He filled her in on what he’d learned just hours earlier. 

“I’ll call Epps about watching Annabelle tomorrow,” he tacked on at the end. Sarah hummed lightly in response. 

“…You know,” she said after a long pause, “Annabelle’s been asking about a sibling.” Will blinked at her. “Between the two of us, I think she’s a little lonely.” That hadn’t been his intention when he first voiced the idea, to spring something like that on her.

“I didn’t mean — ” he started, but cut off when Sarah reached out to gently stroke his chin with her thumb. 

“I know,” she smiled with a hint of mirth. “I’m just saying. If she needs somewhere to go.” They shared a chaste kiss and Sarah rolled over, snuggling further under the covers. Soon her breathing evened out and Will was left alone with his thoughts. They turned over the contents of the file Prowl had sent him earlier. The tactician had assembled an impressive amount of information on one Jaime Hawthorne on such notice. 

“My analysis is incomplete,” Prowl shared, like he hadn’t just sent Will a full profile — images and medical records included. “Their records seem inconsistent.”

And he’d thought Optimus was fast when it came to answering emails. Prowl was an entirely different level of speed and efficiency making Will wonder, not for the first time, how his presence may have influenced the events of Mission City. 

Will let out another long exhale. No reason to dwell on what ifs tonight. He had a long day tomorrow, and it all centered around a girl named Jaime Hawthorne. 

******

She’s not here, was the first thought to cross his mind. Will and Sarah were currently standing in a room where close to two dozen children had assembled, led in by one of the caretakers, a Miss Elizabeth. The kids all exhibited varying levels of partially hidden excitement, focusing on the Lennoxes with the same intensity a dog would with a bone. Well, except one of the younger boys. He seemed distracted and kept sneaking glances at the door they’d entered. Did he not want to be here?

“These are all the children available?” Sarah asked. There was an almost imperceptible pause before Miss Elizabeth nodded. Miss Narcissa went on to say something that he only listened to with half a mind. He and his wife shared a brief look. This might be more difficult than they thought. Feeling a heavy gaze, Will glanced back at the boy and found himself being stared down by a pair of baby blue eyes that now held a glint of curiosity. After a thoughtful pause, the boy’s gaze darted to the same door as before but this time didn’t linger and immediately returned to Will. That…almost felt intentional. A faint look of frustration crossed the boy’s face and he repeated the action. 

Oh. Oh. 

Time to improvise then. Ironhide was waiting outside on standby in his truck form. He needed an excuse to leave this room without being followed. Will casually put his hands in his pockets, fingers curling around his cell phone and carefully flipped it open. Using tactile touch, he pushed on the speed dial button set up to call Ironhide, waited a few seconds to give it a chance to ring, and then hung up.

They’d set up this signal last week in case Will needed to fake a call while dealing with an increasingly frustrated gas station owner on the outskirts of Mission City. They’d tracked down an animated vending machine — that fired cans of Mountain Dew of all things — and Will had spent nearly twenty minutes talking the man down. That the situation was handled and he did not need to call the already spread thin local police thank you very much. This would be the first time Will actually put it to use. Seconds later, his phone began to vibrate and its default ringtone filled the room. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the front of it as if checking who could possibly be calling him at this time, and shot the three woman in the room his best harried look. 

“Sorry,” he said, “I have to take this.” He gestured vaguely toward the door he and his wife had previously entered though as he took a step back. “I’ll just be a minute.” Before Miss Narcissa or Miss Elizabeth could say something — Sarah was valiantly resisting the urge to roll her eyes — Will spun on his heel and exited the room with his opened flip phone pressed to his ear. “Talk to me.” 

“I am talking to you,” Ironhide’s usually gruff voice sounded tinny though the speaker. “Have you located the youngling yet?” Lennox let out a small exhale when the heavy door closed behind him and no one immediately followed. 

“I didn’t see her,” he murmured, striding down the hallway as he retraced his steps back the way they came. There was a notable pause.

“My sensors indicate there is a life form on the level above,” Ironhide shared.

“Got it,” said Will. “Thanks.” He snapped the phone shut — shoving it back into his pocket — and headed for the front entrance. He turned the corner to climb the impressive looking staircase that led upstairs, but immediately collided with someone who made a small ‘oof’ sound. He blinked down at the young girl now rubbing her nose. Shoulder length brown hair and green eyes, just like her picture. It was Jaime Hawthorne. This was the girl Prowl had crossed paths with — who might know about Jazz and the Autobots. He idly noted her brown leather jacket that dwarfed her. 

“S-Sorry,” she stuttered out, looking up at him with obvious trepidation. 

“It’s okay,” he offered a friendly smile to put her at ease. “I should have been paying better attention.” The girl swallowed and didn’t say anything more. “I’m Will by the way,” he held out his hand, making sure to keep his voice and expression relaxed. “Will Lennox.” She glanced around him as if to make sure they were actually alone, which made him wonder why she hadn’t been with the other children in the first place. She soon grasped his hand and shook it. 

“Jaime Hawthorne,” she answered and his smile widened. He found the girl, now to get some answers. 

“How old are you Jaime?” he asked, deciding to start with a softball question. 

“Nine,” she confirmed the age Prowl had included on his report. 

“Almost double digits,” he offered with a light hum. Jaime offered him a shrug but her mouth relaxed into the beginnings of a small grin. “If you could go anywhere for your birthday, where would it be?”

“…Anywhere?” He nodded. Something akin to amusement flashed across her face. “Space.” His attention sharpened at the answer. 

“Really?” Will tilted his head, allowing his curiosity to show. She could just be an enthusiast. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. “Space is pretty big. Care to narrow it down?” Jaime’s mouth curled into a more confident smile. 

“Be cool to visit another planet,” she said. Her tone was casual, bordering on carefree, but the girl’s eyes gave her away. He knew that look. It said ‘I know something you don’t.’ A moment later, Jaime shifted minutely like she was making an effort not to fidget. 

“What about you?”

“I was gonna say a tropical island in the South Pacific,” he admitted with a soft huff of laughter, which seemed to put her even more at ease. “But your answer is definitely one I haven’t heard before.” Jaime ducked her head slightly, cheeks coloring. 

“The beach sounds nice,” she offered, glancing up at him shyly. “I’ve never been though.”

“In that case — ” he began before a voice cut him off. 

“Will?” Jaime flinched and he could see the young girl retreat behind a bland mask in real time. The sudden change was disconcerting and only added to the dubious vibe he’d received since entering the orphanage. “There you — oh, who’s this?”

“Jaime, this is my wife, Sarah,” he introduced once she’d reached the pair. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Sarah offered warmly, coaxing the faintest smile out of the girl. 

“Um — you too.” Sarah glanced at him and he offered the barest of shrugs. He had a hunch, but he couldn’t be entirely sure. 

“Why weren’t you with the other children?” his wife asked. Jaime’s gaze flitted between the two before darting behind them. That was the second time she’d checked if the coast was clear and an uneasy feeling filled him. She shouldn’t be more comfortable with a pair of strangers alone than with one of the orphanage caretakers present. 

“I’m not supposed to,” she admitted, like it was a dark secret. Will shared a look with Sarah. When Prowl had first mentioned incomplete records, he’d chalked it up to disorganization or a lack of resources. Bureaucracy had a way of making things much more complicated than they needed to be, personal experience like his recent promotion supported. Will hadn’t considered that there may be something more sinister at play. 

“What do you mean you’re not supposed to be with the other children?” he asked. Before the girl could even think of responding, another much sharper voice called out. 

“Jaime! What are you doing here?” Miss Narcissa had found them and she did not looked pleased. The headmistress marched down the hallway, attention mostly focused on the now visibly nervous girl. “Go join the others.” Will frowned at the quick dismissal and raised a hand to block Jaime’s path, making sure not to actually touch her. He hadn’t forgotten her skittish reaction earlier and the increasingly abnormal details his mind had identified were beginning to form a concerning picture. Suddenly Will was uncomfortably aware of everyone’s close proximity in the too narrow hallway. Jaime’s eyes widened at his silent request and immediately darted to Miss Narcissa. His jaw clenched at the look. 

“Miss Narcissa.” The hairs on the back of his neck prickled at Sarah’s deceptively mild tone. She was offering the same bland smile seconds before she shot Ironhide in the eye during their first chaotic meeting. His wife took a small step forward, which just so happened to place her more directly between the headmistress and Jaime — God he loved that woman. “We were just wondering why Jaime wasn’t downstairs with the other children. Perhaps you could enlighten us?” 

“Jaime is our resident troublemaker,” said Miss Narcissa with a somewhat put-upon sigh. It sounded disingenuous to his ears. “She’s always struggled to heed authority figures.” No. That hadn’t been preteen resentment directed at the headmistress earlier. That was fear. “Run along, Jaime.” 

“No Jaime, stay here please.” She stared up at him, expression equal parts surprised and confused…like she wasn’t used to someone coming to her defense. His stomach twisted at the thought. Will glanced over at Sarah, noting the small crease between her brows, who shot him a look he knew all too well. The very same one from last night before she rolled over and went back to sleep.

“I’m just saying. If she needs somewhere to go.”

“We’d like to take Jaime home with us.” The hallway fell exceedingly silent as both Jaime and Miss Narcissa seemed to have trouble processing his words. You could have heard a pin drop in the hallway. 

“Y-you can’t just take her,” the headmistress sputtered. Jaime, meanwhile, was gaping at the Lennoxes.

“Of course not,” Sarah answered, tone dry. “We’d fill out the required paperwork first.” Miss Narcissa looked like she might be having a stroke. Will wasn’t particularly bothered by the idea. 

“You…You want to adopt her?”

“That is the overall purpose of this orphanage, isn’t it?” Will practically dared her to say otherwise. “To find loving homes for the children?” Jaime squeaked but he didn’t take his eyes off the headmistress. The woman’s left eyebrow had developed a twitch. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Lennox — I assure you — you do not want this child.” 

“Why not?” Sarah looked moments away from giving Miss Narcissa a good reaming. Instead of answering, the headmistress glared down at Jaime.

“Take off your jacket.” Will blinked at the non sequitur. Jaime, who’d mostly been watching the unfolding proceeding like one would watch a tennis match, visibly hesitated. “Now.” He didn’t know what Miss Narcissa was getting at, but clearly the girl had some type of attachment to the article of clothing.

“That’s not — ” he started, but Jaime heeded the order with no shortage of reluctance, eyes glued to the ground. Oh, right. He’d almost forgotten. Medical records had disclosed a car accident and emergency surgery. There was a flash of self-satisfaction on Miss Narcissa’s face when Will shared a glance with Sarah and he had to wonder if this was why the headmistress seemed to have a personal vendetta against Jaime. 

“She’s welcome to bring her jacket,” Sarah remarked, sounding perfectly oblivious, “along with any other personal belongings.” So they were on the same page then. If Miss Narcissa had some kind of prejudice then she would be forced to admit it out loud. Jaime’s gaze kept darting between the three adults, like she couldn’t decide who to focus on.

“But she’s a cripple!” Miss Narcissa argued, pointing an accusing finger at Jaime. The girl didn’t even react to the woman’s words which only stoked his building anger. Just how long had she been spewing that kind of drivel within Jaime’s hearing range?

“I don’t see anything wrong with her,” Will crossed his arms, growing fed up with the headmistress. 

“We’ll adopt her just the way she is,” Sarah added with a firm nod. Jaime’s eyes grew suspiciously wet and the hope they held was heartbreakingly tentative. 

“You can’t be serious?” Miss Narcissa stared at them in disbelief. Sarah’s gaze narrowed dangerously. “Why would you want to adopt a useless — ” Will’s patience finally snapped. 

“She’s a little girl that deserves to be wanted,” he growled, taking a threatening step forward. “Now where are the damn papers so we can leave?” As if waiting nearby for her cue, Miss Elizabeth hurried down the hallway. 

“Right here,” she exhaled, her enthusiasm contrasted starkly with the silently fuming headmistress. “I already completed most of the paperwork,” the caretaker continued, staunchly ignoring the daggers Miss Narcissa sent her way. “You just need to fill in this section and sign here, here, and…here,” Miss Elizabeth instructed. Sarah accepted the sheaf of papers and quickly did so with the provided pen, momentarily handing them off to Will so he could add his own signature. “I can take care of the rest later. Would you like to take Jaime home with you today?”

“Yes,” they answered in sync. Miss Narcissa let out a sound of exasperation and stomped away. Good riddance, Will thought. Jaime looked like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her stunned expression soon morphed into excitement. 

“Well, today’s the big day,” Miss Elizabeth gently squeezed Jaime’s shoulder. The girl beamed up at her in return. “Charlie will be down with your things shortly.” Jaime’s face froze at the caretaker’s words, soon followed by a look of bleak realization. Before he could ask what was wrong, the sound of plodding footsteps coming down the stairs snagged everyone’s attention. 

A young boy with light brown hair and baby blue eyes appeared at the base of the staircase. The same kid who alerted him where Jaime was, Will realized, except now drying tear tracks ran down the sides of his face. Jaime nearly bolted over to the young boy and they tightly latched onto each other, as if the mere thought of separating was painful. Alarm struck him and Will quickly turned to Miss Elizabeth. 

“Are they brother and sister?” he whispered, stomach twisting. Records hadn’t included any siblings, but Prowl himself had admitted that they were incomplete.

“No relation,” Miss Elizabeth shook her head. “They’re just friends, but Charlie does look up to her.” The adults drifted away a handful of paces to give the children a semblance of privacy as they said their goodbyes, but Will — the closest of the three — managed to overhear snippets of their conversation. 

“…can ask…”

“No…don’t wanna…be fine.” The two kids eventually pulled apart and Charlie rubbed away the remaining tears on his cheeks before offering a strained smile. After a moment of deliberation, Jaime retrieved the leather jacket she’d previously dropped on the floor and attempted to sling it over an objecting Charlie’s shoulders

“…you doing? That’s — ” the boy broke off to shoot a glance in their direction before lowering his voice. They went back and forth a few times but whatever Jaime said convinced Charlie to accept the jacket. It looked more like a cloak than anything with the bottom hem almost brushing the wooden floor. “…best friend’s honor.”

“…counting on it…” Jaime reached out and fondly mussed his hair. Charlie rolled his eyes at her but didn’t appear as dejected as before. Jaime turned to them, worn canvas knapsack in hand. “Okay,” she said to Will and Sarah. “I’m ready.”

As soon as Miss Elizabeth confirmed that she didn’t need anything else from them, they were out the front door. Will let out a relieved breath once they were outside and marched toward Ironhide. Jaime’s brow furrowed at the sight of the giant black truck but she didn’t say anything. The flip phone in his pocket began to ring and Will slowed to a stop. 

“Give me a sec,” he told Sarah and Jaime, waving them on. He had a feeling he already knew just who was calling without checking the number. Once they entered the pickup’s cab, he fished the vibrating cell out of his pocket. He glanced down at the screen — yup — before flipping it open and raising the phone to his ear. 

“And here I was under the impression that you — ”

“Change of plans,” Will cut off the weapons specialist. Ironhide, he was finding out, had a rather opportunistic sense of humor. “Tell Prowl to keep digging. I think he stumbled upon something.” He barely waited for an acknowledgment before snapping the phone shut. Ironhide swung his door open and Will climbed into the driver’s seat. He went through the motions of turning on the engine and putting the vehicle into drive. Really, Ironhide was doing all the work. Will just pretended to drive the truck — which still felt weird weeks later. He glanced at Jaime through the rearview mirror who was staring at the orphanage through the window. 

“Why did you give Charlie your jacket?” he asked, curious about the entire exchange. From the way she’d been clutching it earlier, he’d been sure it held some type of sentimental value. Jaime met his gaze through the mirror. 

“I told him to keep it safe for me,” she shrugged. Her body language was hesitant but her green eyes burned with surety at her words. “Until we see each other again.”

Chapter Text

Jaime shoved away the gloomy thoughts about leaving Charlie behind — she would see him again — and focused on the growing excitement bubbling inside her chest. She still couldn’t quite believe this was actually happening. Jazz was politely silent for most of the truck ride (she did not need the Lennoxes thinking she was crazy, thanks) while they played a variation of twenty questions. 

Apparently they already had a daughter named Annabelle who was around Charlie’s age, which briefly made her wonder why they adopted Jaime in the first place — but she quickly brushed that thought aside. They also lived outside city limits on a farm. A place with wide open spaces sounded nice after the of time spent trapped within the dreary walls of the orphanage. They asked her questions too — favorite colors, books, hobbies, and so on — like they actually wanted to get to know her. When Sarah announced that they were almost there, Jaime worked up the courage to finally ask the big question she’d been hesitant to say aloud. Would they be offended? They seemed pretty easygoing, but first appearances could be deceiving. 

“What am I supposed to call you?” The pickup cab fell silent while Sarah and Will shared a look. They seemed to do that a lot, being able to communicate with each other without actually saying anything. It made Jaime irrationally jealous, but it mostly reminded the girl of her parents. When she was younger, she’d asked if they were reading each other’s minds.

“You can call us whatever you feel comfortable with,” Will answered a beat later, gaze refocused on her through the rearview mirror. Jaime’s eyes darted to the window. 

“…Like?…” she trailed uncertainly. Jaime knew what he was saying, but what did they want from her? If she didn’t meet their expectations they might send her back. 

They wouldn’ do tha’, swee’spark, Jazz broke his silence. The corner of her mouth twitched downward. But Jazz didn’t know Will and Sarah. He was an alien from another planet with different beliefs and customs. 

“If you don’t feel comfortable calling us mom and dad you can call us Sarah and Will.” Mrs. Lennox turned around to look at Jaime in the backseat, wearing the same easy and open smile from the orphanage. “Perfectly okay.” Jaime swallowed and nodded as the truck rolled to a stop, a few yards away from a cream colored two story ranch style farmhouse. “Ready to meet Annabelle?” She nodded again, heartbeat speeding up. Neither Sarah nor Will commented on her sudden muteness and exited the vehicle. She was so nervous!

Yo’r gonna be jus’ fine, Jaime. 

She leaned forward to watch through the truck’s tinted window, nose almost pressed against the glass. A smaller version of Sarah ran out of the house and leaped into the woman’s arms. A man with dark skin and a shaved head followed at a more sedate pace, striking up conversation with Will. His shirt was plain but his pants looked like military fatigues. Was Will in the military? They looked to be about the same age. Annabelle turned her head toward the pickup truck and opened her mouth, like she was going to call out to Jaime hidden inside. Sarah cut her off and whispered something into the girl’s ear, garnering an enthusiastic nod. The unnamed military man was shooting looks at the truck now too, along with Will and Sarah. They were waiting for her to get out. Jaime took a fortifying breath to psych her self up. 

And yet, she found herself lingering in the pickup cab. Car interiors made her apprehensive after the accident, but there was something different about this pickup. It wasn’t the massive size that set it apart, but rather the vibe it seemed to give off. She felt…safe — like no one bad could get to her. She didn’t want to leave the security of the cab, but then Will sent a friendly grin her way and motioned for her to get out. He’d been really nice so far — Sarah too. She didn’t want to make Will angry. 

Go on, Jaime, Jazz spoke up when she hesitated — hand hovering inches from the door. They wanna meet ya, but ya gotta give ’em a chance. She took another deep breath and gingerly grasped the handle. It popped open easily — as if impatient — and she hopped down to the ground. She stood there for a few seconds, fingers gripping the edge of the door that hid her stump. How would Annabelle react? Would she be freaked out about it like some of the kids at the orphanage? And what of their friend? Would he be disgusted like Miss Narcissa? Jaime, quit yor worryin’, Jazz groaned. Ah swear, sometimes yo’r worse than Prowluh. 

Emboldened by the alien in her head, Jaime took a small forward. Almost like lightning, the door slammed shut and she was completely exposed. She startled and glared at the truck. What the hell? She hadn’t applied enough force for it to swing shut like that…right? Will called her over, not giving her a chance to dwell on it. She heeded the order and offered a tentative smile. 

“Jaime, I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine,” said Will.

“Chief Master Sergeant Robert Epps at your service,” the military(?) man finished, offering his hand. “But you can just call me Epps.” Jaime reached out and shook it.

“Nice to meet you,” she answered. Epps didn’t even glance at her stump, gaze staying firmly on her face, like he was completely unfazed that she was missing a limb. It reminded her of Will’s reaction earlier at the orphanage. Her suspicion that Will was military strengthened. Maybe that was how the two met?

“Hate to run, but I better get going if I wanna make dinner,” he flashed her a wide grin and jogged over to a nondescript four door sedan parked off to the side. Once the dusty white car pulled away, Jaime focused her attention on Annabelle. The blonde girl was staring up at her with obvious curiosity. 

“Mom says you’re gonna be my big sister,” was the first thing she said.

“Uh — yea,” Jaime offered a friendly smile, heart fluttering in her chest. “Looks like.” Annabelle studied her for a few moments.

“What happened to your arm?” she asked, making Will and Sarah start. 

“Annabelle! — ” they admonished at the same time. Annabelle’s blue eyes widened and she ducked her head, foot scuffing the ground. Sarah looked like she was moments away from lecturing the young girl and Jaime really didn’t want to witness that. 

“It’s fine,” she quickly spoke up. “I’m used to it.” Annabelle wasn’t the first person to ask that question and she certainly wouldn’t be the last. She’d been expecting it really, credit to Annabelle for getting it out of the way so quickly. Will and Sarah were still frowning but now appeared unsure how to respond, so Jaime focused on Annabelle. “…I lost it a couple years ago.” Annabelle’s brow furrowed at the answer and seemed to seriously consider her next question. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” Jaime smoothly lied. She used to get phantom pains and sensations, but the intensity and frequency had eventually diminished. It had been months since her stump bothered her — at least physically. 

“Oh…okay.” Annabelle fell quiet again. “Wanna see my room?”

“Sure.” The younger girl hesitantly grabbed Jaime’s hand and looked up as if to check if that was okay. Jaime offered an encouraging squeeze which made Annabelle brightened, and was promptly dragged into the farmhouse. Her sharp ears picked up dual exhales before she crossed the threshold inside. 

******

Annabelle gave Jaime a tour of the entire house. Literally, even the closets hadn’t been safe.  Sarah showed Jaime a bedroom designated just for her along with some spare clothes pulled out for her use — saying they’d go shopping soon. And then she’d been left alone in the room. Her room. Jaime marveled at the medium sized bedroom. She’d nearly forgotten what it was like to have a space of her own after two years in the shared dormitory. The bed was bigger than her old one — and in much newer shape — with plenty of storage underneath for her belongings. But there was also a double door closet, a painted dresser that came up to her chest, and a wooden desk with a rolling chair in the corner. She even had her own unbroken mirror. This place was amazing!

Jaime slid her knapsack under her new bed and wandered down the hall, pausing to peek into the bathroom. She should probably wash up before dinner. It was a habit Miss Elizabeth had regularly encouraged and Jaime wanted to put her best foot forward like the woman used to say. 

Tha’s a weird one.

“You say that about all of them,” she muttered. 

’Cause they’re all weird. She rolled her eyes. Sometimes she got the feeling Jazz complained about humanity’s expressions just to be contrary. Jaime quickly scrubbed nearly every inch of her body clean with a washcloth and changed into some of the fresh clothes provided. 

“Dinner time!” Sarah called up the stairs. Out of habit, Jaime rushed down the staircase and into the kitchen, a full six seconds later. Her prompt response seemed to surprise Sarah who was now blinking down at Jaime. 

“You must be pretty hungry, huh?” she soon recovered. Jaime hesitated. That felt like a trick question. At least, it was with Miss Narcissa. She hated it when kids complained. 

Ah don’ think she meant it like tha’, Jaime, Jazz spoke up. He tended to do that whenever Miss Narcissa popped up, whether in person or merely in her thoughts. Tha’ sorry excuse for a femme ain’t a fair comparison. Forget ’bout her. 

“Everything okay, Jaime?” Oh no, she’d taken too long to respond. Jaime quickly nodded her head to appease Sarah. There was a faint look of skepticism, but thankfully the woman didn’t push the matter. The front door opened a moment later and Will entered the kitchen after shucking off his outside boots. 

“Smells good,” he hummed, walking up behind Sarah who’d returned to the counter near the sink. His arms snaked around her waist and he pressed a kiss into the side of her neck. Jaime looked away, pretending to scrutinize the kitchen. It was rude to stare. That’s what her mom used to say. Annabelle skipped into the kitchen and climbed onto one of the chairs, which made Jaime eye the remaining three. Where was she supposed to sit? Did it matter? Will — who was now holding a large tray laden with food — caught her gaze and gestured with his chin at the chair across from Annabelle. 

Jaime gave him a grateful smile and sat down. Will took the chair to her left and Sarah to her right. The three Lennoxes folded their hands together and bent their heads. Jaime quickly followed their example as Sarah said a quick grace. Her toes curled at the phrase ‘new addition to our family’ and it was a struggle to keep her eyes trained on the tabletop. Soon they began to serve themselves — Annabelle being helped by her parents — and passed the food around the table. There was so much food! Spaghetti, meatballs, roasted vegetables, and garlic bread. It all smelled delicious. 

Jaime was faced with a problem she hadn’t foreseen when Will handed off the bowl of spaghetti to her. At the orphanage, everything was always pre-portioned. They didn’t get to decide how much food to take. ‘Fold your hands and say thanks,’ had been a fairly common answer for anyone stupid enough to complain. ‘There are children starving in Africa. Be grateful for what you have,’ had been another…usually paired with a sneer. Jaime stared down at the bowl of pasta. How much was enough? How much was too much? She didn’t know.

Ah think yo’r supposed t’ take however much ya want, Jazz contributed. They’re not like her. 

Jaime glanced at the other already filled plates to gauge how much was considered acceptable. Annabelle had about one scoop. Sarah had two. And Will had three scoopfuls of the spaghetti. Annabelle was completely oblivious and digging in to her noodles, but Sarah and Will had noticed her hesitation.

“Jaime?” Her head snapped to the right. Sarah was looking at her with something close to concern. “Do you not like spaghetti?” Jaime blinked. “Do you have a food allergy?” Ugh, how was she messing this up already?

“No,” she emphatically shook her head. “No, I-I like spaghetti.” She hurriedly took two scoops of the pasta and set the bowl on the table, flushing slightly with embarrassment. Will and Sarah wouldn’t want to keep her around if she caused trouble — especially on the first night!

Relax, swee’spark, Jazz soothed. Yo’r fine, stop bein’ so hard on yorself. He mumbled something else that sounded like a string of insults directed toward Miss Narcissa. Given how often that happened, he’d gotten pretty creative with those.

Neither Will nor Sarah said anything about her portion so at least she didn’t screw that up. With some prompting, she ended up dishing herself some of everything. They made small talk, making sure to include Jaime in the conversation — even if she didn’t have much to contribute. She was still the first to finish her plate, scraping it clean.

“Would you like any seconds?” Sarah asked and Jaime’s jaw almost dropped. Seconds? She briefly glanced at Will to judge his reaction (but he was focused on Annabelle), then back to Sarah. She scrutinized the woman’s expression. The offer seemed genuine. This…this felt like eating at Jeong Jeong’s house. Her grip on her fork tightened and she shoved that thought away.

“Um…yes please?” It came out as more of a question than an answer. Jaime ended up having seconds on everything. Sarah and Will didn’t seem to mind, in fact they seemed pleased. Annabelle, meanwhile, looked bored as she pushed her veggies around her otherwise empty plate with her fork.

“Eat your vegetables Annabelle,” Sarah chided.

“But I don’t wanna,” the girl complained, making Sarah sigh. Jaime glanced between the two adults. Judging by their matching expressions of exasperation, this was a regular occurrence. It kind of reminded her of Charlie when he first arrived at the orphanage, before he learned not to turn his nose up at whatever Cook served that day.  

“Why not?” Jaime asked, earning several surprised blinks, but she kept her attention on the younger girl across the table. 

“I don’t like them,” Annabelle pouted.

“Why?” Jaime prodded. Sure, everyone had their own personal preferences. But that kind of went out the window when you were hungry. Annabelle must not be familiar with the feeling. She felt a flicker of annoyance but it quickly disappeared so she blamed it on Jazz. Annabelle was frowning at her as if confused by the question. 

“…They smell,” she answered after some thought. Will and Sarah watched the back and forth with poorly concealed interest.

“Have you ever tried them?” Jaime asked and Annabelle actually scowled. 

“No, but I don’t like them,” the girl repeated and Jaime had to squash the smile that threatened to make itself known.  

“How do you know if you’ve never even tried it?”

“Because they smell,” Annabelle wrinkled her nose. Jaime considered the reasoning. Personally she didn’t find the scent of the roasted vegetables off-putting, but she suspected she also had a much larger library of unpleasant odors to draw from. Annabelle’s plate, she noticed, had mostly been cleared of everything else. Especially the pasta sauce, that had been scraped clean completely.

“You like spaghetti sauce?” she tried.

“Yea!” Annabelle perked up. 

“Have you tried covering it with the sauce and holding your breath?” The kitchen fell silent. Will and Sarah looked back and forth between the two girls with something akin to anticipation. Annabella looked uncertain about the proposal, but didn’t immediately dismiss it. “Go on,” she prodded, sensing an opening. “Just a bite. Aren’t you curious?” Annabelle straightened at the implied challenge — just like Charlie, Jaime thought — and dunked a floret of broccoli in some leftover pasta sauce. She pinched her nose shut with one hand and deposited the sauce covered vegetable in her mouth, chewing slowly. Seconds crawled by. Annabelle swallowed. 

“Well?” Jaime asked, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“It’s…not as bad as I thought it would be,” Annabelle replied haltingly. She repeated the process with a cooked carrot. Will and Sarah appeared to be trying not to gape at the girl with varying levels of success. “They’re kinda chewy,” she remarked after finishing the last vegetable on her plate. The kitchen fell silent once more and Annabelle looked between her parents. “Can I go now?” she huffed. Will made a faint noise at the back of his throat while Sarah nodded dazedly. Annabelle hopped off her chair and trotted out the door toward the nearby staircase. 

“She ate her vegetables,” Sarah exhaled softly.

“Uh huh.” 

“Willingly,” Sarah continued.

“Uh huh.”

“Not even — ” Sarah’s gaze briefly darted to the kitchen window, but all Jaime could see was the top of the pickup cab and a partial outline of a barn in the distance. “Will, she completely cleaned her plate off.” Will merely nodded in reply. Sarah turned to Jaime. 

“That was impressive,” she said. Jaime offered an embarrassed shrug. She didn’t want to spend her first night away from the orphanage talking about Charlie. She hoped he was okay. Will and Sarah began to clear the table and Jaime helped them, despite their assurances that it wasn’t necessary. She still needed to make a good first impression. Once the dishes had been placed in the dishwasher and only the partially filled serving bowls remained, Will headed outside. Jaime paused and leaned over to peek out the kitchen window, catching sight of him entering the barn. What was he doing in there? She belatedly noted the small bowl of green apples resting just underneath the window.

“You can join him if you want,” said Sarah, making Jaime startle slightly. She ducked her head, feeling like she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have. 

“I can help you finish the — ” Sarah waved her off. 

“You’ve been a big help already.” Jaime brightened at the praise. “I’m mostly done here. Go on.” Her gaze flicked to the bowl of fruit and back to Sarah. 

“Can…” Jaime swallowed, suddenly anxious. She shouldn’t ask. Not after all the food they’d already given her. But Sarah gave her an encouraging smile. “Can I have an apple?” she managed to choke out. They used to have a tree in their backyard that bore the most delicious green apples. Mom said it was because grandpa’s orchard produced the best saplings. The orphanage never had apples of any kind and she missed the taste. 

“Of course,” said Sarah, sounding completely unbothered by the request. Jaime slowly reached out for the bowl but the woman made no move to rescind her permission, instead refocusing on scrubbing the pot that must have housed the pasta sauce. Jaime snagged one of the green apples, shoved it into her pocket, and practically raced out of the kitchen. 

She leaped over the porch steps but quickly skidded to a stop. The black behemoth of a truck wasn’t in the same spot as before. It was a few feet closer to the house than it had been just a handful of hours ago. Had Will moved it? He must have. 

Wha’s a barn? Jazz asked her. 

“It’s used for storage,” said Jaime, turning away from the truck and trotting toward the nearby structure. “For animals and farm equipment traditionally, but it can be used for other stuff too.” She paused long enough to slide open one of the barn doors and stepped inside. 

Her sharp senses were immediately assaulted. The rustling of hay could be heard and the smell of animals and feed hung in the air. Her eyes quickly adjusted to catalogue the interior. The cement aisle was wide with two large stalls on either side, three of which were occupied. One of the large animals — a horse! She realized with a small thrill — was very noisy, stomping his foot and snorting repeatedly. 

“Hey there.” Jaime whirled around to see Will, holding a pair of metal buckets. “Wanna open that stall for me?” He nodded at the one closest to him.

“Sure,” she easily agreed and pulled back the bolt, allowing the door to slide open. He stepped inside and dumped both pails of water into — what Jaime assumed was — a water trough. She studied the large horse standing in the middle of the stall. It returned her stare and nickered softly. Will turned and patted the spotted horse’s shoulder.

“This is Sizzle,” he introduced. “She’s a seven year old leopard Appaloosa mare. She’s very sweet if you want to pet her.” Jaime slowly approached the mare and cautiously laid a gentle hand on her dark muzzle. When the horse merely blinked at her in response, Jaime’s fingers drifted up and she began to massage the mare’s forehead. The Appaloosa let out a groan and leaned into the girl’s touch. A giggle escaped Jaime. “She loves attention,” Will let out a soft chuckle too. 

After she was done petting the horse, Jaime followed Will out of the stall and onto the next one. “This is Bandit,” he continued. “He’s a Quarter Horse gelding, but you can also call him a Paint because of his markings. This guy’s nine.” Jaime gave him a good amount of scratches too, which the gelding leaned into with a happy groan. 

Bang! 

Jaime turned toward the third stall and approached it to get a better look at its noisy occupant. Will held a hand out in front to halt her progress when she was still a few feet away. “Don’t get too close,” he warned lowly. They both looked at the horse in the third stall. “He’s new and a Quarter Horse too. A stallion. But he’s also a buckskin.”

“Because of his coloring?” Jaime asked with burgeoning confidence. Will nodded.

“He’s the youngest, only four…” she noted the frown on his face. “The owner said he was already broken to ride. He can sometimes be stubborn he told me but he’s fine once he settles in.” Will shook his head. “Well, he’s been here for a few weeks and he still won’t let me near him.” Jaime studied the shifting buckskin.

“What’s his name?” she asked.

“Owner said he called him Buck,” Will shrugged. The horse shook his head, dark mane flipping, and snorted. Will turned away and pointed at one of the remaining doors. “That’s the tack room.” He pointed to the other door. “And that’s the feed room.” Bandit let out a neigh that sounded borderline impatient. “Sorry boy,” he said, as if answering the horse. Like it could actually understand him. Jaime gave Will a look. “Horses are a lot smarter than people give credit,” he grinned at her. “They’re good listeners and respond well to a steady voice.” Buck stamped in his stall nearby, causing Will to wince. “Usually,” he muttered under his breath.  

“Oh…” That made sense. “Like dogs?”

“Exactly,” the man nodded. “It’s also past their feeding time. If I’m late he’s quick to remind me.” He shot a quick glance in Bandit’s direction. “Be right back.” Will left her standing in the aisle and entered the feed room. Another, more drawn out, snort interrupted Jaime’s thoughts. 

“You’re not a very happy fellow are you?” she asked the nearby buckskin, slowly approaching the stall until she was right in front of it. He tossed his head and pawed the ground. “You should give Will a chance,” she continued lowly. “He’s really nice.” The stallion flicked his ears backward. “Oh come on,” she teased, feeling like she was talking to a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “Don’t be like that. You gotta eat don’t you?” The buckskin stilled momentarily before swishing his tail. Jaime gazed at him for a few moments, sighing softly. His ears flicked forward before settling left and right respectively. 

Jaime remembered the green apple currently in her pocket and slowly pulled it out. Making no sudden movements, she held it out in clear view — inches from the stall bars. The stallion’s ears pricked forward with interest but he stubbornly held his position.  

“You know,” Jaime spoke softly, “My grandpa used to have a horse, except she was brown. Her name was Sadie.” The buckskin stretched his neck out a bit and his nostrils flared, attention largely focused on the green fruit held in her hand. “He had an orchard, you see, and she loved the apples he grew. She was old, but grandpa said they were friends so he kept her around anyway. I think we could be friends too, if you want?” The horse’s neck lengthened until his head couldn’t reach any further. He was definitely sniffing the apple now. “Come on bud,” she coaxed. “I promise to share, but you gotta come a little closer.” He stamped his hoof again and let out a low nicker. 

Jaime slowly blinked and took a small bite out of her apple. The horse watched with avid interest. She let out a quiet moan. “This is really good,” she remarked. “Sure you don’t want any?” She held up the rest of the apple to the bars again. His nostrils trembled and one hoof came forward. “Good boy,” she murmured. “This is a pretty good apple, I must say. And I know my apples.” Another hoof advanced toward her. “That’s it, come and get the apple.” She took another noisy bite of the apple to further encourage the stallion. He snorted back at her but took a couple more steps forward. 

They were less than a foot apart now with only the bars separating them. She broke off a piece of the apple and carefully held it out for him, with the flat of her palm like grandpa taught her years ago. The buckskin eyed her, as if expecting her to pull it away at any moment. Like lightning, he snatched the apple piece from her hand and backed away a couple steps. After finishing the treat, he hesitantly stepped forward again and nickered lowly. She smiled and handed him another piece. Again, almost faster than the eye could follow, he plucked the bit of apple from her hand and stepped back to eat it. Jaime blinked a few times, feeling like a fist was squeezing around her heart. 

“It’s scary being in a new place, isn’t it?” she whispered softly. “I know the feeling.” The horse swished his tail and stared at her, like he could see into her soul. “I’m not gonna hurt you. And I promise not to take your trust for granted if you’ll give me a chance.” She offered her last apple piece, as if to seal the deal. This time he didn’t hesitate to step forward for the offered treat. He snatched the apple from her palm and remained in place — ears flicking back and forth nervously — as he chomped it down. He tentatively pushed his nose between the bars and snuffled for more. 

Jaime slowly raised her hand and held it right in front of his dark muzzle. The buckskin sniffed it and let out his softest nicker yet. A moment later he bumped her palm as if to request more apples. Repressing a giggle, Jaime began to scratch his forehead. The stallion tensed at first but eventually started to relax into her touch.

“Jaime!” The strangled sounding cry startled them both and the pair jumped apart. Jaime turned to see Will gaping at her with an arm full of hay. Well, he had been until he saw her petting the touchy horse and must have dropped the bundle since it was now lying on the floor. Unease filled her. He looked more surprise than anything, but that could easily turn into anger. 

“…Sorry,” she offered, like it would do any good. What did the Lennoxes even do for punishment? Or would they just send her back to the orphanage? 

They’re not gonna punish ya for pettin’ an animal Jaime. She pursed her lips together but didn’t answer Jazz. Will’s expression twisted with something she couldn’t quite place and he quickly approached Jaime. 

“He didn’t bite you, did he?” the man asked once he was closer, head tilting to the side as his gaze darted to her hand. 

“What?” she blinked at the sudden show of concern. “No, of course not.” The buckskin flicked his ears back briefly at his now doubled audience and retreated further back into the stall. “He was just hungry. I gave him an apple.” 

“Really?” Will sounded incredulous. Jaime shifted nervously. 

“Is that…not okay?”

“Apples are fine,” Will scratched the back of his head. “But I’d rather you not go near him without supervision since he’s pretty — uh — skittish. For your own safety.” Jaime blinked a few times at the response, especially that last part. 

“Okay.” Will’s expression smoothed out and he glanced at the buckskin currently pretending to ignore them. 

“What did you do?” he asked a handful of seconds later. “How…”

“I just talked to him,” Jaime shrugged, “like you suggested.” Will made a face like he didn’t quite believe her, or maybe he hadn’t meant for her to use his advice in that way. 

“Huh…wanna help me feed the others?” Jaime nodded and they quickly cleaned up the mess on the floor, providing Sizzle and Bandit with fresh hay. Will had her stay back when it was time to feed the buckskin, muttering an ‘easy Buck’ as he slid the door open, but paused when the horse laid his ears back. 

“Can I try?” Jaime asked.

“I’m not comfortable with you that close to him,” Will shook his head. “Buck — ” The horse in question stamped his hoof and let out a shrill whinny. 

“I think he likes me,” Jaime tried again, taking a step closer to the stall. “Right buddy?” She directed toward the antsy stallion. “We’re friends.” He swished his tail but directed his ears toward her. “You’re not so bad, are you?” She got a low nicker in response. Will no longer appeared opposed to the idea, but he still visibly hesitated as his gaze flitted back and forth between her and the horse. “I’ll be careful,” she added, since that seemed to actually matter to him. 

“…If he shows any sign of biting or kicking — and I mean any sign — ”

“I’ll be out in a flash,” she grinned and took the bundle of hay from him. She paused at the edge of the open stall, noting the buckskin’s tense stance. “Can you back up a little? I think you’re making him nervous.” Will frowned but slowly did as she requested. “Okay buddy, just you and me now. Like before, remember?” The horse stretched his head forward, nostrils flared. “That’s right. Such a smart boy.” 

Jaime slowly entered the open stall and made her way toward the feeding trough. Conscious not to make any sudden movements, she set the fresh hay in its proper place, keeping an eye on the stallion watching her closely. 

“There you go,” she murmured lowly. “Some nice fresh hay to tide you over until tomorrow. This one’s all yours, no sharing this time.” The horse slowly approached her until he was less than a foot away. He lowered his head until his muzzle was inches from her face and exhaled sharply. Jaime blinked at the sudden gust of air but otherwise didn’t move. “Little rude,” she huffed lightly. The horse snorted again and, as if losing interest in her, turned toward the full trough. When he began to eat even with her standing right next to him, Jaime slowly reached and began to stroke his neck. The skin under her touch twitched, but otherwise the horse ignored her. “Yes, I think we’re going to be very good friends.”

Jaime gave the animal one last pat and turned to exit the stall, smiling at the sight of Will peering through the bars. He let out a long breath once she was back in the aisle and the bolt was back in place. 

“That was amazing, Jaime.” She flushed at the praise and her eyes darted to the cement floor. 

“Thanks,” she muttered and glanced back the stallion inside munching on his dinner. His ears occasionally flicked in their direction but otherwise he seemed content to ignore them. “I don’t think he likes it,” she added a beat later.

“What?”

“His name,” she met Will’s curious gaze. “I don’t think he likes it.” ‘Names are important,’ her grandpa used to say. And Buck was a dumb name for a horse. Will looked equal parts skeptical and amused but didn’t argue against it.

“Well, I guess it would make sense to give him a different name then,” Will answered, folding his arms across his chest. Jaime looked at him expectantly, wondering what he would choose. “Why don’t you name him?” Jaime’s breath caught at the back of her throat. 

“Really?”

“Sure,” he chuckled at her stunned expression. “He does seem to like you better.” Excitement filled her as she concentrated on the important task. 

Whatcha gonna name ’im? Jazz asked. Jaime turned away from Will and took a few steps, putting some distance between them.

“I dunno,” she whispered lowly, staring at the stallion inside the stall. A good strong name for a good strong horse, she thought. Something idealistic? Or maybe after someone? A good example either way. 

Wha’ ’bout yors truly? Jaime resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 

“I’m not naming him Jazz,” she grumbled under her breath. Her mind drifted to the other Autobots. Not Ironhide, she thought. He probably wouldn’t be a fan of horses if they ever crossed paths given what happened during his first dog encounter. “Ratchet’s out.”

