Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers. I do own Ashley, Al, the mechanics ,and the other various made up humans. Or the songs/lyrics included in this chapter. They belong to 30 seconds to Mars and Kenny Chesney.

To all of you who reviewed and faved my story, Thank you!

Chapter 4: Full Circle

I won't suffer, be broken, get tired, or wasted
Surrender to nothing, or give up what I
Started and stopped it, from end to beginning
A new day is coming, and I am finally free
'Attack' 30 Seconds to Mars

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The feeling of his fist connecting with a Decepticon's faceplate always gave Sideswipe a rush of savage pleasure; and to hear Wildrider crunch against the asphalt, truly filled the red Lamborghini with satisfaction.

"Why weren't we invited to this party?" Sideswipe asked petulantly. "I'm hurt. What about you, bro?"

Sunstreaker snorted. "It's just not a party without me. I say we crash this loser-fest."

Motormaster roared, "Stunticons attack!", and the Decepti-cars still standing and not occupied leapt for the Twins.

Breakdown grappled with Sunstreaker, forcing the yellow 'bot back before knocking them both to the ground for an impromptu wrestling match. Sunstreaker yelled obscenities as his paint was scratched and his chassis dented.

Sideswipe might have laughed at Sunstreaker's rather creative take on Breakdown's creation if the red twin had not been busy keeping Dead End from slaughtering him like he was some kind of red pig, that right was reserved for Ratchet. "Hey now, play nice," He said as the pessimistic Stunticon tried to rip out his main fuel line.

"I'll kill you before I die!" Dead End screeched. "Then at least I'll be remembered for something!"

Still on the ground, Wildrider onlined and shook his head to clear his CPU only to be nailed by Jazz's fender as the Porsche swerved away from Drag Strip.

"Sorry 'bout that." Jazz called back as he sped away. Groaning, Wildrider's head hit the asphalt again.

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Down the road, Ashley had called 911 for the people who had been run off. There were only three cars wrecked, all belonging to teenagers going home from a party. The red-head was standing next to a brand new, recently totaled Tundra, helping a tiny high school sophomore.

"I'm not even supposed to be out," sobbed the teen girl. "Dad's going to be so mad."

"Shh, it's going to be all right." Ashley soothed as she carefully picked glass out of the blonde's hair and clothes. The teen had been showered in glass when the truck's windshield had shattered. Luckily, she had not been cut up too badly, something the driver of the truck could not say.

The driver, a blond football jock, lay in the truck's bed holding his shirt against a nasty gash. His face was pale and wan. Ashley had given him the blanket she kept in her trunk with strict instructions not to pass out or stop applying pressure to his arm unless he wanted to bleed to death. Apparently, he was taking her very seriously as he pressed down on the makeshift gauze, but the mechanic worried that he might be going into shock.

How long does it take t' get here? Ashley tried to smile at the younger girl, but she could not manage anything but a twitch of her lips.

"Don't worry help's on th' way," Ashley tried to comfort the panicked girl.. The blessed sound of sirens caught her attention. "See, honey? Ain't nothin' to worry about." She assured the teen that she would be right back before she jogged up to the road.

A police cruiser, with a gleaming red symbol on it's hood, zipped past just as she reached the road. Dirt whirled through the air in it's wake, choking her. Two more vehicles swept by, an red, flat-nose eighteen wheeler and a yellow, old style Volkswagen beetle both bearing the same red insignia as the police cruiser. Ashley coughed and batted dust away from her face.

Were those Autobots? wondered the mechanic as she stared after the bizarre combination of vehicles. The siren she had been hearing did not fade as the cop car moved away instead it seemed to get louder. She turned to see an ambulance come to a halt just a few meters away. Close enough for her to see its empty cabin.

Ashley strode up to the ambulance and without preamble opened the passenger side door and climbed inside. The vehicle rocked, apparently surprised by her boldness.
"What are you doing?" The radio squawked.
Ashley smiled wanly. "Sorry," She said. "But I don't have time t' mince words. You're 'Ratchet', right?" The ambulance shook again and the mechanic climbed out. The vehicle fell apart, rearranged, and then stood up.
The large metal face that looked down at her was light gray framed by a white helmet with a black chevron on the forehead like a giant eyebrow.
Ratchet kneeled so he was not towering over the woman. "You're 'dirtygurl03'?" He guessed.

