It rarely rained in Jasper, yet Mother Nature seemed to choose today of all days to deposit buckets of water on the unsuspecting town.

Arcee shuttered her optics as the pounding rain mercilessly lashed her garage roof. She felt a brief pang of guilt as she scanned the house and realized one of her two charges was gone. June must have gone out the front door exceedingly early; she'd left her car outside the night before. It never ceased to surprise the Autobot how quietly the woman could disappear. She must have had years of practice doing so as to not wake her son. If she had been a Cybertronian in the war and had been more combat-inclined, Arcee had no doubt she would have made an excellent scout.

Speaking of her son…

Arcee felt her spark warm as she recalled the date. It was her partner's 'birthday' as the human called it, and from what she'd heard, it was a pretty big deal. He was making seventeen today, and while he'd have been no more than a sparkling on Cybertron, on earth he was considered to almost be an adult.

Adult. Her spark jumped slightly at that. From what she could see, adulthood was a monotonous activity here. Jack had told her about the general expectation that was to be of his life. He was to get a good education, go to college, get a good job, get married, have kids, raise said kids, send them off to college, retire, and ultimately…die.

She didn't like this sort of thinking. More than once she had found herself looking at him and realizing that he was growing still. Growing taller, growing older. And sometimes, as she watched her comrades laugh and enjoy themselves around their friends, she wanted nothing more than to stop time itself. After all, who would Bulkhead talk to about his interests and exploits in the Wreckers? And who would Bumblebee play with and protect like the siblings he once had? Worse yet, what would happen when she lost yet another partner, not to the 'Cons, but time itself?

She shook herself. Now was not the time to dwell on such things. Now was the time to appreciate the fact that her friend had lived long enough to make it to seventeen after entering their war.

The door opened suddenly, and the subject of her thoughts came through the door. Jack shivered as the warm air of the house was swept away by the cold chill of the garage. "It's freezing out there. Are you sure you don't want a heater or something put in here?"

"I already told you no," Arcee responded, playfully rolling her optics. "One, you barely make enough as it is at your job, and you really don't spend enough on yourself. Two, I'm pretty sure the bills shouldn't put any more strain on June or you." Jack had recently reinstated to his job after losing it three months ago. The manger apologized after discovering that Jack had been called away from his work in a case involving national security. At least, that was the explanation Fowler had given him. The truth would have been far more complex.

"Jack, go put on a shirt. You'll catch a cold," Arcee scolded, realizing that her charge's chest was bare.

Jack grunted. "Cotton makes my chest itch," he said, sitting crossed legged on the cold cement floor.

Arcee cast a discreet glance at Jack's torso. The bumpy, shiny and raw burn in the shape of an M was clear even in the dim light of the garage. Her spark ached with guilt; no matter how many times Jack insisted his capture and torture was not her fault, she would never cease to look back and wonder what she could have done differently to prevent his pain. At least he seemed to be getting better. His bruises had faded away, and his arm had mended. His ribs were better too, and he would soon be able to rejoin the gym class at school. Probably best of all, the nightmares seemed to be stopping. For months now Jack hadn't been able to sleep properly due to the flashes of memories that integrated themselves into his time of rest. Memories that were better left forgotten. She would never forget the panic that gripped her when she'd been shocked awake to the sound of Jack's agonized howls. The memory of the noise still haunted her on her worst days.

She shook herself slightly. This was a day of joy, raining or not. She wouldn't let her negative thoughts affect Jack's; the boy had an uncanny ability to pick-up on her emotions. As it was, she had been quietly observed during what she had assumed to be her hidden musings.

"What is it?" he asked quietly. His voice was maturing nicely, and the soft but strong tenor was soothing.

Arcee smiled affectionately at him. "Just thinking about the fact you're seventeen now. Almost a man."

Jack chuckled. "We've come a long way in such short time, haven't we?"

"Yeah," his partner responded wistfully. They stood in companionable silence for a little while longer before the sound of Jack's alarm began to echo through the house. Jack sighed and shrugged himself off the floor. "I'd better go get ready for school."

"Are you sure you can't skip just one day?" Arcee asked in a wheedling tone.

Jack chuckled. "No can do Arcee. I have a history test today, and a paper due, and-"

Arcee laughed. It felt so good to. "Alright, alright. Go get ready. And put on something warm, okay? With luck the rain will stop by this evening."

"Agreed." He started for the door.

"Jack?'

Jack turned back to her, his blue eyes strong, comforting and solemn.

Arcee wanted to tell so much. She wanted to tell him not to ever go away. She wanted to hold him close and protect him from everything that could possibly take him away from her. But centuries of military training would not allow her.

So she settled for, "Happy Birthday, Jack."

He smiled at her with that smile that said so much before turning and going back in the house.

Kessler stood before to the enormous glass windows of his main headquarters. Of all the wonderful places that he's established his empire, the Windy City of Chicago was his favorite. People here were so hardy, yet so kind. Must be due to the bitter cold winters here.

Kessler's musings were cut short by the doors to his office opening. "Yes, Harrison?"

"It's me, dad."

This voice actually made Kessler turn around. A tall, but skinny teenager stood in the doorway, his olive green eyes darting around the room briefly before settling on the man whom he called father. He had broad shoulders and blond hair. His shirt was smooth and clean, with crisp lines that screamed of having been ironed by an expert. His jeans were obviously new and looked as if they had just come from the designer's personal closet. He seemed like the poster boy for the rich.

It disgusted Kessler.

"What is it?" he snapped, his previous good mood slipping away like an eel.

"I got that info on the kid you're looking into." The teen stepped fully into the room, having taken his father's crisp response as an invitation. "Jacob whatshisname."

"His name is Jackson, Gregory," Kessler snapped. "Honestly, can't you remember anything beyond the realm of your high school social status?"

"It's George," the boy snapped back. He brandished a tan folder. "And I remembered to get the research together, didn't i?"

"Yes, you did." Kessler flitted to George's side, faster than the eye could follow. He snatched the folder away and began to slowly flip through it. "No doubt after Harrison reminded you about it. I should have given him this job; he would have compiled all this in half the time you did."

George bristled. "Well you didn't, did you? I did. Not that it means anything to you."

"You're right," Kessler said casually, slowly walking out of the room while reading the folder. "It doesn't. Now get on to school. It's embarrassing enough when you get caught in women's restrooms; I shouldn't have to get someone to hold your hand to make sure you go inside the building.

George started to say something, but stopped at Kessler's warning look. He swallowed back his angry response. He was already pushing his luck as it was. Instead he pushed down his pride and nodded to Kessler's retreating back. "Have a good day, sir."

Kessler did not respond, even though he'd stopped just beyond the threshold. Instead, he waited until George had uttered his words, and then fully turned away, continuing his journey to his car.

I'm back! That was...kind of fast.

Now that Tick Tock is done, this story is pounding my brain. I hope it meets up to your standards.

Notes:

Arcee's musings: These thoughts are actually my own. I can't help but think that the children's mortality is quietly residing at the back of all the bot's processors, especially that of the three who are with the kids on a daily basis.

Time: In case you missed it, this story takes place three months after Tick Tock.

Pairings: I will tell my readers straight off the bat that I cannot write romance if my life depended on it. Public displays of affection are awkward to me even on a screen, and actually imagining it is a feat I am not capable of. I'm not sure where exactly I'll be going with pairings, or if there are even any in this story. However, I am more likely to push Jack and Arcee together. Understand that this is a very big maybe. And even if there is, you might have to squint to see any romance there. Like with a microscope. A very powerful microscope.

Almost forgot...Please review!