Hatchet’s a fantastic choice, Jazz sniggered. Ah vote for tha’ one. This time she really did roll her eyes. Prowl wouldn’t be a terrible name, she mused, but it didn’t feel right. Optimus would be a great example to strive for, but it was a bit awkward for a horse’s name. If only — Oh! Her eyes widened with realization. 

“What about Orion?” Black tipped golden ears pricked toward her. “You like that? Orion?” The stallion tossed his head and swished his tail. “Come here Orion,” she called. The horse flicked his ears back and forth as if trying to make up his mind, eventually ambling over to her and snorting in her face. This time she blew right back. He nickered softly. “Good boy.” She patted his nose and turned to Will. “His name will be Orion.”

“…Like the constellation?” he asked with a funny look on his face. Jaime blinked at the question. Oh, right…Orion the hunter. Well, it wasn’t like she could tell him the true origin. 

“Sure,” she smiled, “a name from the stars themselves.” Only Jazz caught her double meaning. 

Chapter Text

Ironhide

Ironhide received a ping from Optimus just as Lennox entered the farmhouse, Jaime on his heels. The youngling was brimming with visible excitement, a stark contrast to her behavior a few short hours earlier. Lennox looked pleased too. Whatever they’d been up to inside the barn, it must have gone well. 

:: Do you have an update Ironhide? :: Prime asked over a private communication channel. He quickly flashed his headlights to attract the major’s attention right before the front door was closed. Lennox halted the action and stuck his head outside to stare at Ironhide’s alt mode.  

:: The youngling is preparing to recharge. :: he answered, after confirming that Jaime had missed the exchange and was heading toward the second floor. Lennox approached and Ironhide swung the driver side door open once he was near. 

“Prime is requesting an update,” he informed the human once he climbed inside, adjusting his commlink audio to filter through his speakers. :: You’re live. ::

“Good evening, Major Lennox.”

“Optimus.”

“Ironhide informs me you and your sparkmake brought the youngling home with you,” the Autobot leader remarked. Lennox cleared his throat, just like when Ironhide earlier pointed out his deviance from the original plan. Humans could be rather bizarre. 

“Did Prowl find anything else?” he asked, completely sidestepping the Prime’s subtle probing. Or perhaps he didn’t recognize the curious inquiry for what it was. The Autobots were still figuring out the ambiguous intricacies of human behavior without straining the delicate alliance only recently forged. There was a brief pause and a moment later the tactician was added to the call. 

“My investigation has revealed several discrepancies,” Prowl spoke, only taking nanoclicks to get caught up. “Though whether this is due to a preference for physical records over digital, I cannot say.” Lennox frowned at the answer. “I suspect one of the caretakers or the younglings themselves will be critical in determining the full scope of the center’s operations.”

“Something’s going on there,” Lennox huffed lightly, running his fingers through his hair. “Jaime was on edge almost all day — and I don’t mean just regular nerves.” She seemed to be in fine spirits when leaving the barn, Ironhide thought. He didn’t get the chance to voice this though. 

“Have you learned anything further from the youngling?” asked Optimus.

“I’ve mostly been letting her settle in,” Lennox admitted, “given it’s only her first night. But…” The man’s brow furrowed. “When I said she could rename the newest horse, she mentioned a couple I recognized.” What did that have to do with anything? So long as the bad-tempered animal didn’t go anywhere near Annabelle, Ironhide didn’t care what names it got labeled with. “Jazz came up again…along with Ratchet.” Optimus and Prowl did not respond right away. That or they’d muted themselves.  

“She named that miserable creature after Ratchet?” Ironhide let out an amused snort. Was Jaime familiar with the CMO’s temperament? He hadn’t noticed before, but their personalities were startlingly similar…

“No,” Lennox quickly shook his head, dispelling the notion. Ironhide was surprised to find himself mildly disappointed. “In her words, ‘Ratchet’s out.’”

“What designation did she choose then?” Optimus hummed with polite curiosity. 

“Orion.” Ironhide’s gyros froze and his spark flared with concern, all previous amusement evaporating immediately. 
 
“She knows,” Prowl concluded. “That cannot be coincidence.” The major’s expression twisted with confusion. 

“We do have a constellation called Orion,” Lennox said in a dubious tone. “She could have been pulling from that.” But he didn’t understand, Ironhide thought. Very few knew Orion Pax before he became Optimus Prime, so how did this human youngling know? His spark thrummed uncertainly. Did…did Jazz somehow tell her? Was she really able to communicate with their fallen comrade? “When I asked if she meant Orion like the constellation, she didn’t disagree.”

“What did she say exactly?” The Autobot leader’s voice was perfectly neutral, giving no hint to his inner thoughts. 

“‘A name from the stars themselves,’” said Lennox slowly, as if individually testing the words. The ringing silence stretched longer this time and the human’s brow furrowed with equal parts confusion and realization. “You don’t think she was referring to the constellation.”

“No,” Ironhide grunted. 

“She needs to be brought to base for further questioning,” Prowl spoke up. “Immediately.”

“Why?” Lennox leaned forward in his seat. “Who is this Orion?”

“An old name from a forgotten time,” Optimus vented a sigh. “The information she holds may be more sensitive than we previously believed.”

“Can it at least wait until morning?” Lennox groaned, rubbing his face. “She just got here. A good night’s rest might do her wonders.”

“…We have waited this long,” Optimus allowed after a brief pause. “We can wait one more night.”

“Right. Okay,” Lennox nodded his head with only a hint of remaining skepticism. “See you tomorrow then.” He slid out of Ironhide’s alt mode and returned inside the now darkened farmhouse. Optimus and Prowl signed off a moment later, leaving Ironhide alone with his thoughts. 

He didn’t recharge that night, unable to quell his underlying anxiety. Somehow the young femme knew names of the Autobots. Pit, not all had even been Autobots at the time. Only a select few remembered or knew of the archivist Orion Pax, most of them being Sentinel Prime’s officers at the time and over half of them were offline now…including the former Prime himself. Ironhide sunk lower on his axels and dismissed the dark thought. It was an unfortunate fact when a civil war raged for millennia, the list of casualties was long and constantly growing. Though now there was at least an end in sight (one way or another) with the destruction of the Allspark. 

He readjusted his sensors to focus on the youngling’s bedroom. She kept twisting and turning on her berth, elevated bio readings indicated a heightened restlessness. Was she experiencing one of those night terrors unique to humanity? Minutes later she jerked awake and sat up abruptly. Ironhide watched her with growing interest as she seemed to reorient herself to her surroundings and slowly calm down. However she did not fall back into recharge like he expected. Instead the youngling got up, threw a blanket over her shoulder and grabbed her pillow. Ironhide’s confusion spiked when she quietly strode out of her room and down the staircase. Where was she going? Did he need to alert Lennox? 

He watched with some apprehension as she opened the front door. Was she making a break for it? It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize that the youngling’s destination was his alt mode. Before he could even contemplate engaging his locks, she swung the back door open and climbed inside. She set the pillow down on one of the seats and pulled the blanket over her small frame. She let out a soft exhale and burrowed deeper into his plush seats.

“Good night Jazz,” she murmured, eyes closed. WHAT? Ironhide just barely managed not to lurch at the unexpected comment. The corners of her mouth turned upward a beat later. Her breathing soon evened out and she fell into recharge with a faint smile on her face. Ironhide vented a quiet sigh and sunk even lower on his axels. Great, he thought. Now he had a stowaway. Well, he might as well take advantage and get some more detailed scans. Ratchet had mentioned that earlier if the opportunity presented itself. 

The scar tissue on what remained of her left limb appeared completely healed, lining up with the timeline provided by Prowl’s report. A couple human years still felt recent to him, but everything to do with the organic race was so fleeting. She appeared to be on the slim side for her age, maybe even underweight. Ratchet’s medical sensors would be more sensitive to that kind of thing. She didn’t appear to be injured or ill though from what he could tell. His analysis was cut short when the youngling rolled over and curled in on herself. A handful of nanoclicks later, a whimper slipped out. 

“No…please.” Ironhide recalibrated his sensors to discover that her bio readings were elevated once more. Another night terror? “’m sorry.” She scrunched into a ball as if to protect herself from an invisible enemy. Ironhide debated himself. He did not wish to wake her, and he especially did not want to attract her suspicion again. Lennox had been rather annoyed by his actions earlier even if the youngling had been taking forever to exit his cab. “Won’t…again…Narcissa,” she mumbled, fear leaking into her tone. Old guardian protocols flared to life and Ironhide let his spark pulse stronger since she was almost directly over his spark chamber. His cab practically hummed with his steady presence and Jaime seemed to settle under its unspoken promise of safety. He gently rocked back and forth, eventually sending her into a deeper recharge. 

:: Prowl. :: he pinged the second-in-command. He was pretty certain the workaholic was still awake and his suspicions were confirmed when he received an acknowledgment almost instantly. :: Has a ‘Narcissa’ popped up at all during your investigation? ::

:: Yes. She is the headmistress of Rockwell Orphanage for Abandoned Children. ::

:: I think Jaime is afraid of her. :: He could picture Prowl absorbing the observation and slotting it into place with the rest of his analysis. 

:: Noted. I will ask her about it if the chance arises tomorrow. ::

Ironhide spent the rest of the night watching over Jaime and — whenever her bio readings began to spike or she became restless — calming her with the steady hum of his spark and gentle rocking. 

******

Jazz

If Jazz still had a processor, it would be humming with the number of thoughts buzzing through his mind. Recent events had him reconsidering the strange encounter outside Jeong Jeong’s house and later at the farmers market. The officer had been just off enough for him to recognize it for the hologram that it was. Except it hadn’t behaved like a regular hologram. The usual telltale signs had been missing, causing the delay in pinpointing the danger the cop car posed. The Decepticons must have upgraded their hologram software or equipment, Jazz thought. The level of realism reminded him of one of Hound’s holomatter projections. It had also been one of the most stressful moments of his not life as an invisible passenger, watching Jaime outrun Barricade and unable to do anything but urge the girl to move slaggit. The Decepticon had strangely remained undercover instead of revealing himself to the humans and Jaime managed to lose him. Or so Jazz thought. The suspicious timing of Lennox’s arrival with Ironhide (he was almost certain it was the Autobot weapons specialist) made him wonder if that hadn’t really been Barricade in the first place. Primus he missed his commlink. 

Jazz could feel Jaime’s disorientation when she first woke up, taking a few nanoclicks to realize where she was. He wondered, not for the first time, what her reaction would be if he voiced his suspicions. She’d had a lot thrown at her recently, and he was reluctant to add to it — especially when his theory was still unconfirmed. 

Jaime left the confines of the black truck, taking her blanket and pillow with her. She left them in her bedroom and quietly returned downstairs. Jazz noted the time when Jaime glanced at the kitchen clock as she headed back outside. The last few weeks had been an enlightening crash course on humanity and their routines, timekeeping being a major one at the poor excuse for a youngling center. 

Wha’ are ya doin’ at six in the mornin’? he asked her. He was fairly certain even her new parental units weren’t awake yet.

“Chores, what else?” Jaime answered, pausing in front of the barn doors to slide them open.

…But ya don’t have any. Expectations and treatment here at the Lennox farm contrasted significantly with those back at the orphanage. 

“Why else would Will show me how to take care of the horses?” Jaime asked, heading toward the feed room. 

Ah think he jus’ wanted t’ bond with ya, Jazz shared, feeling the sudden urge to break something. Like a normal guardian, he didn’t say. Primus, this was just sad. The first time a responsible adult takes an interest in Jaime — shows her a measure of kindness — and she assumes the intention is to put her to work. The girl hummed lightly as she fed and watered Sizzle and Bandit. 

“Maybe,” Jaime eventually answered, but he could hear and feel her skepticism. Too bad Optimus wasn’t around to give a speech about believing in oneself and the goodness of others.  

Ya gotta stop comparin’ ’em t’ her, he said instead. Jaime frowned and remained stubbornly silent. She refilled the metal pail with water and carried it over to the newly renamed Orion. It wasn’t a bad designation, Jazz admitted to himself. He just wished there was a way to tell his fellow Autobots about it — and to see Prime’s face when he found out. 

“Hey Orion,” Jaime greeted softly. The horse snorted and swished his tail in reply. “You gonna be a good boy for me?” He stamped his hoof. Jazz watched the volatile creature with wary attention. Jaime slowly opened the stall door and his ears flicked back. 

Careful Jaime, he warned. 

“He’s not gonna hurt me,” said Jaime lowly, “right bud? Just like I’m not gonna hurt you.” The animal’s ears pricked forward as if to better catch the sound of her voice. “I just wanna give you some water. Alright? Orion?” Jaime took a small step forward and the horse matched it. After a moment of hesitation, he took another, head reaching forward to exhale directly into her face. Jaime blinked a few times and returned the favor. The animal let out another snort and bumped his nose against her chest. “Oh,” Jazz felt her moment of realization. “I know what you want.” She eased the bucket of water onto the ground and reached into her pocket, pulling out the green apple she’d taken from the bowl in the kitchen. The horse immediately snatched up the offered treat, ears lazily flicking back and forth as he happily devoured it. “So demanding,” Jaime crooned fondly before filling his water trough and feed trough as well. She stepped into the aisle and closed Orion’s stall door just a few nanoclicks before the barn door rolled open. 

Will Lennox blinked blearily at the girl, as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing. 

“Jaime?” His tone sounded bewildered, like he wasn’t fully online yet. Hence the astute observation, Jazz thought with a hint of irony. 

“Yes?”

“What are you…” the man trailed off as his brow furrowed, ambling inside the barn until he was only a few feet from Jaime. Jazz could feel her spike of anxiety in response to the reaction. Will seemed to catch it too, halting in place, and his gaze became more alert.

“I fed and watered the horses,” she hurriedly explained. “Just like you showed me.” 

“You — um — thanks?” Lennox’s expression became more puzzled. “You didn’t need to do that, Jaime.” The girl shrugged somewhat helplessly. His eyes suddenly narrowed. “Wait…all of them?”

“…Yes?” His eyes flicked to the stall Jaime was currently closest to. 

“Jaime," he sighed. "Please don’t go inside Bu — Orion’s stall alone.” The young girl fidgeted at the request and Jazz could feel the tug of war inside her — the desire to obey Lennox clashed with the need to be useful. 

“He won’t hurt me,” she said, tone perfectly neutral. Talking back, Jazz realized. She was afraid of being punished for any perceived slights. “And last night — ”

“He’s still too unpredictable,” Will shook his head, a faint frown tugging at the edge of his mouth. “I don’t want you alone with him for your safety and my own peace of mind.”

“But,” Jaime bit her lip before anything else could slip out. Jazz could feel her building apprehension regarding the situation but Lennox patiently waited for her to speak. 

Go on, Jazz gave her a nudge when she continued to hesitate. Ya saw how he was with Annabelle the othuh day. He won’ get mad at ya jus’ for usin’ yor words. Jaime took a fortifying breath as she seemed to take his words to spark. Heart. Whatever. 

“How am I supposed to finish my chores then?” she asked. Will stared at her for a brief moment before a look of realization flashed across his face. 

“You’re more than welcome to help with the barn chores,” he explained, “but I don’t expect you to complete them on your own. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression last night.” Jaime blinked at the apology in particular and Jazz wondered if she wasn’t used to receiving them. Signs were pointing to a resounding no. 

“Oh.”

“In my experience,” Will continued with a self-depreciating smile, “it’s easier to get to know someone while doing something…less pressure all around.” Bonding, the word filtered into Jaime’s mind. 

Told ya. He couldn’t help but feel a little smug about being proven right. The Jazzman knows wha’ he’s talkin’ ’bout. Jaime didn’t answer him but he could feel her mild annoyance at being wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” she told Lennox. 

“It’s fine,” he was quick to assure her. “We’re bound to have some miscommunications early on.” Jaime let out a quiet breath and her anxiety began to diminish when she realized he wasn’t angry at her. “Nice job,” he offered after checking the other horses. “You learn quick.” Jaime straightened at the compliment. 

Lennox soon came to the conclusion that Orion’s burgeoning attachment to Jaime could be utilized to transfer the horse from his stall to the nearby pasture. What was usually a hassle for him alone, ended up being rather straightforward with the addition of Jaime, who managed to coax a halter onto the antsy creature with little trouble. He tossed his head a couple times as he followed after her, tugging on the lead line, but it seemed more playful than anything. 

“Getting him in is the easy part,” said Will once the horse had been released into the pasture. “It’s getting him out — that’s the hard part.” 

The pair returned to the barn, Lennox providing a detailed explanation for Jaime as he gathered the required tools to ‘muck out’ the now empty stall. 

“And just to be clear,” he tacked on, fingers curling around the pitchfork’s handle. “This isn’t me assigning a chore. More like…” The man shifted minutely and Jazz got the distinct impression he felt a little out of depth.

“…Bonding?” Jaime offered tentatively. 

“Exactly,” Will’s expression relaxed, mouth curling into a wide smile. “We might ask you to help out around the farm,” he continued, gaze sharp but earnest. “But we won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” He cleared his throat before adding in a softer tone. “This is a safe place.” Jaime swallowed at his kind words and glanced away. 

“Okay,” she said lowly when it became obvious that he expected some kind of answer. Jazz noted a flash of something, like Lennox wasn’t completely satisfied with her response, but the conversation was dropped. Jaime watched him for a handful of nanoclicks before trying to imitate his movements, but the pitchfork proved heavy and cumbersome with only one arm. She ended up overcompensating by leaning backward in order to lift the pile of manure, carefully balancing her load on the ends of the pitchfork. The girl turned slowly, conscious not to drop her smelly cargo, and dumped it into the nearby wheelbarrow. Jaime turned and sought out another manure pile, not realizing Will had stopped to watch her. 

Jazz caught the man’s expression, noting the conflicting emotions. He could guess the contradicting thoughts currently going though his head right now. Jaime was a very independent youngling, her physical handicap — Jazz suspected — only making her even more so. Miss Narcissa’s poisonous commentary certainly hadn’t helped either. Jaime didn’t react well to any form of coddling, perceived or otherwise. 

This time Jaime moved too fast and her load of manure slid right off the pitchfork, earning a scowl from the girl. 

“I can finish up mucking if you want to sweep the leftover straw out,” Lennox offered and Jazz winced. 

“Just because I’m a cripple doesn’t mean I’m helpless,” Jaime predictably snapped. Will startled slightly at the outburst and Jaime immediately looked away, hunching her shoulders. 

He didn’ mean it like tha’ swee’spark, said Jazz. Jaime pursed her lips together and she made another attempt to pick up the pile of manure. This time she managed to successfully drop the load into the wheelbarrow. 

“See?” Jaime said in a small voice, shoulders tense. “I can do it.” 

“I didn’t mean to imply that you’re helpless,” said Will, tone gentle. The lack of visible anger caused Jaime to tentatively meet his warm gaze. “That was not my intention. I saw you were struggling and only meant to be helpful.” Jaime frowned slightly but didn’t say anything, too timid to voice her thoughts. “And I know you’re fully capable of completing whatever task you set your mind to. I don’t doubt it.” Jaime stared at him as she weighed the sincerity in his words. 

“…Really?”

“Absolutely,” Will nodded firmly, expression turning a tad sheepish. “I’ve met amputees before. I know how fiercely independent they can be.” Jaime chewed her bottom lip as she absorbed this. 

“Are you and Epps military?” she asked. Jazz had gotten the same impression too. Lennox and Epps seemed vaguely familiar, but it was difficult to be certain if he’d actually seen them before with the vastly different — and to be honest, far inferior — input he was now restricted to. 

“We’re in a special branch,” Will said with a ghost of a smile. Jazz’s attention sharpened at the reply and he filed that tidbit away with the rest of the clues he’d been gathering. “Now let’s finish up here before Orion gets antsy out in the field.” The pair quickly finished mucking out the stall and Jaime swept out every last bit of dirty bedding. Will then showed the girl how to evenly lay down the new clean straw. 

He muttered something about Orion be troublesome as they approached the pasture, but upon spotting them, the creature trotted over to Jaime and lightly bumped her in the chest as if he was pleased to see her. She clipped the lead line into place and coaxed him back into the barn. Jazz and Will both watched the horse with varying levels of suspicion, but Orion appeared perfectly content to return to his clean stall. 

“That should be good for now,” said Lennox. “Did you eat before coming to the barn?” Jaime’s stomach growled and she ducked her head to hide her flush. “Come on,” the man urged. For a nanoclick, he looked like he might place a hand on Jaime’s shoulder before deciding against it. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up an appetite.” Jaime followed Will out of the barn and toward the farmhouse. Jazz scrutinized the black pickup truck as the humans passed by, but it was still parked in the same exact spot as it had been earlier in the morning. Nothing unusual stood out. Jazz missed his sensors. He felt almost blind without them. How did humans navigate with so little input?

By the time Jaime and Will had finished washing up, breakfast was ready. Annabelle was sitting in the same chair as yesterday and Will finished setting the table. Jaime sat down across from Annabelle just as Sarah brought over a stack of…something Jazz didn’t recognize before sitting down at the table. Though to be fair, the orphanage hadn’t offered much variety so that didn’t mean much. 

“Are those waffles?” Jaime asked lowly, eyes wide. Jazz perked up at the familiar term. Jaime tended not to talk about her offlined creators much — understandable, all things considered — but during one of the few times she had, birthday waffles had been mentioned. 

“Sure are,” said Will, seated on the left. 

“With syrup, and chocolate chips, and strawberries, and blueberries, and whipped cream!” Annabelle bounced in her seat as Jaime wordlessly stared at the stack. The other youngling eventually noticed her stunned expression and tilted her head curiously. “Haven't you had them before?” Will was a silent observer and Sarah looked on with something akin to concern. 

“Sure,” Jaime awkwardly cleared her throat. “Just…been awhile.” Before the accident, Jazz easily filled in. 

“Well, mom makes them all the time, so you won’t forget here,” said Annabelle before shoveling a rather large piece into her mouth. Sparklings, Jazz mused fondly. Some things were universal. 

“Annabelle, you need to eat smaller portions,” Sarah chided. Annabelle tried to pout but it wasn’t very successful since she still had her mouth stuffed with waffle. The corner of Jaime’s mouth twitched. 

“Sworry mum,” she tried to apologize around the food.

“And don’t talk with your mouth full,” Sarah sighed. A small snort escaped Jaime and she quickly covered it up with a small cough before taking a bite of her own waffle. Will chuckled lightly and Sarah rolled her eyes. “Heathens, all of you.” Will threw his head back and laughed even louder. 

Ah like ’em, shared Jazz with a note of approval. Jaime didn’t answer out loud, taking another bite of her waffle, but he could feel her tentative agreement. 

After breakfast, Jaime watched cartoons with Annabelle in the living room. Though the medium was different, it kind of reminded Jazz of the holo cubes often used for informational or entertainment purposes back on Cybertron. Toward the end of the latest episode, Will — now dressed similar to Epps from yesterday — hovered in the doorway and Jaime followed him out of the living room when he waved her over. 

“I’m heading to base today,” he informed her. “How would you like to see where I work? I can give you a tour.” Did that mean what he thought it meant? Jazz sent an eager nudge Jaime’s way when she didn’t respond immediately. 

“Really?”

“Really.” Jaime thought it over for a handful of seconds before hesitantly agreeing. She turned and raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time, to her bedroom. The girl knelt down next to her berth and pulled out the canvas bag she brought with her from the orphanage.

Whatcha doin’? He doubted she needed to worry about any thieves here. 

“You know I don’t go anywhere without it,” Jaime huffed with mild exasperation. Jazz made a sound of disagreement but didn’t argue the case. The habit would probably take a while to break. The same amount of time, he suspected, that it would take for Jaime to feel settled here. Will was waiting for her outside, standing next to the black truck. Hey Hide, Jazz couldn’t help but think. Long time no see. 

The two humans climbed into the vehicle and they were off. Jazz buzzed with anticipation, wondering just what this ‘tour’ would all include. Would he get a chance to see any of his Autobot comrades? Where were they hiding? And how was Lennox connected to them? Had he been one of the soldiers in Mission City? The ride was mostly quiet and Jaime watched the passing scenery through the window. Eventually they began to slow as a large semi-familiar structure came into view. Jaime sat up straighter at the sight. 

“Your base is Hoover Dam?” she asked, tone incredulous. 

“Yup.” There were a number of guards near the entrance, any visitors that ignored the pristine signage were turned away long before they even got close. One of the armed guards stepped up to the driver’s side when they pulled to a stop. 

“Major Lennox sir,” he saluted after confirming Will’s identity, receiving a salute back.

“At ease captain.” The guard gave a signal and the doors opened, allowing them inside. They drove along some more until the truck came to another stop and Will got out. Jaime followed his lead and craned her neck to stare at their surroundings. The cavernous room had smooth metal walls, and Jazz felt the faint stirrings of long forgotten familiarity from Jaime. 

“This way,” Will gestured for her to follow. He was standing near a door on the other side of the room. Jaime hurried to his side and trailed after him into the next room. It appeared to be some kind of converted hangar. It was even larger than the previous room and hummed with activity. There were computer terminals on a large catwalk and multiple people in constant motion throughout the room. 

Jaime followed Will up the stairs of the catwalk as he pointed out several areas, providing a general explanation of what everyone was doing. A temporary command center, Jazz surmised. Was this Sector Seven then? Or an offshoot maybe? Had Optimus allied with the humans? That sounded like something he’d do.

“What do you think?” Will asked once they reached the very top. 

“It’s so busy,” Jaime marveled. Will nodded in agreement. She bit her lip in thought as she studied him. “So…what do you do?”

“Well — ”

“Hey Will! Hey Jaime!” a familiar voice interrupted. The pair turned to see a grinning Epps — now in full uniform — striding toward them. “’Sup girl?” he asked Jaime.

“Will’s giving me a tour of the base,” she offered.

“Ah,” the friendly human gave her a brilliant smile and slapped a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Did he tell you that his job is to order everyone around?” Will sent a mock glare his way. 

“I think he was just getting to that,” a short giggle escaped Jaime. Will rolled his eyes at the byplay but seemed pleased by the girl’s relaxed demeanor. 

“I also lead our team on and off the field,” Will added. “And coordinate missions so everyone — clowns included — ” this part was directed at Epps who mouthed ‘who me?’ back, sending a wink toward Jaime “ — get home in one piece.” 

“Sounds important,” said Jaime. Epps nodded and Will hummed. Jazz wondered just how high up the human ranked on the chain of command. Nearly everyone here had saluted the man as he passed or greeted him as one would a superior officer. 

“There’s some special people I’d like to introduce you to,” Will continued with just a hint of hesitation. “They’re a little…different. But I trust them.” Jazz’s interest sharpened. Did he mean?…

“Uh, okay,” Jaime blinked, glancing over at Epps but he just smiled at her. Will soon urged Jaime to follow him down a number of hallways, passing by the occasional office or meeting room. Epps tagged along and provided random commentary on some of the sights until they paused in front of a metal door. Will glanced over at Jaime before swinging it open directly onto a catwalk. The elevated path stretched out into the largest hangar so far. 

There was only a single computer terminal on this catwalk, its large screen filled with a couple diagrams and walls of text. The man standing in front of it, leaning against the edge of the console, turned at the sound of their approach and straightened to his full height. 

“Sir.” 

“At ease,” Will nodded and came to a stop near the console, Jaime halting next to him. The stranger, also dressed in military fatigues but a different color than Will or Epps, stepped forward and offered Jaime his hand which she accepted. 

“Agent Graham,” he introduced. The human was roughly the same height as Lennox, but a tad wider in the shoulders. Short dirty blonde hair peeked out from under his beret and his blue eyes shone with an openness that surprised Jazz. 

“Agent?” Jaime repeated, glancing over at Will with raised eyebrows.

“Our team is multinational,” Will explained, a somewhat amused expression flitting over his face. “Graham here was British Special Air Service Forces before he joined us.” 

“Oh,” said Jaime, turning back to Agent Graham. “That’s — uh — impressive.”

“Thank you,” he chuckled lightly. “Though not as impressive, I think, as some of our allies.” Graham’s smile widened at Jaime’s confused frown and his glaze flicked over to the edge of the catwalk. Taking the hint, Jaime leaned against the edge of the railing to peer down at an odd assortment of vehicles below; a large semi-truck with a flaming paint job, a yellow search and rescue vehicle, a suspiciously familiar black and white police car, and a black pickup truck. Jazz quivered with barely contained excitement at the sight of his comrades now recovered from Mission City, excluding the police cruiser of course. Wait — where was Bumblebee? Ratchet should have patched him up by now. He could feel the gears turning in Jaime’s head, she was right on the cusp of realizing what she was looking at, but Will was already speaking again. 

“Jaime, I’d like you to meet…the Autobots.” The girl’s head snapped to his direction. At the same time, the vehicles below triggered their transformation sequences. Jaime gaped at the sight, eyes impossibly wide. 

“You…you’re actually here,” she managed to stutter out. 

Chapter Text

Jaime stared in disbelief. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The Autobots were real and they were here and Optimus Prime was standing right in front of her! Her heartbeat sped up with excitement and her mouth unfurled into a wide grin. She completely forgot about how suspiciously quiet Jazz had been as the tallest one among them, sporting a red and blue paint job, slowly approached the catwalk — like he was purposely trying not frighten her. 

“Hello, Jaime,” he said in a familiar baritone. His deep voice rumbled right through her and echoed in her very bones in a way that it hadn’t in her dreams, further driving home the point that this was real. This was actually happening. “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am — ”

“Optimus Prime,” she exhaled softly, unable to contain herself any longer. Jaime leaned forward against the railing, face earnest. “I know who you are.” Her eyes darted to the other Autobots quietly studying her. “I know who all of you are.” Well. Sort of. She didn’t recognize the black and white one. And Bumblebee was missing — was he still with Sam? Optimus blinked at her and briefly glanced over her shoulder before looking back at her, regarding her with polite curiosity. Jaime bit her lip. Was that too forward? Maybe that sounded weird since they didn’t know her. 

“And how do you know of us, youngling?” the Prime asked, tilting his helm. 

“I’ve seen you before,” she said. “On Cybertron and — ” Jaime glanced over her shoulder, suddenly remembering her audience. Will, Epps, and Graham were silent spectators and she glanced back at Optimus uncertainly. 

“And?” he prompted, tone surprisingly gentle. Jaime chewed her bottom lip for a handful of seconds. Well, that sounded like a pretty open invitation. 

Mission City, Jazz finally spoke up. Tell ’im ’bout Mission City. 

“Mission City?” Jaime’s brow furrowed at the name. There was an immediate reaction from everyone in the room. A subtle tightening in faces and frames but it was there. Oh, that must be where the recent battle she witnessed took place. “Sorry,” she muttered, shoulders hunching. Introductions were supposed to be easy, so why did she feel like she was messing this up?

Yo’r doin’ fine.

“You were present?” Optimus leaned forward with something akin to concern. Like he was actually worried about her well-being even though they’d just met. 

“Not exactly,” she hedged, staring at the interlocking plates that made up his face. Despite the multitude of dreams including the Autobots and Decepticons, she’d never been this close before. There was so much detail! Completely entranced by the layers of overlapping metal pieces, Jaime’s hand slowly reached out. She froze just inches from touching his face, realizing what she’d been about to do. God, she must be making a terrible first impression. Except Optimus didn’t move away. Instead his helm tilted toward her ever so slightly — as if silently offering permission. Jaime tentatively laid her hand on his smooth metal chin. The surface was not cold like she expected but pleasantly warm. She could feel the slight hum of energy — of life — just underneath his face plates. She felt the Prime’s heavy gaze as he seemed to conduct his own examination. These…characters she’d dreamed of were alive and sentient. They were real people with their own hopes and dreams and fears. And now she was meeting them face-to-face. 

“Amazing,” she whispered, hand withdrawing. Optimus leaned back, as if to not crowd her and gestured toward the rest of his comrades. 

“Should I presume you know the names of the rest of my fellow Autobots?” he asked. His tone was perfectly neutral, giving Jaime the impression that the idea did not upset him. Though, that seemed in line with his character. From what she knew, it took quite a bit to truly anger the Prime. 

Go on, Jazz prodded when she hesitated. Show meh how well ya been payin’ attention. Her gaze settled on the most distinctive of the group, only second to Optimus. 

“You must be Ratchet,” she said by way of greeting. The neon yellow Chief Medical Officer startled slightly at the address but quickly recovered and took a step forward to peer down at her. A second later an odd sensation washed over her and she shivered. What was that?

“You are not at your recommended weight and are missing key nutrients in your diet,” he said. Jaime blinked a couple times. How…?

“Did you just scan me?” she asked somewhat incredulously. Bit presumptuous, she thought. But did she really have a leg to stand on? Jazz groaned as if the human expression physically pained him. 

“Your health is important,” the medic continued. “You ought to prioritize it more.” She raised her eyebrows at that. Dear God, he wasn’t about to start lecturing her was he?

“Yea, I’ll get right on that,” she shot back. Man, Jazz hadn’t been kidding about his overbearing nature. The image of him patching up comrades while chewing them out at the same time suddenly didn’t seem so farfetched. 

“Malnutrition is a result of unhealthy eating habits over an extended amount of time,” Ratchet frowned. “Your body isn’t receiving the proper sustenance,” he pointed a giant finger at her. Was she honestly being blamed for something completely outside her control? Jaime couldn’t help but bristle a little. 

“Okay, Hatchet,” she snapped back, hand on her hip. “No need to air out dirty laundry.” The Autobots jerked back, almost in sync, and a few snorts of amusement escaped the group of military men behind her. 

“Where did you hear that ridiculous name?” Ratchet demanded when his engine stopped sputtering. The black mech (Ironhide?) mentioned something about a ‘death wish.’ Jaime pressed her lips together and her eyes darted toward Optimus, but he seemed content to let things play out. Taking his silence as encouragement, she refocused on the yellow medic. 

“Jazz said your bedside manner was atrocious,” she shared, making the Autobots freeze in place. “But it’s mostly a front after years of dealing with lab explosions and pranks. Because at the end of the day, you’re still one of the best healers Cybertron has ever seen and care about your patients.” She paused, taking in their stunned expressions. “Terror twins included,” she couldn’t help but add with a shy grin. The hangar was quiet for several moments, only interrupted by a soft pop. The black and white mech’s optics offlined and he fell over. 

Crash!

What just — oh. Oh! Her eyes widened with realization. She had a pretty good idea now just who that was. Ratchet scowled at her and proceeded to reboot the offline mech. 

“That was — um — completely unintentional,” she said once he was back on his pedes, earning herself a wary look. “Honest,” she held her hand up in surrender. “I didn’t realize you were, well, you.”

“Meaning?” the stiff Autobot prompted. 

“Prowl, right?” she confirmed and he nodded. “Jazz said your logic processor is pretty — uh — powerful.” He scrutinized her for a few seconds. 

“What else has…Jazz told you?” Whether the hesitation stemmed from disbelief or something else, Jaime wasn’t sure.

Tell ’im Ah say hi, said Jazz, sounding way too cheerful. Would that make Prowl glitch again? Only one way t’ find out. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the blatant challenge. She wanted them to like her, not piss them off. Besides, he didn’t look like a hardaft. Prowl shifted and the corner of his mouth turned downward. Ratchet and Ironhide suddenly looked suspiciously amused and Optimus cleared his intakes. Oh crap. Did she say that out loud?

“I mean,” she stammered. “You have a reputation for busting troublemakers and throwing them in the brig but you were also one of Sentinel Prime’s best tacticians.” She waffled for a bit, wondering if she should say more or stop digging. 

Do Hide next, Jazz urged. Her gaze flicked over to the weapons specialist, and he raised an optic ridge back. 

“Well?” the black mech challenged, but there was a note of playfulness in his voice. Her eyes caught sight of a few familiar components and her breath caught at the back of her throat. 

“Wait — you’re Will’s truck?” she blurted out. She wanted to melt into the floor. Or turn invisible. 

“Technically,” Ironhide crossed his arms, “I’m his guardian.” Jaime ducked her head and shifted from foot to foot. God, this was so embarrassing. 

“Sorry about last night,” she muttered lowly. She glanced up in time to catch his expression soften. 

“It’s fine,” he rumbled. Their brief exchange garnered several confused looks. 

“Last night?” Will stepped forward with a faint frown. “What happened last night?”

“Nothing,” said Jaime, eager to move the conversation along. Will looked at Ironhide for an explanation and she glared at the black Autobot that clearly said: don’t. 

It’s nothin’ t’ be ashamed of swee’spark, said Jazz. It was nobody’s business but hers. 

“Jaime had a night terror and slept in my cab last night,” Ironhide offered, making Jaime scowl. Snitch, she thought. 

“Okay,” she huffed, fist on her hip. “Just for that — ” She turned on her heel to face Will, Epps, and Graham. “Ironhide got peed on by a Chihuahua his first night on Earth.” Several pairs of eyebrows shot up and two out of the three men sent incredulous looks Ironhide’s way. Unfortunately, Will didn’t take his eyes off Jaime, studying the girl with an unreadable expression. Ugh, so much for her redirection.

“A Chihuahua?” Epps demanded with a tone of disbelief. “Really?” The weapons specialist grumbled under his breath, something about terminating rodents. 

“Not every problem can be solved by blasting it to smithereens with your precious cannons,” Jaime teased lightly before Will could switch the subject back to her nightmares. 

“They can if you get creative,” Ironhide sent back with a sharp grin. She let out a small breath, relieved he wasn’t mad at her. Optimus leaned forward, commanding everyone’s attention. 

“And what of me?” he asked her. Jaime swallowed at his unwavering focus. His voice was still gentle but there was a firmness in his optics. She knew plenty about Optimus, but she didn’t think he’d appreciate her repeating most of it with an audience present.

“You’re Optimus Prime, though that wasn’t always the case,” she tentatively shared. “You believe freedom is the right of all sentient beings and have a rule against harming humans.” The Autobot leader watched her with an unnerving intensity. 

“You are connected to Jazz?” he asked, with a note of something in his tone. “Truly?” It almost sounded like…hope, at least, the faintest hints of it. Her skin crawled at the idea of outright admitting it, but she nodded anyway. 

“He’s like a voice in my head,” she added when no one immediately dismissed the claim or called her crazy. 

Rude, said Jazz. Ah thought we were past tha’. This time Jaime really did roll her eyes. 

“I said like,” she stressed. Noting the various looks of confusion, Jaime let out a frustrated sigh. “He doesn’t like it when I call him that.”

It’s rude. 

“He’s very sensitive about it,” she grumbled. Honestly. And he compared her to a sparkling. 

Am not. Jaime proceeded to ignore him. 

“So you can communicate with Jazz in real time?” Prowl asked, stepping forward with visible interest. “Is talking aloud a requirement?”

“Well, yea I — ” Jaime cut herself off and frowned at the black and white tactician. Why did he say it like that? 

Whaddya mean?

Like she was confirming a theory for him. Jaime’s gaze narrowed and she recalled the various alt modes she’d caught sight of moments before the Autobots transformed. There had been a cop car. By order of elimination, she could assume that Prowl turned into a cop car…just like the one at Jeong Jeong’s house. Her chest tightened. 

Jaime. 

“You knew,” her voice cooled and her eyes began to burn. 

“We suspected,” said Prowl, mistaking her words were for him. “Though we were unsure of its validity.”

Ah didn’t know for shor. Not until —

“Don’t. Don’t you dare — ” her breathing hitched and she blinked several times to hold back the tears threatening to form. She moved away from the catwalk railing as several pieces fell into place. 

Prowl had chased her and yet she’d somehow outrun him. Even though he was a skilled officer with highly advanced systems that should have made tracking her down a breeze. Which meant he’d backed off on purpose…and Will had appeared at the orphanage the next day. That couldn’t be coincidence.

Jaime felt numb. Will didn’t actually care about her. It had all been an act just to get to Jazz. A lie. 

Now hold on jus’ a click, Jazz started.

“Shut up, shut up,” she snarled, hand curling into a fist. Her audience grew alarmed by her reaction and Will stepped forward, arms outstretched as if he was soothing a frightened animal. 

“Jaime, what’s wrong?” His expression was a textbook example of concern. He was good, she thought with no shortage of bitterness. No wonder she’d been fooled. Jaime sniffed and tried to shove down the hurt. 

“You can stop pretending,” she sneered and a confused frown marred his face. It looked so genuine, but it wasn’t real. None of this was. 

“I’m not — ”

“You already knew about Jazz!” Will had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed about her accusation. 

“Well, sort of,” he admitted. “But that wasn’t — ” 

“Why do you even care?” she demanded, swinging her gaze back to the restless Autobots. “What was the point? Jazz is dead! Megatron ripped him in half!” She knew the words were callous but she was beyond caring. 

“His frame has been repaired,” Ratchet spoke up — as if that was the most important thing to focus on right now. “If you really are connected, there’s a chance he could still be returned to his frame.” She stared at the medic. Like resurrection? They could do that? Jaime wavered, torn with indecision, as her heart hammered in her chest. If there was a chance to bring Jazz back to life, didn’t he deserve that? But what would happen once they had no use for her? Would they throw her away like yesterday’s trash? Would Will send her back to the orphanage?

Jaime, tha’s not gonna — 

Shut. Up. SHUT. UP. 

Will took another step forward and she matched it with a step back. His expression twisted and he came to a stop. 

“Look, I can explain,” he tried again with his stupid fake look of concern. “Just — ”

“You lied to me,” she cut him off. “You’re just like the others!” 

“That’s not — ”

“I’m not going back!” Jaime growled. “You can’t make me!” Before Will could say anything else, she dashed toward the door they’d previously entered. She easily ducked under Epps and Graham’s attempts to grab her, they underestimated her speed — just like everyone else. She might be a cripple, but she was still fast.  

Jaime yanked the door open and sprinted through the base, ignoring several confused shouts. Her sharp memory guided her back to the entrance as she dashed through the smaller hangar acting as some kind of command center. Someone must have warned them because a number of the workers reached out toward her and she had to adjust her momentum in order to twist away. 

One of the guards near the door — a choke point, she belatedly realized — got lucky and managed to grab her. Jaime didn’t hesitate to stomp down on his foot hard and the soldier swore under his breath. His grip loosened just a smidge, but it was enough for her to break free. She pumped her legs and sprinted faster than she’d ever run before in her entire life. She barely caught the stunned expressions of the guards out front when she vaulted over the barrier but she didn’t dare slow down. She ignored the confused tourists pointing and staring at her. She blocked everything out, especially Jazz. She just ran.

******

Jaime didn’t stop until she felt like she was going to collapse. Her knees shook as she paused to refill her lungs, which screamed at her for oxygen. She blinked a few times to remoisten her itching eyes, the wind had nearly dried them out. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there trying to regain her breath, but when she no longer felt like she was about to keel over, Jaime realized she was in a residential area. Jazz remained quiet. He’d finally gotten the message that she wanted nothing to do with him. The sting of betrayal was far too fresh. Jaime let out a shaky breath as she walked down the street, drifting toward the nearby sidewalk. 

What was she supposed to do now? She still had her knapsack with her, but it didn’t have much in terms of supplies — just her worn pajamas and a few precious belongings really. She wondered if Orion would miss her and immediately shoved the thought away. Even if she could get farther on horseback rather than on foot, the farm was probably one of the first places they’d look for her. The corner of her mouth turned into a pensive frown. The orphanage definitely wasn’t an option, even if she felt the sudden urge to see Charlie. Jeong Jeong’s house was too far away. Besides, he wasn’t there anymore to listen to her problems or offer advice. Her stomach twisted at the unpleasant reminder. She sighed and hunched her shoulders as she passed by yet another house. She was completely on her own now.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled and Jaime looked up to meet a stranger’s gaze. A teenager (or young adult? Hard to say) was watching her with a curious expression. He was wearing a yellow jacket with a black stripe running down each side, black jeans, and yellow converse. His spiky blond hair perfectly framed his round face and baby blue eyes. He was leaning casually against a sleek looking yellow Camaro with black racing stripes. The blond offered her a friendly smile and Jaime sent back her worst scowl. She picked up the pace, not liking the way he was staring at her. 