A strangled 'huh' wrenched its way out of her throat. "Wha? What are you- Oh! Yes- I mean no!" She stumbled over her words as she hastily tried to correct the medic. "My name is Ashley Taylor; my screen name is 'dirtygurl03'."

How embarrassing. How could she have forgotten to put her name in the email?

Oblivious to her embarrassment, Ratchet continued speaking. "I see, then Jazz has been in your care these last few days," said the medic. "Tell me about his condition."

Ashley sighed and ruffled her bangs, a nervous habit she had not quite broken out of. "I fixed what I could, but he can't transform," She said.

The medic cursed loudly and vigorously."And you just let him go off to fight Decepticons?" The ambulance 'bot glared down at her.

Ashley brought her hands up in surrender. "He'd already made up his mind. How could I have stopped him?" She asked rhetorically. "I couldn't exactly lock 'im in, y'know."

Ratchet snorted- a sound like an engine backfiring. "When I get my hands on him..." Anyone who knew the medic knew that it was an empty threat, but he said it with such ferocity that Ashley began to wonder if she had not fixed the Porsche for nothing.

"You 'n me both, big guy," said the mechanic. Next time she saw him, Jazz would be in for a good reaming.

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Motormaster observed the battle raging before him, a smirk planted firmly on his lip components as he reveled in the carnage. However, his enjoyment was marred by the absence of his favored foe.

Above the din of the battle, a horn could be heard like a clarion call. All of the combatants felt it vibrate through their frames. For the Stunticons it heralded the arrival of their hated foe, but for the Autobots it was the call of their savior.

Optimus Prime rolled up ready for serious busting of decepti-chops. He transformed, his vehicle mode unfolding to reveal his hulking frame. Prowl and Bumblebee pulled up behind him and transformed as well.

"Autobots attack!" The red and blue leader ordered. Prowl and Bumblebee darted forward. They forced Wildrider and Breakdown away from the Twins.

Letting loose a feral roar, Motormaster lunged for Optimus. The impact sent them both to the ground, their armor scraping painfully against the asphalt. They wrestled, each trying to gain the upper hand, but their strength was too evenly matched.

"So you finally decided to show up," Motormaster sneered. "I was disappointed when you sent that weakling instead of coming yourself!"

Optimus momentarily gained the upper hand and kicked the black mac truck off of himself. "This was all just a ploy to get me to come here, away from the Ark," The leader realized, his mind suddenly understanding why the Decepticons actions had made no sense. It had not even crossed his mind that the Stunticons activity in such a small town was to lure him here. He had thought it to simply be a bored Decepticon terrorizing humans.

Motormaster laughed mockingly. "Of course, and now let's see who's really 'King of the road'!" He lunged for Optimus again, but was caught short by Prime's knee to his gut.

Around the two colliding leaders the other Transformers waged their own battles. Prowl and Bumblebee, unlike their commander, were having an easier time subduing their opponents. Soon, the twins regained their 'breath' so to speak and rejoined the fight.

"Slaggers! My paint is ruined," Sunstreaker snarled as he tried to rip Wildrider a new exhaust port. His brother lunged for Breakdown as the 'Con turned his gun on the yellow twin. The two tumbled down, both trying to get a solid grip on the other.

Prowl ignored the fight going on practically underneath his feet. The black and white Datsun fired his acid pellet gun at Drag Strip, allowing Jazz a moment of respite from the laser fire.

"Thanks, Prowler!" Jazz shouted over the whine of his overtaxed engine. Prowl nodded, acknowledging his.

"Get out of here," The police cruiser ordered.

"I owe ya one," Jazz called to him as he zipped past his friend. Now that Prime and the others were here, he needed to find Ashley and make sure that she was safe. He sped away from the battle as fast as his overheating engine would allow, but before he could leave the battle zone, he heard Bumblebee shout something that chilled him to the core.

"Where's Dead End?"

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Dead End had known that Motormaster's plan would fail. Oh yes, he had known. The whole thing had been doomed from the start. The Autobots knew how to counter their forcefields and surely those Pit-spawned Aerialbots were already on their way.

Well, he was not going to stick around. No chance in the Inferno of that. He did not want to die for the sake Motormaster's pride. But still it was not likely that the Autobots would just let him go free. He needed something to ensure his freedom. One of those fleshbags that the Auto-wimps loved so much suffice.

