Arc One, Part Five

"Whoa, there! Take it easy, soldier."

Jazz was getting really tired of coming out of recharge not knowing where he was. There was a stone floor beneath him, a metal ceiling above him, and an unfamiliar set of faceplates looming uncomfortably close to his own. Jazz had a deathgrip on an equally unfamiliar arm, but the stranger in question had shoulder patches with the familiar red-on-white glyphs of an Autobot medic. Jazz relaxed his grip marginally.

"It's alright," the medic said. "You're safe. We received your distress signal and responded immediately, but you've taken very good care of yourself, given the circumstances. You'll make a full recovery. Just get some rest and let us get your energy levels back up to normal, okay?"

Jazz nodded weakly and released the mech more out of necessity than trust. There were several other mechs bustling around him. The one he'd grabbed was inserting a direct-line tube of concentrated energon into a line in his arm. Another mech was kneeling on his other side, fiddling with what appeared to be a home-made version of the same thing cobbled together from a used energon cube, a battered length of hose that could have come from anything, and what appeared to be a branch from an irontree, all held together with coppervines. Jazz had never seen such a thing before in his life, and he was pretty sure he'd remember if someone had come at his energy lines wielding . . . that.

"Wh'r 'm I?" he muttered thickly. "'Ow'd ya fin' me?"

The mech managed to disconnect the hodgepodge contraption and clamped off his lines. "Autobot base Sixty-seven Delta," he said cheerfully. "Abandoned for three vorns but stocked with emergency beacons for situations just like this, luckily for you."

"We received a distress signal with your security codes two days ago," said the first mech. "Command dispatched scouts first, of course. They reported back that they'd found you here. You were offline but uninjured and appeared to be stable. They sent us in and you woke up as soon as I touched you. Nifty little direct-line you've got here, by the way. It probably saved your life."

Jazz had no answer for that. He didn't remember making it. He didn't remember sending the distress signal or even reaching the base. The last thing he remembered was . . .

"Cade," he said hoarsely.

"What's that?"

"Ya di'n't . . . . There wa'n't anyone else here?"

"The scouts were very thorough, Jazz." The medic patted his shoulder. "No one followed you here. You are safe."

Jazz sent a ping to Cade's comm channel but received no reply. He looked around the room in which he'd found himself while the medics ran their scans.

It was a large, plain room. A bank of outdated monitors and control panels lined the far wall, the old metal dull under a film of dust. Rusted brackets on the other walls showed where other equipment had hung. There was a supply closet with grimy shelves in one corner, its battered door leaning drunkenly against the sill. The emergency beacon sitting on the floor beside him looked woefully out of place. Its metal housing was newer and its layer of dust was finer. Clean streaks and spots showed where it had been handled, and a single green light pulsed steadily. Jazz was certain he'd never seen any of it before.

He returned his gaze to the ceiling, willing himself to think about anything other than the increasingly intrusive medical scans. His energy levels were stable enough for him to stay online for a while. According to his chronometer, he had last offlined a little over a full day ago. On a whim, he checked his GPS and found that he had offlined less than three kilometers from his current location. If he had walked just a little bit faster, traveled just a little bit longer, he could have barricaded himself safely in the base instead of spending a night straight from the Pit with his aft up a tree and cyberhounds slavering below.

Jazz gave a strangled laugh that came out very much like a sob. The medic asked him several pointed questions before once again reassuring him that he was safe and telling him that he would feel much better with some rest. Jazz took the hint and offlined his visor and several secondary systems before the medics took it upon themselves to tranquilize him. His processor was still churning, but he could think of only one answer to all of his questions.

Cade.