“Weirdo,” she grumbled under her breath once she was a few houses down. 

Jaime left the neighborhood behind and passed by a school. She didn’t slow down until she finally reached a park. Exhausted by the day’s events, she decided to take a short break on a nearby wooden bench. She needed a better game plan than just ‘run’. Where was she gonna sleep tonight? She considered one of the jungle gyms some of the older kids were clambering on. One of the tunnels maybe? She scanned the rest of the area. Next to the various brightly colored structures designed for play was a swing set and a sandbox, mostly filled with younger children. A couple toddlers were being pushed by parents in the special baby swings. Across the park, near the corner, was a cream colored gazebo with a dark green roof. 

Without the distraction of moving, Jaime could no longer hold back the onslaught of emotions running had kept at bay. She thought Will was different than the other adults in her life — like Jeong Jeong. Will had listened to her like what she said actually mattered. He didn’t get angry or yell at her. Even when she was shouting at him back at the base, he hadn’t tried to silence her or hit her. Jaime sunk lower in her seat as she remembered the time they spent together in the barn. He’d taught her how to do things like she wasn’t some useless cripple. He’d trusted her judgement when it came to feeding Orion. She sniffed and rubbed the bottom of her nose. God, he even let her rename the horse! Like it was hers…like she belonged. Her mouth formed a thin angry line. But he didn’t actually want her. It was just a mission to him. Find the missing comrade by any means possible. She was such an idiot. 

A sharp squeal interrupted her dark musings and Jaime glanced over to see a young girl (six maybe?) being chased by a tall man with dark hair. Jaime tensed. Before she could even consider intervening, the stranger scooped her up and twirled her around. 

“Gotcha,” he growled.

“No fair daddy!” the little girl protested. “You’re bigger!” Jaime let out a breath, realizing their was no danger. The man chuckled, flipping her upside down, and began to tickle her sides. 

“S-Stop!” she squirmed between peals of laughter.

“Admit it,” he said, not letting up on his attack. “Say the magic words.”

“Okay!” she finally relented, causing the father to halt and flip her right side up. He raised an expectant eyebrow. “You’re the best daddy in the whole world!”

“That’s my girl,” he praised, lightly bouncing her up and down. Jaime felt a sharp pang at those familiar words and had to look away. But her ears still managed to hear the end of the exchange. 

“I love you daddy.”

“I love you too baby girl.” Jaime hunched her shoulders and stretched her legs, pressing her back firmly against the wooden slats of the bench. “Come on then, let’s get going before your mom sends out a search party.” Jaime scowled at the ground as the cheerful pair departed. She missed having a dad that would hug her when she was scared and tell her monsters weren’t real. That was always there to listen to her worries and make her laugh. She wanted that back so bad. She’d thought that maybe…just maybe…

A tall shadow was her only warning before someone sat down on the bench next to her. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jaime’s head snapped to the side and she glared at the man that had the gall to bother her. Clearly she wasn’t in a sociable mood. 

He had dark — almost black — hair, but when the sun’s direct rays hit the top of his head it almost seemed to bring out a navy blue tint. A well-maintained stubble beard lined his jaw and he was wearing a zip up jacket with a narrow white collar. The shoulders were red and the bottom half of the top was blue. The two colors were separated by a white horizontal stripe at chest level. A black shirt peeked out from underneath and part of a chain could be seen. The stranger wore slim navy blue pants and black dress shoes. Jaime met his gaze and was surprised by the open kindness in his deep blue eyes. She swallowed and looked away, finally remembering to answer his question. 

“My thoughts are worth much more than a penny,” she grumbled. She didn’t talk to strangers as a general rule but there was something different about this man, like an aura of warmth. It kind of reminded the girl of her first meeting with Jeong Jeong. She immediately blinked the thought away. It wouldn’t serve any purpose to dwell on that. 

“Fair enough,” the man smiled, not looking the slightest bit insulted by her snub. She proceeded to ignore him and watched the kids playing on the jungle gym. For a while, he seemed content to do the same and she couldn’t help but wonder why he was here. Was he a parent? He looked like he could be a dad. “A child should not wear such a serious expression.” She slanted him an unimpressed look and his eyes crinkled as if he was amused by her annoyed reaction. 

“Maybe my face looks serious because my thoughts are,” she muttered. He better not ask where her parents were.

“And what thoughts could those possibly be?” Jaime gritted her teeth. 

“No offense,” she said in a flat tone that indicated otherwise, “but that’s none of your business.” The man hummed lightly and nodded slowly. “What do you want?” she demanded, when he continued to sit next to her. Usually some rude commentary was enough to get nosy adults to leave her alone. 

“…World peace,” the stranger replied, eliciting a surprised snort from Jaime. Most people used the phrase as a joke but his tone sounded genuine like he actually meant it. The corners of his mouth turned up into a small but satisfied smile. 

“Don’t we all,” Jaime rolled her eyes. Who was this guy, some idealistic sap? She didn’t run into many adults like that. Some people had it so easy.

“And what do you want?” the man asked and she frowned at him. ‘For you to go away,’ she almost said, but she didn’t. Something stopped her. What did she want? She wanted her dad to tell her everything was going to be okay. She wanted her mom to taker her home and tuck her into her old bed. But most of all, at this very moment, she wanted someone to talk to that actually cared about her. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arm around her legs. He didn’t stare at her stub — in fact, he hadn’t even looked at it once. Maybe that was what urged her to speak candidly. It wasn’t like she’d ever see him again. And there was always the option to run away. 

“I want my friend back,” she admitted. The stranger tilted his head with what might have been polite interest. “I…I lost him recently.” She paused for a brief moment before continuing. “I think he died.” The man’s brow furrowed slightly with something akin to concern. Though that could be due to her strange wording. 

“My condolences.” Jaime shrugged and played with the edge of her shorts. 

“And my other friend lied to me.” This earned her a faint frown. “I thought — ” she let out a sharp exhale. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“On the contrary,” her companion gently shook his head. “Friendships mean a great deal.” 

“It wasn’t real,” she snapped. The man looked at her with such sad eyes that she had to look away. She didn’t need anyone’s pity. The stranger was silent for several moments. Jaime stubbornly stayed in place despite the urge to leave. She was here first. This was her bench. 

“I was betrayed by one I called brother,” the man finally spoke. Her gaze darted back toward him but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were focused on something in the distance like he wasn’t fully there anymore. “It was a long time ago, and he has since passed, but I still treasure that memory of him even if it no longer exists.” Jaime swallowed at the grief in his voice, unsettled by the raw vulnerability. He let out a deep breath and glanced over at her. “We cannot let past grievances determine future relationships. Such a path does not lead to fulfillment.”

“Might hurt less,” she argued, though her heart wasn’t in it. 

“Would it?” the man hummed. “I think that would be lonely.” Jaime bit her lip. He wasn’t wrong. 

“I’m tired of people,” she sighed, resting her chin on her knees. Tired of being ignored, used, not good enough… “They suck.”

“Current company excluded, I hope?” the man asked, making Jaime roll her eyes — but she failed to squash the small grin his flippant comment dragged out. 

“Sure,” she humored the stranger and his expression warmed. 

“Trust is a terrible thing to have broken,” he said a beat later. “But it can also lead to the strongest of bonds if we allow it.”

“Unless they abandon you,” she scowled, fingers curling into a fist. “Most people aren’t like that.”

“…That sounds like experience talking.” Jaime shrugged again and looked away. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say his expression was troubled. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” she shared lowly. “People don’t usually care except this time they did. Or, I thought they did. But they wanted something from me.” Jaime sighed. “Which is fine,” she tacked on so she wouldn’t sound like a whiny baby. “I get it. I just…” She bit her lip and glanced in his direction. He waited for her to continue like he had all the time in the world and her stomach churned at being the sole focus of someone’s attention. “I’m scared,” she admitted in a small voice. 

“Of what?” His tone was so gentle and reminded her so strongly of her dad that her eyes watered. She hurriedly scrubbed them before the tears could fall. She felt ashamed at the sudden show of weakness but the kind man’s face remained judgment free, like he didn’t mind. Maybe he didn’t, she thought, remembering what he said earlier about his brother.

“I don’t wanna go back,” she whispered hoarsely. “I wanna stay. But they’ll send me back now I just know it.”

“What makes you so certain?” he frowned, as if he too found the idea upsetting.

“Because it’s happened before,” she sniffed, wiping the bottom of her nose again. “I’m too much trouble.”

“Now that is false.” Jaime blinked at his absolute certainty. “You have already proven yourself to be clever, and brave, and patient.” She let out a disbelieving snort. “No?” The corners of his mouth curled into faint smile. “You have humored the prying questions of an old man.” She scrutinized the stranger. There wasn’t a single gray hair on his head. 

“You’re not that old.”

“And kind,” he added as his smile warmed considerably. “Most definitely kind.” Jaime flushed at the praise and the cold shard of ice lodged in her chest finally began to melt. “Have confidence in yourself and in others, they will carry you farther than you ever thought possible. And if your friend is true like I suspect, then they will not abandon you.” She stared at him, touched by his heartfelt words. He said them with such conviction.

“…You really think so?” she straightened and her knees fell apart so that she was now sitting crosslegged.

“I know so,” he firmly nodded, leaning back against the bench. The chain shifted and the pendant of the necklace slipped out. No, Jaime realized, not a necklace. Dog tags. The smile dropped from her face as the red Autobot symbol, stamped right in the center, stared back at her. Jaime swallowed and forced herself to meet the stranger’s steady gaze. She vaguely remembered Jazz mentioning holograms a couple weeks back, but she hadn’t realized they looked so real. 

“You’re an Autobot.” 

“Yes.” Prowl must have used a hologram too, she concluded. She reexamined his appearance and their conversation in its entirety. 

“…Optimus?”

“Yes.” Jaime swallowed again and wilted a little. 

“You’re here to take me back to base aren’t you?” She grumbled. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

“No.” Her jaw dropped open slightly. 

“What?” she managed to choke out. “But — why?” Didn’t he want Jazz back? She’d seen the buried guilt in the Prime’s optics. 

“Like you said, freedom is the right of all sentient beings,” said Optimus. It felt weird to hear him quote her, even though they were his words first. “To take away your choice would go against everything I fight for.” She couldn’t stop staring at him. 

“You’re not here to take me back to base?” she repeated, just to be sure. The Autobot leader shook his head. Jaime struggled to form a coherent thought. Then why was he here? Actually… “How did you find me?” Optimus gestured over her shoulder and Jaime turned to see the blonde teenager (?) from before, standing near the yellow Camaro that was parked a few yards away. He noticed their attention and gave her another smile, though this one had a sheepish tilt to it. 

“You have not met him yet — ” Optimus began and Jaime straightened with sudden comprehension. 

“ — Wait — is that Bumblebee?” she asked lowly. 

“It is.” She looked away from the black and yellow scout, embarrassed by her earlier behavior. 

“Well, in that case… I’m sorry for giving him the stink eye,” she muttered, causing Optimus to chuckle softly.

“I am certain he will overlook it,” the Prime shared. “Bumblebee is not one to hold grudges.” Jaime glanced down at her lap and picked at the edge of her shorts as means of a distraction. So what came next? If not an ultimatum, then at least a lecture surely? She shied away from the idea of being scolded by Optimus Prime of all people. The pause lengthened and the girl’s brow furrowed when Optimus failed to fill it. She tentatively looked up and was surprised to discover him watching her patiently. Almost as if he was waiting on her — like she was meant to lead the conversation. 

“…So…” she chewed her bottom lip, but he didn’t rush her. “Why are you here then?” 

“We were worried,” he said and she couldn’t help but frown at the simple answer. “And someone was not afforded the opportunity to explain themself.” His gaze flicked to the side and she twisted to follow it. Will was standing next to the gazebo with Ironhide’s alt mode parked nearby. The man was leaning against the railing, arms crossed and shoulders hunched. As if sensing her attention, his head lifted and turned in her direction. Jaime quickly looked away. 

“What if he sends me back to the orphanage?” she moaned, her mind spitting out a dozen reasons why. 

“Major Lennox would do no such thing,” said Optimus.

“How can you be so sure?” she demanded.

“Because he has already formed an attachment with you.” Jaime blinked at the Autobot leader. 

“A-attachment?” she sputtered.

“I knew the moment I learned the major deviated from the original plan to merely speak with you,” Optimus revealed. “Instead he chose to bring you home.” Jaime stiffened. “His reaction when you disappeared only further exemplified it.” She searched his face for any doubt but found none.

“…Really?”

“Jaime,” his voice softened but maintained a touch of authority. “You seem to know of me quite well. Do you believe I would try to deceive you about something this important?” She frowned at him. No, no she didn’t. Optimus Prime stood for truth and justice. He was always looking out for others. 

“I shouldn’t have said those things,” she slouched her in seat. “I didn’t mean it, honest. And — ”

“ — I am not the one who should be hearing this,” Optimus gently interrupted. Jaime took a shaky breath.

“What if he hates me?” she whispered.

“Nonsense,” Optimus shook his head. “He may be upset, but Major Lennox does not hate you.” Jaime gathered herself and, with one last encouraging nod from Optimus, walked toward Will like one would approach the gallows. She was fine. Optimus said it would be fine. Will turned and pushed off the railing as she neared. He took a step forward but otherwise appeared to visibly restrain himself. 

“Hey,” Will offered softly. 

“Hi,” she answered timidly. 

“I’m sorry for overwhelming you, Jaime.” She blinked at the unexpectedly abrupt apology. “Probably should’ve waited huh? Until you had a chance to settle in more.” A drawn out burst of air escaped Will’s lips as he scratched the back of his head.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” she said, trying not to fidget. “I…I shouldn’t have said those things. That was mean.” Will’s expression eased into something more relaxed and Jaime was struck by the baffling realization that he’d been nervous. Why would he be nervous?

“I guess there’s no easy way to introduce the Autobots,” he said with a rueful smile. “Ready to head home?” Home? She didn't know where that was. “Sarah was planning on making BLTs today. If we leave now, I think we can still make lunch.” Jaime stared at him. 

“Don’t you mean base?” That had been the whole point of today wasn’t it? Will was quiet for a handful of seconds as he studied her. 

“I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day.” Jaime swallowed, recognizing the out for what it was. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Optimus was still sitting on the bench. He was, but his focus seemed to be on the children playing in the sandbox. Jaime chewed her bottom lip as she thought it over. If Will or the Autobots were going to drop her in favor of Jazz, she’d rather find out now and get it over with. Decision made, she turned back around.

“I wanna go back to base,” she declared but Will hesitated. 

“Are you sure?” his brow furrowed slightly with concern. “We don’t have to go back today.”

“I want to,” she repeated, taking a somewhat shaky breath. 

“…Alright,” he said with a note of reluctance. Jaime expected him to immediately head over to Ironhide waiting nearby, but he didn’t. Instead he slowly raised his hand and placed it on her shoulder. She glanced at it with mild curiosity then back at Will. He seemed to be waiting for something but she wasn’t sure what exactly. When she failed to react, he gently squeezed her shoulder and leaned forward slightly. “And Jaime? Just to avoid any future miscommunication…adoption is permanent. No take backs. Understand?” Jaime regarded Will’s earnest expression, heart fluttering in her chest.

“…No take backs,” she nodded slowly, hearing the underlying promise. She wanted to believe it like Optimus. Jaime took another — steadier — breath and decided to at least try.

Chapter Text

Optimus

The conversation on the park bench had been equal parts enlightening and troubling. Jaime showed clear signs of abandonment and trust issues, to a degree he had not seen since a young Bluestreak was pulled from the rubble of Praxus. Major Lennox seemed aware of the monumental task that lay before him and Optimus wished him the best. 

:: Thank you Bumblebee. :: he sent to the yellow scout, earning a bright chirp in reply before the mech left to resume his guardianship duties with Samuel Witwicky. The bond between the two had only grown stronger the last few weeks and — hopefully — served as an example of future human and Autobot relations.  

The drive back to Hoover Dam did not take long. Soon they reached the room Ratchet had laid claim to and converted into a makeshift medical bay. In the corner at the very back, half-hidden in the narrow alcove formed by stacks of crates of various supplies, was a raised metal surface. On it rested the silver frame of a certain saboteur...one of his oldest friends. 

Optimus shuttered his optics and a far too familiar grief filled his spark. He’d known they were running out of time, that the Decepticons were mobilizing, yet Megatron’s quick arrival had still caught them unprepared. Jazz hadn’t hesitated despite the stacked odds. And the Decepticon leader had rewarded the mech’s bravery by ripping him in half. Ratchet had done an excellent job with repairs, with no discernible damage in sight. For all intents and purposes, Jazz merely appeared to be deep in recharge — capable of onlining any nanoclick. 

Optimus bent down, offering his servo, and carefully helped Jaime onto the medical berth, noting the way she tightly grasped his digit as if distressed by the movement. Was she scared of heights? It seemed to be a somewhat common fear among humans. Major Lennox watched on from a nearby counter with visible apprehension as the rest of the Autobots spread out in a loose circle. 

His spark pulsed faster as Jaime approached the dull frame. She paused by Jazz’s helm and — after glancing in Ratchet’s direction — tentatively laid her hand on the cool metal. Nobody moved, not even daring to clear their intakes, as nanoclicks dragged by. 

“Uh, wakey wakey,” said Jaime when nothing happened. His optic ridges lowered at the odd phrase, but a quick internet search had him immediately dismissing it. 

“Perhaps closer proximity to his spark chamber?” Ratchet suggested after the girl sent another uncertain look his way. Jaime nodded and, before anyone could offer giving her a lift, began to clamber up Jazz’s frame. One of her pedes — shoes, he mentally corrected, humans wore coverings of various manufactured materials over their pedes — made a squeaking sound when it slipped downward but Jaime quickly recovered and regained purchase, pulling herself up to the very top. She slowly traversed from Jazz’s shoulder to his chest plates, paying particular attention to the crevices and not to step inside them. 

Ratchet moved forward to manually open Jazz’s chest plates to reveal his empty spark chamber. Optimus averted his optics and refocused on Jaime. Her bio readings were elevated, indicating a state of anxiety, but her attention on the task at hand did not waver. The CMO backed up a step to give the girl more room but hovered nearby in case his timely intervention proved necessary. She knelt down next to the chest plate opening and his audio receptors picked up her low muttering. The anticipation in the room was so thick that it could have been cut with an energon blade. 

“Come on Jazz, work with me here.” Jaime’s brow furrowed a moment later, a faint frown on her face. “Jazz?” Her eyes briefly darted toward Optimus and the others before returning to the spark chamber in front of her. “Come on Jazz, your friends are waiting for you.” He shared a tense look with Ratchet. Nothing like this had ever been attempted before. Jaime turned her head toward the Autobot leader. “He…he’s not answering.” Her worried tone indicated that this was not a common occurrence. 

“Has that happened before?” Optimus asked. 

“No.” Her bio readings continued to rise. “I kept telling him to shut up. Maybe I —  ” She bit her lip, shoulders hunching with something akin to guilt. Jaime glanced back at Jazz and leaned forward so her head was almost directly above his spark chamber. “I-I’m not mad Jazz, please come back.” She paused but nothing happened. “I’m sorry about before, please don’t — ” Jaime cut off, a dejected expression flitting across her face as she rubbed her chest. “You’re still needed Jazz. Do you hear me?” She scowled down at the still saboteur when her words failed to produce a response. “Come back.” Optimus shared another look with Ratchet. Before he could comm the CMO a shallow gasp caught his attention and he refocused on Jaime. The youngling’s eyes were closed and her hand was tightly grasping her shirt, just over the center of her chest. 

“Jaime?” Major Lennox called from nearby, leaning forward as far as he could without falling off the counter, and Ironhide’s servo shot out like he thought the man might actually lose his balance. Jaime did not answer, and Optimus wondered if she even heard the sound of her name. Her expression was twisted into one of utter concentration as her breathing deepened significantly.

Jaime’s eyes flew open and Optimus felt his struts freeze in place. Their usual green had been replaced by a bright electric blue, practically glowing with a barely contained energy, reminding Optimus of the lightning storms unique to this planet. Energy the same color as her eyes raced down her arm and crackled around her hand. Much like electricity, arcs darted around her digits — fingers — to the very tips. Jaime slowly reached down past the receded chest plates and gently rested her servo — hand — directly onto the edge of the empty spark chamber.  

“Primus,” Ratchet vented softly, tone uncharacteristically reverent. “She’s giving off Allspark radiation!” Optimus felt his intake valves stall and his helm snapped to the CMO’s direction before recalibrating his sensors and scanning the girl for himself. 

Impossible! 

And yet…

No matter how many times he checked, the readings came back the same. How was this feasible? And why hadn’t he sensed the unique energy signature before? His processor whirled as the specter of hope began to stir in the far reaches of his spark. Jaime didn’t just share a connection to Jazz, he realized. Somehow, the youngling shared a connection to the Allspark itself — or at least what remained of it. What did this mean for the future?

The following series of events happened in quick succession. Jazz’s darkened visor illuminated blue. The crackling energy disappeared and Jaime crumbled. Ratchet surged forward and caught her, lest she fall right onto the rekindled spark chamber. The CMO drew back, gently cradling the unconscious youngling in his servos. Jazz sat up, chest plates sliding back into place, gaze immediately fixating on Jaime. 

“Wha’s wrong with ’er?” he demanded. 

“Easy Jazz,” Ratchet cautioned. “Give your systems a chance to — ”

“Ah’m fine,” the silver mech cut in smoothly. Optimus shuttered his optics at the agitated tone. “Wha’ ’bout Jaime? She alright?” Ratchet glanced down at the girl and seemed to scan her. 

“Her readings are within acceptable parameters,” the medic shared. “Given the day’s events, I’d say she’s merely exhausted.” Jazz frowned at the prognosis but finally tore his gaze away from her to observe the rest of the room. Optimus straightened at the saboteur’s attention. 

“Heya boss bot,” the silver mech grinned.

“Jazz,” he vented softly, “it is good to have you back with us.” Words felt so inadequate in conveying his overwhelming relief at the sight of his dear friend online again. 

“Missed ya too Prime,” Jazz offered. His focus switched over to Prowl and he pointed a servo digit at the tactician. “We gotta talk ’bout somethin’.” Prowl stiffened at the ominous greeting, door wings flicking upward. “Please tell meh ya got some kinda contact with the local law enforcement.”

“…I do,” the second-in-command warily confirmed. 

“Good,” Jazz growled, baring his dentas. “Ah got someone in mind ya need t’ look into.” Prowl’s gaze narrowed with something akin to suspicion. 

“…They wouldn’t happen be a ‘Miss Narcissa’ would they?” he asked. Jazz immediately brightened. 

“Shoulda known,” the saboteur barked a short laugh, more vindictive than friendly. “Yo’r already lookin’ into ’er, ain't ya?” Satisfied Jazz wasn’t about to keel over, Ratchet moved away from the berth and headed toward Major Lennox. 

“I do not believe Jaime’s current status should be cause for any alarm,” he said. “Though it may be some time before she wakes up.” Jaime was promptly relocated to the human medical wing. Despite the impressive med bay Ratchet had managed to cobble together here, it was not ideal for smaller organic patients. Knowing the CMO, he was already strategizing the necessary changes to fix that. 

Jazz proceeded to brief the rest of the Autobots after Major Lennox left with the youngling. Apparently Jaime visited Hoover Dam when she was younger and somehow encountered the Allspark while separated from her creators. When he moved onto the youngling center — orphanage — his engine began to rev angrily the longer he talked about it. 

“That femme,” Jazz hissed, “don’ give a frag ’bout ’em younglin’s.” Optimus had not seen the saboteur so incensed in a very long time. “Ain’t fit t’ be near ’em.”

“If she detests them like you say,” Ironhide rumbled, arms crossed against his chassis. “Then why is she the headmistress in the first place?”

“She’s gettin’ somethin’ outta the current setup,” Jazz scowled, “Ah’m sure of it. Wha’ that is ’xactly Ah can’t say for shor.” He paused here to direct an expectant look in Prowl’s direction. 

“My investigation has yet to turn up anything to suggest that the regulations in place are not being met — ” the tactician began. 

“ — Tha’s a load of slag.”

“I do not doubt what you’re saying, Jazz,” Prowl slowly shook his helm. “Merely that I have yet to discover any evidence to actually support it.” Jazz appeared on the verge of snapping out something unsavory and Prowl raised a servo to delay it. “However the gaps of certain information, such as financials, do indicate there is something to be found. Unfortunately the digital records pertaining to their daily operations are severely lacking.” Jazz considered that piece of information for several nanoclicks. 

“One of the floors was off limits t’ the younglin’s,” Jazz eventually offered. “Pretty shor there’s an office an’ tha’s where she’s keeping those files.”

“What files?” Prowl’s attention sharpened along with the rest of the Autobots. 

“Whatevuh tha’ human Jaxon’s been givin’ her.” 

“Erik Jaxon?” Prowl asked, helm tilting to the side. 

“Don’ know his first name,” Jazz shrugged. “Jus’ tha’ someone with the name Jaxon is involved in some way.” Prowl cleared his intakes softly. 

“I will look into it further,” he promised. “Though some measure of cooperation would make a significant difference.”

“An insider?” Optimus asked and Prowl nodded in confirmation. 

“Femme’s got the youngling’s terrified,” Ironhide growled and Optimus placed a calming servo on the mech’s shoulder. “How are we supposed to convince them to speak out against her?”

“Yo’r not,” said Jazz, “’specially not Prowluh.” The tactician’s door wings twitched at the nickname but the unusual lack of correction was telling. To say that Prowl had not taken the news of Jazz's demise well — that he’d arrived just days after the desperate battle — would be a severe understatement. “They’re not gonna suddenly trust a bunch of strangers…but they might listen to one of their own.”

******

Ratchet

“Jaime,” Prowl immediately deduced. Jazz nodded.

“She expressed opposition about returning to the orphanage earlier,” Optimus warned. “Are you certain she would agree to such an approach?” The hangar briefly fell silent as Jazz deliberated over the question. 

“Depends how ya present it,” the silver mech decided. “Ah think if ya stress the positive outcome yo’r aimin’ for an’ how it would benefit Ch — ” The sensors feeding Ratchet with data on Jaime’s current status disappeared and he jerked at the sudden loss of input. Lennox’s attention snapped to him. 

“What is it?” the major asked, making conversation halt. 

“The monitors tracking Jaime’s vitals have been disconnected,” he explained which seemed to set Lennox on edge. “Likely the result of a human’s carelessness,” he promptly added before the man could overreact and triggered his transformation sequence. “Nevertheless,” he continued once his holoform exited the search and rescue alt mode, “I shall confirm nothing is amiss.” 

Wheeljack’s holomatter projector upgrade had proven to be an invaluable tool since Prowl’s arrival. The second-in-command had acquired the schematics at some point after team Prime’s departure from Cybertron and the Autobots had been quick to implement the new software here on Earth. 

Ratchet had settled on a tall holoform with medium length brown hair and a small goatee. Rectangular spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose and framed bright blue eyes. He wore a short sleeve button-up paramedic shirt — the same yellow color as his alt mode — with a white lab coat thrown on top. Black pants, dress shoes, and a pair of dog tags — a detail all their holoforms shared — finished the ensemble. Lennox wordlessly fell into step as the pair made their way to the medical wing.

“Will!” Was that Jaime? Given the stress of recent events, Ratchet had expected the youngling to remain in recharge longer than just a couple hours. “Will!” the tone became increasingly desperate and they picked up the pace, rounding the corner just outside the medical facility reserved for human personnel. Jaime was sprinting down the hallway and her expression immediately brightened at the sight of Lennox. “Will!” Jaime didn’t slow down though and launched herself into Lennox’s arms. The major barely managed to maintain his balance as she wrapped her arm and legs around him.

“Jaime, what’s wrong?” Lennox asked, clearly startled by the sudden show of affection. He tried to pull back slightly to get a better view of her face but she tightly clung to him like a parasite. 

“No!” she practically shrieked. “Don’t leave me!” Ratchet shared a stunned look with him as he registered her highly elevated bio readings. Just what had distressed Jaime so much?

“It’s okay,” Lennox soothed, one his hands began to rub circles into her back. “No one’s going anywhere.” Jaime only shuddered and burrowed her face further into the crook of the man’s neck. Ratchet silently motioned for Lennox to follow and they reached the room where she’d previously been resting. Two nurses were having a hushed disagreement that cut off the moment they entered. 

“What happened?” Ratchet demanded. Before they could provide an explanation, Jaime lifted her head long enough to catch sight of the women and her breathing hitched. She ducked her head back down and seemed to cling even tighter to Lennox. 

“Don’t let them near me,” she whimpered. Ratchet frowned at the reaction. Were the nurses the cause of Jaime’s distress?

“Leave,” he told them and the older nurse began to protest. “I don’t care. Get out.” He watched Jaime closely to see if their departure had a positive effect on her behavior. The shaking began to diminish and her breathing became steadier as Lennox continued to rub her back and whisper soothing words into her ear. 

“Can you tell us what happened Jaime?” Ratchet asked when the girl finally showed signs of calming. She didn’t acknowledge the question and he shared another concerned look with Lennox. “Jaime,” he gently laid a hand on her shoulder and she flinched away. 

“Don’t let him cut off my arm!” she begged. “I’ll be good! I promise!” Ratchet quickly withdrew, mind reeling at the damming words. He recalled the file Prowl had put together on the youngling. The report had included medical records detailing injuries from a car accident. Notes indicated the youngling’s arm had been crushed beyond repair and in danger of becoming infected, but her behavior betrayed a belief that the emergency amputation was some form of punishment. Why would she think that? Was it residual trauma? Or had someone said something to plant the insidious lie in Jaime’s mind?

“Jaime,” said Lennox, receiving a sniffle in response. “Jaime look at me.” There was a notable pause before she reluctantly heeded the soft command. “Take some deep breaths,” he continued, hand still rubbing her back. “I’m not leaving, okay?” Jaime sucked in a few shaky breaths and nodded tentatively. “No one here’s going to hurt you, especially not Ratchet.” The man’s tone turned equal parts playful and conspiring, as if to imply the very idea was ludicrous. “His bark is far worse than his bite, remember?” The CMO felt the urge to roll his eyes and make a derogatory retort, but Jaime was studying him now so he resisted. 

“Ratchet?” she asked with a hint of skepticism.

“My holoform,” he clarified, earning a confused frown. “A program designed by one of our engineers that allows us to better blend in. Prowl brought it with him to Earth.” He paused and noted the suspicion was slowly being replaced by curiosity. “You have already encountered Prowl and Optimus in this manner. And Bumblebee.”

“Ratchet,” she repeated slowly, tone still somewhat dubious. She appeared to have some type of bias against medical professionals, he concluded. Would that translate to him as well? He got the impression she was waiting for him to prove his identity. 

“Yes,” he sighed, “though earlier you referred to me as Hatchet — ” he managed not to make a face at that ridiculous nickname the terror twins had bestowed him “ — and made Prowl glitch.”

“Oh,” Jaime blinked and her eyes darted to the ground. “Right. Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he said, and made a gesture for Lennox to set the youngling on the nearby bed. She tensed when he did, heart rate spiking, but settled once he sat down next to her and firmly grasped her hand. 

“Now — ” Ratchet began only to be cut off by Jaime, a look of realization flitting across her face. 

“Jazz!” she gasped, eyes wide. “Is he — ”

“Perfectly fine,” he assured her with a faint smile, reminded of the saboteur’s similar reaction upon onlining. “Thanks to you,” he added and Jaime flushed slightly, glancing down. 

“I didn’t do much,” she mumbled and Ratchet raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Not wanting to put off her examination any longer, he merely grunted in reply. Ratchet used a mixture of scans and questions to determine Jaime’s status. There didn’t appear to be any physical consequences for the miracle she recently pulled off (he still couldn’t quite believe what he’d witnessed). The girl’s bio readings had returned to normal parameters and she seemed to have no trouble following the conversation. 

The body language, however, was a completely different matter. She avoided his gaze for the most part and her answers came in short quiet sentences. While the underlying tension in her frame diminished, it did not disappear entirely.  

:: Everythin’ good Ratch? :: Jazz asked over comms.

:: Jaime is in perfect physical health :: he answered :: excluding the minor case of malnutrition. ::

:: …Physical? :: the saboteur repeated in a wary tone. He should have known Jazz would pick up on that. 

“Jaime I need you to raise your head,” Ratchet said aloud. All that was left to test were her reflexes, specifically to check if there was any type of processing delay. Now that Jazz was no longer ‘a voice in her head’ as she put it, he wanted to confirm the mech’s sudden absence hadn’t negatively effected the state of her mind. 

:: Ratchet. :: Jazz prompted with a hint of impatience.

:: Yes? :: Jaime hesitantly lifted her head as requested and met his gaze. Ratchet quickly began to assess her mental capabilities before she looked away again. 

:: Wha’ did ya mean physically? :: Toward the end of his pupil dilation test, Jaime flinched minutely when his hand came within a few inches of her face. Ratchet stilled and Lennox’s attention sharpened. Fear response, his mind catalogued. 

:: Has Jaime had a negative experience with medical personnel? :: he asked in a clipped tone. 

:: I dunno ’bout doctuhs :: Jazz growled lowly :: but tha’ Miss Narcissa shor is a piece of work. No bettuh than a Con if ya ask meh. :: So he wasn’t imagining it then. Great.

Ratchet dropped his hand back to his side and kneeled in front of Jaime who tensed further. The imagery reminded him of a sparkling Bumblebee retreating within himself during their first meeting, shortly after the horrifying decimation of Praxus. 

“I’m here to help,” he said softly. Though the fall of Praxus had occurred vorns ago, it was easy to remember the words of comfort he’d offered the black and yellow sparkling. “My job is to help you.”

“I know that,” Jaime frowned, tone marginally defensive. Ratchet shared a look with Lennox, the lack of surprise on his face regarding her behavior spoke volumes. A conditioned response then, Ratchet theorized, or a subconscious one. 

:: Wha’s happenin’? :: Jazz asked. 

“There is nothing to fear,” he told the girl. “No one here will harm you like that femme.” Jaime stiffened and her heartbeat sped up. 

“That’s not — ” she protested before cutting herself off. “I don’t — ”

:: That’s it. :: Jazz huffed. :: Ah’m coming over there. ::

:: You haven’t been outfitted with a holomatter projector yet. :: Ratchet immediately shot down the idea. :: The hallways are too narrow. ::

:: Don’ mattuh :: the stubborn mech did not let it go. Typical. :: Ah can squeeze. :: 

:: Try it and I’ll weld your aft to a medical berth. :: Ratchet growled. :: Your repairs aren’t ready for that kind of stress yet. You stay right where you are. :: Jazz muttered something insulting under his breath. 

“Anything in particular bothering you Jaime?” Lennox asked the youngling, completely oblivious to the brewing conflict over comms. She chewed her bottom lip for several nanoclicks. 

“I don’t like hospitals,” she admitted lowly, eyes glued to the floor. Ratchet’s gaze narrowed slightly at the remark. Technically this wasn’t one, but some of the equipment did share a resemblance to what could be found in such a facility. “…Last time I woke up in one I…” She let out a shaky exhale, blinking rapidly. 

“Your creators?” Ratchet filled in gently. Her hand twitched upward, as if to grasp what remained of her left arm, before Jaime curled inward on herself and nodded wordlessly. Ratchet pursed his lips in thought. There wasn’t much he could do about that. At least, the offlined creators part. Lennox experimentally looped an arm around the youngling’s shoulders and she timidly leaned against his chest. Ratchet decided to leave the pair of humans alone, he got what he needed, and dismissed the holoform. He triggered his transformation sequence back in the med bay and recalibrated his sensors, engine almost stalling at the ridiculous sight before him. 

Optimus was standing in the doorway that acted as the only exit of the makeshift med bay, arms and legs spread out as if to turn himself into a physical barrier — his right knee joint twisted in a way that suggested he’d dropped it suddenly. Most likely in a desperate attempt to stop Jazz, who was crouched low to the ground, one pede slid underneath the Prime and just a few inches shy of the hallway, the rest of his frame not far behind. Prowl was hovering just behind the saboteur, servo outstretched toward one of his silver horns — a sensitive area much like Praxian door wings that logged additional data regular sensors didn’t pick up. Ironhide, meanwhile, was half-sprawled on the floor near the previously occupied medical berth and rubbing his now scuffed chest plates. 

Ratchet scowled darkly at Jazz and the mech had the audacity to offer an entirely unrepentant grin. 

“I swear to Primus,” the medic pointed a threatening servo digit. “You better be back on that medical berth in the next three nanoclicks or I will reformat you into a toaster.”

Chapter Text

She could check ‘carried by a giant alien robot’ off her bucket list now. The sensation, or maybe it was the utter lack of control, was unsettling — especially since she only had one arm to catch herself if she lost her balance. But Optimus Prime would never drop her (that’s what she kept telling herself as she grasped his finger tight). 

Jazz’s frame looked much like he appeared in her dream before Megatron ripped him in half. He still hadn’t said anything since she yelled at him to shut up. Maybe he was mad at her. She hadn’t been a very good friend lately. Anxiety clawed at her chest when nothing happened and she could feel the heavy gaze of everyone else in the room. Had she accidentally broken the mysterious bond that connected them? Was Jazz lost forever? When her pleas failed to garner a response, Jaime became increasingly desperate. 

“Come back,” she outright commanded, forcing as much authority into her tone as she could muster. Jazz had never ignored her before. Maybe he couldn’t hear her? The tight feeling in her chest returned with a vengeance, consolidating into a concentrated area. The sharp tug made her fingers curl and grasp her shirt. It felt like…an invitation? Jazz?

Jaime closed her eyes and tried to follow it. Awareness of the shifting Autobots around her fell away as she chased after the strange tugging. There was a twist and for a moment she almost lost track of it — Where are you? — before the alien sensation reached out and pulled her under. She faintly heard someone gasp but it was far away like she was underwater.

Follow. 

Jaime shivered at the deep voice. That definitely wasn’t Jazz...but it also sounded familiar. Like she’d heard it once a long time ago. She cautiously followed the insistent tugging as it seemed to lead her to her very center. Time didn’t exist here. There was nothing but the muted ebb and flow of what was and what would be. And a presence. A very old presence — older than the universe? — that she vaguely remembered encountering, or something like it, years and years ago. 

He is waiting. 

Was it…speaking to her? The presence/entity/thing — what was it? Who are you? — surged forward and Jaime found herself caught up within its might. If she could still feel her lungs, the force of its power — this swirling energy — would have stolen her breath away. It was as if she was hovering in the eye of a storm — a storm of immense and terrifying raw power. 

Jazz! she called, or tried to anyway. Where are you? Jaime strained to hear him, reaching out blindly for anything that felt like him. A cacophony of voices began to whip around her. 

Beloved — I’m ready — Everything will be fine — Primus will it — Shh, don’t cry — Jaime!

Jazz! She lunged in that direction and grasped for the saboteur. Please come back!

Jaime? Excitement filled her. He sounded closer now. 

I’m here! She struggled to make contact with him. She couldn’t see anything. Come back to me!

Peace youngling. A faint chill went through her as the ancient voice spoke again. I shall guide your friend, but you must relinquish control. Jaime hesitated. Bad things happened when she wasn’t in control. The accident. Her arm. The orphanage. 

Jaime? Jazz sounded more distant now. No. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t fail him. Everyone was counting on her. 

Please bring him back, Jaime beseeched the voice as she reluctantly let go. The thousands of murmuring voices fell away and the tempest of energy swelled. A hum crescendoing in sound permeated all around Jaime and the feeling of her limbs returned. 

She was kneeling over Jazz’s empty spark chamber once more but it was like she was a spectator in her own body. Something akin to electricity crackled along her arm. There were voices — the Autobots? That sounded like Ratchet — speaking nearby, but she couldn’t turn her head to look. 

Return, the voice boomed inside Jaime’s mind, rattling her teeth. It traveled downward and settled deep inside her bones like a silent oath. 

And then she blacked out. 

******

Jaime sat in the church pew all by herself, legs swinging back and forth, arms wrapped around her sides in an attempt to hug herself. She ducked her head down so people would stop coming up to her to say how sorry they were. She didn’t understand why they kept apologizing since it wouldn’t bring grandpa back. Mom got sad when Jaime kept asking questions about it so she stopped. She’d never seen mom cry before and it scared her. 

The green dress mom picked out was new and itchy. She didn’t like it. She wanted to be outside playing in her regular clothes. Or at the farm with Sadie, but dad said they’d both been sold so the three of them couldn’t visit anymore. 

“Where’s grandpa gone?” she asked her parents as they left the cemetery. For a second, mom looked like she might cry again and dad put his arm around her waist, gently kissing her temple. 

“He’s watching over you now,” said dad. “Just like the rest of your grandparents.” Jaime frowned at that, she’d never met her other grandpa or either of her grandmas. 

“I miss him,” she said, scuffing the ground. The farm had practically been a second home given the frequency of their visits. 

“Me too sweetheart,” mom answered, looking a little more put together. She reached out to tuck a strand of hair — they shared the same chocolate brown color — behind the little girl’s ear. “Hold his memory in your mind and heart, Jaime. Hold it tight and you’ll still feel his love.”  

Jaime furrowed her brows and screwed her eyes shut the entire car ride home, trying to do as her mom said. But all she could feel was the thud of her own heartbeat. 

Beep.

Hoover Dam was big. That was Jaime’s first impression. There was lots to see but there was also lots of talking. The leader of their group was kind of boring and she couldn’t even see him half the time with all the tall adults in the way. There were a couple teenagers and one other kid, but Jaime was the youngest by a wide margin so they mostly ignored her. She stuck near her parents for most of the tour — mom had stressed over and over beforehand how important it was that she not get separated like a few months ago at the grocery store — and Jaime had every intention of listening. But then a strange looking man caught her attention as he walked by, talking lowly into a walkie talkie. Jaime’s eyes lit up. She always wanted one of those. She wondered if she asked nicely if the man would let her talk into it. She glanced back at her mom and dad who looked really interested in whatever the tour leader was saying. She’d be right back, she decided. They wouldn’t even notice she was gone. 

Jaime slipped away and walked with purpose after her target. She didn’t run — that always attracted the wrong kind of attention — and easily kept pace with the walkie talkie man. No one tried to stop her as she followed him down a number of hallways, though her curiosity began to grow as the crowds began to thin out. Oooh, was he going somewhere secret? He finally reached a slightly recessed door that blended into the rest of the wall. She would have walked by it she’d been alone. Walkie talkie man checked over his shoulder and Jaime pressed herself into a small niche that covered her in shadow. She held her breath and watched as a keypad popped out. The man punched a few buttons — a secret code! — and the door slid open. Realizing she was about to lose her target, Jaime scurried forward but the man disappeared and the partially hidden door slid shut behind him. The girl pouted up at the keypad just out of reach. Now what? 

Youngling. 

Jaime startled and whipped around but there was no one there. The hallway was empty. She turned back to the door and stared at it. 

“Hello?” she whispered in her most secretive whisper. Jaime placed one of her hands on the cold metal door. She blinked at the rather dull surface. She could almost feel a faint humming. She pressed one of her ears to the door to try and hear whatever was beyond it. “Are you okay?” An odd sensation came over her, like something was watching her — something big. The air felt heavy with some kind of…energy. 

No. Jaime’s breath caught in her throat. Uh oh, sounded like someone was in trouble. Was the walkie talkie man a bad guy?

“What’s wrong?” she asked, but the mysterious voice didn’t answer. “Do you need help?”

Yes.

