Finding Home

Chapter 51

By Voodoo Queen

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Hello, Dear Readers! I hope this update finds you well and happy! I mentioned in the previous chapter that I'm really excited for this one. It's an important chapter, but I also had a great need for some Jazz-Amy time! That said, BE WARNED there is fluff, but also some heavy sadness in this chapter related to Jazz's past, but it may also be another piece of our puzzle. Let me know where you guys think this all fits in. Could there be something here? Is Jazz off his rocker? I love hearing all of your theories! As always, I'd like to give a heartfelt thanks to all those who've taken the time to read and fave and follow this story. I honestly never expected so many of you would care to read my oftentimes incoherent ramblings. I'd especially like to thank those who've taken the time to message me and/or drop a review: fandomsbrokeme, Lunar Mist, Wolfsredfalcon, No-Shmucks-Given45, LaurenA007, JessieBWriting, Rachel0424, monkeybaby, Guestdude, ScarletSea, maria-ioanna984, wajagirlliz, "Guests", Jaxrond, AngelReddix, jellybeanz513, Munto, passie, .Princess, , Spoffen, bambam411, Voos Guest, shizzlethis1, Starimus Prime, the everchanging, Deimoss, guadadominguez4, Frostover317, OthersideofStars, Cinematronix, xauroragoddessx

I love you all and pray you're all staying safe and healthy.

***ugh! FF...why u no let me format this story? Sorry ya'll, I had to take down this chapter, play with it, and repost it because it wasn't loading correctly! Please let me know if you guys experience any weirdness while trying to read. Muchas gracias!

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers, just my own original characters and plot.

XXXXXXXXXX

Sunstreaker sat atop the berth he shared with his brother and Amy, hunched over the makeshift work area he'd created for himself. The tip of his glossa peaked from between his lip plates and his face scrunched in concentration as he carefully dabbed chestnut brown paint over the tiny chips and cracks on the surface of the porcelain horses he'd meticulously glued back together at his brother's behest. It was, quite literally, a labor of love. When his twin had shown up the previous afternoon with a handful of glass shards and splintered wood and asked if there was any possibility of salvaging it, he'd reluctantly accepted the ruined snow globe after being filled in on how it had come to be in such a state.

"Fragging Galloway," Sunny muttered under his breath as he dipped his brush. "Fragging redheaded freak."

Sunstreaker's first instinct upon hearing of the altercation had been to track down the pair of useless governmental meat sacks that had upset his Squishie and make them both wish they'd never had the misfortune of making her acquaintance. The last thing the femme needed to be worried about was a self-important politician with his head shoved up his aft and thinly veiled threats from an overzealous mechanophile who couldn't take no for an answer. The only thing that stopped him, aside from Sideswipe physically tackling him to the ground and assuring him that Prowl was aware and handling the situation, was his recollection of just how angry Amy had been with him following his previous confrontation with Mirage for running his mouth. Being on the receiving end of her anger and displeasure had made him feel uncharacteristically uncomfortable and guilty—something he hoped not to repeat anytime soon.

Sunstreaker frowned at the memory. "Fragging Trinket."

For the moment, he felt as though his hands were tied, which was something he absolutely loathed. Every instinct he possessed had screamed at him to protect his small, if not unusual, family from the outside threat. Instead of going out and inflicting the vengeance he craved, he'd stomped around the room, yelling obscenities, and cursing Galloway and his shameless minion straight to the Pit. He'd even hurled an insult or two in Sideswipe's direction for not contacting him when it happened. Sides, for his part, had listened patiently, quietly agreeing with every foul utterance that escaped his lips. Eventually, he'd calmed enough to grit his denta together and take the mess of scrap his brother had brought to him with the promise that he'd see what he could do.

He may have had the reputation of being a violent brawler on the battlefield, but he was an artist at the core of his being. Had circumstances been different, perhaps he could have been, as well. Whether pitted against a Decepticon or seated before a blank canvas, Sunstreaker was good with his hands and had an excellent eye for detail and his brother knew it better than anyone. Honestly, if it had been anything for anyone else, he would have chucked the slag straight into the garbage, but the souvenir had meant a lot to Sides and the Squishie and, as such, he'd resigned himself to an exciting day of piecing together a broken puzzle much too small for someone of his imposing size to be messing around with in the first place. It had been an all day evolution, but he'd finally gotten the thing back into semi-presentable shape. The things you do for the people you love.

