::Reboot sequence complete. Initializing sensors.::

My optics came online, but I lay still for a moment, getting my bearings. I was in a med bay, judging by the clean smell of solvents and Ratchet's stream of foul language to my right. My processors still ached a little, which meant I'd glitched at some point. I was on Earth, I remembered, and we'd held a Denunciation for Kick-Off. The last moments before the glitch was triggered weren't entirely clear, though. My chronometer indicated it had been almost four days since we'd left Diego Garcia to bring Kick-Off to justice.

I sat up on my elbow to look around, and my doorwings lifted at the sight of Ratchet immobilized on the repair berth opposite me. It eased my spark to see him in such good condition, relatively speaking. He clearly didn't have full use of his motor relays yet, but his vocal processor and the memory sectors that housed profanity were obviously in good working order. Arcee's two remaining components were at the far end of the med bay continuing to repair her offlined component. The pink one turned and, seeing me online, rolled to my side. "Welcome back, sir. How do you feel?"

"I am operating within normal variance," I answered, though I frowned slightly. "With the exception of my right doorwing, it appears."

"Yes," she nodded. "Doorwing calibrations are fiddly enough that I'd prefer Ratchet to be the one to repair it, but he's still several days away from being up to that."

"Fragging femme," the medic growled. "I'm going to reformat you into a slagging pencil sharpener and give you to Spitlet's kindergarten class!"

She ignored his continuing tirade. "I've disconnected the sensors that were damaged on that doorwing, so you won't be in any pain in the meantime."

"Thank you," I said, relaxing back onto the berth. "Is Optimus…"

"On his way. I commed him as soon as I saw you were awake again."

"Thank you," I repeated.

"As soon as you feel able, you should refuel. I have a ration on standby when you're ready."

"I believe I feel well enough for that," I answered, sitting up and swinging my pedes to the floor. I was pleased that the processor ache seemed to be fading.

Nodding in approval, she turned and looked down, making me aware of Ratchet's repair crew. "You heard the mech, Quinn."

"On it," the human cheerfully replied, while she returned to working on her damaged component.

Ratchet continued to threaten and swear at her enthusiastically, and she lifted her hand in an unfamiliar (and presumably human) gesture that set him off all the more. The human designated Quinn brought me two large (for him) rectangular canisters of fuel and set them on the berth beside me. "Ratchet's special brew - medical grade fuel with a few extras mixed in for good measure."

I thanked him and drank while Ratchet turned his wrath on me for just sitting there instead of helping him. My doorwings gave away my amusement, I'm sure, because there was a certain poetic justice to him being restrained on one of his own medical berths.

A moment later, Optimus strode in with Bumblebee and Samuel in tow. I would have preferred to not have an audience, but at least they weren't the Pit-spawn twins. "Primes," I nodded in acknowledgement.

"It is good to see you whole again, old friend," Optimus said.

"Relatively," I corrected, twitching the injured doorwing. "I look forward to Ratchet making a full recovery."

He nodded in agreement and looked to the medic who was now berating his Prime. Optimus interrupted him mid-insult. "What's your opinion, Ratchet? Is he cleared for light duty?"

He grimaced. "You're the one who relieved me of the position of chief medical officer until that female spawn of the Unmaker decides to finish repairing me, so you have to ask her."

We looked to the femme, whose pink component turned to face us. "Prowl is up to light duty, but nothing more than that until that doorwing is fully functional."

I tilted my helm curiously but Optimus spoke before I could. "Arcee, why are you not working on Ratchet?"

She defiantly placed one servo on her hip. "You told us we couldn't mute his vocal processors, Prime. We refuse to work on him while he's being abusive. You want him back on his pedes quicker, then shut him up or let us do it."

The inscribed plate on Optimus' helm spun in frustration. "I need my command staff in full working order. Ratchet, cooperate - politely - or I will let her do whatever it takes to repair you in peace. That's an order."

Ratchet vented hard in a frustrated sigh and Samuel chuckled. "Kids these days."

Bumblebee's shoulders and doorwings shook with laughter, but a blurry memory became clearer - coolant streaming down a mech's chassis from a line I'd broken with my own servos. Primus, let it never be Bumblebee on trial!

"Come with us," Optimus invited, and I rose to my pedes to follow him, archiving the memory as fast as I could. Other memories became clearer, though, and I asked, "Bumblebee, what happened to Kick-Off's jet pack?"

Samuel was the one who answered, following Optimus toward his office. "Sideswipe has it. He said that's what he wanted in payment of an old debt."

I shuddered at the thought of a flight-capable Sideswipe but turned my gaze on Bumblebee. "Was it a legitimate debt?"

He ducked his helm and nodded.