“Dad says I’m great at helping,” Jaime shared. He sometimes called her his little helper, like when he had to repaint the shed out back he assigned the girl her own paintbrush. Or when dad mowed the lawn he let her push her own plastic mower a few feet behind to ‘catch any blades’ he missed. And of course, any time dad used anything from his toolbox Jaime was supposed to supervise to make sure he didn’t accidentally hurt himself. She thought about offering to go get him but then she wasn’t really supposed to be here in the first place. 

Acceptable. Jaime blinked at the odd response. What did that mean? The mysterious voice talked like a really old grown up. Before she could say anything else, a hand firmly closed around her upper arm and dragged her away from the door. 

“What did I tell you?” mom reprimanded lowly. 

“But — ”

“You are in so much trouble,” mom continued and marched them down the hallway. Her shoulders slumped at the lecturing tone. Her parents kept a much closer eye on her for the rest of the visit, though dad carried her around for most of it so it wasn’t all bad. 

By the time they returned to their hotel room, Jaime completely forgot about her little solo adventure. 

Beep. Beep.

Jaime stared up at the inky black sky with millions of tiny lights shining back, dad stretched out on the grass next to her. Every weekend, weather permitting, the two of them would stargaze in the front yard. Dad knew a lot about stars and planets. He said one day he’d take Jaime somewhere that had a giant telescope and she’d be able to see the vastness of space up close. For now, he told her stories about all the different constellations and Jaime could reliably point out most of them. A streak of light flashed across the sky. Jaime gasped and quickly craned her head to look at her dad. His eyes — the same shade of green as her own — crinkled at her excitement. 

“Better make a wish before it’s too late,” he teased. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished as hard as she could, ignoring dad’s low chuckle, opening her eyes when she was done. 

“That must have been some wish,” he remarked.

“It was,” she said in her most serious adult-like voice. She wasn’t a baby anymore. She was six and a half. 

“What did you wish for?” he asked and Jaime frowned at him. Everyone knew you weren’t supposed to say your wish aloud. That was, like, the number one rule. But for this wish, if she told her dad, it was bound to come true — wasn’t it? Jaime bit her lip as she mulled it over. 

“I wished for a little brother,” she admitted softly. Dad raised his eyebrows at her. 

“A brother? Really?” 

“Then he can be the youngest,” Jaime explained and her dad snorted lightly, but she didn’t stop there. “I wouldn’t let anyone pick on him, because we’d be best friends. And we’d never fight like other brothers and sisters.” Not like some of the stories she heard from her classmates. She’d have someone closer in age to play games with and they’d have their own secrets. 

“We’ll see,” dad hummed. Jaime did her best not to grin and refocused on the stars above. Usually that was dad’s way of saying not yet, but those always turned into a yes eventually. “Never know what the future will bring.” She couldn’t wait. 

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“That Italian bit was pretty good,” said dad as they left the movie theater. They were back in the car and driving home. The sun had set recently and the sky was beginning to darken. 

“Dee-na-mee-tay!” Jaime piped up from the back. The talking squirrel had been her favorite character. Mom made the same exasperated face as before.

“It’s not really Italian, Jaime,” she said, turning slightly in the passenger seat. “And it’s pronounced dai-nuh-mite.” Jaime frowned at that. 

“…I like dee-na-mee-tay better.” Dad let out a loud guffaw from the driver’s seat. 

“You tell her James.” 

“She’s not a boy, Harold,” mom rolled her eyes. Jaime bit her lip to hide her smile. Mom only called dad that when she was trying to be stern. 

“She likes the nickname,” dad defended, sending a wink her way through the rearview mirror. “Don’t ya?”

“I’m just as good as any boy,” she bragged, earning a proud grin from dad. 

“Honestly Harold,” mom let out a soft huff. “You’re worse than a toddler.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say, Ellie,” he grinned over at her. “Someone’s not setting a very good example for our daughter.” Mom sighed and lightly smacked his arm. Moments later the car slid a little on a patch of ice and Jaime cringed at the unsettling feeling. 

“Sorry,” mom quickly apologized and dad glanced at the rearview mirror to check on Jaime who was gripping her seat belt. 

“It’s alright,” he soothed. “We’re okay.” He glanced over at mom. “Why don’t we listen to something on the radio? I’m sure there’s something playing we can sing along to.” Mom did just that and soon a familiar song filled the car. Jaime began to relax after a few songs, not paying attention to details like low visibility caused by fog or how much the car had slowed down. 

“Should we pull over?” mom asked lowly, though Jaime’s sharp ears still picked it up. 

“No,” dad shook his head. “It’s just gonna get worse.” She frowned at the nervous tone. That couldn’t be right. Dad wasn’t scared of anything. 

“Look out!” Jaime stiffened at her mom’s sudden shout. A second later their car swerved to avoid the red pickup that had nearly run them off the road. Before dad could steer them back into the right lane, a different car came hurtling from the same direction out of the fog and clipped the front of their car. Jaime whimpered and grasped for the car handle on her left as they spun out. She opened her eyes and let out a short exhale when they finally stopped spinning. 

“Everyone okay?” dad asked, looking to his right. Mom groaned and slowly nodded. 

“Daddy,” Jaime sniffled, shaken by the entire experience. He twisted around in his seat and mom did the same. 

“Hey,” he reached out toward Jaime. “It’s okay, just a little tap. You’re okay.” Jaime rubbed her watery eyes and dad sent her an encouraging smile. “We’re okay. Everything’s fine, take some deep breaths — ” She tried to follow his directions as a bright light pierced through the fog and mom turned back around. 

“Harry! — ”

Honk! Honk!

Dad was still looking at her when Jaime’s left side erupted into an explosion of pain. There was a horrible screeching sound — or was that screaming? — either way her ears wouldn’t stop ringing. She couldn’t breath because something the size of a giant must have slammed into her. Her vision swam and mostly consisted of blurry reds and blues. Was that a siren? She couldn’t move, something heavy was pinning her down. 

Jaime blinked and then she was moving. Or the sky was moving. Oh she could see the sky again. Wait, it was gone, a white ceiling had replaced it. The ringing in her ears began to fade but the wailing siren didn’t go away, it was even louder than before. She seemed to be in some kind of large white box. Possibly metal.

Jaime blinked again and the vague outline of a person hovered above her. The sound of overlapping voices pierced the fog surrounding her hazy mind. 

“That’s it, stay with us,” the figure leaned down closer, a man wearing a blue shirt? Jaime groaned. Her body felt like it was on fire. “How’s her vitals?” The man asked someone outside her field of view. 

“ — good. Keep talking — ”

“Hey, I’m Joey,” the man introduced with a friendly smile. “Can you tell me your name?” Jaime frowned at him. That was a weird question, she thought. When she tried to speak, she realized maybe it wasn’t such a dumb thing to ask. Her tongue was awfully heavy, and her throat was really dry. Joey glanced to the side at whoever he’d been talking to before.

“…Jaime,” she croaked out, drawing his attention back to her. 

“That’s a nice name,” he said. “I need you to stay awake, okay Jaime? We’re on the way to the hospital and — take care of you but — need to stay with — eyes open — ”

Hospital? Why were they taking her to the hospital? Where were her mom and dad? She wanted to ask the man — she already forgot his name — but she was so exhausted and it tugged at her incessantly like a heavy anchor. Her eyes began to droop shut. 

“Jaime,” the man lightly tapped her cheek. “ — stay awake. We’re almost — little longer okay?”

She tried to keep her eyes open. She really did. But they were closing on their own. She’d let them rest for a little while…just a few seconds.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

God she was so tired. 

Jaime let out a low groan. Did dad hit the snooze button again instead of turning the alarm off? She was so stiff…and sore. What time was it? Felt like she hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. She laid in bed for a handful of seconds, waiting for mom to quiet the alarm, but it kept going off. Jaime groaned again, more irritated this time. Fine, she’d get up and turn it off herself but then she was going to figure out how to change the alarm setting and hide it in dad’s closet. See how he liked that. 

It took Jaime a few attempts to crack her eyes open, like the lids had fused together. Blank unfamiliar walls greeted her. This wasn’t her bedroom. Where was she? Jaime glanced around her rather plain looking surroundings, the only color being the far side wall painted a soft baby blue. On one side of her bed, in the corner was some kind of monitor which was producing the regular beeping noise. Next to it was a clear plastic bag hanging from a tall metal stand. Her eyes followed the narrow tube to a needle inserted into the back of her right hand. 

…Was she at a hospital? 

“We’re on the way to the hospital — ” 

Jaime frowned as the name ‘Joey’ flitted into and out of her mind. She didn’t know a Joey.

The door on her left opened and a doctor walked in followed by a nurse. 

“Good to see you awake,” the doctor smiled at her. “We were starting to get worried.” She stared at him and the smile wavered for a brief moment before it firmly stayed in place. “You were unconscious for almost a week, but given the circumstances I’d say you’re a very lucky girl.” The nurse’s face twitched but the woman didn’t say anything. Wrong, Jaime thought. Something was very wrong. 

“Where,” she rasped before a cough cut her off and the nurse hurried to offer her a small plastic cup of water. She brought it up to Jaime’s lips — like she was some weakling — before the girl could even reach out for it. She scowled but accepted the cool liquid, letting out a shallow sigh as it soothed her dry throat. “Why am I here?” she tried again. Her head throbbed faintly and she ached all over. 

“Well, you did have a serious concussion. Short-term memory loss isn’t unusual.” He was still smiling at her. Why was he smiling? Was there something on her face? 

“Where’s my mom and dad?” she asked. The smile finally disappeared.

“Jaime,” the doctor sighed, “you were in a terrible car accident. A semi-truck collided into your left side. You’re incredibly lucky to be alive right now.” He completely ignored her question.

“Where’s my mom and dad?” she repeated. Panic fluttered in her stomach, making it clench. The doctor shared a glance with the nurse. 

“You should really get some rest,” he said. “We can talk more later once you’re — ”

“Where are they?” she snapped, heart racing at the lack of answers. The beeping monitor instantly betrayed her, alerting the adults to her growing terror. The doctor looked at her with sad eyes.

“I’m really sorry Jaime,” he said. Her gaze darted back and forth between the two. “They didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry about your grandpa.” “My condolences, young lady.” “He was a wonderful person.”

“No,” she choked out, blinking rapidly. “No — you’re lying.” Both adults just stared at her with pity. “They’re not — ” She couldn’t say it aloud. She couldn’t because if she did that might make it real and…

“ — Everything’s fine, take some deep breaths — ”

She tried. She was trying so hard right now but she couldn’t breath. The doctor was saying something but she didn’t pay him any mind. He wasn’t important. He was lying. Feeling trapped, Jaime sat up — ignoring the slight sense of vertigo — and swung her legs to the side of the bed. She needed to get out of here. She needed to find her mom and dad. 

“Wait, you’re not ready to be standing yet — ” the nurse began to protest.

“Jaime, please lie back down,” the doctor raised his hands in a calming manner. “You need to rest.”

But she wasn’t looking at either of them. Instead she was focused on her left arm — at least — what was left of it. Where her left arm should have been was now a stump wrapped in white bandages. She dragged her gaze back up to the doctor, eyes burning, and he actually retreated a step. 

“…you cut off my arm?” she growled.

“W-we had too,” the doctor — what a joke, she thought — was quick to defend himself. “There was too much damage and the infection would have caused even more. The emergency procedure allowed us to — ” Jaime looked away and glared at the baby blue wall. It wasn’t soothing at all and she hated it. 

“Go away,” she interrupted the doctor. She didn’t want to hear any more of his lies or excuses. The tears that threatened to fall were barely being kept at bay and she refused to cry in front of either of them. 

“I understand this will take some time — ”

“I said leave me alone!” she shouted. A suffocating silence fell over the room and she could hear the doctor and nurse shift uneasily. 

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Jaime.” The door clicked shut and Jaime rolled over so that her back was to it. The tears finally began to fall and soaked her pillow.   

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Jaime woke up far too soon. Her body was stiff and she was so exhausted. What had she been doing? The first thing her mind registered was a consistent beeping sound. 

Her eyes snapped open. 

She was hooked up to a bunch of monitors in a plain white room. Hospital? No windows though. Jaime quickly disconnected the various sensors attached to her — at least there were no needles this time — and sat up in the surprisingly comfortable bed. Her slow mind worked hard to recall just what exactly landed her here. 

A handful of memories flashed by: giving Charlie a bento box from Jeong Jeong, Miss Narcissa leaning over her with a dark scowl, running away from Will — Jaime gasped. Will! 

Where was he? Why wasn’t he here with her? Dread coiled in her stomach. Jaime glanced down, taking stock of her body. Nothing important seemed to be missing. She still had the one arm. Did that mean Will was okay too? He wasn’t gone…right? Her heart hammered in her chest and an iron band slowly began to constrict around her lungs. 

The door swung open and two nurses walked in. The older one let a surprised ‘oh’ sound, like she hadn’t expected Jaime to be sitting up yet.

“Oh goody, you’re awake!” the younger one smiled.

“Where am I?” she demanded, instantly on guard.

“Never mind that dearie,” the older nurse waved off her question. “You had a nasty little accident. Best to get some rest.” Jaime stiffened. God, not again. 

“I’m fine,” she forced out, swinging her legs around to stand up.

“None of that now,” the younger nurse chided. “You don’t want to wear yourself out — ”

“Let me go!” Jaime snarled, shaking the nurse’s hand off her shoulder. “Will!”

“Calm down!”

“Don’t be making a ruckus!” The nurses tried to get Jaime to lie back down but she was beyond listening. She couldn’t trust whatever they said, it was probably just a bunch of lies. 

“Will!” Jaime rushed the nurses, practically colliding with them and throwing them off balance as she managed to slip past them and out the still open door. “Will!”

Jaime paused briefly in the unfamiliar hallway. She didn’t know where she was so she picked a direction that felt right and ran. She turned the corner and at the far end caught sight of her target. 

“Will!” she brightened at the sight of him and sprinted even faster. He’d protect her from the nurses just like he did with Miss Narcissa, surely? She launched herself into his arms, wrapping her legs around his torso, and buried her face into the crook of his neck. She inhaled deeply, savoring the faint smell of oil and hay. He smelled very much alive and something in her chest loosened. When he began to pull away, she almost panicked. 

“No!” she tried to cling to him even tighter than before. “Don’t leave me!” Not like mom and dad. Don’t disappear. Don’t leave me alone — please, please, please. Will seemed to get the message and didn’t try it again. Instead he began to rub soothing circles into her back like mom used to, whispering comforting words into her ear. 

“ — take some deep breaths — ”

Jaime shuddered and burrowed further into Will’s embrace as she tried to calm down. She was fine. Everything was fine. Will was here. He said no take backs. Then the nurses were back and Jaime whimpered something about not letting them near her. Someone was talking but she ignored it, she just wanted to stay like this for a little bit longer. She realized too late that the doctor — when did he come in? — was still in the room and Jaime nearly jumped right out of her skin when the man reached out to her. But it wasn’t a doctor, it was…Ratchet? Ratchet, the Autobots, Hoover Dam — not a hospital, she was on a secret military base. The realization acted as a soothing balm and Jaime let out a shaky exhale. Still, the plain sterile setting put the girl on edge and she couldn’t quite relax, especially after essentially reliving the accident.

Her eyes slid shut after Ratchet’s holoform flickered out of existence. Jaime’s ear was close enough to Will’s chest to hear his steady heartbeat and her breathing fell into a similar rhythm as his own. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly and Jaime shook her head. Will hummed lightly. “What about the nightmare last night?” She furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head back to look up at him. “You ended up sleeping in Ironhide’s cab?” Oh…shoot. She’d hoped he’d forgotten about that with everything else that happened. She certainly had. Jaime pulled back slightly so she wouldn’t have to crane her neck so much, but not enough that his arm couldn’t remain loosing wrapped around her shoulders.

“I’m fine,” she sniffed, rubbing her face to get rid of the drying tears. 

“That’s not what I asked.” Jaime swallowed and looked away. She didn’t even remember all the details of the nightmare now, just that someone had been dying. She didn’t even know if they had been an Autobot or Decepticon. She didn’t want to know. “Everyone has nightmares, Jaime. It’s perfectly normal.” She scoffed lightly, not even trying to hide her skepticism. She was pretty sure no one else got stuck with dreams of an alien civil war. 

“Like you?” she challenged, expecting him to say no. An odd expression passed over his face. 

“…even me.” Jaime stared. Will fought Decepticons, what could he possibly have nightmares about? The silence stretched as Will seemed to seriously consider his next words. “I still dream of Mission City sometimes,” he admitted slowly. “Qatar too.” Jaime chewed her bottom lip, taken aback by his candor. “Not every night,” he continued haltingly. “But enough times Sarah doesn’t immediately come looking for me if I don’t return to bed right away.”

“Oh.” 

“My point,” Will sighed, “is that dreams — good or bad — are completely normal. It’s how our brains process things. So we can, you know, move on. Some people just have…more to work with than others.” Did that mean she’d never be rid of these dreams? Cybertron’s war had been going on for millennia. 

“My brain’s got centuries to choose from,” Jaime grumbled. Will’s head tilted slightly with poorly hidden curiosity, but he didn’t push. “Their war,” she gestured vaguely. “I see them fighting each other.” 

“…That sounds difficult,” he offered neutrally. 

“I mean,” Jaime shrugged, “not always…but usually.” She hesitated for a moment before soldiering on. “I used to see stuff from their Golden Age.” Before the accident, she didn’t say.

“Yea?” Encouraged by Will’s steady but easygoing interest, Jaime proceeded to tell him about singing crystals, underground street racing, and sparkling edifices so tall they looked like they could touch the very sky.

Chapter Text

Prowl

Facts were important. The smallest detail could determine the outcome of a battle. Prowl had witnessed this firsthand and strived to arm both himself and his fellow Autobots with as much information as possible. So when he arrived on Earth less than two days after a major battle with the Decepticons — including Megatron himself — and learned of its high cost, the sting of failure was extra sharp. Special operations was an incredibly dangerous field, yet Jazz always excelled despite the odds. Perhaps a small part of Prowl had begun to expect the impossible because news of the silver saboteur’s offlining shocked him more than it should have.

Prime couldn’t order Prowl not to throw himself into his work, they were far too outnumbered for that. But he had instructed the tactician to establish a connection with local law enforcement in the event their assistance was needed. Much of the Autobot leader’s time was being increasingly devoted to negotiating an alliance with the leaders of Earth. Ironhide and Bumblebee had even committed themselves to act as guardians for some of the humans that had played a significant part in the events of Mission City, though Optimus encouraged all the Autobots to cultivate human ties whenever possible. 

Prowl’s processor could evaluate streams of data in a matter of nanoclicks. And yet, even he couldn’t have predicted the far-reaching consequences of responding to a nearby break-in reported by a neighbor while avoiding the concerned looks directed his way on patrol. His sensors had picked up a solitary life form inside the house despite a recent report revealing the owner was offline. When Jaime, a complete unknown at the time, crouched next to his alt mode and addressed a ‘Jazz’, Prowl nearly glitched on the spot. The following culmination of events had only become even more absurd and now…

The second-in-command watched Jazz adjust the settings of his newly upgraded holomatter projector. Ratchet had eventually yielded — with no shortage of grumbling — under the silver mech’s persistent and unending arguments for it. Prowl suspected that the tool’s first use would be employed to check on Jaime with his own sensors, though given the circumstances of their association the clear attachment wasn’t surprising. However this ended up being unnecessary because Major Lennox returned to the med bay with Jaime. 

Prowl belatedly added a subroutine to filter the youngling’s words through a specific set of parameters to minimize any future processor glitches. Considering her introduction and latent Allspark energy (now hidden, he curiously noted, no wonder it had remained undetected for years), he concluded she would be the source of many illogical encounters to come. She was not the first to be tagged in such a way — the terror twins earned that honor (with pride most likely if they ever found out). Optimus approached the two humans and knelt down so that his helm was much closer to the ground. 

“We plan to return to the orphanage,” he said to Major Lennox, gaze drifting over to a now tense Jaime, and he addressed the next part to her. “We would like you to accompany us.” Her breathing hitched and the youngling frowned at the Prime. 

“Why?” she demanded, eyes darting over to Major Lennox who put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 

Prowl stepped forward to provide a succinct explanation on the ongoing investigation and the largest hindrance impacting it. Her brows furrowed as she listened, but the severity of her frown lessened the longer he spoke. Jaime was quiet for several nanoclicks while she thought it over. 

“Do you think you can do it?” Prowl tilted his helm at the seriousness in her tone. “Will it be enough to lock her up forever?” Will Miss Narcissa no longer be a danger to the younglings, she didn’t ask, but he heard the question all the same. He ran the calculations through his processor, factoring in elements such as current state laws and past court rulings. 

“If I can gather enough evidence proving laws are being broken, which I suspect they are,” he promised, “I will do everything in my power to ensure justice is carried out.” Jaime seemed to heavily weigh his words before letting out a long breath. 

“Okay,” she said, “well, just tell the others what you told me then.”

“We have reason to believe they will not listen,” Optimus shared, making the girl turn back to him. “Since strangers, authority figures in particular, are deemed untrustworthy.” Jaime grimaced but did not dispute his statement. 

“…You want me to talk to them.”

“If you are open to it,” Optimus nodded. “If you choose to go, I promise no harm will come to you.” Jaime swallowed, attention briefly shifting to Major Lennox then back to the Autobot leader. 

“…Okay,” she whispered. Jazz — partially hidden by Ironhide’s massive frame — shifted his weight and the movement attracted Jaime’s attention (which had likely been his intention in the first place). 

“Jazz?” she gasped. “You’re okay!”

“’Course Ah am,” the silver mech grinned while Ratchet muttered something under his breath. “Got ya t’ thank for tha’.” Jaime flushed slightly at the recognition and ducked her head to stare at the ground. 

“Autobots,” said Optimus, “transform and roll out.” Major Lennox walked toward Ironhide’s cab and Jaime moved as if to follow, but Jazz smoothly cut her off. 

“Wanna lift?” he asked, engine revving playfully. She regarded him with a tentative smile. 

“Sure.” Jazz popped open the passenger door of his alt mode, revealing the silver interior. Prowl noted the sudden tension in her frame quickly followed by a shallow inhale. “M-maybe next time,” she stuttered out before turning on her heel to sprint toward Ironhide who wordlessly opened his back door to let her inside. Jazz didn’t outwardly react to the abrupt reversal, but the lack of one — besides gingerly swinging his silver door shut — for exactly five nanoclicks was telling. 

******

Their procession made good time on the way to the orphanage. According to Ironhide, Jaime spent most of the journey in recharge. Prowl activated his holoform and his processor whirled with a list of objectives as he stared at the gray walls of the building. Jaime did the same after exiting the weapons specialist’s cab, although her thoughts most likely differed from his own. 

“We’re right behind you Jaime,” Ironhide offered. She turned around and blinked at the voice’s origin. Ironhide had been inspired by humanity’s countless action movies when creating his holoform, as seen by its tall and muscular build — outfitted with a black military jacket, gray camouflage pants, and black combat boots. Short inky black hair — the same color as his alt mode — partially framed sharp blue eyes. The holoform’s face, lined with a graying stubble beard, was hardened by war and had a white twisted star shaped scar marring the skin around his eye. “Well?” Ironhide asked with an expectant expression. 

“Very nice,” Jaime commented dryly, and the holoform’s grin sharpened with satisfaction. Jazz was the last to activate his holoform and, after garnering Jaime’s attention, indulged in a slow spin. 

The saboteur had, after much debate, decided on dark brown hair, pulled into a style that looked similar to braids but weren’t (the breadth of Earth’s cultures and traditions was staggering considering how young humanity really was). The neat locks reached the holoform’s shoulders, brushing the collar of the silver jacket, which was paired with light blue jeans and silver converse. A pair of oversized blue aviators sat on the bridge of its nose. Jazz had been stuck between two different designs and even asked for his opinion — “C’mon Prowluh, which one encapsulates meh bettuh? Gotta make a good first impression, ya know.” — as if he knew anything about human fashion. 

“Whatcha think?” Jazz asked the girl, hooking a finger around the frame to drag the blue sunglasses down slightly. Arctic blue eyes peered over the rims and the corner of her mouth curled upward. 

“Suits you.” Jaime led them up the steps and rang the buzzer to announce their arrival. Prowl braced himself to meet the headmistress he’d heard so much about, but the caretaker — Miss Elizabeth — answered instead. 

“Mr. Lennox,” she greeted with obvious surprise. Her friendly smile faded as she took in the various Autobot holoforms. “…Can I help you?” Jaime, who’d been hiding behind Ironhide, stepped forward to reveal herself. “Oh!” the woman exclaimed. “Jaime, what are you doing here?”

“I’d like to talk to the others please.”

“…You’d like to speak with the other children?” Jaime nodded. Miss Elizabeth scanned the rest of them, her gaze lingering on Prowl and Ironhide, before nodding slowly and retreating to allow them inside. “They’re at dinner right now,” she explained as she led them down the hallway. “If you don’t mind waiting in the meeting room, they’ll be along shortly.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Jaime answered and proceeded to head toward a narrow staircase at the back of the building that didn’t look nearly as pristine as the one located near the front entrance. 

“Jaime — ” Miss Elizabeth reached out to stop the youngling, but a larger hand flashed forward and caught it, making the woman gape up at the owner.

“Don’t even think about touching her,” Ironhide growled, tone promising untold violence.  

:: Ironhide. :: Optimus warned over comms and the weapons specialist reluctantly released his grip. The frightened caretaker stumbled back, eyes wide. The reaction fit the profile Prowl had compiled on the woman. As far as he could tell, her biggest crime was not reporting whatever was happening at the orphanage. 

“That’s not her,” Jaime called back to them as she continued to stride toward the stairs. Ironhide still sent Miss Elizabeth one last glare before trailing after the girl. They followed her down a level to where the other inhabitants were gathered, a cafeteria according to Jaime. Her straight posture and the lack of hesitation in her gait indicated a sense of confidence he’d not yet witnessed. A side effect of their combined presence or Prime’s oath to her, Prowl concluded. Perhaps it was a little of both. 

Chatter immediately halted upon their entrance and, for several moments, no one said anything. 

“Jaime!” a voice squealed with unbridled excitement. Jazz snorted lightly as a brown blur raced toward a remarkably unconcerned Jaime. Instead she held her arm out as the small figure launched itself at the girl, causing the pair to twirl in a circle. Major Lennox smiled softly at the exchange, as if he’d expected something like this to happen. 

:: Charlie Evans. :: Jazz filled the rest of them in. :: They’re close, like brothuh an’ sistuh. ::

Some of the younglings remained in their seats while others began to stand up, all expressing varying levels of interest. Prowl catalogued the less obvious signs of anxiety and suspicion directed toward their group, and his holoform in particular. Just like Jazz warned them. 

“What are you doing here?” a voice scoffed and Jaime scowled at the red-haired boy. 

:: Brian. :: Jazz provided. :: They don’ get on. :: Clearly.

“I came to talk,” said Jaime, setting Charlie down. She glanced over at Prowl and he stepped forward. “This is — um — Officer P. Rowl.” Jazz snickered over comms at the designation and Prowl made a note to have a…discussion with Ratchet. Technically the saboteur hadn’t been cleared for duty quite yet, a few more examinations may be in order — just to be sure all systems were operating at sufficient capacity. “He’s investigating the orphanage and wants to know what’s been happening here.” Almost in synch, all the younglings tensed at the statement. Latent enforcer coding made his spark ache at the automatic fear response. “No, he wants to send her to prison,” Jaime hurriedly explained. “But he needs evidence to lock her up. If…if enough of us speak up we’ll never see her again.” 

“Right,” the one named Brian muttered. Prowl caught several looks of growing curiosity, but too much doubt remained for any of the younglings to speak up. 

“I know it’s hard to believe,” Jaime continued with a small huff, “but you can trust him.” Charlie looked away from her and began to study Prowl with a sharp intensity, head tilted in thought. Jaime swallowed and briefly glanced at Prowl, something indiscernible in her eye. “I trust him,” she told the rest of the cafeteria. “You can too.” This earned a significant response. 

“Wait — you do?” Brian asked, expression stunned. 

“But Jaime,” Charlie lightly tugged on her sleeve as if reminding her of something important, “you hate cops.” What?

“Hate’s a strong word,” she muttered under her breath, too low for anyone to hear outside their group or Charlie, who frowned up at her. 

:: Why does Jaime dislike law enforcement? :: Prowl asked over comms. Was this like with the medical personnel earlier? Ratchet had shared his observations after returning to the med bay (and Jazz had stopped trying to escape it). 

:: …Dunno. :: was the saboteur’s short reply. 

“Look,” Jaime vaguely gestured in Prowl’s direction. “Officer Rowl is different. He really is trying to help us. He wants to get rid of her. But he can’t do that without our help.” The frozen expressions of fear and suspicion began to thaw and some of the younglings shifted in place. The desire to speak up grew, but none seemed eager to be the first. 

“What does he want to know?” Brian asked with a note of reluctance, eyeing Prowl. 

“Have any of you experienced any form of abuse?” the tactician inquired, keeping his tone and expression as neutral as possible. He didn’t want to do anything that could break the tentative trust the younglings were now displaying. 

“Punished,” Jaime added softly. There was a hesitant pause filled with many shared looks between the children. 

“Yes,” said Charlie, swallowing at the sudden attention. “Does…does he need to see it?” Well, that sounded incriminating. Jaime glanced at Prowl and he nodded. 

“Yea,” she knelt in front of the younger boy and Prowl noted the distinct lack of confusion or surprise on her face. “Show him what she did to you.” Charlie shyly approached him and Prowl knelt down as well to not look so imposing. Taking a deep breath, the boy faced the cafeteria once more and reached over his shoulders to lift the back of his shirt — the revealed skin only visible to their small group.

The corner of Prowl’s mouth twitched downward but he otherwise managed to contain his reaction — fully aware of the audience of younglings currently scrutinizing him — as he stared at the three faint diagonal scars of differing length on Charlie’s back. There was a sharp inhale from Will or Optimus, difficult to tell without looking. 

:: Permission to offline her. :: Ironhide growled. 

:: …Denied. :: Optimus answered. Prowl captured a still of the markings.

:: I’ve met Decepticons with more humanity than that femme. :: Ironhide argued.  

:: She will answer for her actions. :: Prime answered darkly. :: To the full extent of the law. :: Prowl heard the underlying order directed his way. 

“What happened?” Prowl softly asked, just managing to exclude any hint of anger from his voice. Enforcer coding snapped to attention, demanding justice. Such poor treatment of younglings had been rare on Cybertron before the war, and he’d only encountered it twice during his service in Praxus. The boy released his hold on the hem of his shirt and the fabric fell down, returning to its previous position and hiding all evidence of the scars on his back. 

“She used the belt on me,” Charlie said lowly, turning around to face Prowl. “Bout a month after I got here.”

“She doesn’t use it anymore,” Jaime muttered. “Too visible.” Ratchet grumbled several unsavory things about the headmistress over comms. “She relies on other methods now…like the box.” A shiver seemed to pass through all the younglings in the cafeteria. 

“What’s the box?” Will asked with faint trepidation.

:: Kinda like solitary confinement. :: Jazz shared, tone deceptively mild. :: Except, ya know, t' younglin’s. :: Prowl glanced over at Jaime who appeared to be hugging herself.

“…I’ll show you,” Jaime sighed. Will and Ironhide followed the girl out of the cafeteria. 

:: Send me any recordings you capture. :: Prowl directed to the weapons specialist before turning to the remaining Autobots. :: Anything else the younglings can provide like Charlie will be helpful. :: Optimus and Ratchet nodded. Prowl looked over at the fidgeting saboteur, his attention mostly focused on the cafeteria exit. :: Jazz, with me. :: The order garnered a raised eyebrow. :: I want to see that office. :: 

:: Ya got it, Prowluh :: Jazz practically purred with menace. 

******

The office was located two levels above and the single door allowing entrance was locked. Upon questioning, Miss Elizabeth revealed that there was only one key which stayed with the headmistress — who was currently away for undisclosed business reasons — at all times. Jazz rolled his eyes as the caretaker departed and told Prowl to turn around. Suspecting what the saboteur was planning, he did so. Moments later he heard the lock click and the door swung open. Prowl turned back around.

“Whaddya know,” Jazz grinned. “Wasn’t locked after all.” Prowl honed in on the file cabinet in the corner while Jazz focused on the desk and its contents. The pair of them worked in tandem as they quickly extracted every scrap of information stored in that room. Copies were made and wirelessly transferred between them and Prowl felt a faint sense of nostalgia. The subject matter was different — and made his spark pulse with anger — but the operation itself reminded him of earlier intelligence missions before they were heads of their respective departments. 

“I’m surprised you didn’t insist on shadowing Jaime,” Prowl remarked, once he reached the bottom drawer.

“Jus’ tryin’ t’ give her space,” Jazz muttered, going through the contents of a hidden safe he’d found under the desk. Prowl tilted his head at that. The girl’s recent behavior hadn’t indicated she was still upset with the saboteur. 

“…Why?” Jazz paused briefly to frown at him. 

“’Cause she jus’ started talkin’ t’ meh again,” he said like it was obvious. Maybe it was. Prowl wasn’t the best at the more subtle intricacies of communication, and humans were proving to be even more difficult to follow. “Ah don’ wanna, ya know, push her. Think there’s still some resentment.” Prowl pulled out the last folder from the file cabinet to scan and copy the contents.

“I didn’t detect any.” Jazz shot him a look. 

“She can’ stand t’ be near meh Prowl.” He blinked at the unusually flat tone.

“Are you referring to her refusal to ride in your alt mode?” he asked. Jazz scowled, turned back to the safe, and scanned a couple more documents before standing. 

“Think Ah’m finished here,” he said. “Ah’ll meet ya downstairs.”

“I assumed that was due to the accident that offlined her creators,” said Prowl before Jazz could walk out of the office. The saboteur froze and his head snapped to Prowl’s direction. “Ironhide’s alt mode must be different enough from the make and model to not trigger the same response. I don’t believe it’s intentional.” Realization flitted across Jazz’s face. 

“A car accident,” he exhaled softly. “It was a slaggin’…” Prowl returned the last file back to the cabinet and stood up. 

“You didn’t know?” 

“She wasn’ wha’ Ah’d call forthcomin’ on the details,” Jazz shrugged. “An’ Ah wasn’t gonna force her t’ relive it.”

“She may have during recharge after bringing you back online,” Prowl theorized and Jazz’s expression darkened. “Ratchet said she latched onto Major Lennox as if she recently experienced a traumatizing — ” He cut off at the sound of a car door slamming shut outside. Prowl recalibrated his additional sensors in time to catch sight of a woman — only familiar though digital records — marching inside the orphanage. 

:: Miss Narcissa is back. :: he immediately shared over the Autobot comms channel. He hurried out of the office, Jazz close behind, and back to the cafeteria where the rest of the younglings were. Their safety was his number one priority. 

:: I do not believe she will attempt to harm the younglings with us present. :: shared Optimus. :: Not in front of so many witnesses. ::

:: She’s welcome to try. :: Ironhide growled. 

:: She ain’t layin’ a servo on Jaime. :: Jazz added with dark intent. :: …Or Charlie. ::

Prowl and Jazz were the last to reenter the cafeteria. Ironhide — along with Will — hovered near Jaime who was standing next to Charlie. Ratchet was kneeling beside one of the femmelings, finishing up an examination by the looks of it. Optimus was sitting on the floor with a half circle of younglings gathered round in various semi-relaxed positions. Jazz stiffened slightly and casually backed out of the room. None of the younglings except for Jaime noticed his departure. Prowl tilted his head and dialed up his most sensitive sensors. 

:: Jazz, is that… ::

:: Yea, we need t’ get outta here. :: The saboteur confirmed Prowl’s sudden suspicion. :: Ah’m pretty sure she jus’ set fire t’ her office. ::

Optimus smoothly stood up without any hint of alarm and strolled over to Miss Elizabeth, who’d been sitting at one of the tables closer to the kitchen. He bent down and whispered something into the woman’s ear, making her eyes widen. Miss Elizabeth quickly stood up and clapped her hands together to gain everyone’s attention. 

“Alright children, time for a fire drill.” This announcement caused several looks of confusion. “Let’s show our visitors how quickly we can exit in an orderly fashion.” Some of the younglings began to grumble but nonetheless heeded the instruction. Miss Elizabeth clapped her hands together again, voice hardening. “Quickly now, I know you can do better than that.” The children’s pace sped up and the Autobots subtlety herded them up the staircase toward the front entrance.  

“Wait, is that smoke?” Brian asked once they reached the ground floor.

“Keep moving,” Miss Elizabeth ordered from up front. It didn’t take long for realization to spread that this wasn’t just a drill and the two orderly lines devolved into a mass of bodies. Prowl frowned and concentrated on keeping the younglings moving in an orderly manner that didn’t result in someone getting trampled. Once they were outside, he called the fire department. Miss Elizabeth directed the children to form a group on the other side of the street. Part of his processor tracked Jaime as she pushed through the throng of younglings and he soon ended his call after confirming the proper authorities were on their way. Then he called one of his contacts from the local precinct he’d coordinated with a couple times already, informing them of his recent findings and requesting their presence as backup. This wasn’t just a case of child abuse and neglect. The headmistress and this Erik Jaxon were using the orphanage as a front to hide a laundry list of misconduct — and she’d just tried to get rid of the evidence. It would be better if an actual human made the arrest, he concluded. 

“Jaime!” Miss Elizabeth called out, catching Prowl’s attention, and the girl rushed over to the caretaker. “Have you seen Charlie?”

“No! I lost sight of him,” she sounded panicked. “I’ve been trying to find him but everyone won’t stop moving!” He quickly scanned the group of younglings and came up short. 

:: Charlie isn’t here. :: he shared, checking again just to make sure.  

:: I’m not picking up his signature on my scanners either. :: Ratchet confirmed two nanoclicks later. Jaime jerked around to face the building, orange flames now licking some of the darkening windows. 

“He’s inside!” she gasped, making a bolt of alarm go through the Autobots. “I saw his shoe! He went upstairs!” And then she charged toward the building like she was planning to go back inside. Ironhide, the closest because he hadn’t stopped hovering, immediately grabbed hold of her.  

:: Optimus — :: Ratchet began, turning toward the Prime. 

:: — I see him. :: the Autobot leader responded before sending his holoform back inside the building. 

“Let me go!” Jaime snarled. “I have to save him!” She elbowed and kicked at Ironhide’s holoform, but there wasn’t much she could do pressed up against his chest, trapped in his tight embrace. 

“Hold still, would you?” the weapons specialist grunted. The girl twisted to crane her head around, like she hadn’t realized the identity of her captor. 

“But I have to save him!” she protested, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. 
 
“Optimus already went inside to retrieve him,” Ironhide snapped and she finally halted her struggling.

:: Go easy on ’er Hide. :: Jazz warned, gaze sharp, and the other mech grimaced at the look.

“You’re not doing anyone any favors if you run inside too,” Ironhide added in a gentler tone. 

“…You can put me down now,” Jaime sighed. Ironhide merely snorted. “Please?” she tacked on. “I promise not to run inside.” The words sounded genuine to Prowl and Ironhide must have come to the same conclusion because he turned on his heel so that he was now between Jaime and the burning orphanage. 

“Try it and I’m throwing you inside my cab,” he grumbled before cautiously setting her down on the ground. He backed up a couple steps to give her space but didn’t take his eyes off the girl. She stared at the building for several long nanoclicks but turned away just like she promised, and began to nervously pace back and forth while muttering lowly under her breath. Smoke was now pouring out of the broken windows — some cracked and exploded outward due to the heat — and door. 

:: Brother and sister? :: Ratchet prompted, directing an arched eyebrow toward Jazz who was watching Jaime with the same intensity as Ironhide. 

:: She views herself as his guardian. :: Obviously, thought Prowl. Her reaction — the instinctive behavior to protect and defend — gave it away. 

Jaime gasped suddenly and whirled to face the orphanage, making Ironhide and Jazz tense, but she didn’t attempt to run inside the burning building. 

“Oh my God.” Something akin to horror spread across her face as she sunk to the ground. 

“Jaime?” Will stepped closer and knelt down next to her. “What is it?” She stared blankly at the smoking orphanage. 

“My fault…” she whispered hoarsely. Prowl frowned, processor whirling. Why would she blame herself? Surely not for the fire itself, she had to know that. Did she figure out why Charlie was still been inside? She mentioned seeing him run upstairs.

:: Found him. :: Optimus sent an update over comms and Prowl let out a shallow breath of relief. :: Ratchet, be ready. ::

Chapter Text

Jaime hugged Charlie tight. The euphoric feeling that the Lennoxes wanted to take her away from the orphanage now warred with a massive wave of guilt. How could she leave Charlie behind like that? Who would watch over him with her gone?

“I can ask them if — ” Jaime began.

“ — No,” Charlie shook his head, already knowing what she was going to say, “I don’t wanna ruin it. I’ll be fine.” They reluctantly pulled apart and Charlie rubbed his tear-streaked face before offering her a small smile. The effort to put on a brave face — just for her — nearly broke Jaime’s heart. 

Who says ya won’ see each othuh again, said Jazz as she took a steadying breath. Jaime pursed her lips together as she considered his words. Not all goodbyes are forevuh. An idea formed in the girl’s mind and she hurriedly retrieved the leather jacket previously left abandoned on the floor. She returned to Charlie and attempted to sling it over his shoulders. 

“What are you doing?” Charlie objected. “That’s — ” he broke off suddenly and glanced over at the small cluster of adults nearby. “That’s your dad’s,” he whispered lowly. “I can’t — ”

“ — You can and you will,” Jaime insisted. 

“ — But it’s important.” 

“Exactly,” she said, “so you know I’m gonna come back for it.” Charlie finally stopped objecting to stare at her with wide eyes and allowed Jaime to place the leather jacket over his shoulders. It looked more like a cloak since the bottom hem almost reached the floor. “I’m coming back,” she repeated, emphasizing her words. “Keep it safe for me in the meantime, yea?”

“I will,” Charlie solemnly promised. “Best friend’s honor.”

“I’m counting on it,” Jaime smiled and lightly mussed his hair. Charlie rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh, but the ghost of a smile betrayed him. 

******

“My fault…” Jaime whispered hoarsely as she stared at the burning orphanage. The Autobots, Will, and everything around her fell away. The growing flames slowly licked the walls of the building, as if savoring its taste as one would savor their favorite ice cream. Time dragged by as Jaime silently kept vigil on the front entrance, waiting for any sign of Charlie or Optimus. The Autobot leader had saved his comrades from Decepticons in much more dangerous situations. Surely he could save Charlie from a measly human fire? The blaze continued to greedily consume the orphanage and black smoke billowed out of the front entrance. The sound of faint sirens pierced the air. Fire department, she realized numbly. They were almost here. But would it be in time? 

A tall figure materialized out of the smoke and she jumped to her feet, heart in her throat. She bolted forward and, this time, no one tried to stop her. Jaime anxiously flitted around the Autobot leader’s soot covered holoform, which was protectively curled around something in his arms. Optimus made a beeline toward Ratchet’s alt mode, the back doors already open as the medic’s holoform finished preparing for his imminent arrival. 

“Lay him down,” Ratchet gestured at the stretcher inside and Optimus complied. Jaime followed on the heels of his holoform, before it could back out of the hummer. 

“Charlie?” she whispered as Ratchet bent down on the other side of the stretcher and placed an oxygen mask over the boy’s face. Jaime stared at the medic, scrutinizing his expression. The grim look from before was gone. Was that a good thing? He had to have scanned Charlie by now. As if sensing her attention, Ratchet turned his head and met her gaze. 

“He breathed in a lot of smoke,” he said. “He’ll need to stay on oxygen and be monitored for the next thirty minutes just to make sure there’s no lasting consequences — ”

“ — But he’s okay?” the words slipped out of her mouth without her consent. Ratchet paused and his face marginally softened. 