"Fragging Sides," Sunny groused to himself as he vented and dipped the brush once more into the paint he'd managed acquire to begin the second coat.

As if his thoughts had conjured him, the door to the berth room slid open allowing Sideswipe to slip inside. "Hey, Sunshine!"

"Speaking of Unicron," Sunstreaker grumbled, throwing his twin a disgruntled look over his shoulder and a half-hearted, "don't call me that."

Sides moved closer, peering curiously over his brother's shoulder, and eyeing the tools and art supplies scattered across the berth's surface. "How's it going?"

"I'm having the time of my life," Sunny replied dryly, rolling his optics. "How do you think? You should've just scrapped this and got her something new. It's never going to be the same."

"Yeah," Sides nodded and sat gingerly down next to his brother, careful not to disturb his work. "I know, but you didn't see her face. She was heartbroken."

Sunny growled, still upset over the entire situation. "You should have commed me."

"Why?" Sideswipe raised a brow plate in amusement. "So you could cause an intergalactic incident by assaulting a high ranking US government official?"

Sunny gave noncommittal grunt as he redipped his paintbrush.

"Prowl said he'd get with Jazz tomorrow after he's had a little time to recuperate and they'd run the whole thing by Optimus and see what he wants to do about it," Sides assured. "Prowl's riding the whole security breach thing really hard, but I think he was more torqued that the slagger and his weirdo groupie came in and upset Ames after he'd promised Jazz he'd keep an optic on her for him while he was in the med bay. I don't think I've ever seen him that wound up, not even that time we got Blurr overcharged on home-brewed high grade and convinced him to swipe that energy rifle prototype from Wheeljack's lab."

"Good times," Sunny huffed in amusement at the memory of the scientist trying to catch the speeding mech and the inevitable explosion that had followed. "Worth the brig time."

"Yeah," Sideswipe laughed. "Totally worth it. Seriously, though," he continued thoughtfully, "as long as we've been on this planet, that's the first time I've ever actually considered flicking a human across the room just to watch them splatter on the wall."

"Yeah, well," Sunstreaker smirked, "welcome to my world. You still should have commed me."

Sideswipe chuckled and shook his head. He gestured toward the ruined snow globe. "What's the prognosis?"

"Well," Sunny vented, "the globe was completely smashed. There's no fixing that. Luckily the base didn't completely bust and I was able to get the music box working again, so I guess that's something. It was a pain in the aft, but I pieced the horses back together and reglued them to the base. It's a lot of fragging cosmetic damage, but I guess if she doesn't mind a few dents and dings..." he shrugged.

"I love you Sunny," Sides stated seriously. Some viewed his brother as being vain, self absorbed, and rough around the edges, but when it came to the people he cared about, there wasn't much he wasn't willing to do for them. He always came through. Always. "You really are the best."

"Yeah, whatever," the mech replied with a slight twitch of his mouth plates that may have been a smile. "Where is the Squishie, anyway?"

"I left her with Jazz," Sides informed as he settled back on the berth. "Figured they could use a little one on one time, you know?"

Sunny nodded in understanding. "Any updates? How's he doing?"

"He's doing great," Sideswipe brightened. "Ratchet was finishing up his last round of checks when I left. He said he was pleased with what he was seeing and that Jazz should be up and running on four wheels within the hour. Jazz and Ames are both pretty thrilled about it."

"About fragging time." Sunstreaker did grin then, a feeling of relief washing over him that he'd never admit to experiencing at hearing the positive news. "It'll be good to see him out on the road again. Feels like things are finally working themselves out."

"That's what I said," Sideswipe agreed and then grew quiet, a contemplative look playing over his face for a moment before he spoke again. "Hey Sunny? Do you think...?"

"What?" Sunny eyed his brother as he trailed off. "Do I think what?"

"I mean," Sides continued, "since we're talking about things working out and all, I was thinking...Jazz and Ames love each other, right?"

"Yeah..." Sunstreaker raised a brow plate, unsure of where his twin was going with this little tangent. "So?"

"So," Sideswipe posited, "Jazz basically treats her like he sparked her. Let's say we eventually get all this spark stuff figured out with Ames and are able to make things official. Do you think we'd have to start calling Jazz, 'dad'?"

"The frag, Sides?" Sunstreaker snorted and shook his head, "where in the Pit did that scrap come from?"