I didn't like the idea of keeping trophies, not to mention the trouble the Pit-spawn twins would get into if one of them could fly, but it was valuable tech and Primus knew we could use every tactical advantage we could get. "Optimus, I recommend regulations regarding the use of such technology on Earth be drafted as quickly as possible."

He chuckled. "Yes." As an afterthought, he added, "Draft your regulations widely enough that my own upgrade is included in it."

I nodded and set a thread of thought to work on the task.

As we approached his office, Optimus said, "We are stripping Kick-Off's frame of all salvageable parts, but the JCS want to know what we are going to do with him after that. I am averse to interring him near Jazz…"

"Agreed," I interrupted him.

"... but I do not believe he should be sent to the same scrap heap as the Decepticons."

I understood why he was deferring to me for this decision regarding one of my former guardians. "I recommend that he be an outcast in death as in life," I answered. "Bury him at sea, but without a GPS transmitter on him." Even the dubious honor of being recognized as a Decepticon was more than he deserved.

"Thank you." He paused as his door swished open. "NEST will be in contact with you regarding your human integration training, but in the meantime, you are free to do as you please."

I frowned slightly at the dismissal, but Samuel cleared his throat. "Got a few minutes for me, Prowl?"

"It would appear I do," I answered, beginning to suspect that he'd arranged my free time.

"Let's go for a drive," he suggested, and Bumblebee collapsed into his alt-form. I assumed Samuel would ride with him, but when I completed my transform sequence, he strode over to my driver's side door and waited expectantly.

I opened it with some trepidation.

He slid in but thankfully wasn't presumptuous enough to grab the steering wheel. "Did you have a destination in mind?" I asked.

"Actually, I do. Let's head down to Boomtown. There's a spot I want to show you."

Bumblebee led the way, and I followed him out of the hangar in silence. We'd driven for several minutes before Samuel said, "You'll like Mrs. Lennox. She's great, and all the 'bots have come to rely on her."

I analyzed that, analyzed her NEST file, trying to determine what he might be trying to convey.

"Spitlet's a lot of fun, too. We humans are pretty crazy, but I'm sure you'll figure it all out eventually."

Was he trying to brief me on his fellow humans? Though the Lennox's creation did have me puzzled. "She's still a youngling, barely above a sparkling, is she not?"

"Yeah, you could say that, I guess."

"Then why does she have a NEST file? Minors are not allowed into combat."

"She does?" he said, surprise written across his face. "She's not supposed to know anything about the 'bots, and if she see's combat it'll be over Will's dead body."

That was a disturbing mental image, all the more so because I had seen younglings fighting in just such a circumstance.

"She's just part of the package, I guess. You'll understand when you meet her. She's slagging cute."

"And that qualifies her for participation in NEST?"

He vented a frustrated sigh. "Just...ask Optimus after you've met her if you still don't get it."

We rode the rest of the way in silence. Bumblebee pulled to a stop near the training grounds, but Samuel said, "Keep going. There'll be a turn-off on your left up here in a little bit. That's where we're going."

It was barely more than a track through the mud, but I turned off as instructed and stopped on the edge of the tree line. He let himself out of my cab. "Come on, I don't think you'll be able to see it as well in your alt."

It was broad daylight and there were two ships at the docks on the other side of the lagoon, but I transformed as instructed. Samuel pointed out over the water. "Do you see it? They put it on a rock outcropping so it won't get swallowed by the movement of sand. You should be able to pick up the GPS signal, if nothing else."

"What am I searching for?"

"Jazz."

Pain twinged in my processor, but I was surprised out of it by the gentle, organic touch of Samuel's hand on my pede. I looked down to meet his steady gaze. "Have you picked up the signal yet?"

I looked out over the lagoon. It was faint - it didn't need to be strong here, not when he was so close to the surface - but I was able to detect the homing beacon. Memories that I'd borrowed from Optimus surfaced then: a failed attempt to revive him using the Matrix, a Dixieland jazz funeral, a toast of kinship.

"He was like a brother to you," Samuel softly said. "I'm only human, but I get what that means."

"We shared no bond," I truthfully, softly answered.

"Yes, you did. Not a Cybertronian one because you couldn't - the clans were shattered - but you still shared a different kind of bond. That's why I brought you out here. We all grieved but you never got a chance to and you need it more than anyone. And not just him. There's Kick-Off now, and the ones that he killed, too."

There were so many more than just those mechs, but their loss was the most raw still. I stared through the sloshing water at the coffin for the mech who had been as trusted, as maddening, and as cherished as my own bound brothers. Samuel was wrong about this, though. As much as I wanted to grieve Jazz, I couldn't. I couldn't truly grieve since Praxus fell and all my bonds were severed. I finally looked back at the baffling being beside me.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Samuel, but human methods of grieving would not comfort a Cybertronian."

"Is that what you saw in Optimus' memories?"