“I expect he’ll make a full recovery,” he said and Jaime exhaled loudly, the pent up stress slowly melting away. She glanced down again and could see — without heart-stopping terror clouding her judgment — the steady rise and fall of Charlie’s chest. Jaime turned to Optimus (whose holoform was still trapped in the hummer next to her) and launched herself into his arms. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she muttered into his chest. The hug must have startled him because it took a couple seconds for him to return the embrace. 

“Your gratitude is appreciated but unnecessary,” said Optimus. “I would have done the same for any of the younglings.” The corner of her mouth curled upward. 

“I know.” Coughing filled the hummer and Jaime pulled away to face the stretcher.

“Jaime?” Charlie rasped as he cracked his eyes open.

“I’m here,” she reassured, bending closer. He wordlessly offered her whatever had been clutched to his stomach. Her dad’s jacket.

“Told you I’d keep it safe,” he croaked out with a small self-satisfied smile. Jaime swallowed as she stared at the bunched up leather garment. It was partially covered in soot but otherwise undamaged. There was a faint roaring in her ears as fear bled into anger. 

“Never doubted you would,” she accepted the offered jacket and set it down next to the stretcher. She distantly noted the way Ratchet’s expression sharpened in her periphery and the slight shift from Optimus — like they could sense the oncoming storm. Jaime leaned closer, practically hovering over Charlie now, and her expression twisted. 

“Don’t you ever do something like that again,” she hissed, jabbing her finger at him. The smile disappeared and wide baby blue eyes stared up at her. “That is — by far — the dumbest thing you have ever done.” 

“But I promised — ” Charlie attempted to defend himself. 

“ — You are much more important than a stupid jacket!”

“But it was your dad’s — ”

“I don’t care!” Jaime snapped, blinking furiously as her sight blurred a bit. “You could have died!” Charlie grimaced and Jaime paused to suck in a few lungfuls of air to calm herself. “And it would have been my fault because of a stupid promise. Don’t you ever do that to me again. I swear to God, I’ll…” Jaime took another handful of breaths to help slow her racing heart. 

“You’ll what?” Charlie challenged, expression tinged with indignation. Probably because she was lecturing him in front of two strangers. Optimus Prime would never, she almost said but she didn’t. Technically he had, so it wasn’t completely true. Besides, it felt kind of awkward to say out loud with his holoform kneeling right next to her. Jaime put her hand on her hip and stared down at him, gaze cooling significantly. 

“I’ll never tell you another story again,” she scowled. Any leftover arrogance regarding his stunt immediately dissipated and was replaced by alarm. It felt cruel to threaten something that brought the boy so much joy but she held firm. 

“What?” 

“You heard me.” Ratchet and Optimus shared a confused look, but Jaime’s attention remained solely on Charlie. 

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled. “I’m sorry.” Jaime raised a silent eyebrow at his annoyed tone. “I won’t run into any more burning buildings,” Charlie sighed, sounding more genuine than before.

“Swear it.”

“Really?” he gave her an incredulous look before rolling his eyes. “Ugh, fine. Best friend’s honor.” Jaime’s tense shoulders finally relaxed and her hand dropped back to her side. 

“I can’t believe I even have to make you promise not do something like that,” she complained. 

“What’s so important about a story?” a gruff voice muttered just outside the emergency vehicle. Jaime turned in time to see Jazz elbow Ironhide. Increased activity in front of the smoldering orphanage made her realize that the fire department had arrived and put out the fire. With a soft ‘pardon me’, Optimus managed to squeeze past her and climbed out of the hummer. He joined Prowl and Will who were in the middle of a conversation with the authorities. 

“Jaime.” She turned to face Jazz’s holoform. “Someone here tha’ wants t’ talk t’ ya.” He gestured over his shoulder at a loitering Brian. Jaime sent the redhead a dark frown and he crossed his arms in response but didn’t leave. She let out a sharp exhale and craned her head around to check on Charlie but he seemed to have fallen asleep. “Meh an’ Ratchet’ll keep an optic on him,” Jazz promised lowly. 

“Fine,” she mumbled and climbed out of the CMO’s alt mode, dropping to the ground. “What do you want?” Jaime asked once she was about a foot away from Brian. They were enough distance away to give a semblance of privacy but still well within sensor range. Brian shuffled in place and muttered something under his breath. “Well?”

“I’m sorry.” A chill shot up her spine and Jaime stared, mouth hanging open slightly. 

“…What?”

“For, you know, being a jerk earlier,” Brian readjusted his crossed arms. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out where he was going with this. There had to be a catch. She’d never heard him apologize to anyone (except Miss Narcissa, but that didn’t count). 

“You’re sorry?” she asked flatly. Brian grimaced but nodded his head. 

“I shouldn’t have — um — picked on you since…”

“…Since?” she prodded when he failed to continue. Brian fidgeted and his expression twisted. 

“When I first came here,” he sighed, “she used to call me a snotty little rich kid.” Jaime didn’t need to ask who she was but…

“Rich?” her brow furrowed. 

“…My dad was a lawyer,” Brian admitted with a too casual shrug. “We lived in a big house — me and my sister.” Jaime hesitated at the sudden turn, feeling like she’d been left adrift in the ocean alone. 

“I didn’t know you have a sister,” she said carefully and Brian glowered at the ground. 

“I don’t.” Jaime swallowed at the coarse tone and her eyes darted to Jazz standing a few yards away. He tilted his head forward and familiar arctic blue eyes met her gaze — his steady vigilance reassuring her frayed nerves. “Couple robbers broke in one night.” Jaime refocused on Brian who was still staring at the cracked pavement. “One of them had a gun. Dad tried to talk him down because he had Emily and — ” A shudder went through him. “Anyway they both got shot and I ended up here.” Jaime was quiet for several moments. 

“I’m sorry,” she offered. Brian scoffed lightly but didn’t otherwise comment.

“Anyway,” he grunted, “she lost interest in me once you came. I guess the cripple was more fun to pick on the snotty little rich kid.” Jaime frowned at him. “…Sorry.”

“You knew what it was like to be singled out,” she filled in and Brian failed to hide a wince. “And you still turned around and — you’re no better than her!” Brian dropped his head with something suspiciously close to shame. 

“I know, I just…It was nice to be left alone for once.” Jaime glared at him and he caught it. “I’m sorry, okay? I just wanted to — ” Fit in, he didn’t say but she was pretty sure that was what he was thinking. After all, that was all she’d wanted since she came to the orphanage. 

“You owe Charlie an apology,” she said instead, recalling the bloody lip. 

“Yea I already talked to him about that,” Brian admitted and her heart rate sped up at the idea of those two being alone together. “After the belt, I thought if she saw someone picking on him then…” Jaime straightened. 

“Wait — you know why she used the belt on Charlie?” she demanded and Brian grimaced like he hadn’t meant to reveal that. “Tell me.” Charlie had received the punishment shortly after arriving at the orphanage and it remained one of the few secrets he refused to share with her.

“Because he didn’t ignore you like the others,” Brian sighed. “She didn’t like the idea of you having friends.” Jaime’s chest constricted at the revelation. Charlie had been harmed because of her. Jaime’s stomach clenched at the thought. 

“So — what — you thought she’d leave Charlie alone if you picked on her?” Brian shrugged.

“I mean, it kind of — ”

“That’s stupid.”

“Whatever,” Brian grumbled and shoved his hands into his pockets. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” He glanced over at the half-burned orphanage and Jaime stared at the smoke stained windows that hadn’t shattered from the heat. “Should’ve let it burn to the ground,” he muttered under his breath. Jaime found herself nodding along. That was one thing they could agree on. “She’s been in a bad mood since you left.” 

“When isn’t she?” Jaime asked and Brian snorted lightly. Did he just laugh at something she said? And not in a mocking way? This was weird.

“Okay, worse than usual.”

“Maybe she knows she’s being investigated.” Their combined gaze swung over to Prowl’s holoform. He was still talking to one of the firefighters — maybe the one in charge? — while the rest of the crew seemed to be packing up. 

“Did you really mean that earlier?” he asked her with a thoughtful expression. “About trusting him?” 

“Yea,” she said, letting out a soft exhale. Brian looked over at her like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But it was true. Besides, Prowl was an Autobot first and foremost. “I really do.”

“Never thought I’d see the day Jaime Hawthorne of all people saying she trusts a cop,” he admitted in a tone that almost sounded teasing.

“Shut up.” The corner of his mouth curled into a tiny smile. 

“So which one adopted you anyway?” Brian asked, eyes roving over the scattered Autobot holoforms. Jaime blinked at the odd question. She’d think it was pretty obvious given how Will kept looking in her direction as if to confirm she was still there. “The one that ran inside?” The guess made her flush slightly and she couldn’t quite squash the tiny smile. 

“No,” she shook her head, “he would have done that for anyone.”

“Right.” She could hear the clear disbelief in his voice and didn’t bother to argue the point.

“Will,” she pointed him out and a curious expression flitted across the man’s face. “He adopted me…You couldn’t tell?”

“God you’re dense,” Brian rolled his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded. 

“Because you’re so lucky and don’t even notice it.” Jaime opened her mouth to protest. “Got a nice dad and a bunch of other people that give a shit about you.”

“…You’re…jealous of me?” she asked incredulously. Brian made an annoyed sound at the back of his throat. 

“One of them ran into a burning building for your friend, the guy with the sunglasses acted like an overprotective bodyguard when I asked to talk to you, and the scary looking one in black hasn’t stopped glaring at me.” Jaime’s gaze darted over to Ironhide. It was true. The weapons specialist was giving Brian a dark look like he was doing a threat analysis in real time. Jaime ducked her head slightly, equal parts pleased and embarrassed. 

“Yea okay, they’re…they’re pretty cool,” she admitted softly. Understatement of the century, she thought, since Brian didn’t even know the full story. 

“Right,” he cleared his throat. “So.”

“So?” she raised an eyebrow. 

“…We good?” Jaime pursed her lips together into a thin line and studied him for several long seconds. 

“You’d have to prove yourself,” she hedged, slow to let go of past transgressions. She also wasn’t completely sure this wasn’t some kind of trick. 

“Fair enough,” Brian nodded. She chewed her bottom lip and glanced over at Jazz, who was still watching the pair, head tilted to the side in a curious manner. Jaime took a deep breath and looked back at a fidgeting Brian. 

“Alright,” she said and Brian jerked slightly like he hadn’t actually expected her to agree. A week ago she probably wouldn’t have. But a lot had happened since then…like losing her temper with Jazz, one of her closest and most supportive confidants. He didn’t deserve to have her anger directed at him like that. She didn’t want to be that person again.

“That’s…good,” said Brian, still looking somewhat unsure but also noticeably relieved. “Okay, good.” Jaime rolled her eyes and offered her hand and Brian clasped it tightly. “Thanks.” 

“Cross me again and I’ll be the least of your worries,” she said, only half-serious, causing Brian to glance over at Ironhide. 

“Yea, I’m not an idiot,” he grumbled and a short laugh escaped Jaime. Brian soon left to rejoin the rest of the orphans and Jaime headed back toward Ratchet’s alt mode to check if Charlie was still asleep. The firefighters were long gone but a police cruiser with a couple officers had pulled up. She kept a wary eye on them but they seemed engrossed in their conversation with Prowl. 

Jaime was still a few feet away from Jazz and Ironhide’s holoforms when the sound of a car engine made her turn. She froze at the sight of the sleek dark sedan. Everyone at the orphanage knew who owned that vehicle. The driver’s door opened and out stepped out a scowling Miss Narcissa. Jaime gulped. She’d seen the headmistress angry before. She’d seen the women furious. But in the past two years she’d never seen Miss Narcissa look so livid. The woman stalked forward and Jaime found herself rooted to the spot. 

“What is the meaning of this?” the headmistress demanded and Miss Elizabeth appeared, arms outstretched, as if she thought an explanation would actually appease the woman. 

“There was a fire,” said the caretaker. “But everyone got out safely. I’m not sure what caused it though.”

“If I may,” Optimus spoke up and Miss Narcissus appeared to finally notice him and the other Autobots, along with Will and the two police officers. “We have already determined the source of the fire.”

“This is a case of arson,” Prowl stated, eyes sharp. “Someone started the fire on purpose.” His gaze never left the headmistress. 

“Really?” Miss Narcissa frowned faintly. Jaime chanced a step back toward Jazz and Ironhide and the woman’s dark eyes snapped to her, making the girl freeze like a deer in headlights. “I should have known,” Miss Narcissa muttered darkly as she marched forward. “Always causing trouble — ” for a brief second something akin to indignation flared up inside her (like whenever someone looked at Charlie funny). Before the woman could even get close to Jaime, a large hand reached out and snagged Miss Narcissa’s arm. She was spun around and came face-to-face with a glowering Ironhide. His other hand clutched the woman by the collar and nearly lifted her off the ground. 

“Jaime?” he asked without taking his eyes off the protesting headmistress. 

“T-that’s her,” she stuttered out. She hadn’t thought it possible, but Ironhide’s glare intensified even further.

“Today is not your lucky day,” he snarled, “but it just may be mine.” Miss Narcissa’s eyes widened as the scope of the situation began to set in and Jaime watched the unfolding events with morbid curiosity. Ironhide looked seconds away from actually beating the woman. Before the weapons specialist could unleash any violence he twitched and briefly glanced over at Optimus. His expression twisted with dissatisfaction and his burning gaze returned to Miss Narcissa. 

“I’m not allowed to harm humans,” he sneered down at her, “even if you aren’t human by my standards. But you will not be laying a hand on any of the younglings present.” He reluctantly released the headmistress in a manner that made her stumble back a couple steps. Miss Narcissa quickly attempted to regain her composure and control of the situation. 

 “And what of this act of arson?” she demanded.

“The fire started in your office,” Prowl shared with clear disapproval. The headmistress raised a single eyebrow. 

“Well,” said the headmistress, frowning in Jaime’s direction. “If this was a personal attack perhaps you should interrogate — ”

“Finish that sentence,” Ironhide growled “I dare you.” Miss Narcissa glanced at the weapons specialist’s holoform and Jaime could guess what she must see, a human tank barely holding back. Something brushed up behind her and Jaime realized with a start that Jazz was standing directly behind her. She hadn’t even heard him come up. Dude was a ghost. Jaime could practically feel a wave of protective intent that seemed to stem from him, like it was almost tangible. She refocused back on Miss Narcissa in time to see something akin to unease in the woman’s eyes. No way. 

“I mean,” Miss Narcissa cleared her throat, “talk to the children.” Ironhide grunted that indicated the headmistress was on thin ice. 

“Funny thing,” Jazz remarked in a tone that said he did not find it funny at all. “Everythin’ in yor office was completely incinerated. Not a scrap of papuh survived.” Jaime’s stomach dropped. The records they needed to lock her up? They were gone?

“How unfortunate,” said Miss Narcissa sounding suspiciously unbothered and Jaime realized what Prowl and Jazz were implying. 

“Not to worry,” said Prowl. “The copies are intact.” Miss Narcissa blinked at him. 

“Copies?” she parroted. 

“Indeed,” Prowl hummed lightly. “The contents were rather enlightening on where the majority of the funds really went. As well as the true nature of Mr. Jaxon’s connection to the orphanage.” The headmistress paled slightly and Prowl regarded her with a ghost of a smile. The normally stoic Autobot practically radiated confidence. “If you will come with my associate,” he gestured toward one of the police officers — he must have called them as backup, Jaime realized. “They have a number of questions for you.”

“You can’t arrest me,” Miss Narcissa stammered. “Y-you have no proof.”

“On the contrary,” Prowl drawled and Jaime’s eyes lit up with anticipation, “We have enough evidence to charge you with: child abuse, child neglect, fraud, extortion, forgery, theft, laundering, and now arson. Come quietly please, I will not ask again.” The headmistress opened her mouth to object. 

“I won’t ask at all,” Ironhide growled, arms crossed.

“Stay out of this!” she snapped. Jaime almost laughed when Ironhide glared daggers at Miss Narcissa, causing her to shrink back. He leaned forward and bent down to snarl something in her ear, too low for even Jaime to hear. Miss Narcissa turned white as a sheet, turned on her heel, and hurried over to the waiting police officer. They went through the motions of arresting the headmistress and opened the back door of the cruiser. Miss Narcissa slunk inside the vehicle, but not before throwing another cautious glance Ironhide’s away, like she didn’t want him out of her sight for too long. As soon as the pair of police officers drove away with the headmistress the watching orphans began to cheer. Jaime allowed a wide grin to stretch across her face and turned to the weapons specialist’s holoform.

“I thought you were gonna squish her head like a grape?” she teased. On the way over, Ironhide had been muttering all the things he had planned for the headmistress.

“Not today,” he grumbled, shooting an annoyed look toward Optimus. 

“What did you say to her?” Jaime asked. She’d never seen Miss Narcissa scared before. Usually she was the one spreading fear. A feral grin appeared on his face.

“I told her exactly what would happen if she ever crossed paths with you again,” he shared and Jaime couldn’t help but chuckle at his smug expression.

With the orphanage partially burned down, temporary living quarters for the orphans was the next priority. Jaime returned to Ratchet’s alt mode and Charlie, still resting inside, while the adults worked out a solution. Once that had been figured out, Prowl informed her that the funeral for Jeong Jeong was scheduled to take place tomorrow. The reminder of the old man’s death hit her like a train. Apparently the tactician had learned of her connection to Jeong Jeong from Jazz and gone as far to call the man’s son to ask about the service. Jaime was stunned to find out that he’d not only known about her — Jeong Jeong had talked about her? — but had been trying to find out how to contact her so she could attend. Charlie wanted to go as well, so it was decided that he could stay the night with the Lennoxes.  

Ratchet scanned Charlie one last time before they left (repeatedly telling him to take it easy), reminding Charlie that if he began to feel lightheaded he was to immediately lay down. They had an early dinner  — Charlie happily stuffed himself remarking how delicious the food was — and Sarah took them shopping so they would have something to wear at the funeral. When they returned and Ironhide swung his doors open, Jaime finally had a chance to give Charlie a tour of the farmhouse.

“You have your own room!” he exclaimed, mouth hanging open as he spun in place.

“Yea,” she grinned. She still wasn’t used to it.

“Cool!”

“C’mon,” she said, “I wanna to show you the barn.” He followed her out of the house and Jaime slid the heavy door back. Will was already inside finishing up the evening chores. Jaime dragged Charlie to the first stall. “This is Sizzle,” she introduced. “She’s seven and a total sweetheart.” Charlie petted the friendly Appaloosa through the bars.

“You could call her spot!” he giggled.

“That’s a dog’s name bud,” Jaime rolled her eyes and pulled him to the next stall. “This is Bandit. He’s the oldest. Gets a bit cranky around meal time.” Charlie patted the Paint as well.

“I don’t blame him,” he answered quietly. “It’s not fun being hungry.” Jaime ruffled Charlie’s hair. She hoped with Miss Narcissa locked up that would no longer be an issue. Neither of them noticed Will pause nearby or his sudden discomfort. 

“And this,” she introduced with a small flourish, “is Orion.” Charlie tilted his head and gave her a narrow look.

“…Orion?” the boy questioned and Jaime grinned.

“Will let me name him,” she admitted. The boy glanced at over at Will who appeared to be finished and was now ambling over to join them .

“He prefers Jaime,” Will shrugged. “He acts like her horse. Might as well let her name him.” Jaime gasped softly and her eyes widened. 

“…Mine?” she whispered. That…that sounded awfully permanent. Did that mean?…

“Sure,” Will smiled at her. “He’s your responsibility.” Jaime straightened to her full height and beamed at him. No take backs, Will said. He must really mean it then. The beginning of a smirk began to form on Charlie’s face. 

“You,” a short laugh escaped the boy. “You named him after Orion Pax?”

“Yes,” she let out a long-suffering sigh and was not surprised in the least when Charlie hunched over and a stream of guffaws followed. “It’s a good name!” she defended, ignoring the suspicious look on Will’s face. 

“Well,” Charlie said once his laughing subsided. “You’re not wrong.” In her periphery, Jaime noticed Will open his mouth and she had a feeling he was going to ask how Charlie knew about Orion’s namesake. 

“C’mon,” she said in a rush as she grasped Charlie’s hand. “I forgot to show you the TV.” And she dragged him out of the barn, leaving Will behind. 

******

Jaime’s ears rang as stared down at a now sleeping Charlie. She’d just finished telling him a slightly altered story of the Autobots arriving on Earth. Realization had struck like lightning when she reached the part that included Hoover Dam. The very same place the Allspark had been housed. Half-remembered memories of a voice asking for help sprang to mind, knocked loose by recent dreams. She’d heard it again hadn’t she? When bringing Jazz back online? No, there’d been a hum of voices?

Jaime rubbed her forehead as she left the bedroom, thoughts clamoring like church bells. The whole experience felt disjointed, like it all happened too fast for her brain to fully register. And then she’d dreamed of the accident again. She immediately shoved that away before the memory could take root. Jaime tiptoed downstairs and exited the farmhouse. She ghosted down the porch steps and stopped in front of the silver Pontiac Solstice parked out front. 

“Jazz?” she whispered, eyes briefly darting toward Ironhide’s alt mode a few yards away. “Are you awake?” She pulled back sharply when his holoform flickered to life, leaning against the hood of his alt mode. 

“Wha’s up?” he asked, gently patting the empty space on his left. Jaime blinked but heeded the silent invitation. Her fingers lightly brushed the silver metal and she curiously noted that it was cool to the touch. The faint hum of life she’d felt with Optimus was distinctly absent. Their armor was different. Separate from an under layer? Less sensitivity would make injuries hurt less, Jaime mused. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured lowly, unable to meet his piercing gaze. The holoform was missing the blue aviators. “For yelling at you earlier. I-I shouldn’t have overreacted like that.”

“Ah wouldn’ call it tha’,” said Jazz. “Ya thought ya were ’bout t’ be abandoned.”

“Yea, well,” Jaime let out a shaky breath. “I still shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”

“Seriously Jaime, ya got nothin’ t’ apologize for.” He lightly bumped shoulders with her and she looked up to meet his gaze. His expression was open and relaxed, but his eyes looked a touch sad. “Ah’m sorry for not bein’ completely honest with ya before. By the time Ah realized — well — didn’ want t’ overwhelm ya. Fat loada good tha’ did.” His wry tone made a soft snort slip out and Jazz grinned at her reaction. Jaime bit her lip and she worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been plaguing her. 

“Are we still friends?” she asked in a small voice. Jazz’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“Jaime,” he said with faux seriousness, hand on his chest. “Ah thought we were best friends.” Instead of laughing like he probably expected, Jaime hunched her shoulders and her eyes watered. 

“I’m an awful friend,” she sniffed. 

“Now tha’ ain’t true,” Jazz immediately denied, casually looping his arm around her shoulders. “So ya had a bad day, everybot has those. You should see Hatchet. Now tha’s a sight to see.” The hood underneath her shuddered slightly, making the corner of Jaime’s mouth twitch as she scrubbed her face. “Ya shouldn’ be so harsh with yorself,” he continued, voice sobering. “Ya evuh have any thoughts tha’ sound anything’ like Miss Narcissa, Ah promise ya it’s a load of complete slag.” Her mouth twitched again, this time into a small smile. 

“…You’re a pretty cool guy, Jazz.” 

“Ah coulda told ya tha’,” he chuckled and Jaime let out a relieved breath. She couldn’t fully relax just yet though. There was one more thing she needed to address. 

“Listen — uh — back at Hoover Dam,” she forced out and Jazz’s expression sharpened. “When…when you offered me a ride — that wasn’t — I mean…um…” Her heart fluttered in her chest as she tried to find the right words to explain. 

“Mah interior makes ya nervous,” Jazz easily filled in and Jaime stared at him. 

“How…” she’d been incredibly sparse on the details on how exactly she’d lost her parents and her arm, and he’d never pushed for answers.

“Prowluh helped meh connect the dots,” Jazz offered with a note of hesitation, like he wasn’t sure if it was okay to talk about it now. “Tha’s kinda his thing.” Jaime let out a gust of air and wrapped her arm around her torso. 

“The only car I’ve been in since the accident,” she shared lowly, “is the one that took me to the orphanage. But my eyes were shut — like — the whole time.” Like a baby, she didn’t say aloud. The arm around her shoulders tightened, pulling her closer, and she leaned into Jazz slightly. “Well, except Ironhide’s cab I guess,” she added, eyes darting over to the silent pickup truck. How good was their hearing? He probably heard everything, she realized belatedly. “But it doesn’t — I don’t know — it’s not the same. I’m sorr — ”

“Ya don’ need t’ apologize for tha’,” Jazz shushed her lightly. “Ah unduhstand.” Jaime swallowed. 

“I can’t go the rest of my life never riding in another car again,” she huffed, annoyed with herself. It was a stupid thing to have such a strong reaction to considering how commonplace cars were as a means of transportation. 

“We’ll work on it,” Jazz promised. “Togethuh.”

Chapter Text

Jazz

The Lennoxes had prepared one of the couches in the living room for Charlie to recharge on but the youngling tentatively tugged Jaime’s sleeve and looked up at her with big eyes. 

“He can sleep with me,” said Jaime, tone unusually assertive and that was that. When they were ready for bedtime and Charlie was snuggled under the covers, Jazz dialed up his audio receptors, wondering which story would be chosen tonight. 

“It starts with the battle of Tyger Pax,” said Jaime. Ironhide must have had the same idea because his alt mode jerked slightly at the familiar name. “You remember Megatron?”

:: What is she doing? :: Ironhide demanded over comms. 

:: Tellin’ a bedtime story. :: Jazz sent back. :: Relax Hide. ::

“Well he was after an important artifact, called the Allspark.”

:: This is a common occurrence? :: Ironhide asked dubiously. 

:: Yea. ::

“To save it from his evil clutches, Optimus launched the cube into space.”

:: How does she know about this? ::

:: Jaime knows things. :: Jazz shared. :: Sees ’em in her dreams. ::

“But Megatron wanted it so bad he followed after it. All the way to a distant planet…Earth.”

A while later, Jazz noted Lennox peering around the doorway of the bedroom that belonged to Annabelle, who was already deep in recharge. Anticipating his next stop, Jazz activated his holoform and sent it inside. He reached the second level in time to grab the major’s shoulder before he could enter the bedroom and interrupt. 

“Barricade wasn’t a match for Bumblebee,” said Jaime, unaware of her audience in the hallway. 

“Bee kicked his butt?” Charlie asked, equally oblivious . 

“That he did.” Jazz raised a silent finger to his lips which earned a confused frown, but Lennox quietly followed him downstairs. 

“That’s sensitive information she’s sharing,” he said once they were in the kitchen, voice mild. 

“For Charlie, it’s jus’ a bedtime story,” Jazz leaned against the countertop. “She’s been tellin’ him ’bout us for weeks. Barge in there now, an’ he’s gonna wonduh why you care so much ’bout fictional charactuhs.”

“He knows about the Autobots,” Lennox murmured, rubbing his jaw. 

“An’ the Cons,” Jazz nodded. “Far more than lil’ Annabelle.” The major frowned slightly at the mention of his daughter but silently conceded the point. 

“Does he know about this Orion Pax then?” he asked instead, making Jazz stiffen at the old designation. “Charlie mentioned the name in the barn,” Lennox added before he could ask. 

“Yea, he does,” Jazz’s gaze sharpened and he wondered how much Lennox had been told. “But tha’ ain’t a designation ya should go ’round sharin’.” If certain mechs heard him say that, they’d assume things. Something akin to concern flashed across the man’s face as he studied Jazz’s holoform for several long nanoclicks.

“I take it Optimus should be alerted?” he finally decided on. 

“Ah’ll tell ’im,” said Jazz, effectively ending the conversation.

Lennox went back upstairs to join his recharging sparkmate and Jazz dismissed his holoform. He tuned in to the rest of the bedtime story, noting the slight hitch in Jaime’s breath when she got to the part where it was discovered that the Allspark was at Hoover Dam. Had she made the same connection as him? Meanwhile part of his processor contemplated just what he should say once she was ready to talk to him. 

There was a saying back on Cybertron about befriending someone in counterintelligence. It went something like: don’t. Jazz had spent decavorns dealing with secrets. In his line of work, any exchange of information tended to operate on a need-to-know basis. The number of bots he could talk to without clearance levels being a concern was an exceedingly short list. And it wasn’t just matter of trust — part of it was deeply ingrained habit. Misinformation tended to be even more dangerous because it could make a bot form assumptions and those almost always resulted in getting offlined. Be wary of vocalizing unconfirmed suspicions if there was no way of backing it up kind of thing. 

Jazz snapped to attention when his sensors registered that Jaime was heading downstairs. Oh, she was coming out to talk to him. Good, right. He could do this. 

Jazz nearly fragged it up within the first few nanoclicks when he almost popped open his passenger door to invite her inside before remembering. In his defense, it was instinctive and the closest one could get to face-to-face when he was in his alt mode. Jazz quickly recovered — he was good at that — and activated his holoform instead, sans aviators so its expression would be easier to read. Whoops, looks like he startled her. At least it didn’t deter her from approaching him. He wondered what Jaime was thinking as she inspected the hood of his alt mode. It was strange to not have that connection anymore, no stray thoughts or insights like before to clue him in on what exactly was going through her mind. 

The following exchange went fairly well all things considered, though he wasn’t happy about Jaime’s abysmal self-confidence. They’d have to work on that too along with the car interior issue. Much as he didn’t want to push her on the matter, she wasn’t wrong. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jaime eventually asked. “I’m not mad, I just…I don’t understand. Did you not recognize Ironhide?” Jazz hummed as he contemplated how to best describe data inputs and how greatly Cybertronians differed from humans. 

“Well, Hide didn’ look how Ah ’membuhed,” he explained. “We don’ see the same way ya do.”

“But you have eyes too.” Optics, he mentally corrected but didn’t say aloud. 

“Shor,” he nodded. “We also identify each othuh usin’ proximity sensors, infrared, electromagnetic fields, commlinks — ”

“Okay I get it,” Jaime cut him off with a small huff. “You use more than your eyes.”

“Not jus’ tha’,” Jazz added. “Our optics pick up far more than the human eye.” The internet was a wonderful thing. He had missed it dearly. “Yo’r limited t’ the visible light spectrum.” 

“So — what — humans are blind, deaf, and dumb?” Jaime scowled slightly. 

“Nah,” said Jazz, before a slag-eating grin spread across his face. “Only two outta three.” Jaime shoved his holoform in retaliation and he laughed at her. A comfortable silence settled between them and Jaime looked up at the stars. Jazz examined her bio readings. She appeared to be in a relaxed state. He probably wouldn’t have a better opportunity. 

“Ya know,” he said in a perfectly casual tone. “Prowl used t’ be the Cybuhtron equivalent of a cop.” 

“Prowl is an Autobot,” Jaime answered without taking her eyes off the inky night sky. Meaning she didn’t consider Prowl a cop? Jazz hummed. 

“How come ya don’ like ’em?” he asked. Jaime’s expression darkened and she made an impatient sound. 

“Because they’re useless,” she grimaced. “Can we please talk about something else?” Had Jaime tried talking to a police officer before? If so, it must not have affected anything since she’d been at the orphanage for two years. Did that somehow feed into her fear of abandonment? Or her general disregard for authority? Well, Miss Narcissa had probably contributed to that one.

“Ah evuh tell ya ’bout the time Prowluh nearly took my helm off?” Jaime tore her gaze away from the twinkling constellations to gape at him. “On base,” he added with a grin, pleased by her undivided attention stunned reaction. 

“If you managed to piss him off that much,” she mused, “you probably deserved it.” Jazz loved it when her far too rare snark poked through. 

“First of all,” he held up a finger in protest. “Tha’s rude. Second, it was Sideswipe an’ Sunstreakuh’s fault. They set up a prank tha’ ended up activating Prowl’s battle computuh an’ — thanks t’ the nature of the trap — it jus’ wouldn’t shut off. So Sides has the bright idea t’ call meh in, ’cept the slagguh doesn’t warn meh jus’ wha’ Ah’m walkin’ into…” Jaime listened with wide eyes and the previous tension the mention of law enforcement had produced slowly melted away. 

By the time Jazz moved onto some of the other planets he’d visited, her eyelids were sliding shut. Exhaustion lined her face as she pressed into his side. The last few days had been pretty hectic. Not to mention the stress. Jazz carefully picked the girl up and she curled into his chest. He carried her back into the farmhouse and upstairs. She barely stirred when he settled her onto the berth next to a recharging Charlie and tucked her underneath the covers. 

“Good night Jazz,” she mumbled sleepily. 

“G’night swee’spark.” He lingered long enough to make sure she actually fell into recharge before dismissing his holoform and pinging Optimus over a private comm. 

:: Yes Jazz? :: 

:: Did ya know Jaime named a horse aftuh ya? :: The Autobot leader vented a long exhale.

******

Optimus 

Earlier that morning, Optimus searched the World Wide Web for more information regarding human funeral practices. Part of his processor was still sifting through the thousands upon thousands of variations he’d found. Perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising that such a short-lived species had so may beliefs and interpretations on death. A Cybertronian offlining unexpectedly had been rare before the war. Here on Earth, no more than a few generations lived long enough to overlap. However clans on Cybertron had spanned back much further. Alpha Trion was the oldest mech Optimus (not yet Prime) had personally known before the war, which had absolutely decimated the older generations. Some had fallen due to guerrilla attacks during the early years of the war — before he realized the extreme lengths the Decepticons were willing to go — others had been lost, presumed offlined, like his mentor Sentinel. Optimus frowned slightly and terminated that line of thought. 

What used to be a purposeful decision to return to the Well of All Sparks — usually to join a departed sparkmate — had become a far too regular (and unplanned) occurrence. Instead of laying their fallen warriors to rest in one of the neighboring city mausoleums, they’d been forced to change how ceremonial burials were handled when — after the first decavorn of the war — reports began to trickle in that Decepticons were targeting them for resources. It wasn’t the worst thing to come out of the war (the fate of Cybertron’s youngling centers would always be the most sickening tragedy), but it was a close second. 

Jaime was remarkably silent during the funeral, one might even say composed if only going off a cursory glance. The slight tremor in her balled fists and vacant expression indicated otherwise. Charlie stood next to her, though his quiet grief was not held so closely to the chest. Major Lennox appeared to be keeping a close eye on the two younglings, Jaime especially, throughout the service. While Optimus never met this Jeong Jeong — only Jazz could lay such a claim and even then it had been under unusual circumstances — he’d heard enough about the human to want to pay his respects. The silver saboteur’s ‘Ah think ya remind her of him’ in particular had struck a chord. Jazz and Ironhide rounded out their small group, enough to fill up an entire pew in the church. 

Near the end, the priest asked if anyone wished to say a few words about Jeong Jeong and a son recounted a story highlighting his father’s cool head under pressure and how he was always thinking of others. Additional relatives — a daughter, a nephew, a granddaughter — shared their own precious memories, painting a comprehensive picture for those, like Optimus, who hadn’t known Jeong Jeong. Jazz had referred to the old man as one of the only responsible adults in Jaime’s life, though that was, in his words, ‘not tha’ hard t’ accomplish all things considuhed.’

Eventually they relocated to a nearby cemetery where the service concluded and funeral goers said their final goodbyes before departing. There were only a few stragglers left by the time Jaime and Charlie approached the now closed casket. His curiosity piqued when the girl placed a strangely folded piece of paper on top. A quick search online made him conclude it was meant to represent a bird. Optimus still couldn’t help but marvel at Earth’s diversity of living creatures, big and small. 

:: How did they meet? :: he asked Jazz over comms, who was closer to Jaime and Charlie than Optimus and Major Lennox. Ironhide had already dismissed his holoform after the funeral service and hadn’t bothered to reengage it when they arrived at the cemetery. 

:: Chance encountuh at a farmuh’s market. :: the saboteur replied, a respectful distance from the younglings to provide a semblance of privacy but his attention did not waver from the pair. Optimus tilted his head in thought at the familiar term. 

:: Like the one Prowl — :: he began and stopped at the sound of a suppressed snort. 

:: The very same. :: said Jazz in an overly amused tone. :: Seems t’ be a hotspot for chaotic meetin’s…least for Jaime. :: Optimus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Jazz was a master of vague but compelling answers, and he knew it. Before Optimus could decide if he should inquire further like the saboteur was baiting, Jaime turned away from the gravestone and marched over to Major Lennox. Her right arm was partially wrapped around her torso and her fingers stretched out to absently tug at the sleeve of her button up sweater that just barely covered what remained of her left arm. The weather was warm enough that she likely could have done without it, but Jaime stubbornly kept it on throughout the service. 

“Hey,” she said, “I know Charlie’s supposed to go back today, but can we stop somewhere first? Please?” The major hummed lightly. 

“Miss Elizabeth isn’t expecting us till seven,” he said. “Did you have something specific in mind?” Jaime bit her bottom lip as most of her earlier bravado was replaced by nervousness. She briefly glanced over at his holoform standing nearby. 

“Base?”

“What?” Major Lennox frowned. Optimus blinked at the strange request. Jaime glanced between them and her expression faltered slightly before firming. 

“So Charlie can meet them,” she gestured vaguely in the Prime’s direction. “He already knows — sort of — and he won’t tell anyone.” Major Lennox crossed his arms as he seemed to at least consider it, brows furrowed. The man’s gaze drifted over to Optimus, a silent question in his eyes. Further away, Jazz turned his head enough to look directly at the Autobot leader. 

:: Charlie knows ’bout us :: the saboteur had shared once he was done teasing Optimus about Jaime’s horse. :: She’s been tellin’ ’im stories for close t’ a year. Orion included. ::

:: He is a youngling. :: Optimus sent to Jazz. 

:: So is Jaime. :: 

:: Her involvement cannot be helped. :: Jazz offered a casual shrug. 

:: Kid is loyal t’ a fault. :: he said after a couple nanoclicks. :: Ya saw for yorself jus’ how far he’ll go t’ keep a promise. :: Optimus frowned at the unpleasant reminder. Charlie had been incredibly lucky the burning ceiling above his hiding spot hadn’t caved in. 

:: You are in favor of Charlie meeting us? :: he pressed. :: In our true forms? Why? :: Jazz briefly glanced at Jaime, who was watching the Autobot leader with a marginally confused expression. Only a handful of seconds had passed, a short amount of time by human standards, but his prolonged silence would soon pass the acceptable mark judging by Major Lennox’s almost imperceptible shifting. 

:: Ah think it could end up strainin’ the relationship ’tween the two. :: Jazz admitted. :: Jaime would keep it secret if ya asked, but they’re pretty open with each othuh already. She starts closin’ herself off without explanation, it could lead t’ resentment on both sides. ::

:: Jaime would resent Charlie? :: he asked somewhat incredulously. He could understand why the boy may come to feel that way, but Jaime? After the way she reacted in the back of Ratchet’s alt mode?

:: No, she’d resent whoevuh asked her in the first place. :: Him, Jazz didn’t say, but Optimus heard it all the same. That was far from ideal, especially considering they still did not understand Jaime’s connection to the Allspark (or whatever remained). Ratchet had been increasingly impatient about a full examination to find out more.

“Very well,” he said aloud for the benefit of the humans still awaiting his response. 

“Really?” Jaime asked, eyes shining with excitement. 

“Really?” Major Lennox asked, tone dubious. Optimus nodded. 

“Yes!” Jaime nearly whooped and he couldn’t help but smile at her unrestrained joy. 

“Wow, you’re happy,” Charlie remarked, having finished paying his respects and was now standing a few paces behind Jaime. The girl jerked and spun around. “Did I just sneak up on you?” Charlie asked, eyebrows raised in clear disbelief. “What were you talking about?”

“Nothing. I have a surprise for you.” Charlie’s face immediately lit up. Jaime reached out to ruffle his hair and he batted her hand away with a small huff, making her laugh. “Alright if we ride with you?” Jaime shyly asked Optimus. 

“Of course.” The younglings clambered into his cab with little difficulty and their party was soon headed for Hoover Dam, the current location of the rest of the Autobots. 

“Thanks for the ride mister,” Charlie politely offered after a few minutes (and his curious gaze had swept over inch of the alt mode interior). Jaime turned away from the passenger window she was seated next to and watched them with mild amusement. It was well-hidden, but Optimus had seen that expression far too many times on a young Bumblebee to not know what it meant. 

“My pleasure, Charlie,” he answered, earning a startled blink. 

“You know my name?” the boy asked. Optimus realized belatedly there had been no formal introductions prior to Jeong Jeong’s funeral. Jaime must have told him something though because Charlie hadn’t said anything before. 

“In a manner of speaking,” he said. To be fair, there had been extenuating circumstances and a number of distractions at the time. “Though I would not be surprised if you did not remember.” Charlie’s gaze narrowed in consideration. 

“You were at the orphanage,” he mused, peering at the holoform that was going through the motions of driving. 

“I was.” Realization passed over his face and his eyes widened significantly. 

“Oh!” Charlie exclaimed, pointing his finger. “You saved me from the fire!” 

“I did,” he nodded. The boy lowered his hand and his expression turned sheepish. 

“Uh, thanks for — um — doing that.”

“Of course,” Optimus tore his gaze from the road to pin the boy with a look that made him straighten. “Though I must admit, I agree with Jaime and request you never endanger your safety like that again.”

“Not you too,” Charlie grumbled, shoulders hunching slightly. “I already promised I wouldn’t.” The cab fell silent for a few moments. “How do you know Jaime anyway?” Optimus glanced over at the girl and she finally saw fit to join in.

“Mr. Prime is a friend of Will’s,” Jaime answered smoothly and he couldn’t help but be reminded of Jazz. “They work together.”

“Wait, your name is Prime?” Charlie demanded, staring at Optimus. 

“It is.”

“That’s so cool!” the boy gushed, head whipping around toward Jaime to share a grin. 

“…Thank you,” he said, a little taken aback by the reaction. He’d expected some level of enthusiasm but not to such a degree. Jazz had been confident Charlie wouldn’t be a security leak (any more than young Annabelle Lennox), pointing out that all the younglings at the orphanage had learned to keep their mouths shut regarding sensitive matters. “What makes you say that?” he asked, putting it to the test. 

“’Cause it’s a super awesome name!” Charlie bounced lightly in his seat. 

“How so?” Optimus prodded and the boy squinted up at him. He glanced over at Jaime with an air of uncertainty but she merely stared back at him. 

“It just is,” Charlie shrugged with a slightly mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

He didn’t offer anything else on the subject and Optimus let it drop. 

“I’ve never been inside a semi before,” Charlie later shared. “Do you get the trucker salute a lot? When you’re on the road?” The what? It took Optimus a couple nanoclicks to search the web for that one. 

“Ah.” What a spark-warming little tradition. “Not as often as you would think.” Mostly because he hadn't been on Earth for long.

“Really?” Charlie almost looked devastated. 

“We should do something about that,” Jaime nudged the boy. Moments later the two younglings were pumping their arms up and down with expectant grins. Optimus acquiesced, earning a pair of delighted giggles. 

:: What is it Prime? :: Ironhide asked over comms. Oops. 

:: Disregard. :: The weapons specialist did not answer, but Optimus could practically feel the silent judgment. Ironhide was not one to tolerate false alarms. 

:: The younglings? :: Jazz guessed, sounding entirely too cheerful, and Optimus cleared his intakes.

:: I was merely participating in a human tradition. :: he explained. :: Apologies if I startled you. :: Ironhide grumbled under his breath, something about not being surprised — of course not — he was just following protocol, why would you think otherwise Prime? Jazz, meanwhile, was laughing his helm off, and proceeded to tell them about the time Jaime and Charlie managed to sneak out from the orphanage and run wild at a fall festival. No wonder Jazz was fond of the pair, they sounded like the twins. 