The mech shrugged. "Think about it. He kinda would be, right? Ames doesn't have creators, at least none that she knows, and Jazz claimed guardianship over her. I know we're not on Cybertron so nothing is legally recorded or anything like that, but no one is going to dispute it and Optimus acknowledges their relationship. You can't get much more official than a Prime signing off on something. What else are we supposed to call him if we...you know? Do you think it'd be too weird?"

"This is the kind of scrap you sit around and think about?" Sunny rolled his optics, even though a small part of his processor acknowledged that his twin may have had a valid query. Personally, he was still too busy wrapping his processor around their immediate situation with Amy and working out all of the kinks with her to give much thought to the effect it may have on their other relationships. "I think you're weird, you malfunctioning glitch."

"I'm just saying," Sideswipe chuckled and laced his fingers together beneath his head, closing his optics. "I don't think it would be that weird..."

XXXXXXXXXX

"Alright, Jazz," Ratchet stepped away from the mech and sub-spaced the tools he'd been using. "I want to make one thing very clear before we proceed."

The smaller mech grinned at the CMO. "I'm all audios, doc."

"I am not giving you a clean bill of health," Ratchet emphasized. "You still have a lot of healing to do. What I am giving you is an expanded limited duty status based on your current condition that we can revisit as you continue to mend. My reinstatement of your transformation abilities is not to be construed as permission to gun it out of here half-clocked and get yourself slagged again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Crystal," Jazz nodded. "Trust me Ratch, I plan to follow any and all medical directives from here on out."

The medic looked at the TIC skeptically and snorted. "I'll believe that when I see it." He vented and shook his head. "Come along, then. Let's see what we have in storage."

"You heard him, scraplet!" Jazz hopped down off the berth and plucked Amy up from where she'd been sitting quietly off to the side taking in everything that was happening. "Let's get this show on the road!"

"Where are we going?" Amy latched on to the side of the mech's neck as he carefully balanced her on his shoulder and followed the CMO out of the med bay.

"Vehicle storage," Ratchet helpfully informed. "When I disabled Jazz's transformation cog, it also wiped all of the previously stored data and coding that provided him with the instructions that allowed him to reconfigure himself into his alt form. He'll need to acquire a new set of schematics in order to utilize his transformation abilities. To do that, he'll need to find a new vehicle to scan and use as a template."

Amy made a thoughtful sound. The more she learned about her alien friends, the more intricate and complicated she realized they were as a species. They made being human feel tedious and boring by comparison. The most exciting things she felt she could offer to represent mankind were eating and sleeping. "That sounds...very complicated," she mused.

"Nah," Jazz chuckled. "It only takes about two seconds once you find something you like."

"Really?" Amy perked up in interest as they entered a garage facility located behind the hangar that housed the med bay where rows of various automobiles sat parked and waiting for their perusal. "So," she guessed, "you keep all of these here just in case someone needs new schematics?"

Ratchet nodded. "I find that it's always best to be prepared. You never know when a new arrival may show up in need of an alternative form, when a mission may require the assumption of another vehicular identity, or when you'll run into a situation like Jazz's where it becomes an actual medical necessity."

"Is there a system or a method to picking one?" Amy asked, truly curious about this aspect of their existence. "Or is it just whatever you have available at the time?"

"Think of it like shopping for clothes, scraplet," Jazz advised as he strolled through the garage with Amy perched upon his shoulder. Occasionally, the mech would pause as he critically surveyed the options available to them before moving on down the row. "You want somethin' that flatters your figure and looks stylish."

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Ratchet dryly added as he trailed along behind the pair. His keen optics continually analyzed Jazz's movement and gait for any irregularities as they walked. So far, he was happy with what he was seeing. He continued, "you have to be mindful of your mass. If your alt mode is too small, its going to be an uncomfortable squeeze to get into and even more uncomfortable to maintain due to vital components being tightly compacted and compressed within an inadequate space. Continually contorting yourself into a form that's too small for your frame can eventually cause serious stress injuries to your protoform and underlying structures. Conversely, if an alt mode is too large, it's going to feel as though you're literally stretched too thin. This can cause many problems with the ability to hold the shape for prolonged periods due to poor connectivity along the neural relays that tell your processor where all your parts and pieces come together and overcompensation by transformative subroutines as they attempt to make up for the mass-spacial disparities which, in turn, results in continuous damage feedback to your HUD. What you want is a nice middle ground that allows you to maintain both form and function."