The maniacal Porsche edged away from the battle. He slunk away into the woods surrounding the highway, no one noticed his departure. He heard Prime's horn and congratulated himself on a timely escape. Now for his plan. Surely one or two of the little parasites were still where they had crashed.

As he had suspected there were still humans there, though many more than there had been. A plus in his optics, as there were more victims to choose from. He watched as humans dressed in white loaded other humans into boxy white vehicles under the supervision of the Autobot's crazy medic.

Dead End cursed. How would he get a hostage if that psychotic Autobot was around? It did not seem like his plan would pull through until he saw one human standing close to his spot in the trees.

It was standing behind an attractive, blue earth vehicle, digging around in the car's trunk. Dead End shifted closer; the human was only ten feet away. All he had to do was lean out and grab it. But even as he watched the flesh creature froze and slowly turned to look at him.

It's mouth moved though it said nothing and Dead End knew he had to grab it before it screamed. He darted out a hand poised to grab it. Strangely, the human turned away from him and grabbed something from the car, but it mattered little what the human did.

The medic yelled something, apparently directed toward the human, but Dead End ignored him after a glance at the 'Bot told him the medic had no weapon. Unfortunately in the two seconds it had taken for him to look at the medic, the human had pulled a long, black, and dangerous object from the car.

With a 'bang' his wrist exploded in pain. The Decepticon staggered back and looked down at his hand. In the small opening between his hand and his arm, the delicate wires had been shredded and melted together. The opening was small by Transformers standards and even the best crack shot of the Autobots would have been hard pressed to hit it, but to a human shooting it was like shooting the broad side of barn.

Dead End stared at his arm, unable to compute what had just happened. A human had shot him and it had actually done damage to him.

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Ashley did not know what the red mech was trying to do when it oh-so-sneakily came up through the woods to them (Did it realize how much noise it was making?), but the mechanic knew that there would be trouble, which was why she had gotten her uncle's shotgun from its case and had loaded it. She certainly had not meant to actually use it.

Now, said mech was towering over her looking fit to kill. Only two words could sum up the situation. Oh Shit, flashed through her mind.

Dimly, the woman heard Ratchet yell for her to run, but her legs would not move. The Decepticon's hand descended on her and the shotgun fell from her numb fingers before she was lifted up.

Ratchet cursed and drew his gun from subspace. "Put the human down, Dead End!"

The red Porsche laughed. "Or what? You won't shoot me while I have one of your little pets," He said gleefully.

The medic cursed again. Ashley felt like cursing too, but the tight grip around her barely let her breathe. A wave of dizziness caused her vision to whirl and her stomach to churn violently.

"Let...go," She wheezed. Her vision darkened and she knew that it would not be long before she passed out.

Dead End smirked. "Aww, poor fleshy. Am I squeezing to tight?" He chortled.

Frustrated by his inability to help her, Ratchet grit his mandenta and lowered his gun. "Son of a glitch," He cursed.

An angry roar broke the stand off and a furious white Porsche barreled into Dead End's legs. The Decepticon howled as he fell backward onto the ground. His grip on the woman slackened and with a scream, she flew from his hand. Her scream covered the sound of shifting gears and grinding metal as her savior forced his transformation cogs to work.

Large steel hands caught her and gently cradled her close. "Y' all righ' there, kitten?" asked Jazz.

Ashley stared up at the saboteur in shock as she fought to regain her breath without jarring her bruised ribs. For the first time, she was seeing his true form. Her eyes traced over him, taking in his gray angular face, the visor that covered it, and the black helmet framing his face with it's cat ear like protrusions.

Vaguely, she realized that she should stop staring, but she did not think that she could move. That was not the reaction Jazz had been looking for.

"Did'ja get hurt?" The Porsche asked frantically, but Ratchet butted in before she could answer.

"Stop chatting and get away from there!" hissed the medic . He could see that Dead End was beginning to get back up.

"Y-you!" The Decepticon snarled as he pulled his gun. However, the weapon from his hand was sent flying when a round of laser fire scorched his chest.

"Oh no you don't!" A white jet yelled as he dived at the 'con. Dead End cursed and transformed, speeding back in the direction he had come from. "I'll take care of him."

Jazz grinned tiredly after the Aerialbot. "Ol' Superion'll teach them cons a lesson," He assured the woman in his hands. Ashley turned her head to watch as the white jet and four other jets streaked across the sky. Ratchet snorted.