They soon reached Hoover Dam and pulled into the main hangar where the other (briefed) Autobots were waiting. The two younglings climbed out of his cab and joined Major Lennox on the catwalk, along with Sergeant Epps and Agent Graham. Optimus dismissed his holoform which had remained in the cab. 

“There’s something I left out,” Jaime was telling Charlie was they reached the top of the walkway. “Because I didn’t know myself until recently.”

“What’s that?”

“Cybertronians can transform into alternate modes of transportation,” she explained, leaning against the railing which Charlie matched, his attention solely focused on Jaime. “An alt mode…like a plane, or a car…” Her eyes flitted over to the gathered Autobots below. “…or a truck.” Charlie followed her gaze and his mouth dropped at the sight and sounds of several transformation sequences being triggered. 

“No way,” the boy exhaled softly as Optimus approached the catwalk. 

“Hello Charlie,” he nodded his helm in greeting. “I am Optimus Prime — ” he paused when Charlie practically launched himself forward — Jaime promptly snagged the back of his shirt as a preventative measure — and he hugged the Autobot leader’s face plates. 

“You’re real!” Charlie squealed and Optimus could not help but smile at the unbridled enthusiasm. It had been vorns since he’d experienced the genuine zeal of a youngling. Charlie let go a few moments later with obvious reluctance, a delighted grin firmly in place. He turned to Jaime, who had released her hold once he was no longer leaning over the railing. Optimus watched the following exchange with growing interest.

“It’s Optimus Prime!” the boy exclaimed, pointing in his direction in case the Autobot had somehow passed beneath her notice. 

“Sure is,” Jaime smirked, looking inordinately pleased with herself. 

“Optimus Prime is standing right in front of me!” 

“Uh huh.”

:: Am I missing something? :: Prowl asked, voicing what many of the Autobots were thinking. Jazz snorted lightly but seemed content to watch events unfold.

“I hugged Optimus Prime!” Charlie crowed, chest puffed out, and Jaime chuckled. “Wait…” Realization dawned on the boy’s face and he whirled around to face Optimus. “You turn into a cars and trucks?”

“Yes.”

“You…you turn into the semi…” Optimus nodded his helm and Charlie spun on his heel to face Jaime. “We rode in Optimus Prime!” The girl cackled in response. 

“I thought he was meeting all of us,” Ironhide groused, arms crossed, “not just Optimus.” Jazz elbowed him.

“Chill mech, the kid’s meetin’ his hero.” Optimus stared at the silver saboteur and several things began to fall into place. 

“Hero?” he repeated, noting Charlie flush pink. 

“Shor,” Jazz grinned. “Ain’t tha’ right Jaime?” The girl’s laughing subsided once she realized she was the center of attention, but her smile didn’t drop. 

“You were definitely his favorite to hear about,” she agreed. Optimus looked at a now somewhat embarrassed Charlie. 

“I am honored Charlie, that you hold such confidence in me,” he said to the boy who immediately perked up at his words. Soon his attention shifted to the other Autobots and Optimus smoothly transitioned to introductions. 

“This is my second-in-command, Prowl,” he gestured toward the nearby tactician and Charlie inhaled sharply.

“The Prowl?”

“Is there another?” the black and white mech inquired, tone suspicious. A wicked grin — something that would look at home on Sideswipe’s face plates — began to form.

“Don’t even think about it,” Ratchet warned, raising a servo digit.

“Oh he’s thinking about it,” Jaime muttered under her breath.

“I like skittles! Do you know why?” Charlie asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Because you can taste the rainbow!” The hangar was silent for several nanoclicks, then interrupted by a soft pop.

Crash! 

Jaime facepalmed and Charlie giggled, visibly pleased by his successful attempt to make Prowl glitch. Ratchet scowled and knelt down to bring the mech back online. 

:: This feels familiar. :: Ironhide commented dryly. Optimus let out a shallow vent and rebooted his optics. 

“Please refrain from making my Autobots crash,” he requested, receiving a sheepish grin from Charlie. 

“Sorry, I’ve wanted to do that since Jaime told me about his glitch.” Prowl slanted the girl a look and she flushed slightly, and mouthed a silent ‘sorry’ to the tactician. His door wings flicked slightly but the intensity of his stare lessened considerably. 

“This is Ratchet,” Optimus continued, eager to move on, “my Chief Medical Officer.” Charlie gasped.

“The Hatchet’s here too?” A strangled noise came out of Ratchet’s vocal processor and actual steam erupted from his nostrils. 

“Where in the name of Primus, did you hear that name?” he demanded. Charlie pointed at Jaime and she pointed at Jazz. Ratchet’s glower settled on the saboteur.

“Slag,” Jazz muttered.

“I should weld your mouth shut,” Ratchet threatened. “In fact, why don’t I save us all the trouble and — ” Optimus loudly cleared his intakes valves. The CMO halted his rant to throw an exasperated glare at the Prime who subtly gestured to the pair of nearby younglings avidly watching the exchange. Jazz took advantage of the momentary distraction to duck behind Ironhide. 

“Don’t drag me into this,” the mech complained, shoving Jazz back into the open. 

Clang!

The saboteur stumbled back with a groan and Prowl reached out long enough to steady him, lest Jazz end up on the floor. Ratchet allowed himself a small smirk of satisfaction at the sound of contact. 

“He really does throw wrenches!” Charlie whispered to Jaime. It might have been low enough for the other humans not to hear, but audio receptors were much more sensitive. Ratchet noticeably straightened, no doubt pleased by the awed tone. 

“You ever think of using wrenches in battle?” Jaime asked the medic, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. “Pretty sure ‘the Hatchet’ has the most fearsome reputation of all the Autobots, Ironhide and Optimus Prime included.” 

:: She’s not wrong. :: Jazz chipped in.

:: Be quiet. :: Ratchet shot back. A snort of laughter came from the trio of military men. Major Lennox had a small smile he seemed to be fighting to keep under wraps. Sergeant Epps and Agent Graham were faring much worse. 

“My first lieutenant and third-in-command, Jazz,” Optimus continued introductions before Ratchet snapped. 

“Jazzman?” Charlie grasped the rail and leaned forward, his gaze intensifying.

“Sup Charlie?” the silver Autobot offered. The boy stared at him for a few nanoclicks, as if searching for something. 

“How are you?” he eventually asked. The words dragged out slowly like it wasn’t the actual question he wanted to ask. 

“Eh, ya know how it is,” Jazz struck a casual pose. “Meetin’ new faces and fraggin’ off the medic of doom.”

“Language,” Optimus rebuked mildly. Ratchet, meanwhile, was attempting to glare a hole into Jazz’s helm. 

:: Easy Ratch, jus’ tryin’ t’ put the kid at ease. :: Optimus noted that Charlie did seem rather tense. His bio readings were slightly elevated, though still technically within normal parameters for his stage of life. As nanoclicks passed, Optimus realized that Jazz’s words (or their delivery) seemed to do just what he’d intended. :: Kid jus’ found out last night wha’ happened in Mission City. :: What happened to Jazz, he didn’t need to say. Charlie must have heard many stories about the saboteur and be quite fond of him given the use of the nickname. 

“And this is my weapons specialist, Ironhide,” Optimus concluded. 

“Feeling lucky punk?” Ironhide grinned and brandished his cannons for (but not at) Charlie. Before Optimus could decide if he should reprimand the mech — Charlie was so young, even by human standards — the boy laughed. 

“His cannons are even bigger in person,” he turned to share with Jaime. Ironhide preened at the observation with no shortage of pride, thus missing the following fist bump between the two younglings. Optimus glanced over at Jazz who appeared unsurprised by the byplay and which led him to assume it had been intentional. Charlie appeared to know his audience rather well. “Where’s Bumblebee?”

“With Sam,” Jaime answered before Optimus could. “Guardian, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Charlie’s eyes roved around the hangar. “Are there any other Autobots?” 

“Give it time,” said Optimus. “Prowl was already within your solar system, hence his prompt arrival.” He ignored the slight twitch of the black and white door wing. Hopefully Jazz’s miraculous return and recovery would lessen the mech’s self-blame on the unlucky timing. “Others will take longer to receive my message.”

“So Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are on their way?” Charlie asked, bouncing lightly in place. “The twins will be here too before we know it? Hopefully they don’t take too long. How far out do you think they are? A week? A month?”

Pop. Crash!

The hangar fell silent as everyone seemed to take a moment to confirm with their own optics (or eyes) what they’d just witnessed. Jaime was the first to react, attempting (and failing) to quell her snickers. Major Lennox was rubbing his face, muttering something about patience under his breath. Sergeant Epps wasn’t even trying to hide his laughter anymore, and Agent Graham was looking at Charlie with mild amusement. 

“Oops,” was all Charlie offered and Optimus resisted the urge to clear his intakes yet again. He was 67% sure that hadn’t been intentional. 

“Yo’r worse than Jaime,” said Jazz, sounding utterly delighted. Ironhide actually facepalmed and mumbled his agreement. 

“It was an honest question,” Charlie defended, guiltily glancing at the now offline CMO. “He doesn’t have a glitch too, does he?”

“No,” said Optimus as Prowl bent down to online Ratchet. “But he and the twins do have a…complicated history.”

“Translation: lots of thrown wrenches an’ yellin’ involved,” Jazz sniggered. Ratchet grumbled as he got up, sending a mild glare Charlie’s way when he recalled the reason for his sudden offlining. 

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You can’t possibly be looking forward to meeting those terrors.”

“What if I am?” Charlie challenged, earning a glower from the medic. 

“That’s enough,” Jaime cut in with a growl and Optimus felt the sudden urge to snap at Ratchet, fueled by indignation on Charlie’s behalf. 

:: Cool it, Ratch. :: Jazz warned over comms. :: Jaime considuhs herself Charlie’s guardian, ’membuh? :: The CMO huffed but dropped the impromptu scowling contest with Jaime. Moments later, the strange sensation disappeared as if it had never been present in the first place. That was…odd. It almost felt like…No, that was impossible. 

“Thank you,” Charlie smiled at him and Optimus dedicated enough of his processor to pay attention to the youngling while he worked out the peculiar problem before him. “For letting me meet you,” Charlie tacked on. “I know how top secret you guys must be.” 

“Jaime insisted,” he offered and Charlie turned to face Jaime. 

“Surprise,” she said, doing a fancy gesture with her arm and even wriggling her fingers. The girl seemed completely oblivious to what just happened. Was it merely an act? Or was it actually genuine?

:: Did anyone else feel that? :: Optimus asked over comms. 

“You remembered!” Charlie squealed, launching forward and wrapping his arms around her torso.

:: Feel what? :: Prowl and Ratchet asked in synch. 

“Of course I did,” Jaime said with mock indignation. 

:: Thought I imagined it. :: said Ironhide. 

“This is the best birthday ever!” Charlie exclaimed as Jaime twirled him around. Optimus dedicated a small fraction of processing power to look up birthdays and their significance. Their behavior alone indicated these birthdays were important. 

:: Ah’ve been getting a few since onlining. :: Jazz admitted. That would make sense, Optimus mused. He likely had the strongest connection with Jaime. 

“Wait, it’s your birthday?” Major Lennox asked, receiving an eager nod. 

:: A few what? :: Ratchet demanded, not looking pleased. :: You assured me you weren’t receiving any error messages. I swear to Primus if you — :: 

“I’m five today,” Charlie proudly proclaimed. 

:: — Nothin’ like tha’. :: Jazz smoothly cut Ratchet off. :: Ah’m talkin’ flashes of — ya know — feelin’s. ::

“Happy birthday, Charlie,” Agent Graham offered his hand and Charlie smacked his own against it. Optimus had witnessed this strange interaction before between a pair of soldiers, something called a high five. 

:: Like an underdeveloped bond. :: Optimus filled in, voicing his suspicions.

“This day couldn’t get any better,” Charlie laughed, mood not dampening even when Jaime ruffled his hair. 

:: Do you think she is aware of the connection? :: he directed toward Jazz since the saboteur knew her best. Ratchet’s optics widened considerably as the other Autobots seemed to realize what Optimus and Jazz were getting at. 

:: Don’ think so, but Ah doubt tha’ c’n last much longuh. :: Optimus sent a significant look to Major Lennox, glancing at Charlie, then the door next to the catwalk, and back to the soldier. Major Lennox nodded at the unspoken request and locked eyes with Agent Graham, and silently conveyed the message with a twitch of his fingers and tilting of his head. 

:: A side effect of the latent Allspark energy she possesses? :: Ratchet theorized. 

“Hey kiddo,” Agent Graham said to Charlie. “How’d you like to see the rest of the base?” Charlie gave him a skeptical look. Jaime glanced between Optimus and Will, having caught their silent exchange, and appeared to catch on to the plan. 

:: So it would seem. :: Optimus agreed, considering the possibilities. 

“There’s a frozen yogurt machine in the cafeteria,” Jaime shared and Charlie’s eyes widened. 

“Why didn’t you say so?” was all he said before sprinting down the catwalk and toward the door, Agent Graham hurrying after the youngling. 

“Happy date of birth Charlie,” Optimus called after the boy. Charlie turned on his heel long enough to wave at the Autobot leader before grasping Agent Graham’s sleeve and attempting to drag him out of the hangar faster. 

Chapter Text

Something was up. Why was Optimus looking at her weird? Scratch that, it wasn’t just the Autobot leader. 

“What is it?” Jaime asked once Charlie (and Agent Graham) left. Must be sensitive, whatever it was. 

“I have a question for you,” said Optimus, leaning forward as if a closer examination would produce whatever answers he was looking for. “If you could answer it to the best of your ability.” Jaime frowned slightly at the weird disclaimer, but then again this was Optimus Prime. He was practically the definition of modest.

“Okay,” she offered when it became clear he was expecting some kind of response. Or agreement?

“Have you experienced anything…peculiar lately? That felt out of place?” He watched her with a level of scrutiny that was almost off-putting and she found herself sliding into deep-rooted habits. 

“You mean besides having a former robot alien as a voice in my head?” Jaime’s gaze flicked over to Jazz who crossed his arms and made a face at her, but the saboteur otherwise remained silent. She awkwardly cleared her throat, suddenly embarrassed for making light of the Autobot leader’s serious question, and actually considered it. “I — uh — don’t think so?” 

Optimus tilted his helm thoughtfully, allowing Jaime more time to mentally review the last few days. Wait, he emphasized the world felt…like actual feelings? Did he mean that literally? Was this one of those things that translated better than, say, units of time? Her most recent visit to the orphanage came to mind. The entire experience had been an emotional rollercoaster, but she’d mostly chalked that up to a lot happening at the time. She recalled the way Jazz had hovered when Miss Narcissa returned, protective intent so clear it had been almost palpable. And then there was the almost overwhelming guilt and anxiety clawing at her insides when she sought out Jazz late last night, to apologize and clear up any lingering misconceptions. The whirl of negative feelings had mostly dissipated pretty quickly, but it hadn’t left completely until after Jazz had explained the vast differences in how humans and Cybertronians viewed the world. 

“Wait…” Jaime muttered under her breath as an increasing number of moments began to stand out. The faint impression of judgment from a seemingly innocuous black pickup truck when she dragged her feet right before meeting Epps and Annabelle. The downright weird sensation of curiosity that had been weak enough to push to the back of her mind but still doggedly followed her during the funeral and cemetery services. “Back at the orphanage…” she remembered the moment Ironhide had threatened Miss Narcissa. The spike of anger followed by satisfaction. The feelings themselves hadn’t seemed particularly out of place but…the sudden intensity was a bit weird now that she thought of it. Ironhide shifted and Jaime realized that she’d been staring at him for several moments. Her gaze snapped back to Optimus, eyes narrowing. 

“Why do you ask?” She mirrored his earlier scrutiny. Jazz had mentioned proximity sensors before. She thought he’d meant that in the more literal sense. But with this unexpected talk about feelings of all things, she found herself suddenly unsure. Was there a way to…project such a thing? Cybertronians were so similar to humans in countless ways, it was easy to forget they were still an alien species. The talk of different ‘inputs’ came to mind once again. “Is something wrong?” She briefly glanced at Ratchet but her attention mostly remained fixated on Optimus. 

“Ratchet’s examination did not reveal anything concerning,” the Autobot leader slowly shook his helm. Jaime could hear the unspoken but and was proven right seconds later. “However your unique connection to whatever remains of the Allspark does seem to have an unforeseen side effect.”

The Allspark. Was that the…voice she heard? While trying to bring Jazz back? But hadn’t it been destroyed in Mission City? She shared a connection to it? What did that even mean? Could she bring any Autobot back from the Well of All Sparks? Or did they need to share some kind of bond? Jazz had been an invisible passenger for weeks before the attempt to bring him back online. Not to mention, his old frame had been repaired and ready nearby. 

“Hold up, side effect?” asked Will. “What do you mean by that? And how deep a connection are we talking about here?”

“Nothing like this has ever happened before,” Ratchet frowned, which sounded a lot like ‘I don’t know’ to Jaime. “I’ve been keeping a close optic on her bio readings and the only abnormal result is the minuscule amount Allspark radiation.” 

“Radiation?” Will demanded. It took Jaime a few moments to realize the look he sent her way was primarily driven by worry, not anger. Something warm unfurled in belly. 

“Adoption is permanent. No take backs.”

Would that hold true if there really was something wrong with her like Optimus had implied?

“Minuscule,” Ratchet repeated with tempered exasperation. “I doubt any man-made sensors would pick up on it. Only the most sensitive, like medical grade such as my own, would catch it. And it does not appear to have any negative effects on her body.”

“Negative,” Epps stressed the word.  “But there are still effects?”

“Increased strength and mobility,” Prowl spoke up, “which aligns with my own observations.” Jaime blinked at that. Was the tactician referring to the time he almost chased her down? “I suspect the senses have been influenced accordingly.” Jazz nodded in agreement. 

“Heightened immune system,” the saboteur tacked on, “an’ the dreams of Cybuhtron.”

“Why did you ask me if anything felt out of place?” Jaime asked Optimus, needing confirmation that the picture forming in her mind was wrong and to help squash the flutter of panic in her stomach. She was enough of a freak already with her stump of an arm, the other stuff at least wasn’t as noticeable. She didn’t want another way to stand out from her peers. 

“All Cybertronians are connected to the Allspark,” said Optimus. The response was worded carefully, almost gently. Or was that reverence? “An occurrence unique to our species is the formation of bonds, a connection shared between two sparks. There are different types, but the overall consensus is this…” Jaime paled as Optimus failed to provide the confirmation she’d been hoping for. Quite the opposite. “…the deeper the bond, the more that can traverse it.” A spark was a Cybertronian’s soul. So that meant…

“Are you saying,” Jaime took a shaky breath, “that my feelings aren’t my own?” She glanced at Jazz and Ironhide. Did that mean they could feel what she was feeling? Self-consciousness reared its ugly head. 

“It ain’t all or nothin’,” Jazz shook his helm, easily reading between the lines. “Think of it more like projectin’.” Jaime frowned slightly. That didn’t sound as bad. So it was more like a switch?

“And this goes both ways?” she verified, refocusing on Optimus.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Though in this case the bonds seem…underdeveloped. Time spent with a bot and proximity may be factors determining the strength of the bond.” The last part felt like it was directed toward Ratchet and Prowl, which kind of made sense since she hadn’t really gotten any weird impressions from them. At least, she didn’t think so. But how could she know for sure? Jaime swallowed thickly. Would she be spending the rest of her life trying to determine what was real and what was fake?

A sudden sense of calm washed over her and she nearly stumbled back in shock. Where did that come from? Her gaze darted from bot to bot who appeared to be watching her with varying levels of concern. 

“Calm down swee’spark,” Jazz soothed. “Might take a little thought, but Ah know yo’r capable.” Jaime felt the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him and Jazz grinned. “Focus on the feeling,” he instructed and seemingly sent another wave of calm her way. “An’ ya can tell the difference.”

Jaime pursed her lips together, but did as he said. Instead of voicing her doubt, Jaime closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the wave of calm and follow the feeling to where it originated. She absently chewed her bottom lip as she became more aware of the Autobots and their shifting positions. Nothing that screamed Allspark energy caught her attention. No voices filled her head. Jaime sunk deeper, trying to follow the delicate thread of calm that apparently linked back to Jazz, and finally brushed up against a pool of foreign energy. She reached for it and — upon making contact — felt herself pulled under, eliciting a gasp from her lips. 

“Jaime?” a faraway voice called, but she ignored it and marveled at what she’d found. 

Beautiful threads of light twisted around each other, like a network of tree roots. Every shade of color was present, some threads brighter than others. There were five threads of light in particular that were the brightest. The most intense was the silver thread. Another was a dark midnight blue color. The third was a royal blue and the fourth was a yellow green thread of light. The dimmest of the five, but still brighter than the rest of its peers, was a pure white color. Jaime gathered the five threads of light, unintentionally tugging on them. And then the strangest thing happened. She received a tug back from each of the five threads. Her eyes snapped open and she gaped at the Autobots in the hangar.

“Did…did you guys feel that?” Jaime asked.

“Shor did,” Jazz affirmed with a proud grin. She ducked her head slightly at the look.

“Feel what?” a confused Will asked. Jaime opened her mouth to explain then promptly closed it. How did one talk about threads of light without sounding like a crazy person? Instead she tried to refocus on the colorful threads while keeping her eyes open. It took a few moments to recall the lights to mind, it seemed to require a certain headspace and no shortage of concentration, but eventually she managed.

Again, the same five from before were the brightest. Strongest, she realized. They must all lead back to the Autobots standing in front of her. She followed the silver thread, giving it a hesitant tug. Jazz gave her a smirk at the same time that she felt an answering tug. She couldn’t help but smile in return. The dark — almost black — blue thread was next. The answering tug was firm but still gentle. Ironhide, she realized. The royal blue one offered a ripple of confidence as Optimus nodded to her. She tried the yellow green which belonged to Ratchet. That left the white thread of light connecting her to Prowl.

“Wow,” she exhaled softly, eyes slipping shut. “There are so many,” she murmured. She studied the multitude of other lights. Two bright threads caught her attention, different from the others. The pair tightly twisted together, as if they knew each other. One was a fiery red color. The other thread was a blinding yellow, almost white. She tried giving them a gentle tug, but didn’t feel an answer. Maybe they were too far away? Jaime opened her eyes once more. 

“So, I can feel you guys and you can feel me?”

“Essentially,” Ratchet nodded. Jaime frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to her.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” she asked. They were fighting a war against the Decepticons after all. “I don’t want to distract you.”

“A bond can be muted,” Optimus was quick to allay her fear. “Underdeveloped as they are now, distance will also play a major factor.” Jaime nodded distractedly, wondering how many threads of light there were. Hundreds? Thousands? Too many for her to easily count. How many of them were connected to Cybertronians she’d dreamed about? Would they be excited to meet her? Or would they find the bond thing weird too? Maybe that was just her human background rearing its head since they didn’t have anything like it? 

“Jaime!” Her head whipped around at the shout. 

“Charlie?” she called back reflexively. Said boy dashed through the hangar entrance with an enormous smile pasted onto his face. The expression calmed her nerves and assured her that no, nothing was wrong. 

“Jaime! Guess what?!” he exclaimed, sprinting up the catwalk stairs. Agent Graham entered the hangar seconds later, looking mildly out of breath. 

“What?” she laughed lightly at the sheer excitement wafting off Charlie, causing him to pout. 

“No,” he grabbed her hand. “Guess what happened! You have to guess!” He demanded while bouncing up and down. Agent Graham joined them on the catwalk, breathing still somewhat elevated. Will and Epps stared at their comrade.

“Dude. Did you get outrun by a five year old?” Epps asked. Agent Graham opened his mouth, closed it, and flushed slightly. 

“Kid has hidden rockets, I swear,” the man grumbled.

“That’s just sad,” Will frowned. Before Agent Graham could attempt to defend himself, Charlie spoke up again.

“Jaime!” he shook her hand to regain her attention. “Guess what happened!”

“Uh,” Jaime tilted her head. “You ate a bunch of froyo.”

“Nope! Well…yea…but that’s not it!” Charlie hopped up and down, brimming with more energy than usual. 

“You — uh — met someone?” she asked, more than a little lost. Yes, she knew Charlie better than anyone. No, she wasn’t a mind reader. The boy groaned and gave her a dirty look for the half-hearted attempt. 

“No. The most amazing thing happened!”

“More amazing than meeting Optimus Prime?” she scoffed. Charlie thought about it for all of two seconds before eagerly nodding, causing her smirk to drop. There was only one thing Charlie would think was more amazing than meeting his idol.

“No way,” she breathed.

“Way!”

“Who?” she demanded and Charlie glanced over at Agent Graham who offered a nod of confirmation. Jaime gawked for a few moments, completely blindsided by the news, before grabbing Charlie and swinging him around in a circle.

“That is amazing!” she laughed, heart swelling as Charlie giggled into her chest.

“Wait, what happened?” Ironhide asked, causing Agent Graham to scratch the back of his head.

“Mary and I have been looking into adopting and Charlie here needs a home,” the man shared with a shrug. “Feels like we were meant to cross paths.”

“I’m getting adopted! I’m getting adopted!” Charlie sang, dancing around with Jaime who playfully swung their grasped hands back and forth. Pure happiness filled her and she wondered if the Autobots could feel it too. Even with Miss Elizabeth now in charge of the orphanage, she hadn’t been thrilled about the idea of Charlie returning to it.  

“This really is the best birthday ever!” Not even Jaime mussing his hair could wipe the huge grin off his face. 

******

A week and a half later, Charlie was officially adopted and living with his new parents. Agent Graham and his wife resided in a neighborhood that  had other children near Charlie’s age, which he’d been excited to learn. Jaime, meanwhile, had latched onto the news that, while it was a bit of a drive, the distance wasn’t enough to discourage regular visits. Sleepovers with Charlie were still on the table and she was very pleased to still have him in her life, even if it was more of a monthly (instead of a daily) occurrence now. 

Jaime munched on her green apple as she sat on the pasture fence, legs swinging idly. All three horses were grazing nearby — flicking their ears in the girl’s direction every once in a while — as she talked to them. Jaime glanced back at the house where Ironhide and Jazz were parked in their alt modes. She smiled at the silver Pontiac Solstice. Although she was sure all the Autobots would act in the manner of guardians, Optimus had insisted that she needed an official guardian. Jazz had been quick to volunteer and Jaime had accepted his offer immediately. As if sensing her gaze, Jazz playfully flashed his headlights. She laughed and turned back to the pasture.

She took another bite of her apple and itched her leg, glancing down at her new clothes. Sarah had made good on her promise the first night to take Jaime shopping. Annabelle — not wanting to be left behind — tagged along and added input as the woman proceeded to buy an entire wardrobe. Jaime was just happy to have clothes that fit and didn’t have holes in them, but Sarah kept asking the girl questions. Which shirt do you like better? Do you have a color preference? Are ankle socks okay? Do you have enough room to wriggle your toes? The last one had been asked when trying on new shoes. Jaime hadn’t even realized how tight her current pair (well, previous now) had been getting. She’d been a bit reluctant about the whole thing at first, not wanting to be a bother, but the outing actually ended up being pretty fun — especially since Sarah had convinced Ironhide to join them too. Jazz hadn’t needed to be talked into anything, practically inviting himself. 

Jaime let out a sharp two note whistle. Orion lifted his head and looked over at her, ears pricked. She’d been working with the buckskin a lot the past week. She wanted to ride him but Will was against it, saying the horse was still too unpredictable. So Orion was officially in training. The first thing Jaime decide to focus on was his manners. She had quickly learned that the buckskin was, in fact, very well-mannered…when he chose to be. And though he usually behaved with Jaime, the same could not be said with other people. So she’d added recall, teaching the horse to come to a specific whistle, hoping that would show Will just how ‘trained’ the horse was. Orion swished his tail and trotted over to the girl. She gave him the rest of her apple and scratched behind his ear as he chomped on the treat. 

“Do you like your apple?” she asked him with a smile. “Jaime spoils you with lots of apples doesn’t she? If she doesn’t start riding you soon, you will get very fat. Yes you will.” The horse snorted and bumped her chest and she laughed. “Sorry bud, I don’t know why I just referred to myself in third person.” Orion bumped her again, more firmly, even going as far to snuffle her pockets. Oh, he wanted another apple. “Sorry, all gone,” she shrugged, gently patting his nose. The horse tossed his head, offered another snort, and trotted away. “Oh I see,” Jaime called after him. “I’m only good enough for your company when I have treats, huh?”

“Why do you insist on talking to that beast?” Ironhide’s gruff voice carried across the front yard. Jaime hopped off the fence and walked back toward the farmhouse. She patted the black topkick as she passed by.

“I talk to you too, don’t I?” she asked, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. Ironhide’s sputtering and Jazz’s laugher followed her inside. 

Later that night, Jaime sat in her bed. Her legs were crisscrossed and her arm rested limply in her lap. Her body was relaxed but not slumped. Every night, before she went to bed, she would ‘meditate.’ She’d been visiting Ratchet every other day so that he could monitor her progress with the bonds. Although she could receive snippets of emotion from them and they from her, the connections were — apparently — incomplete. Regular practice would strengthen them but also meant greater control and (hopefully) less unintentional projecting. Jaime closed her eyes and accessed the threads of light with just the barest hint of concentration. This step had become rather easy. It was the next part that she was currently working on. 

Almost systematically, Jaime sifted through the six brightest threads. She started with Jazz and Ironhide since they were the closest. When she focused on the silver bond, she could feel Jazz’s amusement. The feeling was contagious and soon they were both wallowing in silent laughter. Ironhide’s bond was more neutral, though it held a small twinge of annoyance. Jaime hesitantly gave a light tug on the tether. The girl was immediately bathed in forgiveness and grudging respect for her retort. Oh, the annoyance was self-directed. One of the hardest things, she was finding, when interpreting certain emotions was how vague they could feel without further context. Behind Ironhide’s gruff exterior, she’d been delighted to learn, hid a surprisingly witty brand of humor. What had started as a casual exchange of quick-witted dialogue and comebacks, had evolved into a war of words — which Ironhide apparently looked forward to. He might not admit it aloud, but she could feel his anticipation. 

Next was Bumblebee. She’d only met the youngest of the Autobots a few times. Most of the ‘getting to know each other’ occurred over their newfound connection. Jaime felt a sense of happiness and exhilaration trickle over his thread. He must be driving somewhere with his charge, Sam. Mikaela too maybe. Bumblebee gave a happy tug, acknowledging her presence, and she sent a friendly tug back. Optimus had been right. The yellow scout didn’t hold any kind of grudge against her because of their first encounter. Over the past week, she’d gotten the sense that Bumblebee was persistently cheerful and optimistic. 

Jaime focused on Prowl’s white thread. She got the impression of concentration and focus. Jaime mentally rolled her eyes. It seemed that the workaholic was focused on his duties…again. She felt his hesitation as he paused in whatever he was doing and sent her a questioning tug. The Autobots knew that she practiced with the connections at night, but Prowl would always send her an inquiring tug, as if asking about her well-being. The girl sent back her reassurance — she was improving on sending feelings back when she actually wanted to — and he returned to his work. 

Jaime tried Ratchet next. From the medic she felt a sense of irritation, she was pretty sure it wasn’t directed at her though. Further digging revealed a layer of concentration and — oh. Jaime chuckled. Since receiving the holoform program, the medic had been studying human health in depth. He believed that he would be much more suited to treat the humans on base than any human doctor. Unfortunately, many humans did not agree and the medic had become increasingly frustrated by everyone’s stubbornness, or as he called it ‘stupidity.’ Jaime moved on, not wanting to garner the attention of an irritated Hatchet. 

Last was Optimus. Jaime gently probed their bond and received a feeling similar to forced patience and a tiny twinge of displeasure. Jaime bit her lip unable to fully suppress her grin. Apparently the poor Autobot leader was in a meeting with a stuffy politician…again. Or someone equally as trying. She felt a tug from Optimus, his way of telling her ‘I know you’re there.’ She sent him a wave of patience and her condolences. Jaime felt his faint amusement before he refocused on whatever was being said. 

She turned her attention to the other threads of light which were constantly changing. Some dimmed while others brightened. One thread in particular — an electric blue — had become especially bright. Did that mean they were getting closer? She wondered who it belonged to. Like always, Jaime found herself checking on the two threads that spun around each other. She’d later found another pair that twisted together in a similar way — a burnt orange and lime green thread — but those were much dimmer. Upon inspection, Jaime was forced to grudgingly accept her suspicions. The last several days, Jaime had noticed that the fiery red thread had brightened considerably. Unfortunately, the blinding yellow was not as blinding. It was dimming, as if moving away. Another change between the two threads was how they twisted around each other. Before, the threads had been wrapped snugly with no gaps. Now, Jaime noticed that the threads seemed to be drifting apart. The threads would even flicker and twist a little, as if they didn’t want to be separated. It was very sad to watch. Jaime would usually leave the other threads alone since she didn’t know who they belonged to, but she couldn’t help but give a reassuring tug to these two threads. And just like the previous nights, the pair seemed to calm under her influence. She sent them each another wave of reassurance (she wasn’t even sure if it reached them, but she would try regardless) before opening her eyes. 

She stretched languidly and slipped into her new pajamas before shuffling over to her window. Since her bedroom was a corner room, she had two windows and one of them faced the front of the house. She opened the window halfway and leaned out. 

“Good night Ironhide,” she called. She got a grunt in response. “Good night Jazz.” 

“G’night swee'spark,” the saboteur answered. Jaime closed the window and crawled into her bed, quickly drifting off to sleep.  

Chapter Text

Legend: 

Nanoclick — 1 second

Cycle — 1 minute

Breem — 8.3 minutes

Groon —1 hour

“Cybertronian”

******

Ironhide

The weapons specialist did another visual sweep of the rather dull looking parking lot, sensors straining to their maximum range. No signs of Decepticon activity. Not that he was expecting an attack, but good habits ensured good outcomes and all that. Lennox and Jaime had disappeared inside the squat building he was parked next to almost fifty minutes ago. Charlie, Agent Graham, and his sparkmate had arrived approximately forty seven minutes ago and done the same. Three more humans had trickled into the building (one just twenty minutes ago, significantly later than the others) before all arrivals seemed accounted for. 

Today was the reading of Jeong Jeong’s will. Jaime had been noticeably surprised when Prowl informed her. Ironhide wasn’t sure why since, according to Jazz, the old man was the closest she’d had to a stable adult figure for nearly two years. Apparently Jeong Jeong’s son had kept the tactician’s contact information from before and reached out to share that both Jaime and Charlie were beneficiaries. Jazz was using the temporary break from guardianship duties to visit base (Ratchet had insisted on a checkup to make sure everything was still operating at full capacity) and coordinate with Optimus and Prowl (something to do with policy or treaty terms with their human allies). Jazz was still working with Jaime and acclimating her to his alt mode interior, so Ironhide was filling in as needed. Not that he minded. His reputation as a grizzled weapons specialist didn’t tend to make him the first choice when it came to a source of comfort (particularly with younglings) so when it did happen…well…it was kind of novel. 

Eventually a number of humans began to exit the building in the same small irregular groups they’d arrived. It was another twenty minutes before Jaime marched out, Lennox on her heels. The pair were closely followed by Charlie and his new guardians. It wasn’t until she drew near that Ironhide realized she was holding something. A quick internet search revealed it to be a chest. The object was held close to Jaime’s chest and just bulky enough that any other youngling her age with less upper body strength would have required two arms to carry. 

“ — are you sure — ” Lennox was saying, tone betraying his worry. 

“ — I don’t want to talk about it,” Jaime muttered lowly, brazenly cutting off the major. Hmm…that was significantly out of character. What happened inside? Ironhide scanned the girl. Elevated bio readings indicated she was upset but the reason why was not immediately evident. Had he missed something? Jazz would not be pleased. “Can we go?”

“…Alright,” Lennox acquiesced, expression somewhat uneasy but he didn’t push Jaime on…whatever they were arguing about. Goodbyes were quickly exchanged and Jaime briefly set the chest down on the ground to hug Charlie. A soft clunk alerted Ironhide to a padlock on the front. The way Jaime cradled the object indicated it held some sentimental meaning (or its contents). Given their current location, it had to be connected to Jeong Jeong in some way. And yet, Ironhide mused as he drove off with Lennox at the wheel and Jaime curled up on her seat (staring out the window) in the back, he was almost certain that very chest was also the source of her distress. And her optics were suspiciously shiny. Jazz was going to have a fit if Jaime cried on his watch. 

:: So how’d the will readin’ go? :: the saboteur chose that exact moment to ping him. 

Frag. 

******

Sideswipe

Sunstreaker was missing. His twin was gone. 

Fragging Decepticons. 

He hadn’t been too worried at first, even though their small group had been severely outnumbered and they’d been forced to scatter. Because he could still feel Sunny. 

Until he couldn’t. 

Panic gripped his spark when the twin bond that had been in place since he first onlined just…disappeared. He couldn’t find it which meant he couldn’t find Sunny. He hadn’t felt the bond snap. Surely if Sunny had been —

— But he hadn’t. So his twin was okay. He had to be. 

Jolt was equally stumped on the matter which was completely useless so the pair of mechs decided to head to Earth, their original rendezvous point. Well, Sideswipe made the executive decision and Jolt hadn’t argued, though technically he could’ve pulled rank with Prowl missing. But the tactician wasn’t around to throw Sides in the brig for disregarding the chain of command (he wasn’t sure if the other mech was even online still, hopefully the lack of response was merely the result of a damaged commlink). 

Ratchet would fix this. He would make it right. And then Sides would hunt Sunny down and drag his aft back to Earth. 

When they arrived on the backwater planet, Jolt finally put his pede down, bringing Sideswipe’s frantic drive to locate Ratchet to a temporary halt — long enough for them to scan alt modes native to Earth and maintain their cover. Jolt quickly chose a blue Chevy Volt but Sides grumbled for over half a breem about the lack of quality choices before settling on a silver Corvette Stingray. Thank Primus for humanity’s need for ‘car shows.’

Jolt made contact with Prime and the pair drove the rest of the night to reach the provided coordinates, which were somewhere in a place called ‘Nevada.’ They were a few miles out when the faint tug on his spark nearly made Sideswipe fishtail off the road. 

Sunny! 

He was here? He made it to Earth!

Sides gunned his engine and sped up, ignoring Jolt’s immediate hiss over comms to ‘slow down, you’re going to attract attention.’ Headquarters turned out to be a human-made structure called ‘Hoover Dam.’ Jolt was curious about the architecture, drawing parallels to some of the generators back on Cybertron, but Sideswipe was more interested in finding Sunny. Where was he? Why wasn’t his brother responding to his hails? He still couldn’t find the twin bond — it was still missing? He knew what he felt, he hadn’t imagined it. 

“Welcome to Earth,” Prime greeted them inside, flanked by Prowl and Ratchet. Sunny was notably absent from the lineup.

“Where is he?” Sides demanded. 

“Pardon?” Optimus shuttered his optics. Prowl’s door wings twitched upward with clear irritation and Ratchet scowled at the frontliner. He knew this wasn’t the proper protocol but he didn’t care. He wanted his twin back. 

“Sunny,” he just barely managed not to growl. Prime was many things but he wasn’t malicious. He also wasn’t stupid. Honestly, who else would Sides be asking about? “Where is he?” The looks of confusion were not encouraging and only made his spark pulse more erratically. 

“He is not on Earth as far as we know,” Optimus slowly shook his helm, glancing at Prowl who was now frowning slightly. Sideswipe balled his servos into fists. He knew what he felt. His creators had been offline for vorns, the only bond left was the one he shared with Sunny. 

“Why do you ask?” Prowl’s optics narrowed with that unnerving stare of his that could pin a mech in place, causing Sideswipe to cross his arms. What kind of question was that?

“We got separated from the others,” Jolt decided to speak up and Sides frowned. Prowl already knew that part. “We were unable to reestablish contact and…” The medic paused to glance at him, expression uncertain. “…Sideswipe claims his bond with Sunstreaker is absent.” Alarm spread through the trio of commanding officers like cosmic rust. 

“What?” Ratchet stepped forward, engine revving. “Why didn’t you say so earlier? How are you still standing? Jolt,” he partially turned to the blue medic, “did you — ”

“It’s missing yea but that’s not important,” Sides interrupted the CMO with a casual wave of his servo. He wasn’t interested in submitting himself to another spark examination (they were so slagging invasive) when he already knew Sunny was nearby. Proximity would fix the issue. Maybe. Hopefully. Ratchet’s optics brightened so much they nearly turned white. 

“Not important — ” Ratchet began to bellow, steam coming out of his nostrils. 

“I felt him when I landed on Earth,” he steamrolled over whatever the medic was planning to say. “Just tell me already.” Why would they keep his twin from him? It didn’t make any sense. “Where. Is. He?” Sideswipe demanded again, patience finally snapping. 

“…You felt him?” Prime repeated slowly. 

“I didn’t imagine it,” he said, tone defensive. Prowl’s helm suddenly snapped to Optimus. 

“You don’t think…”

“It is entirely possible,” the Autobot leader actually shrugged marginally, causing Sideswipe to shutter his optics. “We are still learning what she is capable of.”

…She?

“Apologies for the confusion,” said Optimus, turning back to the frontliner. “There is a youngling here on Earth by the name of Jaime Lennox. I believe…” Sideswipe listened numbly as Prime proceeded to tell him the most outlandish thing he ever heard. 

Sunny…wasn’t on Earth? His spark pulsed anxiously. Then where was he?

Part of him held out hope that they were mistaken. That he hadn’t drawn the wrong conclusion. How could he share a bond with a human (they were completely different species!) he’d never even met before? But Prime’s words proved true later that same day (human time keeping was weird — how did they get anything done in such a limited time frame?). He stared down at the small organic that had to stand on a raised catwalk to even come close to the same level of his chassis. She was so tiny. 

“And this,” Optimus continued after introducing Jolt, “is Sideswipe.” The femmeling grinned up at him and he tilted his helm at the eager expression. She didn’t seem put off by his much larger size in the slightest. Though…she seemed rather at ease near the Prime and he was even taller. 

“Do they know about…” the girl asked Optimus, trailing uncertainly. She received a short nod of confirmation. 

“They have been briefed on recent events.” His optics narrowed with interest and Sides approached the catwalk for a closer examination. The youngling leaned forward as if she shared his sentiments. He studied her for several nanoclicks and nothing happened. Then…a firm but gentle tug pulled at his spark, identical to what he felt soon after arriving on Earth. 

“No way,” he reeled back, unable to hide his disbelief. 

“Nice to finally meet you,” the young femme grinned at him before he could say more and held out her servo. He stared at it for a few moments as disappointment welled up in his spark. It hadn’t been Sunny after all. His twin wasn’t here. If he’d been wrong about the source of the tugging on his spark…did that mean he was also wrong about…

“You’re supposed to shake it,” Ironhide broke the silence, yanking Sides back to the present. 

“I know that,” he scowled at the old rust bucket. He had read the provided data file.…Okay, he may have actually skimmed it but he did look at it! The girl’s expression flickered and something akin to doubt flashed across her face. Oh Primus, he didn’t want to make her start leaking. Apparently humans did that for all kinds of reasons, which was utterly bizarre. Why would they evolve that way? Everyone was staring at him now and not in a good way. Sideswipe double-checked that his blade was retracted and offered a servo digit for her to grasp, making an effort to be extra careful when moving it up in down during their strange parody of a ‘handshake.’ “So…that was you?” he asked, not sure what else to say. Even though he already knew the answer. 

“Yea probably,” she nodded. “Sorry if I startled you.”

“…Right,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Suddenly the hangar felt too small and Sideswipe wished he was literally anywhere else. Actually he wanted to be with Sunny but that apparently wasn’t an option right now so he would have to make do. 

“Nice whips,” she directed toward Jolt. 