"Like I said," Jazz nudged the woman with one finger, pulling her attention from the medic, "ya want somethin' that looks stylish."

"Fashionableness is priority number one," Amy nodded and laughed. "Got it."

Ratchet vented heavily and rolled his optics. "Why do I even bother?"

"I think this is the one," Jazz declared as he came to a stop in front of a blue Porsche 718 Spyder. Gently, he lifted Amy from her perch and placed her on the ground before circling around the car in question, analyzing it from every angle. "Yep," he nodded as he came back to stand next to the woman. "I think this is it. What do you think, scraplet? Do ya like it?"

"Yeah," Amy agreed, her eyes wide as they swept over the car in question. She couldn't deny that it was gorgeous. The fact that an almost 100,000 vehicle was just sitting in storage on a military installation didn't escape her notice. Then again, there were also two Lamborghinis and a Ferrari wandering around on base somewhere so she really shouldn't have been surprised. The Autobots, apparently, had expensive taste. "It's a beautiful car."

"It falls within the acceptable parameters," Ratchet concurred with a nod of approval. "Whenever you're ready, Jazz."

"I was sparked ready," Jazz joked and winked at Amy. "Wish me luck."

Amy stepped back and fell in next to Ratchet to give Jazz room. She watched as Jazz projected an array of blue-white light that washed over the Porsche. It was fast, like Jazz had said, no more than two seconds, but she could have sworn that she saw glyphs—some of which she now recognized as numbers from her time spent working with Teletraan—also skitter across the glossy paint as the light quickly swept over it. Was he performing calculations of some kind? The science completely escaped her, but it was no less fascinating to watch. She was certain that if she really wanted specifics on the process that Ratchet would be more than willing to provide them. Perhaps at a later time, she mused, as the light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

There was a moment that lasted no longer than the blink of an eye where she was certain she could hear some sort of mechanical whirring emanating from deep within Jazz's chassis once the light cut off. As soon as she'd thought she'd heard it, the noise was gone and replaced by the sound of transformation she'd become so familiar with during her time on Diego Garcia. In the space of another heartbeat, a perfect silver-gray replica of the Porsche sat idling in the place where Jazz had once stood.

"Wow," Amy breathed out. "Watching you guys do that never gets old."

"It is a rather handy trick," Ratchet agreed with a small grin as he stepped forward and circled his patient slowly, running a scan of his own. "How does it feel, Jazz? Any pain or discomfort? Are you receiving any mechanical errors or damage feedback."

"Nah," Jazz denied, his smooth voice rumbling from the car's interior. "None of that, doc. Feelin' pretty fantastic."

"Excellent," the CMO nodded. "Everything looks good from where I'm standing. All of your readings are within normal limits. I would, however, like to put you through a few exercises before I release you, just to make sure."

"Whatever ya want, Ratch," the TIC quickly agreed. "Just tell me what ya need me to do."

XXXXXXXXX

It was another hour and a half before Ratchet had been satisfied enough with Jazz's present condition send him on his way. The CMO, as promised, had put the mech through his paces by having him transform back and forth between his bipedal and vehicular forms time and time again at varying speeds and in various degrees as he analyzed each and every individual component as it snapped into place and assured the mech had no pain or negative reaction to the process. The attention and intense scrutiny that the Good Doctor showed those under his care, and especially towards Jazz, warmed Amy's heart. She'd been on the receiving end of his doctoring herself and, though she hadn't been happy about it at the time, she could most certainly appreciate it now for what it truly was: the cantankerous old mech's way of showing that he cared.

"Alright, Jazz," Ratchet vented, "that's all for now, but you will let me know immediately if you experience anything out of the ordinary."

"I will," Jazz promised. "Cross my spark."

"And Miss Doe," Ratchet gazed intently down at the young woman, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth, "as the least impulsive half of this duo, I'm tasking you with making sure the Lieutenant behaves himself."

She gave a crisp nod in return. "Yes, sir. I'll do my best."

"Very well," Ratchet straightened and regarded the pair fondly for a moment. "I'll leave you two to it, then. Enjoy your evening and don't hesitate to comm me if you need me."

"Thanks, doc!" Jazz called after the CMO as he turned and made his way back toward the med bay. A moment ticked by and the mech seemed to be in quiet contemplation before he appeared to come to a decision and flashed Amy a bright smile. "What do ya say we get outta here?"