Cade had come back for him and driven off the cyberhounds. Cade had brought him the last few kilometers to the abandoned base. He did keep threatening to drag me, thought Jazz. Cade had set the beacon to broadcast his emergency signal. Cade had made the direct-line and filled it with energon, likely from a cyberhound – Jazz wasn't fooling himself; he had been so far gone that raw energon probably wouldn't have kept him alive, and the stuff in the cube had been vibrant pink. Cade had guarded him until the scouts arrived and then vanished like smoke. If a mid-ranked special operative like Jazz didn't have the clearance to know Cade's background, the grunts in the rescue team probably shouldn't know that the catbot even existed. He had helped Jazz, but he didn't put himself at risk. The whole thing stank of the catbot's ruthless practicality.

"When did ya say ya got my signal?" Jazz asked suddenly and felt the medic beside him flinch.

"It was, uh, about two days ago."

Two days ago . . . . Two days ago, Jazz and Cade had fought and the catbot had run off. He didn't abandon me, Jazz realized. He went ahead to set the beacon 'cause he knew that otherwise I wouldn't last until the rescue team got here. Fragger could've said so, though, he thought fiercely. Cade had probably expected to find Jazz where he'd left him and then spent most of the night tracking him down, only to have to fight off a pack of cyberhounds once he reached him. No wonder he was grumpy. Jazz felt sheepish before he could stop himself. The glitch may not have had any social skills, but he went above and beyond to keep Jazz alive.

Jazz pinged his comm fruitlessly one more time. Cade might have been ignoring him, or he might have just been out of range. I'll find a way to counter those long-range dampeners if it's the last thing I do.

"I think he's offline again," someone said quietly above him.

Jazz cracked one optic open and his visor flickered to life.

"Or maybe not," the medic said with wry amusement. "We're ready to move you, now," he said to Jazz. "We'll take you back to your home base."

"Great." Ratchet was going to be thrilled to see him in such a sorry state.

The medic missed the sarcasm. "We thought you'd be more comfortable in familiar surroundings," he said with a gentle smile and Jazz didn't have the spark to correct him.

The magnanimous feeling vanished when he realized that the other medic had just inserted a sedative in his direct-line.

Joors later, once again, Jazz came online somewhere very different from the place he'd gone offline. But he recognized Ratchet's med bay even before his systems were fully operational. It was dark and quiet, save for the dim lights and soft hum of the monitors surrounding his berth. Jazz craned his neck to look at the displays. Once reassured that their readings matched his own internal scans and that, yes, he really was fine but for a few scuffs and low energy readings, he settled back on the most comfortable resting place he'd had in what seemed like a very long time and tried to go back to sleep.

A persistent, annoying thought niggled him. Finally, with a sigh, he gave in and tried his comm – and nearly jumped out of his plating when he received a response.

::I thought you were supposed to be resting, Jazz,:: said Cade.

::I am,:: said Jazz, remembering that catbots were often more trouble than they were worth. ::I'm lyin' down and everything.::

::You'd better stay that way,:: said Cade. ::I won't have you undoing all my hard work.::

Jazz was tempted to get up and run a lap around the med bay just for spite, but he was really very comfortable and it would be a shame to leave such a soft, warm berth. Maybe he could just tweak a few of the monitors –

::Don't even think about it.::

::I wasn't – !::

::Ratchet will be very angry if I have to wake him up,:: Cade said sternly. ::I would hate for him to have to take his annoyance out on you.::

::Don't wanna face him yourself, scaredycat?:: Jazz asked, spreading out his sensor net and casting a few subtle scans around the room.

::I, alas, am far beyond the reach of the Hatchet's wrath.::

Jazz wondered if it was a trait of all catbots or Cade's particular talent that he could infuse one simple sentence with so much smugness. ::I'm gonna tell him you said that.::

::I doubt it would improve his temper any if you told him that your imaginary friend was calling him names.::

::If you were my imaginary friend, I'd imagine you a lot friendlier.::

::Your respectfulness hasn't improved with your health, I see,:: said Cade dryly.

::I'll give you only as much respect as you've earned, kitty.::

::Perhaps I should have left you to the cyberhounds. Have they earned your respect?::

::I only treat my superior officers with respect, an' then not very much.::

::How do you know I'm not a superior officer?:: Cade drawled.