“Thank you,” was his neutral response. Sideswipe smoothly backed up and skated out of the hangar, indifferent to any possible small talk. What was the point? Sunny wasn’t here.

:: Sideswipe. :: Ratchet pinged him. 

:: I’m fine. :: he snapped back before muting his commlink.

The frontliner stewed in silence in a room that looked suspiciously like a storage area with only crates of various sizes as company for nearly three groons before Jaime Lennox found him. He wasn’t hiding. He just…didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now.

“Sideswipe?” the femme called, tone hesitant. “You okay?” For exactly five nanoclicks he considered ignoring her entirely — surely she’d go way on her own? But prior experience told him younglings could be sensitive and humans seemed even more so (why else would they be prone to leaking?). And Jazz had claimed guardian rights when it came to the girl. Everyone knew guardians could be touchy when it came to their charges. And one did not become head of special operations and third-in-command of the Autobot army without noteworthy kick-aft skills. He let out a quiet vent and triggered his transformation sequence. The room was too small for him to stand at his full height and he didn’t want to scare her, so Sides remained in a crouched position. She seemed to take this as a silent invitation to join him and, moments later, was sitting next to him.

“You wanna talk?” she asked softly and he shuttered his optics at her. The question was…not as prying as it should have felt. He got the impression she would have been okay with any answer. Or even none, he realized, when he didn’t respond right away and the silence stretched. She didn’t stare at him or follow up with anything else, just sat quietly next to him. He shifted into a more conformable position, feeling like he should say something. He was rather curious about her, it was just largely overshadowed by…well…

“When I felt the tug on my spark,” he shared haltingly, “I wasn’t expecting…” he trailed off suddenly. Was that rude? How much did she know already? Prime had shared the basics — like the dreams of Cybertron which was wild — but did that mean she knew about Sunny?

“You thought I was Sunstreaker,” she easily filled in and Sides cleared his intake valves. His spark flared at the reminder of the aching loss. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. “But he’s your twin, can’t you always feel him?” His spark keened at the assumption. How can you not feel your twin, it seemed to whisper. Where are you Sunny? Come back, come back, come back —

“That’s the thing,” he growled lowly. “I can’t.” His servo lightly clawed at the plating right above his spark. “I can’t feel him at all. That’s never happened before.” Sides clicked his mouth plates shut before he devolved into a full ramble. What had happened to the twin bond? Why wasn’t he connected to Sunny anymore? Was he even still online? He didn’t know. He twitched suddenly, remembering something Prime had shared. “But you can.”

“What?” Sides promptly twisted and lowered his helm closer to the youngling, staring at her intently. 

“Every bot here can feel you,” he continued. “I felt you.” His spark began to pulse with growing excitement. “That means Sunny can too!” She looked up at him with clear skepticism. 

“I don’t know if it works like that,” she muttered, glancing down at the floor as she scuffed the floor with her pede. Sides frowned at her and a wave of bitter disappointment crashed down on him. The young femme winced, almost in synch. 

…Had she felt that?

His optics narrowed and, instead of trying to moderate the negative feeling, Sides let his anguish bleed freely — that she seemed unwilling to even try to reach out to Sunny. 

She broke in less than seven nanoclicks. 

“Fine,” she groaned, “I’ll try.” He immediately tempered the flow of negativity and leaned forward eagerly. “I still don’t think it’ll work like you think,” she grumbled under her breath but proceeded to close her eyes as a look of concentration settled over her face. 

Sideswipe watched with spark-wrenching suspense, not daring to move an inch in fear of accidentally distracting the youngling. How long did it usually take? He scrutinized her expression, cataloguing any and all minute changes. The corner of her mouth twitched downward and her brows furrowed slightly. Was that a good sign or bad? He squashed the urge to ask. It wouldn’t be productive to irritate the only known link to his missing twin. He could be patient. Sometimes. It had been known to happen. A full cycle dragged by before the girl opened her eyes, now filled with apprehension. 

“I didn’t get a response,” she sighed, raking her digits through her hair. His shoulders slumped before his processor registered the exact wording used. 

“But you could feel him?” he pushed for confirmation. He needed to know. Was Sunny…

“I could see his thread,” she admitted, chewing her bottom lip in thought. Thread? What did that mean exactly? “It’s still lit, so I’m pretty sure he’s still online.” Sides vented a long sigh, a turmoil of emotions crashing through him. Although he tried not to let them bleed over to Jaime this time. 

His twin was still online. Sunny wasn’t lost forever. Sides would find him and then everything would be okay. 

He cleared his intakes again. Sunny was online. Jaime said so. 

“C’mon Sides, you can’t mope in here all day.” He glanced down and shuttered his optics. She was back on her pedes and hovering near the entrance. 

“Why not?” he asked dryly, mouth plates shifting into a frown. What else was he supposed to do with Sunny missing? They still didn’t know where he was. At least in here no one could stare at him with poorly hidden pity. A wide grin stretched across Jaime’s face and Sides felt the sudden wave of utter glee stemming from the girl. 

“Because you have a reputation to uphold,” she remarked, eyes shining with perfectly crafted innocence. “I think everyone’s grown complacent in your absence.” Jaime further goaded him with a playful tug on the frail tether that linked them together. Her words, their tone, the streak of mischievousness he could feel — they lit a familiar fire inside him, evident by his growing smirk. He slowly stood up and joined her near the doorway. 

“Jaime?”

“Yes?”

“This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Chapter Text

“Red Light. This is Spark Leader.”

“Red Light here, proceed Spark Leader.”

“Ducky is absent. All systems check. Mission is a go.”

“Copy that Spark Leader. Operation: Irritate the Duck commencing. Stand by.”

Jaime fiddled with the borrowed headset, muting the microphone, and kept an eye out in case their target returned early. Sideswipe should have at least twenty minutes to do his part, thanks to their implemented distraction. If she wasn’t the size of an ant compared to the Autobot, she’d be right next to him, but speed was of the essence for this to work. She’d learned from several informants that their target would be otherwise occupied today so accessibility to the target area was unusually high right now.

Minutes dragged by as she contemplated the strange situation she found herself in. Lookout was a boring but necessary job. At least she could claim to play a major part in the planning stage. The weirdest thing about this was having accomplices. She was so used to being on her own, even before the accident. The last time she did something like this was when Brian had been an even bigger pain than usual, so she secretly switched out his shoes to a matching pair a half size smaller. It had taken him a full week to realize the mix-up and the constant looks of discomfort had been rather satisfying. The best part was that no one traced it back to Jaime. Then there was the time she hid a noise-maker device in her parents’ bedroom that went off at random intervals when the lights were off. The object, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, had imitated the sound of a cricket. The thing about growing up as an only child, meant she often had to entertain herself — which her mom and dad could attest to (being regular targets)…if they were still around. 

Jaime scowled and pushed the dark thought away, checking the watch Sarah bought her during their shopping trip. Ten minutes. Just a little longer…Movement at the end of the hallway caught her attention. They looked like they were headed for — oh no. 

“Jimmy!” she called out to halt the soldier in his tracks, jogging up to him with a smile pasted onto her face. “What are you up to?”

“Hey Jaime,” the man offered her a friendly grin. Jimmy was one of the less reserved soldiers on base that didn’t treat her like a little kid. He was also the same person who managed to temporarily catch her during her little freak out before she returned to base and resurrected Jazz. She later learned, when they’d been more formally introduced, that her heel stomp had fractured two of his toes. Thankfully Jimmy didn’t hold it against her, merely commenting that she made a compelling argument for steel-toe boots. “Just heading to Ratchet’s med bay.”

“Why?” she blurted, garnering a funny look. “I mean,” Jaime quickly recovered, “Why would you want to visit the Hatchet? Willingly? Unless this is under duress. Blink twice if you need help.” Jimmy threw his head back and laughed. 

“Nothing like that,” he easily accepted her reasoning. “He’s scheduled to meet with a medical consultant this afternoon and requested one of us to assist him. To demonstrate that his med bay meets standards for human care and all that.” Jaime paled slightly. 

“Ratchet’s showing off his med bay?” she asked faintly. 

“In like…half an hour,” Jimmy confirmed, glancing down at his watch. “I guess something came up because he said he’d meet me as soon as he was able.” He tilted his head and his tone turned conspiring. “You know, I was beginning to think he never left his precious med bay for anything.” Jaime heard herself make a sound of agreement as her brain worked overtime to produce a solution that would salvage the looming disaster. 

“Are you sure he didn’t mean the main hangar?” she offered. “By the north entrance? Because that’s where he was headed.” It also just so happened to be on the other side of base. 

“What?”

“He looked pretty impatient too,” Jaime tacked on, tapping her chin. Something akin to uncertainty flashed across Jimmy’s face. 

“You saw him?”

“Few minutes ago,” she nodded. It was technically true. “You’re supposed to be meeting with him now?”

“Yea…” Jaime hummed lightly. 

“Maybe the time table got moved up,” she speculated aloud, making Jimmy frown uneasily. Despite the CMO’s displeasure for the nickname, ‘Hatchet’ had spread like wildfire throughout the NEST ranks. Mostly as a joke because the alliance was still new and everyone was on their best behavior. Mostly. She glanced down at her own watch, giving it a significant look. “You could probably still make it if you run.” 

The hallway was silent for approximately three seconds before Jimmy turned on his heel and sprinted down the hallway. She sent a silent apology his way for the subterfuge and unmuted her mic. But at least he was out of the upcoming line of fire. Now to warn Sideswipe.

“Mission abort. I repeat, mission abort!” Jaime hissed lowly. “Scout reports were false. Ducky is set to return to the target area any minute. Get out of there Red Light!”

“Too late!” Jaime froze at Sideswipe’s giddy reply.

“Ah crap,” she muttered. Seconds later, her fellow partner in crime skated around the corner and — without slowing — scooped her off the floor and into his servos. She let out a small gasp at the sudden change, but Sideswipe was already cradling her against his chassis as he glided down the hallway. Unlike the rest of the Autobots, Sideswipe had wheels for pedes. Which made him an excellent getaway partner no matter which mode he was in. Too bad she didn’t have wheels of her own. Running might not be enough if getting pulled into shenanigans was going to become a regular occurrence. “I need rollerblades,” she muttered to herself. Sideswipe chuckled lowly, reminding Jaime just how sharp their hearing was. 

“Noted.”

“Well?” she finally dared to ask, craning her head to look up at Sideswipe. A self-satisfied smirk rested on his face. 

“Mission success, Spark Leader.” The flood of buoyant feelings coming from the twin now was a stark contrast from before. Not to mention contagious, she mused, as the corner of her mouth curled upward despite her nerves about unleashing the Hatchet. 

Less than five minutes later, a bloodcurdling roar sounded throughout the entire base making nearly everyone stop what they were doing.  

Yup. Ratchet was on the warpath. 

******

Jaime swallowed as Optimus Prime stared her down. She ignored the nervous flutter in her stomach and reminded herself that they’d planned for this. It was fine. This wasn’t like the orphanage. Ratchet stood next to the Autobot leader, arms crossed, silently fuming. Perhaps standing on Sideswipe’s shoulder wasn’t the safest place to be right now, judging by his seething glare. But, you know, appearances and all that. 

“Yea, I’m giving Sideswipe a crash course on all things Earth,” she confirmed. “You know, human customs and slang and stuff.”

“What’s up dog,” Sideswipe unhelpfully added, making her sigh. 

“It’s a work in progress,” Jaime tacked on, resisting the urge to facepalm. 

“Don’t change the subject,” Ironhide growled, standing next to the CMO with a similar stance. Jazz, meanwhile, was between Sideswipe and Optimus, seemingly content to watch events unfold. “What do you have to say about the state of Ratchet’s med bay?”

“It’s certainly an improvement in terms of personality,” Sideswipe offered. Ratchet’s engine revved. 

“And you saw fit to drag Jaime into this?” Ironhide continued with clear disapproval. 

“Um, I haven’t been in here since…” Jaime trailed off, taking in her surroundings. “Well…before the change in decor.” Ratchet twitched at her choice of words. 

The converted med bay was now completely covered…in bubble wrap. The berth had been wrapped in the plastic material as well as the counter. Not even the walls, floor, or ceiling had been spared from the makeover. Sideswipe had really outdone himself. 

“I’ve only been in here once and that was enough,” she reminded them. After bringing Jazz back, the CMO had insisted on a follow-up examination to catalogue any possible side effects from channeling latent Allspark energy. There had even been talk about regular checkups becoming a thing. Jaime had the unsettling feeling that Ratchet was going to take over her medical care regardless of what anyone said. 

“Sideswipe,” Optimus vented a sigh, looking very much like he wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“I told you, I was with Jaime.” 

“I have — like — zero interest in spending time within Ratchet’s domain,” she admitted, frowning belatedly when she realized how that sounded. “No offense,” she added sheepishly, glancing at the CMO. “It’s, uh, nothing personal. I just…you know…” The medic’s glare marginally lessened. 

“Jaime,” Optimus refocused on her. “I am still awaiting an explanation.” His tone, while still firmly in polite territory, indicated that it wasn’t a request. Right. She resisted the sudden desire to glance at her guardian and met the Prime’s stare as she grasped the silver thread that connected her to Jazz, giving it a short but firm tug. The assured response was immediate. 

“How about an alibi?” she offered. Ironhide let out a disbelieving snort and Ratchet sputtered, unable to form anything coherent. Optimus merely tilted his helm, silently urging her to continue. “Sideswipe couldn’t have vandalized Ratchet’s med bay if we weren’t even on base.” The most important part of Operation: Cheer Up Sideswipe was not the prank itself, but making sure he didn’t get thrown into the brig. Having him left alone to brood without any distractions would defeat the whole purpose of the last few hours. Hence the role of their third accomplice. 

“You left base without your guardian?” Ironhide frowned, sending a confused look toward Jazz. 

“I cleared it with him,” she said with a casual wave. “Right Jazz?”

“Shor did,” the saboteur nodded. 

“Anyway,” Jaime continued, “I introduced Sideswipe to the art of off-roading — ” This earned her several raised brows “ — which fits with Jazz’s desensitization training so…” She ended with a 'there you have it' gesture. 

“Off-road?” Optimus repeated slowly. 

“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘doing donuts?’” she asked, hand on her hip. There was a significant pause as every Autobot in the room excluding Sideswipe and Jazz did a quick internet search. Several pairs of optics widened in synch. 

“Is that safe?” The Prime’s clear worry for her made something curl near Jaime’s belly.  

“Does that mean Sideswipe’s name is cleared?” She asked instead. 

“No,” Ratchet growled. 

 “…Can you prove this?” Optimus asked.

“Isn’t that the purpose of an alibi?” Jaime tilted her head. He was going along with it! So close. They were so close! Optimus contacted the gate captain and received confirmation that a silver Corvette Stingray had indeed left and returned within the last hour. “Is that enough proof? Or do you need to see the donut circles with your own optics? Because that can be arranged.”

“Why the slag would you even do something so dangerous and stupid!” Ironhide griped, making Jaime’s confident smile waver for a handful of seconds. She hadn’t expected the weapons specialist to be so angry over something like that. 

“Was not,” she grumbled. “As if Sideswipe would let anything bad happen to me.” Said Autobot puffed up at the assumption.

“Such maneuvers are still reckless,” Optimus frowned, his heavy gaze pinning Jaime into place. “I am sure there are less hazardous methods to conduct your desensitization training.”

“Alright,” she reluctantly agreed when the silence stretched. Jeez why did they even bother with brig time when the Autobot leader could just guilt people like that. 

“The evidence appears to stand in Sideswipe’s favor,” Optimus hummed, glancing at the twin. “You are free to go.”

“I believe someone owes someone an apology,” was Sideswipe’s smug reply, directed toward the twitching CMO. Ratchet’s servos clenched and unclenched as if the mere motion would summon a wrench. 

“…I’m sorry you have no processor in that empty helm of yours!” the medic snapped before turning on his heel to stomp toward the counter where the majority of his tools were stored. 

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Ratchet’s engine revved. 

Pop. Pop. Pop.

“Argh!”

Sideswipe beat a hasty retreat with Jaime, still perched on his shoulder, clinging to one of the metal fins attached to his helm. 

“That was brilliant!” the mech crowed once he’d put significant distance between them and the med bay. 

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” she huffed, pleased by his exuberance. 

“Primus, Hatchet’s face,” Sideswipe wheezed, causing Jaime to hunch over as a laugh was knocked loose. Jazz soon caught up with them, his usual grin in place. 

“Gotta say, Jaime, ya got a knack for tha’ kinda thing.” She straightened a little at her guardian’s praise. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, chin held high, earning a chuckle. 

“I do have one question though,” Sideswipe remarked. “I get the necessity for code names…but why was Ratchet’s designation ‘ducky?’” Jaime cleared her throat as she considered her answer. 

“You’ve never been attacked by a duck, have you.” It was more statement than anything. He hadn’t been on Earth for long. 

“…No,” Sideswipe tilted his helm with obvious confusion. 

“Well, they attack you with a viciousness you wouldn’t expect…especially a mother duck with baby ducklings.” Jazz stared at her incredulously. 

“Tha’ sounds like experience talkin’,” the saboteur commented, voice deceptively mild. 

“No it’s not,” Jaime scoffed, hand curling into a fist. She received two skeptical looks in return. After a few moments, Jaime threw up her arm in surrender. “She came out of nowhere! How was I supposed to know her ducklings were in the bush nearby?” Sideswipe shuttered his optics.

“You got attacked by a tiny bird?” he snickered at her. Jaime hunched her shoulders, unable to completely suppress the quickly forming pout. 

“Laugh all you want Sides,” she grumbled. “But when you get attacked by something that appears small and insignificant, I’ll be the one laughing.” 

“Right,” was all the twin could get out before his entire frame was shaking with laughter. Jazz held his servos out and Jaime stepped into his waiting grasp. She glared at her guardian seconds later when a wave of amusement she knew wasn’t her own hit her. 

“You guys are the worst,” she complained. 

******

So apparently Optimus Prime had an office. How did Jaime find out? Five minutes ago when Epps informed her the Autobot leader wished to see her and gave her directions to the converted room. He even had a desk with a metal staircase leading to the edge of it. She may have taken more time to appreciate the setup if Will hadn’t been standing on top of said desk. Jaime seriously debated turning heel and running out of the office for a solid five seconds. Facing a disappointed Optimus or Will alone was intimidating enough. But both of them at the same time? She wanted to melt into the floor. 

“Jaime, please come in,” Optimus waved her forward. “I was just updating Major Lennox here on recent events.” She reluctantly slunk forward, climbing the stairs at an unhurried pace. Far too quickly she found herself on the gigantic desk and at the center of attention. 

“Did,” Jaime cleared her throat as her fingers curled into the hem of her shirt, “did you need something?” Jazz said it would be okay. He said they wouldn’t be mad. She really wished he was here right now. 

“Some clarification,” Optimus nodded. “But first…” His gaze slid over to Will. She didn’t do the same. She didn’t want to see his face filled with anger. Instead her eyes remained glued to the floor. Desk. Whatever. 

“Jaime,” movement in her periphery made her flinch, and it immediately halted. The near quiet sigh made her shoulders hunch. “Jaime look at me.” She bit her lip but warily heeded the instruction. “I’m not angry, okay?” She studied his face. He didn’t seem mad. His words appeared genuine. In fact, if she didn’t know any better, she’d almost say…“Just — please tell me you didn’t actually drive donuts with Sideswipe?” She blinked at the question. He was…worried? That couldn’t be what this was about, surely? 

Jaime floundered with indecision. She didn’t enjoy lying, but it had become a necessity while living at the orphanage. Especially when you happened to be the favorite target of someone merciless like Miss Narcissa. And she didn’t want Sideswipe to get in trouble after all the effort to cheer him up. But…she didn’t want Will and Sarah to regret adopting her. 

“What if I did?” she asked in a small voice, heart racing in her chest. Will let out a measured breath. 

“Then Jazz and I need to have a talk about expectations.”

…What?

“I know he’s technically your guardian,” Lennox continued as he crossed his arms, like his hands needed something to do, “but he’s also new to Earth and unfamiliar with human limitations.” Jaime stared, completely blindsided by the direction this conversation had taken. Optimus remained silent, showing no signs of interrupting despite what was being said about one of his Autobots. “Donuts are performed by professional drivers. Adults.” Will frowned here. “And given your history with cars, I doubt such activities will produce the desired results this…desensitization training was meant for.”

Jaime’s brow furrowed slightly as she parsed through the detailed explanation. That…actually sounded pretty reasonable. Still...

“Am I in trouble?” she forced the question out. Jaime had assumed she was the moment she stepped into the office. Now she wasn’t so sure. Will’s expression shifted and there was a flash of something she couldn’t identify. 

“I’m not her,” he stated firmly. Jaime stiffened. There was a pause and Will seemed to rethink whatever he’d been planning to say. “You will never be treated like that again,” he continued, tone gentling. “My job is to look after your well-being and teach you important life skills. You’re still a minor, Jaime. That means if something happens to you, then the blame falls to me. And Sarah.”

“Blame?” she repeated softly. 

“Parents have a responsibility to take good care of their kids,” he explained. “If Sarah and I were to fail that duty, we’d be held accountable.” His expression turned a touch wry. “Then we’d be the ones in trouble.” 

Jaime tore her gaze away to stare at her shoes. He just indirectly called her his kid. Her heart hammered in her chest for a completely different reason than before. She took a deep breath and shoved her hand into her shorts pocket. Jaime lifted her chin and turned to face Optimus. 

“It was my idea,” she declared. “I talked Sideswipe into it. Please don’t throw him in the brig.” The Autobot leader didn’t answer right away and her hand curled into an anxious fist. He hadn’t administered punishment earlier. Surely he understood why they’d done it. Why she’d done it.  

“Sideswipe knows the consequences of such activities,” was the Prime’s neutral response. Jaime’s stomach clenched and unbridled indignation unfurled inside her. 

“His twin is missing! Have some decen — ” she quickly snapped her mouth shut before anything worse could slip out. Jaime cleared her throat, ignoring the looks of disbelief now being sent her way. She’d obviously taken the Autobot leader by surprise if she could actually feel it through the underdeveloped bond they shared. “I mean…” Jaime flushed, embarrassed by her impulsive reaction — or rather, its severity. “You didn’t see him earlier,” she muttered, hand snaking up to grasp her shirt over her chest. It felt wrong to see Sideswipe so down. “I could feel him so clearly, better than any of you. He was so…” Jaime grimaced. Grief. That’s what he’d been feeling earlier. An ocean deep enough to drown a person. 

“Is he stable?” Optimus asked. Jaime glanced up at him. He was completely serious. He understood, she realized. He had an idea just how precarious Sideswipe’s current situation was. 

Twins shouldn’t be separated. Not like that.

“He is now,” Jaime exhaled softly, absently chewing her bottom lip. “He needs something else to focus on so he doesn’t…” She paused, realizing belatedly who was still in the office. 

“Sideswipe has a twin that’s MIA?” Lennox asked. Jaime winced. He probably wouldn’t want the humans on base knowing that. 

“Please keep that to yourself,” she groaned, mentally berating herself for the slip. Thankfully, Optimus backed her up. 

“Okay,” Will readily agreed. “And this prank was meant to distract him of that fact?” Jaime hesitantly nodded. “I see. And you chose a prank because?…”

“I needed something he’d actually agree to,” Jaime shrugged. 

“Sideswipe has a reputation for being one of the more…rambunctious under my command,” Optimus shared. His attention shifted to Jaime. “I shall let this infraction slide with a warning.” Jaime brightened at the Prime’s verdict. “Mostly because I am relieved that Sideswipe is in good enough spirits to still be pulling pranks.” His expression became more serious. “That being said,” he continued, helm tilting forward as he pinned Jaime with an expectant look. “If he does continue such extracurricular activities, some form of punishment will be issued.”

“Understandable,” she nodded. “I think he’ll be okay as long as he has a goal to focus on.”

“I hope this will not become a regular occurrence,” Optimus tacked on, raising an optic ridge. Jaime offered the Autobot leader an innocent smile. 

“What about your alibi?” Lennox asked before the silence could stretch for long. “I had Agent Graham leave base to confirm and he did find evidence of…” the man paused here to grimace “…donut circles.” There was that look of worry again. 

“If it makes you feel any better,” said Jaime, hoping to put Will at ease without getting herself (or her accomplices) into further trouble, “I never actually left base.”

“Then how?…” His gaze narrowed, flicking from Jaime to Optimus. 

“A third accomplice,” the Prime hummed lowly. She remained silent, quietly rocking on the heels of her feet. “Jazz temporarily changed his alt mode to pose as Sideswipe.” Jaime gave wordless shrug, neither confirming nor denying his claim. “I see.”

“So…can I go now?” Jaime asked, glancing between them. She received two nods. Lennox was also running a hand through his short hair (he seemed to do that a lot). Jaime turned on her heel and dashed down the staircase before either could change their minds. She didn’t slow until she reached the hallway and turned a corner.  

Jaime glanced over her shoulder, mulling over the entire exchange. A warning. She’d been let off with a warning. That was it. She subconsciously hugged herself. The last time that ever happened had been…

“Ready to head home?”

The arm around her torso tightened. 

“We won’t force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Everyone had been so nice. And welcoming. And friendly. Like…like they actually cared…

“This is a safe place.” 

It almost felt like…maybe…just maybe… 

“Adoption is permanent. No take backs.”

“Jaime?” She jerked, whirling around to face Agent Graham who held his hands up in surrender. “Pardon, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine,” she answered lowly, somewhat embarrassed by being surprised so easily. It wasn’t like her to not pay attention to her surroundings like that. She hurried past the soldier but he called after her, making her pause. 

“Go easy on your old man,” Agent Graham offered with a friendly smile. “Save the crazy donuts until you’re at least over twenty.” Jaime blinked.

“Old man?” 

“Do people not use that anymore?” the man muttered to himself before shaking his head. “Your dad.” Jaime swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t think Will could handle the stress if something bad happened to you.” She didn’t know what to say to that. So she just nodded mutely before taking off down the hallway. 

“You will never be treated like that again.”

Chapter Text

Orion

There was something different about the new girl that the other humans called Jaime. 

She moved slowly and spoke softly like his other regular visitor — except she always brought delicious apples with her. He wasn’t above accepting bribes when they tasted so good. The other one, Will, was…fine. He wasn’t a bad playmate when it came to the game of catch out in the pasture. Orion enjoyed a challenge every once in a while. But he watched the horse with a wariness that reminded Orion of that man. The one that yelled a lot when he smelled of sour wheat and called him Buck. His given name from his first owner was Buckeye, after the grove of trees he’d been born under. He missed that place still. But the owner had a ‘medical emergency’ and soon everyone on the ranch had to find a new home. That was almost two summers ago. 

Jaime must have seen something in him. She didn’t flinch away if he moved too quickly to eat whatever treats she offered by hand. She was patient whenever he pushed the boundaries with her, even snorting right back at him. She didn’t assume he would bite her. And Orion found himself not wanting to prove her wrong. 

When she first bestowed the name Orion upon him, he’d been impartial. It was certainly an improvement from before. But he quickly noticed the way she said it, with something akin to reverence. Like it was important. The idea of being named after something precious was appealing and he quickly warmed to it. He also soon realized that the more he tolerated Jaime, the less he had to deal with anyone else. A fair trade-off that he was willing to permit. 

Jaime visited him every day, both in the barn and in the pasture. She talked to him constantly and was generous with her affection. The unending display of love and acceptance reminded him of simpler times filled with rolling green pastures and long afternoons spent by his mother’s side. And so his tolerance of the girl grew into fondness. 

The not-people were very strange. He had never encountered such a thing before and he could tell by their scent that they were different. They may have looked human but they absolutely were not. There was a sharpness to them, like bottled lightning if such a thing were possible. As time passed, he was introduced to many of them, much to his displeasure. But Jaime was insistent and always bribed him with apples and forehead scratches, so he tolerated these ‘meet-and-greets’ for the most part. 

The only not-people he allowed close enough to actually pet him was the one called Optimus. There was something different about him that reminded Orion of Jaime. They had the same…presence. It was difficult to identify much further than a feeling. Optimus had a calm and steady manner that was rare to encounter with a two-leg. Jaime had been inordinately pleased about Orion’s tolerance, showering him with praise for recognizing his ‘namesake.’ Whatever that meant. 

Orion absently played with the bit in his mouth as he watched the ongoing situation unfold with casual interest. It was rare for all three of them to be gathered in the paddock like this. But it was a special occasion. 

“C’mon Will,” Jaime bounced up and down, brimming with contagious excitement. “He’s ready. I’m ready.” Orion flicked his tail in agreement. He had no issues with Jaime riding him. Was that not clear when he permitted the saddle and bridle? Will met her eager gaze, the smell of anxiety clinging to his frame. 

“I don’t know…” the man trailed off, rubbing the back of his head as he shot a considering look Orion’s way. He impatiently flicked his tail again. Jaime groaned at the nonanswer. 

“But you promised! He’s been on his best behavior all week,” she huffed. It was rare to see the girl this worked up. “Why are you suddenly against this?”

“I just…” the man shifted and the faint smell of embarrassment pierced the air. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” Jaime’s tense stance loosened considerably and she let out a quiet exhale. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “And if anything happens, we have two Autobots on standby.” 

“You’re slagging right,” the black pickup parked a few yards away growled. Oh yea, apparently some vehicles talked now. But only the ones that shared the same just-a-bit-off smell as the not-people. “If that beast even considers throwing you I’ll be ready to terminate.” The black truck also named Ironhide didn’t seem to like Orion. But that was okay. The feeling was mutual. Jaime must not have liked whatever Ironhide said because now she was outright glaring at the black truck. 

“You better not,” she snapped. Orion gently bumped the girl’s shoulder and she casually patted the bridge of his nose without taking her eyes off the target of her ire. 

“Easy Hide,” the nearby silver car spoke up. “Jaime will be careful…won’t ya?” The one named Jazz was alright. They had an understanding of tolerance in place through their shared link, Jaime. 

“Yes, I will be very careful,” the girl sighed, half muttering to herself. “God forbid I chip a nail.” 

Orion snorted and impatiently bumped Jaime’s arm more forcefully this time. Were they riding today or not? She turned to face him and scratched his forehead. 

“I know,” she crooned lowly. “Those big meanies don’t think you’re a good boy. They don’t know how smart you are. But I do. You’re a very smart boy aren’t ya?” Orion nuzzled her and she — predictably — brightened. She always did after obvious signs of affection.

“That unintelligent animal is merely a beast of burden,” Ironhide scoffed but Jaime ignored the pickup (which Orion approved). Instead, she leaned closer until their foreheads were almost touching. 

“Let’s show that grump what we can do,” she whispered under her breath. Within seconds, the girl slipped her left foot into the stirrup of the saddle and swung aboard Orion’s back. Will tensed and reached out for the bridle. 

Absolutely not. 

Orion promptly danced out of reach, feeling Jaime shift to maintain her balance. The faint vibrations at the base of his neck indicated she must have grabbed the saddle horn. The reins, still looped between her fingers, swayed back and forth. 

“Will, stop tha’. Yo’r jus’ makin’ ’im nervous.” As if ordered, Will halted his attempts to catch Orion. Jazz’s doing?

“Jaime, bring him back this way.” The scent of apprehension hung heavy in the air. 

“Get off the slagging creature so I can blast him.”

“Tha’s not helpin’ Hide.” 

“Everyone shut up!” Orion stilled. Was Jaime talking to him? She never snapped at him before. Their audience immediately fell silent, so her command must have been directed at them? Orion patiently waited for any indication of what came next as the girl seemed to get her bearings, shifting slightly in the saddle. “Easy,” she murmured lowly. He flicked his ears back to catch the sound of her voice. As if gaining confidence from his undivided attention, Jaime straightened and nudged his flanks with her heels. 

Finally!

Orion eagerly strode forward, head bobbing with each ground-eating stride. He could feel Jaime rock slightly in the saddle as she tried to match the rhythm of his gait. After making a complete circle around the paddock, Jaime twisted to beam at Will. 

“Look Will! I’m doing it!” The man still looked tense, but he was smiling now and didn’t smell quite so anxious. 

“Ya shor are. ’Course, Orion’s doin’ all the work.” Ironhide grumbled something too low to make out. Orion doubted it was anything important. Unable to contain himself — it had been so long since he’d had an acceptable rider — Orion broke into a brisk trot. The very beginnings of synergy they’d been forming shattered and Jaime leaned forward to clutch the saddle horn. She grunted softly as she bounced up and down. Oh dear. He knew she was young, but it seemed the girl was a complete novice. 

“Stand up a little,” Will called out to Jaime. “You want to be out of the saddle and let your knees absorb the bumps.” Seconds later, Jaime’s position significantly improved. Orion flicked his ears, pleased by the adjustment. It appeared Will had some use outside of games after all. “There you go! Make sure to squat a little. Stand up too much and you’ll lose your balance.” Jaime shifted her position once more. Will must have been instructing her, because every time the man said anything Orion could feel her posture improve — bringing them ever closer to a loose framework of synergy between horse and rider. Time flew by as the pair trotted around the paddock. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this. 

All too soon Jaime began to tug on the reins. Orion tossed his head. She wanted to stop? Already? They’d barely started!

“Whoa,” Jaime commanded, pulling on the reins more forcefully. Orion let out an impatient whinny. They hadn’t even galloped yet. His hooves pounding the ground, the wind blowing through his mane — it was the best feeling in the world! Jaime would love it if she just tried. “Orion!” Jaime yanked on the reins even harder. Uh oh. The horse promptly slowed and came to an abrupt stop. The girl slid out of the saddle and glared at him. Oh no, she was upset with him. Time for some damage control. Orion hung his head low. He just wanted to share the feeling of weightless freedom running imparted. “Don’t you start sulking,” Jaime chided. “We’ll go riding again.” Orion flicked his ears, listening to the tone of her voice. She began to massage his neck and he leaned into it with a content groan. Hmm, not that upset then. Perhaps Jaime needed to work up to galloping since she was a novice. That was okay. He could be patient. For her. 

“That went a lot better than I expected,” Will murmured as he approached them. Orion kept a wary eye on the man in case he tried to make another grab for the bridle. Jaime gave his cheek a soft rap, as if to correct his behavior. It was oddly reminiscent of his mother whenever he did something she disapproved of. 

“See?” Jaime grinned up Will. “I told you everything would be fine.”

“Uh huh. Let’s get him rubbed down and back in his stall before he has a temper tantrum or something.” Will turned and headed toward the barn. Orion glared at the man’s retreating back. He didn’t know what ‘temper tantrum’ meant, but his tone hadn’t sounded complimentary. 

“Shh,” Jaime patted Orion’s neck and led him back to his stall. “He’s just embarrassed because you behaved so well today. Well…” Jaime tone turned wry, verging on unhappy. “…if you ignore that little stunt of yours.” She’d feel better once she felt the wind in her mane. Orion lowered his head enough so that his chin was resting on her shoulder. You’ll get there little one, he thought. “You’re such a sly schmoozer,” Jaime laughed, rubbing his nose. 

******

Sarah 

“Go on, Jaime,” she offered an encouraging smile. “Give us a twirl.” The girl sighed but the curl of her mouth betrayed her true thoughts as she indulged her audience. 

“That looks great on you!” Maggie Madsen took a moment to compliment Jaime before returning to her growing stack of clothes. 

“Green is definitely your color,” Mikaela Banes nodded in agreement. Jaime ducked her head slightly, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, but her pleased smile didn’t waver. Despite the significant growth in confidence Sarah had witnessed, praise of any kind seemed to fluster the girl despite her clear hunger for approval. Sideswipe had likely played a major role in Jaime’s increased self-assurance, given their recent adventures. And Jazz of course. She didn’t believe for a second anything happened on base without his knowledge. The silver Autobot was as crafty as he was charming. Apparently the trio — or the bubble wrap gang, if Will was to be believed — had earned a bit a reputation as late, hence the moniker. 

“It really is lovely on you,” Sarah added, eyeing the green summer dress. Jaime tended to stick to jeans and shirts, but given the casual interest she’d shown in the dress before their group persuaded her to try it on, Sarah wondered how much of that habit stemmed from self-consciousness. It hadn’t escaped her notice that most short sleeve shirts tended to be just long enough to cover what remained of her left arm. Despite the summer heat, Jaime had yet to wear any tank tops. 

“Thanks,” Jaime muttered, as the flush spread to her ears. 

“This was a terrible idea,” said Maggie, tone remarkably unperturbed. “I’m gonna need another closet at this rate.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining at the jewelry store,” Mikaela reached over to poke the blonde Aussie in the shoulder. 

“That’s different,” Maggie playfully swatted away the hand, earning a light snort. 

“How so?”

“You saw that sale on pendants,” Maggie huffed lightly. “If I have to explain it to you, then you’re a lost cause.” Mikaela turned to Jaime and rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner, causing the girl to laugh at their byplay. It was a reassuring sight considering how reserved Jaime had been just a few months earlier. 

Maggie was NEST’s first civilian recruit, given her involvement in the events leading up to Mission City. She acted as one of their lead analysts, eventually dragging her friend Glen Whitmann into the fold — though he’d been relegated to their encryptions team. Jaime took a quick liking to Maggie, soaking up any and all knowledge the woman was willing to impart. Given the fact that Maggie had spent more than one afternoon with the girl expounding the merits of signals analysis and quantum mechanics, Sarah was inclined to say the feeling was mutual. 

Jaime met Mikaela (and Sam) a few weeks ago during one of Bumblebee’s visits. According to Ratchet, contact with the Allspark had kickstarted the healing of his vocal processor, but the medic still insisted on regular checkups to track its progress. Despite this only being their second encounter, Sarah was mildly surprised to note that Jaime warmed up to Mikaela fairly quickly. Was it because she didn’t view the teenager as an authority figure? That hadn’t stopped her from practically latching onto Will these last few months though. 

“What’s next?” Jaime asked, after returning from the changing room. 

“We haven’t hit any shoe stores yet,” Mikaela pointed out. So that was their next stop in the mall. They all took turns trying on various footwear. Sarah appraised a pair of neon yellow flats while Maggie honed in on some ridiculously skinny stilettos. 

“I still can’t believe you can run in those,” said Jaime, eyeing the tall heels. 

“It’s an acquired skill,” Maggie shrugged. 

“You mean tendons of steel,” Mikaela muttered as she tested out a pair of wedge sandals, but it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. Jaime snorted lightly and wandered down the aisle. 

“I like heels as much as the next gal,” Sarah shook her head, “but I draw the line at those things.” They had to be close to four inches. 

“What, you don’t wear stilettos around the farm?” Maggie teased. 

“Horses and heels do not mix, city slicker,” Sarah shot back with a grin, noticing Jaime pause suddenly. The young girl was eyeing a pair of white converse with zebra stripes. “Those look fun,” she offered, making Jaime’s head whip back in their direction. Some encouragement on Mikaela and Maggie’s part soon had her pulling the shoes on. Egged on by the group, she even did a few poses in them. 

“How do they fit?” Sarah asked. 

“Good.” Jaime sat down on a nearby stool to take the converse off. 

“Why don’t we get them then?” Jaime’s head snapped up at the suggestion, expression startled. 

“It’s fine,” she quickly recovered, face smoothing out. “I already have two pairs of shoes.” It was a concerted effort to keep the frown off her face. She and Will had discovered in the first week that any sign of disapproval made the girl anxious. Maggie snorted. 

“Two? I don’t even know how many are in my closet,” she admitted. “It’s like it’s own little shop in there.”

“One of the benefits of being a girl,” Mikaela rolled her eyes. “We can have as many shoes as we want. It’s expected.” Jaime returned the converse back to their box. 

“No, it’s fine,” she shook her head. “I don’t need them.” Maggie and Mikaela shared a look with Sarah, who briefly pursed her lips, when Jaime turned to put the shoebox back on the shelf. “What’s next?” Jaime asked, turning back to face the group of women. 

“We should stop at that ice cream place we passed on the way here,” Maggie suggested, earning a round of agreement. Mikaela grabbed the two bags the Aussie was carrying. 

“Why don’t you and Jaime go on ahead,” she smiled. “Sarah and I will catch up. We need to drop these off with Ironhide anyway.”

“Sure,” Maggie nodded and glanced at Jaime. “Race ya?”

“You’re on!” Jaime grinned and took off with Maggie on her heels. Once the two of them were out of sight, Mikaela turned to Sarah. 

“You’re getting her those shoes, right?”

“Absolutely.”

******

Twenty minutes later they were all gathered in the ice cream shop enjoying their frozen treats. Jaime finished her rainbow sherbet waffle cone first. Maggie polished off the rest of her banana split in the middle of a retelling of how she met Glen (a flamethrower was involved) and Mikaela’s Oreo ice cream sandwich disappeared while she shared her and Sam’s official first date. Sarah had just finished her medium twist cone when Ironhide’s holoform walked in. 

“You femmes done yet?” he grunted. They must be ready. 

“Yes Hide, we’re done,” Sarah rolled her eyes at the Autobot’s tough guy demeanor. “Don’t get your feathers all ruffled.” It made teasing him all the more amusing. Ironhide crossed his arms but didn’t retort, instead glaring at an overly curious shop patron nearby. 

Jaime skipped to Ironhide’s waiting cab, asking his holoform if he ever had anything like ice cream ‘back home’. The closest equivalent, apparently, was something called energon goodies. Sarah and Mikaela piled into the front while Jaime and Maggie claimed the back. Ironhide slowly tinted his windows as they approached the farm, but Jaime was largely distracted by Maggie who was telling the girl about her move and adjustment to life in America.

When they finally arrived, Ironhide parked right next to the porch steps. No other vehicles were in sight. Jaime didn’t seem to sense anything amiss until she reached the kitchen. 

“Where’s Will?” she asked. “And Annabelle?”

“Oh they’re working on a project together,” Sarah dismissed with a casual wave. 

“Why don’t we go watch a movie?” Mikaela suggested with a glint in her eye. 

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Maggie agreed, grinning widely. A confused Jaime was quickly herded into the living. Sarah huffed a silent laugh, shaking her head at their antics, and followed after them. The room was pitch black, not a single shaft of sunlight came through. Someone had covered all the windows. 

“Wait, ” Jaime protested. “Guys, I can’t see anything.” Almost like a signal, the lights came on and multiple people jumped out from hiding. 

“SURPRISE!” It was the first time Sarah ever heard Jaime let out a shriek and wondered if maybe they’d overdone it. 

“Hey, it’s okay Jaime,” Will slowly approached the girl, hands held out in a calming manner. “Everything’s fine.” Jaime’s gaze darted around the room, head turning this way and that. Sarah smiled as she took in the various streamers and balloons decorating the room, not to mention all the party hats. Jaime stared at the colorful birthday banner pinned to the far wall. 

“Happy Birthday girl!” Epps laughed. He was wearing two party hats, giving the allusion of horns. 

“Guess we surprised her,” Agent Graham said in a stage whisper to the rest of the party guests. 

“Happy Birthday Jaime!” a small figure dashed forward, nearly colliding into her. 

“Charlie!” she hugged him tight. “So you’re the one behind this.” She raised an eyebrow at him, earning an unrepentant grin. “Why am I not surprised?”

“But we did surprise you,” he beamed. 

“Yea,” she huffed, the corner of her mouth curling into a reluctant smile. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Heart attack?” Ratchet’s holoform stepped forward, expression serious. 

“It’s just an expression,” Sam Witwicky placed a hand on the medic’s shoulder, halting him in place. “She’s fine.”

“Speak for yourself, ladiesman,” Jaime rolled her eyes as she released Charlie. Sam — cheeks flushing red with embarrassment — glared at Mikaela who smiled sweetly at him, silently daring him to object.

“Le’s get this party started!” Jazz — who was standing next to the sound system — declared with a crazy grin.