I was slightly unsettled that he knew my Prime had shared those memories with me. Still, I was honest with him. "No, but Optimus wasn't alone in his grief. He had his brother."

Samuel huffed in frustration. "You're more stubborn than he remembers."

"Perhaps," I allowed, glancing down at him, but he was still looking out over the lagoon. Looking at Jazz.

"He's worried about you, you know. Not professionally, or I guess, it's more than just professionally. That glitch took you out and Arcee hadn't ever been trained on how to...resuscitate you."

"Is that why it took me almost four days to reboot?"

He shook his head. "It took her that long to get Ratchet pieced back together enough to remember how to do it. If he hadn't been repairable or if those memory sectors had been damaged..."

I would still be in stasis in the med bay. "I will see to it that Arcee receives the necessary training."

He looked up at me, his mouth quirking slightly. "We lost her, too, you know. My point is Optimus knows that...there are certain things that make you more likely to glitch and he wants to help keep those triggers from happening. He...we… don't want to lose you, too. Especially not like that."

"It is rather undignified," I admitted.

"It would leave you in limbo," he said, and I quickly Googled the unfamiliar term. "You couldn't see your kin again. You couldn't see Jazz. You be stuck alone, maybe forever."

Human hyperbole notwithstanding, it was an unsettling thought. Still, I tilted my head curiously. "You are that certain I would see him if I was extinguished?"

"Don't be getting any ideas, but…" He shrugged. "Arcee spent time with her creator. Both Optimus and I met and worked with the Ancient Primes. Pit, Elita even gave me a message from Jazz."

I felt a sudden pang in my spark. Jazz was still that...mentally intact in the Well? "She did?"

Samuel looked up sharply. "Optimus didn't tell you that?"

"No."

He nodded in sudden understanding. "Because I showed him in a bond dream. I'd forgotten that part." He smiled apologetically at me, then looked out over the lagoon again. "I was pretty upset that I wasn't able to bring Jazz back. It was the first time I blocked the brother bond and it freaked Optimus out. Did he show any of that to you?"

I shook my helm. "No, only that you weren't able to reignite him."

"Hm. Well, the second time I met the Primes, they...there was a test, or more of a review of the tests, I guess, that proved I was a Prime. One of the tests was how I would react when I was told to not even try to bring Jazz back. They said I passed, and I asked them why I couldn't bring him back. Elita showed up then." His gaze was distant, lost in the memory. My processor was starting to hurt as I tried to envision it - Jazz, Elita, the Ancient Primes all casually talking with an organic who had never set foot on Cybertron. "She said that it was Jazz's choice to not come back, that he really was a seer, that he'd seen that it would turn out badly if he came back, and so he chose to stay in the Well." He looked up at me again. "I wasn't happy about that explanation, so Elita finally said, 'I trust him, Optimus trusts him, will you not also trust him?'"

I looked away from his unsettling eyes, and my gaze was drawn out over the lagoon again, into the lagoon to stare at the box that held Jazz's empty frame. Yes, I could trust that maddening mech to make such a selfless choice, but I would grieve him for the rest of my existence.

Samuel shuffled his feet in the sand. "Jazz wouldn't want you to always be like this."

I hung my helm, knowing he was correct. However, I was just selfish enough to not give the extinguished mech what he wanted. I didn't want to resort to an alien method of grieving. I wanted my brothers, my kin. I wanted the feel of their sparks absorbing my sorrow and answering with understanding and kindness. I wanted the Cube on Cybertron, in a restored Temple so that Jazz and I could transform mere friendship into a living brotherhood. I wanted the guardians under my direction and protection alive and whole again. So many things I wanted, and none of them would come to pass.

Samuel interrupted my musings. "Would he? I mean, you knew him better than anyone alive."

Despite the heaviness of my spark, I said, "He would not."

"It doesn't have to be as boisterous as a Dixieland jazz funeral," Samuel continued softly. "Do some research. Find a way to honor his memory, his sacrifice - both before and after his death. We humans are ridiculously creative and I'm sure something will resonate sooner or later."

I didn't think that I was ready yet for the comfort Samuel was offering, but in honor of Jazz's memory, I would hold it in my spark until I was. "Thank you."

He gave me a sad half-smile. "Sure. Just so you know, Optimus already got approval from Will for you to come down here any time you want as long as you're off duty. I need to get stateside again, but you're welcome to stay here for as long as you'd like." Putting his hands in his pockets, he turned and walked back toward where Bumblebee was waiting.

A fractured memory surfaced then: Bluestreak running away during a rebellious moment and Jazz prompting me, "Ain't ya gonna go after him?"

The sounds of my own transformation made Samuel pause and turn, and I rolled forward until we were close enough to converse. Through my open door, I said, "Jazz isn't going anywhere, but you are. I'd like to see you off, my Prime."

His smile was a genuine one this time, and he climbed into my cab.