Amy looked up at the grinning mech and nodded. "Yes, please."

"That's my girl!"

She wasn't sure what she had expected. Maybe for Jazz to fold himself back down into his alt mode and open the door for her in a gentlemanly fashion? That, however, was not what happened. She was quickly swooped up off the floor by the overly excited mech, her stomach somersaulting at the sudden change in altitude. Before she could even voice her surprise, the hands that held her were gone and the sound of transformation filled her ears. The hiss of hydraulics and the sound of metal folding and reconfiguring itself all around her drown out the noise of her pulse rapidly beating in her ears. For one heart-stopping moment, she felt as though she were suspended in space. Then, she felt a sudden rush of adrenaline that left her pale and shaking when in the next moment she found herself curled up in a near fetal position in the driver's seat of a Porsche. Jazz, she realized with a sudden start, had reconfigured himself all around her.

She managed to stutter, "N-not cool, Jazz!"

"Aw, I'm sorry, scraplet. I didn't mean to scare ya," the mech apologized as he shifted himself into gear and steered them out of the garage and out into the street. "I really didn't. I wasn't thinkin' and I guess I got a little overzealous, but," he teased, trying to put her at ease one again, "ya have to admit that it was kinda cool."

Amy frowned as she untangled her limbs and situated herself in the seat. In the heat of the moment all she had been able to think about was being crushed to death in Jazz's internal mechanisms, ground into a meaty pulp between an intricate system of gears and cogs, even though she knew down in the depths of her being that he'd never do anything that would cause her harm. She knew this with the same certainty that she knew the sky was blue and water was wet. The last person in the universe she needed to fear was Jazz and, now that any perceived danger, real or imagined, had passed, she vividly recalled Sunstreaker pulling a very similar stunt with the esteemed National Security Advisor's beloved movie projector. She'd been startled then, as well, but the equipment had also emerged from the action unscathed and fully functional. She decided that Ratchet was correct, it was a handy trick, indeed.

"You didn't scare me, it just took me be surprise is all. And," Amy admitted with a small smile as she settled back to watch the scenery pass by, "I guess it was kinda cool. Really cool, actually. Just...maybe some warning next time?"

Jazz chuckled, "you got it, scraplet."

"So," Amy asked as she noticed them moving farther away from the base proper, "where are we going?"

"Can ya believe that, as long as we've been here, I've never seen the other side of this island? Ratchet's kept me on a pretty tight leash, but there's this spot Prowler told me about," Jazz shared, his voice flowing out into the car's interior and enveloping his passenger in a feeling of warmth and security. "He's mapped every square inch of this place and says the view is a must see. What do ya say we go and check it out?"

"I totally trust Prowl's judgement," she enthusiastically agreed.

XXXXXXXXX

The sun had almost completely set by the time they'd meandered their way all the way around the island, Jazz taking the long way and eager to see all the things he'd been unable to appreciate until now due to his physical limitations, and arrived at the spot Prowl had suggested. It wasn't exactly what Amy would have called an overlook, but it was nestled at a slightly higher elevation than the rest of the island. A thick stand of trees blocked out most of the light spilling from the airstrip as well as aided in muffling the sounds of the base giving the illusion that they were much farther from civilization than they really were.

The most impressive feature, at least in Amy's eyes, was a jagged outcrop of what she assumed to be the millions of years old volcanic rock that had formed the islands and created a shelf that jutted proudly out over the water providing the perfect perch from which to stargaze and enjoy the ocean if one were so inclined. Speaking of the stars, they were absolutely brilliant from this vantage point, sprinkled across the rapidly darkening sky like diamonds on deep blue velvet. The moon hung low over the ocean, it's reflection broken and scattered across the churning waves that crashed against the rocks below, providing a soft, almost surreal illumination over the landscape.

"Not exactly the road trip I had planned," Jazz joked, "but definitely worth the drive."

"It's beautiful," Amy admired, taking tentative steps toward the ledge in the rapidly encroaching darkness. "Kudos to Prowl for finding this spot."

"He'll be thrilled that ya like it." Jazz agreed, "He's got a pretty good optic for natural beauty. Careful there, scraplet," he warned as a patch of loose gravel crunched beneath her shoes and scattered over the side of the ledge. He reached for her instinctively, his fingers snagging themselves into the back of her shirt, and hauled her back several feet from the edge to what he felt was a safer distance. "Don't want ya fallin'," he explained when she looked up at him questioningly. "I don't think my spark could take it."