Chapter Text

Jaime was grinning from ear to ear. These people — some she didn’t even know that well or that long — had taken the time to plan her a birthday party. After the initial shock, she realized why Sarah had suggested a girls day out at the mall. It hadn’t just been an excuse to spend time together or further fill out her closet (almost a quarter full now), but also a ploy to get her out of the house so they could decorate it. Ironhide must have been in on it as well. It would have been easy enough for one of the bots to comm him that they were ready for her without her knowledge. 

Her gaze drifted back to the pile of gifts nearly stacked to the living room ceiling. There were so many! She hadn’t received any since the accident…well, except from Charlie and Jeong Jeong. A pang of disappointment hit her. She wished Jeong Jeong was still around to see this. Then again, would she even be here if she hadn’t run into Prowl?

A wrapped packaged was shoved in front of her face, yanking her back to the present. 

“Here Jaime! Open mine first!” Charlie vibrated with excitement. Someone cleared their throat and he looked over his shoulder at his adoptive parents. Charlie flushed slightly at the raised brow being directing his way and turned back to Jaime. “I mean…open ours first!” She accepted the gift and Charlie casually sprawled on the ground to next to her. She chuckled at the silver toy robots on the wrapping paper, making Charlie beam proudly. 

“Brilliant choice,” she told him, careful not to rip the colorful paper. She lifted the lid to the white box to reveal a stuffed animal inside. It was a buckskin horse. It even had a white blaze just like Orion. “Aww,” she cooed as she pulled it out. The plushie was almost the size of a pillow…and so soft! She wrapped her arm around Charlie and pulled him close. “Thank you,” she whispered to him earning a pleased grin. She repeated herself seconds later much louder for Agent Graham and his wife (Mary?). 

Jaime opened present after present, eyes widening at the size of her haul. Clothes, gel pens (and accompanying notebooks), a cowgirl hat with matching boots, more clothes, binoculars, a sling shot (this got a few suspicious looks in Sideswipe’s direction but it was actually from Ironhide), books, a gaming handheld with a few cartridges, a new backpack, even more clothes. 

She paused at the sight of a familiar pair of zebra print converse shoes and shyly met Sarah’s warm gaze. 

“You seemed to like them,” the woman offered. 

“I do,” she admitted after a beat, chewing on her bottom lip. “…Thank you.” Sarah had been nothing but welcoming to her, but she couldn’t help but be a little intimidated still. She seemed to have more in common with Miss Elizabeth than Miss Narcissa, but even that wasn’t an accurate comparison. Not really. Sarah was her own category. Even Ironhide had a healthy respect for her, though that might partly be due to their chaotic first meeting — she hadn’t heard the full story yet but it sounded promising. The closest example she could draw a direct comparison would probably be…she swallowed, shoving the thought out of her mind before it could finish. She pulled on the new converse and moved to the next present. 

It was kind of amusing to receive gifts from the Autobots too. Apparently they had a ‘discretionary spending’ fund, courtesy of NEST. Usually set aside for personal expenses such as maintenance or — as Jazz put it — fun Earth finds. 

“You guys didn’t need to get me anything,” she blushed, inordinately pleased that they did. 

“’Course we gotcha somethin’,” Jazz was quick to quell the weak protest. “It’s yor birthday. It’s not ev’ry day ya turn ten.” Jaime snorted at his logic. Prowl, predictably, tilted his head at the saboteur, a confused frown on his face.

“One can only turn the age ten once in their lifetime,” he stated, brow furrowed. 

“Tha’s what Ah said,” Jazz casually waved away the comment. Jaime hurried to open the next present before Prowl could start one of his fully detailed arguments (sometimes they even came with visual aids). The pair might be really good friends, but they were just about complete opposites and bantered a lot. Well…Jazz would banter. Jaime wasn’t sure if Prowl actually knew how to banter. 

The standout gift was — surprisingly enough — from Sideswipe. Jaime let out a small gasp before whipping her head around to stare at him.

“You remembered!” It had been a throwaway comment, made in the heat of the moment. And yet…

“Course I did,” Sideswipe scoffed. Her grin widened. Sure, he had a vested interest to give her something like this. But still. It felt good to have someone around that cared enough to remember small details like that. 

“…Thanks Sides.” The resident prankster puffed up at her soft-spoken words.  

“Uh, those don’t seem very useful around a farm,” Sam pointed out haltingly, clearly puzzled. Meanwhile, a look of realization had crossed Will’s face and he now seemed to be praying to the ceiling. Jaime hugged the pair of rollerblades close to her chest.

“They’re for base,” she admitted, sending a marginally sheepish look toward Optimus. The Autobot leader merely watched her with mildly amused resignation. Ratchet glared at Sideswipe while most of the other party guests chuckled. Before any wrenches could go flying (or worse) Sarah brought out one more present, handing it off to Annabelle who trotted it over to Jaime. 

“I know what this one is!” Annabelle shared with obvious excitement. “Open it, open it!” Jaime huffed a laugh and obeyed the demand. 

It was a soccer ball. 

Stunned to silence, Jaime glanced up at Will and Sarah for an explanation. 

“Charlie told us how much you love soccer,” Will provided. She glanced over at Charlie, who hadn’t left her side, and back at the gleaming ball. It took her a couple attempts to clear her throat. 

“Yea.” How long had it been since she last played?

“C’mon!” Annabelle grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the floor, nearly making her lose grip of the soccer ball. “We have to go outside!” Annabelle proceeded to drag (or try to anyway) Jaime out of the room. 

“Wait — there’s more?” Her mind reeled. Will and Sarah had really put in a lot of work to celebrate her birthday. She’d hoped for a gift or two, maybe even a cake. She hadn’t expected anything like this. 

Jaime was led to the backyard, where most of the vehicles had been hidden apparently, and stared. Her mouth dropped at the spectacle in front of her. It was a soccer field…an actual soccer field, with goals constructed of wooden posts and nets. They even marked the grass with all the lines and boundaries you’d find on a soccer field.

“Oh my God,” she muttered under her breath. 

“Up for a game?” Epps asked somewhere behind her. Jaime whirled around to see the others had joined her and Annabelle outside. She returned his playful grin with one of her own. 

Jaime and Charlie ended up being the team captains. Jaime chose Jazz and Sideswipe as her forwards, Optimus and Ironhide as her defenders, and Jolt as her goalie. Charlie chose Ratchet as his goalie and Agent Graham and Bumblebee as his defenders. Which left Will and Epps as his forwards. Prowl opted out to referee the game. 

“You’re going down!” Charlie declared during the kickoff.

“In your dreams,” she shot back, her old competitive spirit rising from its slumber.

“Ready to lose?” Will joined in on the teasing. 

“Try to keep up, old man,” she taunted, grin sharpening. 

“Old man?” Will sputtered, making Epps laugh. Jaime briefly made eye contact with Agent Graham further down the field — it was barely a second — but it was long enough for her to remember the other use case of that particular phrase. She stiffened with sudden realization which Charlie (who’d won the coin toss) took full advantage of. 

Anyone who wasn’t playing watched on from the sidelines and cheered for their chosen teams.

“Go Jaime go! Go Jaime go!” Annabelle chanted. The little girl was shouting so loud, Will easily heard her.

“Annabelle!” She ignored him and kept cheering for Jaime. Sarah laughed at her husband’s mock indignation. 

Jazz managed to steal the ball before the other team could attempt to score, passing it off to Jaime. She dribbled the ball up the field, passing it back and forth between Sideswipe and Jazz. Agent Graham and Bumblebee closed ranks around Jazz to block his path to the goal box, but not before he managed to pass it to Sideswipe who charged Ratchet. 

“Sides I’m open!” Jaime called. Unfortunately, her teammate wasn’t the only one who heard her. Charlie appeared out of nowhere and stole the ball from Sideswipe when he tried to pass it her way.

“What the slag?” the prankster complained. 

“Stop him!” Jaime shouted as she and Jazz sprinted after Charlie. Ironhide managed to halt the young boy in his tracks, and passed the stolen ball to Optimus who sent it to Jazz. The majority of the soccer game passed in this manner, the teams running up and down the field fighting over the ball. A few goal attempts were made by either side — Jolt stopped a particularly close call — but neither managed to actually score. 

After nearly twenty minutes, Jaime finally called a timeout. 

“Wait, we can do that?” Charlie asked when Prowl allowed it. Jaime’s team joined her in a huddle. 

“How is that youngling keeping up?” Sideswipe asked incredulously. “He’s tiny.” Charlie seemed to get a kick out of stealing the ball from Sideswipe in particular. 

“That’s not our big problem,” Jaime frowned, trying to come up with a winning strategy.

“Well it’s one of them,” he grumbled.

“Nah, tha’s a personal problem,” Jazz snickered, earning a glare. 

“Guys, focus!” Jaime groaned in exasperation. Sideswipe huffed but remained silent so she could continue uninterrupted. “We have no problem getting the ball and keeping it in possession long enough to get near their goal…but we can’t seem to actually score.”

“Thanks t’ the Hatchet,” Jazz muttered.

“He’s exceedingly good at blocking our shots,” Ironhide grunted in agreement.

“Although communication is imperative for teamwork,” Optimus added. “I fear it is also working against us in this instance.” Yea, it didn’t just alert a nearby teammate, but the other team as well. 

“So we need to communicate…silently?” Jaime mused.

“Hey, what about our comms?” Sideswipe asked.

“That wouldn’t work,” Jolt shook his head. “Jaime doesn’t have one.” She frowned, disappointed. That would have been perfect. Too bad she couldn’t — wait. She straightened.

“No,” she murmured. “I don’t…But I do have something no one else does…” Her teammates looked at her with varying levels of confusion. Jazz was the first to realize what she was implying.

“Tha’s right,” he grinned. “Yo’r one of a kind.” Like wildfire, understanding spread to the others. 

“Making use of every advantage,” Ironhide nodded with visible approval. 

“But would it be in line with the spirit of sportsmanship?” Optimus hummed. 

“I mean,” Jaime glanced at the rest of her teammates before meeting the Prime’s gaze. “There’s nothing in the rulebook against it.”

“Good way t’ test it in an active situation,” Jazz added with a significant look directed toward Optimus. Jaime narrowed her eyes, suddenly feeling like she was only hearing half a conversation. 

“Hey!” Will called. “You guys done yet?” Jaime and the rest of her team broke apart to face the others.

“Or have you guys realized how hopelessly outmatched you are and decided to give up?” Epps challenged with a cocky smirk. 

“He did not just say that,” Sideswipe growled.

“Shor did,” Jazz answered.

“Let’s go make him eat those words,” said Jaime, fist on her hip. 

“Wait, what?” Jolt whipped his head around to stare at her.

“It’s a human sayin’,” Jazz rolled his eyes. “None of ’em make any sense.”

The teams returned to the field and got ready to face off again. Will started with the ball this time and he passed it to Charlie. The young boy managed to get past Sideswipe — much to Jazz’s amusement — and Ironhide — using his small size to his advantage — and passed the soccer ball to an open Epps who kicked the ball with frightening speed at their goal. Jolt leaped forward and managed to snag it out of the air in time. He tossed it to Optimus who sent it to Ironhide who passed it to Sideswipe. The prankster quickly dribbled the ball down the field, Jazz and Jaime running ahead to hover near the goal. 

“Ah’m open!” Jazz shouted loudly, gaining Bumblebee’s attention. He covered the saboteur leaving Jaime wide open. She stayed silent and tugged on Sideswipe’s red thread. Sides pretended like he was going to pass the ball to Jazz, but at the last moment kicked it to Jaime, her foot already pulled back in anticipation. As soon as the ball was close, she swung her leg forward with all her might and sent the ball careening to the goal corner. Ratchet was taken by surprise — clearly expecting Jazz to make the attempt — and dived to the side in a last ditch effort to stop the ball. 

“Score!” Prowl announced and Jaime let out a victorious whoop. Her teammates soon joined in, celebrating their triumph. 

“Good game, Jaime.” She turned to face Will and accepted his offered hand.

“You too.” It felt good to win, but she wasn’t going to be overly boastful about it — unlike a certain prankster who looked to be getting on Ratchet’s last nerve. Sideswipe sure liked to live dangerously. 

“That was fun,” said a nearby Charlie.

“Time for cake!” Sarah called as their spectators began to head back inside. 

“Cake!” Charlie shouted and dashed off the field. The rest of the soccer players took their time.

“Where does he get all that energy?” Epps marveled in amazement. 

“I don’t know,” Agent Graham shook his head. “Considering he was so tired this morning.”

“What?” Jaime halted in her tracks, craning her head around to scrutinize the man. That didn’t sound like Charlie. He practically fed off other people’s energy. Something akin to instant regret flashed across Agent Graham’s face. 

“Ah well…” the soldier waffled for a few seconds. “…He’s had some trouble sleeping.”

“Bad dreams?” she guessed, brow furrowing with worry. Charlie didn’t have them often, but when he did they were usually about never getting adopted or fire. But…he had been adopted so maybe he was having nightmares about the fire that killed his parents again?

“No,” Agent Graham quickly shook his head, dispelling that theory. “…I think he’s afraid of the dark? He has trouble falling asleep.”

“Oh,” Jaime instantly relaxed and began walking again. “That makes sense.”

“It does?” Agent Graham blinked and hurried to catch up with her, the rest of their group falling in step.

“The boys all shared a room back at the orphanage,” she explained with a shrug. “Charlie’s not used to sleeping alone.” 

“Huh…anything help him fall asleep?”

“Bedtime stories,” she nodded. 

“Really?” Agent Graham gave her a skeptical look. “He didn’t seem to care for it last time I tried that.” The corner of her mouth turned downward. Yea…that didn’t sound right. 

“What story did you tell him?” she asked. 

“Three little pigs.” A laughed escaped her before she could completely suppress it. Charlie hated that one because the pigs were, in his opinion, big dummies. She immediately covered her mouth, but the damage was done. Agent Graham shot her a rueful smile. 

“Okay smarty pants,” he said, not sounding the least bit insulted by her reaction (that was a relief). “What kind of stories does he prefer?”

“Anythin’ with Optimus in it,” Jazz chimed in. “Boss bot is his favorite.” The Autobot leader smiled faintly at the friendly ribbing. 

“Jealousy does not suit you,” Optimus sent back. 

“Ah’ll get ’im t’ come ’round,” Jazz declared, pointing at the Prime. “Jus’ ya wait, no one can resist the Jazzman.”

“Next time tell him a story with the Autobots in it,” Jaime suggested before the teasing could be carried any further. “He loves those.”

“Got it.”

They passed the halfway point to the farmhouse backdoor when Epps broke the silence. 

“Damn Jaime,” the sergeant shook his head with an easygoing grin, “you are one hell of a soccer player.” 

“Thanks.”

“Did you used to play a lot?” Will asked.

“Uh yea I…” Jaime bit her bottom lip before taking the plunge. It was bound to come up sooner or later. “…I used to play with my dad.” She shoved her hand into her shorts pocket and kept her eyes trained to the ground. She could feel everyone’s heavy gaze. Thanks to the burgeoning bonds she shared with the Autobots, she could also feel their muted curiosity. “Soccer was his favorite,” she tacked on awkwardly when no one said anything. “So…” she shrugged. 

“…It shows,” said Will. “I’m sure he’s very proud.” Jaime whipped her head around to stare at him for several long seconds. 

“Really?” 

“Definitely.” Jaime swallowed at the confident answer, breaking eye contact, and realized that the rest of their group had continued on ahead without them. She hadn’t even noticed she’d stopped walking. Jaime shifted her weight, feeling the urge to fill the silence but not sure what to say exactly. Or maybe she should just head inside…was everyone waiting on her? She glanced at the farmhouse then back at Will. Judging by his loose stance and patient expression, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry either way. 

“I used to be left-handed,” she blurted out. Will blinked at that.

“Oh…that must have been quite the adjustment.” He didn’t stare at her stump like she half-expected. Not that he ever had before. Neither did Sarah come to think of it. 

“So was he,” she added a moment later, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “…we were lefties.” Will placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I guess I can still say I’m left-footed,” she tried, but the humor attempt fell flat. 

“I’m sorry,” said Will. Jaime frowned at him. Why was he apologizing? He didn’t cause the accident. “I’m sorry you that happened to you.” Jaime glanced down and scuffed the ground with her foot. 

“It’s not fair,” the words spilled out harshly without conscious thought.
 
“No, it’s not.” Another shoulder squeeze made her glance back up. She bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. The silence stretched but Will didn’t say or do anything else. Jaime leaned forward and before she could second-guess herself, threw her arm around him. Will returned the hug without hesitation and she burrowed her nose into his torso, inhaling the familiar scent of oil and hay…mixed with half dried sweat. 

“You smell,” she muttered under her breath before her brain could catch up. Crap. Instead of reacting negatively to the accidental insult, Will chuckled. 

“Thanks.” She let out a shaky breath, relieved he wasn’t mad at her. She shifted slightly but didn’t let go just yet. It was…nice to be held again. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it. 

“What kind of cake did you get?” she asked, just to fill the silence. Everyone had to be waiting on her by now. Or maybe they’d just gone ahead and saved her a slice.

“Sarah made red velvet,” Jaime immediately let go and straightened to her full height, eyes wide. 

“She what?”

“Is that not — ” Will’s expression flickered. “Charlie said that was your — ” But Jaime was already sprinting to the backdoor in record time. 

They better have saved her a piece! 

******

That night, Jaime had a strange dream. Which was saying something, because she was used to strange. It was her bread and butter so to speak — she could already hear Jazz’s groan. She needed to remember to use that one around him. 

Anyway…back to the point. She had a point, right?

Oh, yes. She couldn’t really see anything. It was like she was floating in the inky vacuum of space. But she wasn’t cold. Or hot. Just...moderately comfortable. She tried walking around or moving her arms but it didn’t feel like she was doing anything. In fact, she couldn’t really feel anything. It was such a weird sensation. Like she was some kind of shapeless blob. 

She was the blob. Enemies would tremble in fear of her…blobbines. 

Why was it so hard to concentrate? Her thoughts kept drifting away. Like her. Except she wasn’t. She was here. But she wasn’t. Not really. More like…in-between. 

Hello?

What was that? She had the sudden feeling that she was not alone. 

Hello. She answered. 

Something — another presence? — drifted closer. 

Now they were two blobs.

The other pulled back. 

WrOnG. 

No wait come back! I’m sorry. She desperately reached out. It’s okay. Friend. Friend. Not blob. Sorry. 

The presence paused and she got the distinct impression of confusion. And then…curiosity. 

Yes. Yes, friend. Good friend. Hi!

There was a flicker of amusement. 

Weird. 

Yes, weird. But good weird?

Maybe. 

They drifted together for an indefinite period of time. 

Where are we? What is this place? Who are you? How did you get here? How did I get here? Can you understand me?

The answer she received was muddled. Garbled. She didn’t understand. But that was okay.

They drifted some more. 

And then…

They began to drift apart. 

Oh. This was a dream. She knew that. When had she forgotten? Why did she think it was real?

Not dream.

This wasn’t real. 

Not dream. 

She could feel herself waking up. 

Where are you going?

She had to go. The dream was ending. 

No. Don’t go…wAiT. 

C
o
M
e

B
a
C
k
.
.
.

Jaime’s eyes flew open and she was met with the sight of her bedroom ceiling. She stared at it for several long seconds. That...was one really really weird dream, she thought to herself. But it was just a dream. 

…So why did she feel sad?

Chapter Text

Will

He was starting to get the feeling this might not have been a good idea. Jaime seemed excited about it back at the farm, but now that they were talking to the upper limb prosthetic specialist…

Jaime had proven to be fiercely independent for her age these last few months, which wasn’t too surprising given her treatment at the orphanage. And he had no intention of curbing that self-sufficiency per se. But it was hard to determine how much of it was driven by core personality versus a deep-rooted fear to not be seen as a burden. Too often he worried it stemmed from the latter. 

When Jaime admitted after the soccer game that she used to be a leftie, it was clear to see that she hadn’t just lost a limb but a part of her identity as well. Will and Sarah went back and forth for an entire week if they should bring up the idea of prosthetics or not. They even asked Jazz’s opinion since he’d known her the longest (not to mention, the whole ‘used to share headspace’ thing). Then Ironhide butted in to say that ‘instead of going in circles’ Will and Sarah should just ask Jaime what she wanted. 

They presented the idea to Jaime as an option completely up to her. That her decision would be respected either way. That this wasn’t because there was anything wrong with her having just one arm. That she was free to change her mind at anytime. By the end of the conversation, Jaime had seemed more curious than anything. 

The consultation started out fine. Jaime hadn’t even appeared too uncomfortable about the medical setting outside of hovering near Will. He wasn’t sure the exact moment it began to go downhill. Somewhere between the lifestyle discussion and the informal presentation of example prosthetics? 

“I’m sorry,” Sarah spoke up. “Would you excuse us? I think we need a minute.”

“Of course,” the specialist nodded her head. “It’s a big decision.”

“Can we go?” Jaime asked lowly, once the three of them were alone, her arm wrapped around her torso and eyes trained to the tile floor. Will and Sarah shared a look. 

“If that’s what you want,” he offered. Jaime glanced up at him and quickly looked away. 

“Just…feels wrong,” she muttered, shifting her weight like she was eager to leave. He and Sarah shared another significant look. 

“Okay,” he agreed, making a good chunk of the tension in Jaime’s shoulders bleed away. “When it feels right, you let us know.”

It wasn’t until they were outside and halfway to Ironhide’s waiting alt mode in the parking lot that Jaime spoke up. 

“What if it doesn’t?” the girl asked so quietly he almost didn’t hear the question. 

“That’s fine too,” Will patted her shoulder. 

******

Will

“Ratchet thinks there’s some lingering trauma linked to medical professionals,” he shared, glancing out the kitchen window to make sure Jaime wasn’t headed back to the farmhouse. Sarah hummed as she bent down to check the roast in the oven. Quiet moments like this between just the two of them felt increasingly rare. Annabelle was currently upstairs working on a new coloring book, and Jaime had gone to the barn to check on the horses. Even Jazz and Ironhide weren’t in their usual parking spots. The silver Autobot had been called to base — some kind of meeting with Optimus and Prowl? Ironhide, meanwhile, was on one of his perimeter sweeps he occasionally did around the Lennox property. 

“I don’t think she does well with female authority figures,” Sarah admitted, straightening and then twisting a moment later to stretch out her back. Will frowned. Because of Miss Narcissa? He crossed the kitchen to Sarah, making a little hand gesture for her to turn around. She shot him a relieved smile and heeded the instruction. 

“What makes you say that?” he asked, kneading the area that seemed to be giving her trouble. 

“Besides the obvious?” Sarah chuckled lightly, though it sounded somewhat strained. “I don’t think she’s ever come to me for anything.” Will pursed his lips together, but he couldn’t disagree there. 

“I think activities help,” he said instead. Like the barn chores. “Distract her from, I don’t know, overthinking things.” The kitchen fell silent for several long seconds before he scowled. “Besides,” his voice darkened, “You’re not the one who — ”

“ — You didn’t yell at her, Will,” Sarah cut him off, turning to face him with a frown of her own. 

“I snapped,” he insisted. Sarah put her hands on her hips. “I shouldn’t have — ”

“ — We’ve gone over this,” Sarah firmly shook her head, not letting him finish. “And you already apologized. Multiple times.” Will grimaced at the reminder, Jaime’s unsettled face flashing in his mind. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. We’re not perfect.” 

“Well,” he hummed, tilting his head and giving her a considering look. Sarah lightly smacked his shoulder, but the smile peeking through betrayed her. 

“Get out,” she waved him off, as she fought the reluctant grin. “Go do an activity.” Will snapped her a salute and — moments later — ducked under the thrown dishtowel.

He paused on the front porch to take a deep breath, eyes scanning the yard and landing on the barn. Was Jaime still in there? He began to head toward the structure but movement in the nearby pasture made him halt. Oh, she must have let the horses out. Will switched course and made his way toward the enclosure. 

A couple yards from the fence, he inhaled sharply at the sight of Jaime lying on her back with Orion grazing merely a few feet away. Bandit and Sizzle were further off, but still easily within sight. Will forced himself to moderate his approach, keenly aware that any sudden movements could make the buckskin bolt. 

“Jaime,” he called softly once he was considerably closer, heart pounding in his chest. He could see Orion — head now lifted and ears pricked forward — watching him out of the corner of his eye. “What…what are you doing?”

“Just thinking,” she calmly blinked up at him, like she wasn’t in danger of being trampled. 

“Uh, don’t you think there’s a better place for that?” he asked, gaze briefly flicking over to Orion to check his position. The horse appeared content to ignore Will, or pretend to at least. Orion might trust Jaime, but he tolerated everyone else at best. Will could just tell her to get up, but he was loathe to do so. Jaime was incredibly sensitive about anything that sounded like an order. The last and only time he told her to do something (he’d been running late that morning and tripped over Jaime’s new backpack which had been left out next to the couch), Jaime spent the next week practically walking on eggshells and Will felt like such an asshole. He knew some regression was to be expected despite the amount of progress they made, but it still massively sucked to witness.

“Orion wouldn’t hurt me,” Jaime actually grinned at the implication, glancing at the nearby horse. “I’m his favorite. Right bud?” The buckskin nickered and flicked his tail, making Jaime’s smile grow wider and she looked back at Will. “See?”

“Maybe not on purpose,” he argued, “but horses spook pretty easy.” The grin fell and Jaime slowly sat up. Will squashed a groan. That damn guarded look was back. “I just — I’d feel a lot better if there wasn’t a chance of you getting trampled in the immediate future,” he added. Or at all really. Orion softly stamped his hoof, unintentionally emphasizing Will’s point. 

“Okay.” He watched Jaime stand and dust herself off, a handful of loose grass blades fluttering to the ground. 

“And I’m not just picking on Orion,” he tacked on, aware of just how strong the attachment was between the two. “I’d say the same with Bandit or Sizzle. Horses are large animals and accidents happen.”

“Okay.” He hated when her expression closed off like that. It was so difficult to get a read on what she was thinking. Will scratched the back of his head, caught between feeling like he should say more or just drop the subject entirely. After a few seconds, he decided on blunt honesty. That seemed to work the best with her. 

“I’m not against you spending time with Orion,” he continued, choosing his words with care. “But I do want you to be safe. That’s really important to me and Sarah.” Jaime blinked at that and then made an ‘oh’ noise like she remembered something.

“Because you’d be held accountable,” she nodded. His stomach dropped. Is that what she thought? Had he been giving her too much space?

“No, because we care about you,” he quickly corrected. Will reached out and placed a reassuring hand on each shoulder, relieved she didn’t flinch. “You’re part of our family now. No take backs, remember? Sarah and I love you and we don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You are not an obligation.” Will paused, noting her wide eyes and pale face. Had his earnest tone come across as too forceful? He made an effort to soften it. “We’d be really upset if you ever got hurt,” he carried on after a beat of silence. “If I…point something out or correct a behavior, you’re not automatically in trouble. I just want what’s best for you.” She continued to stare at him. “…Jaime?”

The sound of her name seemed to bring the girl back to the present. 

“O-okay,” said Jaime, letting out a somewhat shaky breath. He was really starting to dislike that word. It was far too ambiguous. “I…” Jaime swallowed and shyly met his gaze. “I like you guys too.” Oh. Will beamed at her and she immediately flushed, eyes darting away. He slowly pulled her into a hug, giving the girl a chance to pull away — but she didn’t. Jaime returned the embrace, pressing her face into his abdomen. The moment stretched until…

“Dinner’s ready!” Sarah called from the house. The two of them parted and Jaime sprinted toward the pasture fence, barely breaking stride as she swung her left leg up to help her vault over it. 

Jesus. Was that the increased mobility Prowl had been referring to? No wonder he sounded confused. Jaime turned on her heel to grin back at him. 

“You’re so slow,” she teased. Will put his fists on his hips and puffed his chest out. 

“I’ll have you know, I was the fastest in my platoon during basic training.”

“Platoon of old people maybe,” Jaime answered, looking decidedly unimpressed. Will was silent for a handful of seconds, then lunged forward and easily cleared the pasture fence. Jaime’s eyes widened with realization just as he breezed past her and she quickly chased after him. “Hey!”

“You’re so slow,” he called over his shoulder. 

******

Jazz

“Fifteen minutes, Jaime!” Sarah called from the base of the staircase. 

“Okay!” the girl answered, still upstairs. Today was Jaime’s first day of school. So why was she still in her bedroom? He knew she spent most of last night packing everything. Jazz calibrated his sensors to focus on his charge. Usually he afforded her a semblance of privacy (humans were very particular about their bedrooms), but they needed to leave soon to avoid being late. He frowned at the data results he received, noting her position. Jazz made an executive decision and activated his holoform. 

Jaime’s head jerked up in surprise at his sudden entrance. He strolled over to her seated position on the floor next to the foot of her berth and joined her. Jaime didn’t speak, merely tightened her hold around her raised knees, bringing them further into her chest. 

“Ya know, Ah’m pretty fast,” Jazz filled the silence. “But Ah gotta feelin’ Sarah won’t be happy with me if Ah start a police chase on yor first day of school.” Jaime exhaled softly and rested her chin on her knees. Hmm, tough crowd. He noted the snippets of unease flowing over their burgeoning bond. “Ya got nothin’ t’ worry ’bout, Jaime. First days make everybot nervous.” She frowned and there was a sharp flicker of…distress? Irritation? It had been many decavorns since he had an active bond. And what he shared with his creators was certainly different to present day. He was pretty sure it was the human factor, not that he had much else to compare to. “What’s wrong swee’spark?” he gently bumped shoulders with the girl. Jaime bit her bottom lip before letting out a long sigh and slumping forward. 

“What if it’s like the orphanage?” she asked in a small voice. Jazz scowled lightly at the thought of dealing with another Miss Narcissa. 

“Prowluh an’ Ah already did reconnaissance on every single faculty membuh,” he informed her, earning a startled blink. “They all checked out.”

“No I mean, what if the other kids don’t like me?” Jaime pushed, eyes growing suspiciously shiny. “What if it’s like the orphanage? What if — ”

“ — Well Ah like ya,” he cut off her rambling before it could devolve further. “An’ Ah think Ah’m a pretty good judge of charactuh.”

“You’re biased,” Jaime dismissed, mouth curling into a frown. 

“Course Ah am,” he agreed. “Ah got stuck in yor lil’ head, ’membuh? Spent weeks with no one else as company an’ Ah still like ya.” Jaime snorted and ducked her head but he still caught sight of the small grin. Jazz silently celebrated the win. “Yo’r making’ friends left an’ right lately,” he added and Jaime’s eyes widened at the use of a human expression. Jazz was pleased to note the feelings of apprehension had slowed to a trickle. “Ah don’ see any reason ya won’ keep up tha’ streak.” Jaime swallowed as she considered his words. 

“You really think so?” she asked, voice painfully tentative. “You’re not just saying that because you’re my guardian?” Jazz pulled back to place a hand over his chest. 

“Ya cut meh t' the quick,” he said. Jaime’s face twisted with obvious confusion. Did he use that one wrong?

“Who are you and what have you done to Jazz?” the girl asked, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“Ah don’ know whatcha mean,” he denied with a flippant tone and matching expression, dragging out a reluctant giggle. Score! 

“You’re such a goof,” Jaime complained, giving him a playful shove. 

“Am not.” She rolled her eyes at him. Jazz recalibrated his sensors to get an updated reading on her bio markers. Results indicated she was significantly more at ease than before. “Ya got this Jaime,” he reassured her, scooting close to bump shoulders again. “An’ Ah’ll be nearby if ya need meh for anythin’.”

“…Thanks Jazz,” she offered a weak grin. “I guess I’m just not looking forward to all the staring.” His spark ached at the resigned tone. He hadn’t wanted to push earlier, but this might be the best opening he’d get. 

“Tha’ why ya changed yor mind ’bout the prosthetic?” Jaime grimaced at the gentle probing.

“I…they weren’t what I expected,” she shrugged. “I don’t know, I just thought they’d look less…weird.” Jazz hummed but didn’t say anything. Humans were awfully creative, and it was impressive the solutions they thought up. But his understanding was that the tools in this particular field had not yet found a way to perfectly blend both form and function. “I’d rather they make fun of me because I’m missing an arm than trying and failing to look normal.” 

Jazz clenched his jaw and snaked an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. Jaime let out a shaky breath as she burrowed into his chest. Sometimes he wished Ironhide really had squished Miss Narcissa’s head like a grape. Prison was too good for that femme. As much as he wanted to promise Jaime that the other younglings wouldn’t do such a thing — that her fears were unfounded — he didn’t actually know for certain if that was the case. 

“Ah don’ think it’ll be like the orphanage,” he held firm on that stance. “But Ah tell ya what. Ya start feelin’ like ya need back up, just give me the signal an’ Ah’m there.” Jaime pulled away to rub her face and sent him a questioning look. 

“What signal?”

“Ya got a direct line t’ meh,” he poked her. “So make use of it.” She’d done well enough during the soccer match on her birthday, but regular real-world practice would be the next step now that she’d become proficient with the nightly meditation sessions. Having direct bonds with the Autobots were only useful if she could use them during active situations with distractions. Jaime stared at him before her expression cracked. 

“Three tugs?” her mouth stretched into a tentative smile. 

“An’ Ah’ll come runnin’,” Jazz nodded, earning an amused snort. 

“Not literally I hope.” 

“Tha’s uncalled for,” he made a face, “Ah’m the personification of grace.” A short bark of laughter escaped her. 

“Jaime!” Sarah called from downstairs. “Time to go!” Jaime groaned but pushed herself off the floor. 

:: She alright? :: Ironhide asked over a private comm.

:: First day nerves :: Jazz sent back, dismissing his holoform once Jaime exited her bedroom and headed toward the staircase. :: If ya got any words of encouragement, Ah think she could use ’em. ::

Jaime soon joined Sarah, who was waiting on the front porch. 

“Ready?” the woman offered an encouraging smile. Jaime gave an uncertain nod. Sarah reached out and rubbed some comforting circles into the girl’s back as they strolled down the porch steps and over to Jazz’s waiting alt mode. 

“I doubt you will need it,” said Ironhide, who was parked nearby, “but I wish you good luck on your first day anyway.”

“What?” Jaime furrowed her brow, halting in her tracks. 

“You possess many likable traits,” Ironhide continued. “Anyone who believes otherwise needs their processor checked. Glitch heads don’t deserve to have any weight given to their slag-filled opinions.” Sarah sent the black pickup truck a warning look, but let it slide when Jaime grinned widely and rushed over to hug Ironhide’s front grill. 

“Thanks Hide,” she murmured. “You always know what to say.”

“And if anyone gives you any trouble,” Ironhide added once Jaime stepped back, “You let me know. I’ll straighten them out.” The girl actually laughed at the dark promise. 

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” said Jaime. “But I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“Good.” With one last affectionate pat on the black hood, Jaime turned heel and trotted over to Sarah and Jazz. 

“Okay, I’m ready.”

******

Ironhide

Jazz provided updates on the Autobot comms channel about Jaime throughout the day. 

:: The school will not be pleased if they find out you hacked their security system. :: Prowl pointed out around lunchtime. 

:: Then don’ tell ’em. :: Jazz snarked back. 

:: Didn’t you run background checks on everyone? :: Ironhide felt the need to point out. Not that he disagreed with such measures. He would have joined in if asked.

:: …That’s different. :: Prowl’s tone was textbook professional, which meant someone was feeling a little embarrassed. Typically the less emotion being shown meant the opposite was happening under the surface. :: State laws mandate background checks on any and all school faculty that may come in contact with younglings. :: 

:: Sure, by the schools. :: Ratchet threw in, though he sounded rather unperturbed by the idea of the tactician going around and running background checks on an entire school of humans. :: I still say the lack of medical professionals on the premises ought to be rectified. ::

:: I have a duty to investigate situations that warrant reasonable suspicion. :: Prowl argued, the closest Ironhide had heard him sound defensive in vorns. :: …And your feedback has been noted. From what I gather, the school board was already considering extending the hours of the school nurse. ::

:: I’ll believe it when I see it. :: Ratchet grumbled. 

:: What is her overall state Jazz? :: Optimus inquired, cutting off any possible disagreements before they could form. 

:: She’s at recess now. :: the saboteur reported. :: It’s a period of time dedicated t’ play. :: he tacked on before anyone had to ask. Ratchet harrumphed but didn’t actually have anything negative to say about that. 

:: That’s nice. :: said Bumblebee. :: Shame they don’t have that in high school. Sam could benefit from that. ::

:: Kid stressed out again? :: asked Jazz. The Witwicky boy was rather excitable, in Ironhide’s opinion. Even for a human. 

:: I think it’s more final year nerves. :: Bumblebee admitted. :: Senior year is important to them…He’ll be turning eighteen soon. :: The cusp of human adulthood. For Bumblebee’s sake, Ironhide hoped the yellow scout would still have a place in the Witwicky boy’s life should he move away as young adults were inclined to do. 

:: Well he’s got you and Mikaela, I’m sure he’ll be fine. :: Ratchet gruffly filled in the awkward pause. 

:: The bond you and Sam share has been forged in the fires of adversity. :: Optimus added. :: I am confident it can weather any storm. :: Bumblebee answered with a grateful whirl-click. 

Ironhide and Will picked up Jaime at the end of the school day. 

“How was your first day?” Lennox asked once the cab door swung shut and Jaime clicked her seat belt securely into place. 

“It was fine,” the girl shrugged, reaching down to grab her school bag that had been set on the truck floorboard. Fine? “Jazz was right. It was nothing like the orphanage.” Will blinked at that, going through the motions of driving as Ironhide cleared the school zone. 

“That’s — uh — good,” he offered. Jaime had unzipped her backpack and was digging around the main compartment for something. Moments later she finally pulled something out and proudly held it up for Will’s examination. 

“We had a review quiz in math,” Jaime explained, talking fast. It was good to see her so excited, Ironhide thought. Much different than earlier that morning. “So the teacher could test how much we remembered over the summer.” The girl shifted her grip and extended her pointer digit to bring attention to a red ‘A’ that had been written in marker on the corner of the page. “I got an A!”

“I’m glad it went well today,” Will smiled, making Jaime straighten at the praise. “Anything fun happen?” he asked. Probably didn’t want to put too much emphasis (pressure) on academics. Jaime considered the question for a handful of seconds. 

“We played kickball in PE,” she shared, pausing briefly before her mouth stretched into a wide smile. “I kicked the ball all the way into the bleachers so my team won.” Will laughed at that and Ironhide couldn’t help but chuckle too. 

“Sounds like a great first day,” said Will. 

“When we get home, can I ride Orion?” Jaime asked, with only a hint of reticence. 

“Do you have any homework?” The girl shook her head. “Sure.” Jaime practically bounced in her seat as she shared the rest of her day with them on the drive back.

Home. That was the first time he ever heard Jaime call the Lennox farm that. The word made his spark ache. Cybertron was home. Should be home. But it was nothing but a barren wasteland now. And with the destruction of the Allspark, Cybertron would stay that way, forever lost. They had no way to rebuild. Sure Jaime seemed to possess some kind of connection with what remained of the Allspark that Ratchet was still cataloguing, but she was human. She couldn’t leave Earth. Her biology wouldn’t allow it. She couldn’t survive in the cold vacuum of space without specialized resources. Besides, she wouldn’t want to leave Earth behind anyway. Cybertron was so far away. In the time it would take to travel there and back, almost everyone she knew would have offlined from old age. The human lifespan was scarily fleeting. 

Ironhide pulled up to the farmhouse and threw the cab doors open for his passengers. Will got out right away but Jaime paused in her seat, tilting her head curiously as she stared at his dashboard. 

“Everything okay, Hide?” she asked softly. What was she — oh right, they shared a bond now. He wasn’t used to sharing one except with — his spark ached and he sunk on his axles. He must have been projecting. 

“Yes.” Smart she may be, but she was still just a youngling. He had no desire to unload onto her. Jaime pursed her lips into a firm line and he could feel her uncertainty. But she still did not leave his cab. 

“I-I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” the girl offered, her little heart beating fast in her chest. Ironhide cycled his intake valves, oddly touched by her daring. She wouldn’t have had the nerve to put herself out there like that a few months ago. 

“I am merely feeling nostalgic,” he admitted. “There is no need to worry.”

“…I think I know what you mean,” Jaime nodded slowly. “It’s…hard to start over.” Ironhide hummed lowly. “I still miss home a-and my parents. I think I always will.” Jaime bit her lip before tentatively reaching out to him through their newly developed bond. “I’m really sorry about Cybertron.” Ironhide let out a sigh, sinking even lower on his axles. “I know Earth can’t replace it, but you’ll always have a home here.” His spark flared at the heartfelt words. 

“That’s very kind of you,” he said, not sure what else to say. It wasn’t really up to her, but rather this planet’s government officials. Though Optimus did seem to be making progress with them, most evident through the creation and rapid growth of NEST. 

“My,” Jaime swallowed, hand drifting to the hem of her shirt to clench it. “My mom used to say home wasn’t just a place, but a feeling. And people who care about you.” Hmm, that was an admirably wise outlook. Is that where Jaime got it from? Her femme creator? “It’s thanks to you and Jazz and everyone else that I feel home. I hope, given enough time, you’ll feel the same way.”

Hardship was a terrible thing to endure and produced such varying results. It could make people mean and spiteful, spreading their misery to everyone around them. Or, in this case it would appear, it could make them incredibly kind.

“Thank you, Jaime,” said Ironhide. She offered him a small smile, paired with a sentimental tug over their bond. Unable to repress the urge to tease her, he added, “it is a wonder your small frame can house such a large heart.” Jaime, predictably, flushed at the compliment, despite the playful tone. 

“I try to be nice and you make fun of me,” Jaime loudly complained, grin unwavering, as she finally slid out of the pickup cab. “Next time you can go to Ratchet for a pep talk.” Ironhide’s frame shook with booming laughter, and he swung the passenger door shut once she retrieved her school bag. 

“You’d best hurry if you truly wish to ride that abominable creature tonight,” he said, noting the increased activity in the kitchen. The evening meal was likely almost ready. 

“Orion is an absolute sweetheart,” Jaime objected, jabbing her pointer digit in Ironhide’s direction as she backed up toward the farmhouse. “He just…has high standards.” He snorted at the weak rebuttal. Jaime stuck her tongue out at him and turned heel to retreat inside, but not before throwing a quick wave over her shoulder at Jazz’s nearby alt mode. The silver saboteur answered with a quick flash of his headlights. 

Soon Ironhide found himself deep in thought. He didn’t care for this planet’s terrain (or its strange weather cycles) and the annoyingly large amounts of dust that accumulated on his alt mode, requiring constant upkeep. The humans themselves were confusing at best. They were a violent and hypocritical race. But he had to admit, there were exceptions. Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes had shown considerable courage during the events of Mission City. And Will Lennox and his team were to be commended by their audacity. They regularly confronted enemies that could easily crush them with a single servo digit. Although human culture still confused him on a consistent basis and stupidity seemed far too common in Earth’s government officials, Ironhide found himself realizing that Earth had become more than just another planet. It wasn’t quite home, not yet anyway. Cybertron would always hold a special place in his spark. But…perhaps…Earth wouldn’t be such a bad place to call home after all. 

The tension in Ironhide’s frame slowly melted away as he activated his recharge cycle. Yes, for better or worse, Earth was their home now. Before he drifted into recharge, he was reminded of the message Optimus sent out on the Autobot emergency frequency shortly after the battle of Mission City. 

“With the Allspark gone, we cannot return life to our planet. And fate has yielded its reward, a new world to call home. We live among its people now, hiding in plain sight, but watching over them in secret…waiting…protecting. I have witnessed their capacity for courage and though we are worlds apart, like us, there's more to them than meets the eye. I am Optimus Prime and I send this message to any surviving Autobots taking refuge among the stars. We are here. We are waiting.”