Jazz laughed aloud. ::I was gonna say that I only tease my friends, if you'd let me get to that.::

Cade was silent for a while. ::How can you say I'm a friend if you barely know me?:: he said seriously.

::We faced quite a few hardships together. That tells ya a lot about a person.::

::Well, I faced quite a few hardships. You fainted.::

::I had been a prisoner for almost a week! And I didn't faint! I just . . . got tired.::

Cade chuckled over the line. ::Get some rest, Jazz.::

::Yeah, yeah,:: Jazz muttered. ::Don't get your circuits in a bunch.::

::I only nag my friends, you know.::

::Oh, really?:: Jazz said coyly. ::Ya sure about that? You barely know me.::

::I put up with you this long and I haven't killed you yet. I must like you. A little.::

::So . . . see ya around?:: Jazz tried not to sound embarrassingly hopeful. He wasn't sure if he succeeded.

::Maybe,:: said Cade, sounding more serious than he had all night. ::Maybe not. Probably when you least expect it, if at all.::

::That's cool,:: said Jazz. ::I like surprises.::

::And as far as anyone else knows, you escaped and got to Sixty-seven Delta on your own.::

::I can keep a secret, kitty.::

::Don't mention me to Ratchet or your friends, not even in your report. I'm serious about this.::

::Yes sir, Mister Kitty, sir!::

::Jazz!::

::Alright, alright. I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, ya know.:: Jazz said, annoyed. :: What do you want me to say?::

::Promise that you will not mention me to anyone for any reason. It isn't just my secret. This is bigger than you know.::

::On my honor and integrity as an Autobot, I solemnly swear that when speaking with anyone – friend or foe, superior or inferior – I will give no indication that you or your species ever existed, much less helped me,:: said Jazz.

::Prettily spoken,:: Cade conceded. ::Thank you.::

::Yer welcome. And, uh, thank you, too. For savin' my life. Again.::

::Do you mean for saving your life again or are you simply thanking me again?::

::Yes. I don't know. Both. Shut up.::

Cade snickered.

::Would've saved us both a lot of trouble if you'd told me where you were going that last time, though,:: said Jazz.

::Would you have believed me?::

::No . . . prob'ly not,:: Jazz admitted.

::I truly didn't think that you would try to find it on your own,:: said Cade. ::And . . . honestly . . . I was frightened and angry. No one has ever found me out before.::

::Lucky it was me, then.::

::I suppose so,:: mused Cade. ::I underestimated you and for that I apologize.::

::Aww, ya sure know how to charm a mech.::

::I also underestimated your ability to get into trouble,:: said Cade. ::Otherwise I would have never left you alone. Only you would get that close to the base out of sheer dumb luck, only to let yourself get treed by a pack of hungry cyberhounds.::

::Hey! Who's sayin' it was dumb luck?:: said Jazz.

::You're not fooling anyone, cityslicker.::

::Did I forget to mention that as a special operative I have neither honor nor integrity?:: said Jazz.

::I'd believe it,:: Cade muttered. ::If you so much as breathe a word – ::

::Remember what I said about teasing my friends?::

::Go to sleep before I lose all patience with you, then, friend.::

::Shut up and leave me alone, then, friend.::

Cade did just that for so long that Jazz feared he'd actually offended him. ::Cade?::

::Yes, Jazz?:: the catbot said immediately.

::I wouldn't really tell anyone, you know.::

::I know,:: he said wearily.

Jazz smiled. ::So, see ya around?::

::Maybe someday.:: Jazz could hear the smile in Cade's voice and tell that it was bittersweet. ::I hope so.::

A/N: So ends arc one. The rough draft for arc two is nearly finished and I'll start posting when it is presentable. Keep an eye on my page.

My humble thanks to all who have visited, followed, favorited, or reviewed this story that I have not personally responded to. I hope that you continue to enjoy this series.