"Sorry," Amy murmured, moving closer to the mech's side.

Jazz simply ruffled her hair and motioned her to follow as he found a relatively grassy area that overlooked the ledge and would fit the both of them. Sinking down onto the ground, his legs stretched out in front of him, he patted the ground next to him. "Come sit."

Amy nodded and settled in next to the mech and, without thinking, nestled herself comfortably into his side. She always felt safe and secure when she was with him—with the twins, too, but this was in an entirely different context. Jazz was warm and cozy, like curling up in your favorite blanket in front of a glowing fireplace in winter. She'd had a bit more time to analyze her emotions where the mech was concerned since their last little heart-to-heart. She'd been completely honest when she told Prowl that she loved him, too, but it went beyond that. She got a distinct feeling of relief whenever she was near the mech. The best way that she could describe it was that she'd felt as though she'd been drowning her entire life, gasping for air while her lungs filled with pain and despair. Her screams for help had long gone unheard and unnoticed until finally, blessedly, someone had thrown her a life preserver—Jazz—and pieces that she'd long felt were missing from herself seemed to tumble into place and she could breathe once more.

Jazz hummed appreciatively and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tugging her just the slightest bit closer, as if he, too, felt the same. The pair lapsed into silence, but it was far from uncomfortable. The sound of the ocean surrounded them as their eyes/optics followed the distant lights of ships as they cut a path through the darkened sea. Eventually, Amy's eyes had wandered skyward and she could feel the curiosity begin to bubble in her brain.

"Jazz?"

The mech gave her a squeeze. "Hmm?"

"Where's Cybertron?" She gestured toward the sky and felt the mech stiffen slightly beside her. She hadn't even realized until after the question left her mouth that it may have been an insensitive one. She didn't have all the particulars, but as far as she knew the planet was near uninhabitable. "Never-mind," she quickly backpedaled. "I'm sorry..I-I didn't mean..."

"Hey, now," Jazz shushed her. "None of that, scraplet. No reason for ya to be apologizin' for anything. I'm actually surprised ya haven't asked sooner. Let's see..." He retracted his visor, his optics shining bright as he tilted his head back to scan the sky. He paused, lifting his hand from around her and pointing. "See that constellation?"

Amy followed his line of sight, nodding. "Yeah..."

"Humans call it Centaurus," he continued, his voice a gentle rumble over the sound of the waves. "See that star there? The brightest one?"

Again, Amy nodded.

"That's Alpha Centauri." He lowered his arm, wrapping it back around the woman. "It's a little over 4 light years away from Earth and that is where Cybertron is. It's the fifth planet in the Alpha Centauri system."

Amy settled back against him and pondered this new bit of information. "So, it's just right there?"

"Well," Jazz chuckled, "it ain't like hoppin' on the freeway and headin' to the next town over. A single light year is somethin' like 6 trillion miles. But," he agreed, "yeah. It's just right there. Close, but still very far away."

"You must miss it," Amy nearly whispered. "Home, I mean."

"Home isn't a place, scraplet," Jazz answered just as softly, "Home is the people you care about, not some ruined planet floatin' around a distant star out there somewhere. Wherever your loved ones are, that's where you find home."

"What if..." Amy swallowed, feeling the tell-tale prick of tears sting her eyes as she turned his words over in her head. She knew she was probably being ridiculous, but doubts still haunted her from time to time. "What if you never had any loved ones to begin with? What happens to you then? Where are you supposed to go?"

"Scraplet," the mech ran a gentle hand over the top of her head. "You're already where you're supposed to be. Ya don't need to go anywhere. Right now, here, with you...this is home."

She frowned and looked away, "do you really believe that?"

"It's not about believin' it. It's an absolute fact." He hooked a finger under her chin, lifting her face and forcing her to look him in the optic. "You know ya got me, always, no matter what. I'm not goin' anywhere, not without ya. Never again. You got the twins, and Primus help anyone who tries to tell either of 'em otherwise. That's a conversation no one wants to be on the losin' side of. You got Prowler and Bee...all of us."

Amy nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"I," Jazz vented heavily, his brow ridges drawing together in seriousness as he gazed down at the woman, his spark flaring within his chest, "I need to tell ya somethin', scraplet. Somethin' important. Somethin' I haven't told Ratchet...or even Prowl, but I need you to know. It's somethin' I've been thinkin' about a lot lately and it might make ya think my circuits are goin' bad, but...the time just feels right."