"Get themselves slagged is more like it," The cranky 'bot snarked. The saboteur snickered.

"Good ol' Hatchet. Always complainin', but cha know he loves us," teased the Porsche.

"The Pit I do," the medic spat without rancor. Ashley smiled weakly as Jazz had hoped she would.

Suddenly, the earth trembled beneath them. Two mammoth figures rose on the horizon, struggling against each other. The mechanic gulped as she watched them. God, they were huge.

"The boss-man says it's time t' go," said Jazz, as he looked down at the woman in his hands. She looked so small, so delicate. One stray blast would end the life she had only just begun. He tried to smile, but found he could not force one to appear. "Ratch'll take good care of ya."

Ratchet transformed and opened his passenger side door to allow Ashley inside, but the southern woman clung to Jazz's thumb.

"There ain't no way Ah'm leavin' ya," She said, her accent thickening with her distress. The saboteur laughed and brought her up to visor level.

"This ain't no place fer someone so small," Jazz tried to reason, but Ashley narrowed her green eyes and set her lips in a straight, stubborn line.

"Ah'm stayin'," She said, her voice like steel. Ratchet revved his engine impatiently. Jazz frowned.

"C'mon, Ashe-kat," Jazz pleaded. "I'll be right behind ya, cross my Spark."

Finally, unconvinced, but willing to trust the Porsche, Ashley released his captive digit and allowed Jazz to place her in Ratchet's cabin. The pseudo-ambulance 'harumphed' as he shifted into gear.

"Can you transform?" asked the medic. Jazz shuddered and with an glass shattering screech, reverted back to his vehicle mode. The painful noise cut through the air like a knife, rising a collective wince from the mechanic and medic.

"Let's go," The saboteur said over the radio. Ratchet pulled around the emergency vehicles as he sent out a message over the emergency vehicles's radios. He urged the humans that were not taken by ambulances to leave the area immediately.

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When the repair shop came into view, Ashley observed it with mixed feelings. Once she was safe Jazz would leave and that would be it. They would probably never meet again. No more discussing music, no more long conversations about nothing and everything, no more companionable silences that neither felt the need to break.

Two days and already the mechanic had become attached to the Autobot. Now, she would be alone again, but at least she would always remember the time spent with the Cajun 'Bot.

Ratchet parked in the lot outside of the building and Ashley climbed out. Jazz pulled up to her until he was practically nuzzling her legs. Her hand caressed his side.

"Take care an' don't get yerself killed," said the mechanic, her voice thick with emotion, then she leaned over and kissed the Porsche's roof. "Come back sometime, y'hear?" Her words were soft as she walked backward for a few steps before turning from them.

Jazz turned his radio on and tuned it to a song that fit, showing his feelings in a way that they both understood.

"Dun worry about me, kitten," said the Porsche. "I'll be back." He promised. The cool-cat 'bot could hear the tears she was holding back in her voice and it fueled his own grief over their parting. He found it hard to watch her walk away; he wanted to call her back, to ask her to come with him, but no, that would be selfish of him. She had a home and a family. Why would she give it up for someone, not even someone of her own species, that she barely knew?

But they did know each other. In a way, they knew each other better than they knew themselves. Kindred spirits. They were two beings who were so alike and yet so different. It was a small wonder that they had met in such a vast universe.

Ashley smiled, but did not turn around. It would make it harder. She slipped into the garage and the two vehicles left. The mechanic hummed a few bars of the song, finding that it truly fit her feelings.

Down the road, Jazz turned the song up louder, drowning out Ratchet's concerned inquiries.

" 'It ain't ever easy to say goodbye...'"

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AUTHOR"S NOTES

Hey this is the last real chapter to RB. There might be a prologue and a Epilogue, but other than that this is the end of this Arc. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Stay tuned for the sequel fic 'Lost in the Music'!

A funny little snippet that was taken out of the story.

The large metal face that looked down at her was light gray framed by a white helmet with a black chevron on the forehead like a giant eyebrow [Lil - of doom. [yeah maybe.. though its hilarious XD- The Medics chevron reminded Nighfire of a giant set of angry eyebrows, As if the hatchet had developed the brows from dealing with the Lambos all the time.

The songs in this are 'Attack' by 30 Seconds to Mars [go listen to it XD and 'It's never easy to say good bye' by Kenny Chesney.