"Is everything okay?" Amy looked up at him, concern clearly etched all over her face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he assured her with an affectionate squeeze. "I haven't felt this good about things in a very, very long time. Promise."

Amy released a breath she hadn't even known she'd been holding and, although she was still nervous about whatever he had to say, nodded for him to continue. "Okay..."

"I guess the best place to start would be the beginning. The context is important for ya to understand." He sucked air down deep into his intakes, cycling it out slowly as he began. "Back on Cybertron, I used to be a member of the Security Services. That's where Prowler and I first met," he shared. "We became really close friends and then one day, he comes to me and tells me that he's met this amazin' femme and he really thinks he should introduce the two of us because he thinks we'd hit it off."

Amy listened with rapt attention as he spoke. She knew a lot about Jazz. They were, after all, very close—"welded at the hip," to use Ratchet's exact phrasing—and Jazz was free with his thoughts and emotions, at least so far as she was concerned. His personal past, however, was a different story and, given her own, she'd never pressed him for details. Outside of the anecdotal stories he enjoyed sharing with her about his culture and other members of the team, he hadn't delved too deep or waded into serious waters. Now, presented with the opportunity to learn more about him personally and his life before Earth, her eager mind absorbed every word, taking it straight to heart.

"I wasn't really interested." Jazz mused as he tipped his head back to the sky and looked off into the direction of Cybertron. "I was somethin' of a ladies' mech back in the day. I was young and liked havin' fun and wasn't lookin' to get serious or anything like that, but I can't say no to Prowler and he knows it, so I agreed to meet her." A genuine smile broke out on Jazz's face. "Her name was Zephyr."

A small shiver worked its way down Amy's spine at the designation, but it wasn't unpleasant. Far from it, in fact. A feeling not unlike déjà vu washed over her. The name felt oddly familiar, as though she'd heard it spoken out loud before in another place and time. She couldn't place when or where, but the strange feeling persisted.

"Zephyr," a small smile of her own turned up the corners of her mouth as she repeated the name out loud. It sounded right. It felt right. "That's a beautiful name."

"She was the most gorgeous femme I've ever laid optics on," Jazz rumbled with a smile. "Inside and out. She was brilliant and beautiful. Brave. Loyal. Passionate. She was kind and generous to a fault with the most amazin' sense of humor. It didn't hurt that she had excellent taste in music and was an incredible dancer. I'd never met anyone like her and we just sort of...instantly clicked. I didn't know what hit me."

Amy's smile widened. "So, it was love at first sight?"

"Most definitely," Jazz chuckled. "Ya should've seen the smug look on Prowl's face when he said 'I told you so'."

"I can imagine him being pretty proud of himself." Amy sighed, "she sounds wonderful."

"She was," Jazz quickly agreed. "You would've adored her and she," he looked down at the small human, his optics bright with affection, "she would've absolutely loved ya to pieces."

A pang of grief echoed through Amy's chest at the mech's use of the past tense, as if she were missing something significant in the femme's absence. Was it possible to mourn the loss of someone you hadn't even known existed five minutes prior? She wasn't sure, but she felt the heartache acutely, nonetheless. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so," he replied confidently. "If ya take nothing else from this conversation, I want ya to take that. Hold on to it, keep it close, and never doubt it. Not even for a second."

Amy said nothing, but nodded.

"It didn't take me long to figure that she was the only one for me." Jazz slowly turned his gaze back to the sky as he continued to speak. "Before we met, I didn't know it was possible to feel so much love for another person. The best day of my life is the day we spark bonded."

Amy's brow furrowed at that as she recalled what she knew of the term. She wasn't extremely familiar with the varying degrees of Cybertronian relation, but given her own situation, she'd been made privy to many of Ratchet's ramblings. The closest thing she could aquaint the CMO's overload of information to in human terms was marriage. Jazz was—had been—married? It wasn't surprising or a shock, really. It felt like a common knowledge she'd just rediscovered. The weird feeling of familiarity still hovered on the edge of her awareness, making her feel as uneasy as she was enthralled. She tried her best to ignore it and focus on what Jazz was sharing.

"The second best day of my life," he continued, "is when we found out we were expectin' a little one of our own. Zeph was over the moon." A trace of a smile was still on Jazz's face, but it now seemed sad and nostalgic. "We both were. We couldn't wait to welcome our sparkling into the world and we started making plans. Big plans. We were gonna have a little piece of the two of us to share our lives with, and we couldn't think of anything more amazin' than that. There was some tension between the Autobots and the Decepticons, but despite that, life was good. We were happy and excited about the future."

Amy felt her heart turn over, an ache forming where the constant buzz of spark energy she shared with the twins had lodged itself deep within her chest. That strange feeling of not quite being in sync with her own body washed over her briefly causing her to sway slightly before it passed. As the mech had continued to speak, she realized that his words were indeed hauntingly familiar, as if she'd overheard the tale before but hadn't been able to remember it until she'd heard it spoken aloud once again. That was impossible, though, wasn't it? She knew for a certainty that she'd never heard anyone talk about Jazz's past. Prowl had hinted, yes, but would have never betrayed his friend's confidence. Yet there it was, the cusp of a memory she couldn't quite fully recall.

"We were livin' in Praxus," he continued, scrubbing at his face with the hand that wasn't wrapped around his charge. It was dark, but without the visor to hide his optics, it was easy to see the moisture that gathered there. "It was a big cultural and technology hub and the Cons targeted it a lot during the early part of the war before seemin' to lose interest and move on to other locations. Prowler's from there so we visited a lot and eventually decided that it seemed like as safe and secure a place as any to raise a family under the circumstances."

Jazz paused and, for a long moment, Amy wasn't sure if he'd continue or not. She wasn't sure she wanted him to. Each word he spoke fell like lead into the pit of her stomach. Her chest felt tight and achy and she could feel a torrent of tears hiding behind her eyes just waiting to be unleashed at a moment's notice.

"We received intel," he finally spoke, "that the Cons were plannin' a massive push on Iacon. I didn't want to go. Zeph was so close to havin' our little one and I was terrified that it would happen while I was gone and I wanted more than anythin' to be there and hold 'em in my arms when they arrived, but Iacon was a major Autobot stronghold. She told me to go, that we weren't just fighting for the Autobot cause, we were fighting so our sparkling could have a future free of war and suffering and death..." he shook his head as he trailed off. "She told me to go and that it would be fine and not to worry about her and that she'd be there waiting for me when I got back."

Amy shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling tears roll down her cheeks as she did so. She didn't want to hear this. She didn't. "No..."

"By the time we realized out intel was bad..."

Amy whimpered, "please, no..."

"They'd leveled the entire city. Only one mech, a youngling, ended up surviving once all was said and done."

Amy's breath hitched, her tears beginning in earnest. It was too horrible to think about. The violence. The depravity. The completely pointless loss of life. "She was killed..."

"Not outright," Jazz answered in a quiet voice. "A lot of people were buried in the rubble. By the time we were able to get to 'em, most had already succumbed to their injuries. Zeph was strong, though," he proudly stated. "She held on for almost three solar cycles. It was long enough for me to hold her and say goodbye and for her to make me promise that I'd take care of our sparkling until we could all be together again, but the stress and the trauma from her injuries..."

"Jazz..." Amy didn't know what to say. His pain wound itself around her heart as if it were her own. Maybe it was, a small voice in the back of her mind mused. It was less a feeling of empathy she was experiencing and more like someone had scratched the scab off of an old wound allowing it to bleed once more. She snuggled deeper into his side, wrapping her arms around him to the best of her ability, seeking comfort as much as she tried to give it. "You lost them both?"

"I thought so," the mech confirmed. He vented and looked down at his charge, giving her an affectionate squeeze. "I didn't tell ya all this to make ya sad, scraplet. It happened and it hurts, but ya needed to know so you could understand..."

Amy sniffed. "Understand what?"

"I...died."

"What?" Amy jerked back and looked up at the mech in alarm.

"I died," he repeated again, as calmly and as-a-matter-of fact as if he were discussing the weather. There was no sign of distress on his face. In fact, a slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "In Mission City," he clarified. "I threw myself at Megatron to buy the team some time and he ripped me in half like I was a wet piece of paper. The guys were able to complete the mission, but...I died that day."

"Jazz, I..." Amy shook her head. "I don't understand..."

"Just listen, scraplet," the mech soothed. "It's fine. Everythin' is fine. I need ya to listen."

"O-okay," she swallowed the lump in her throat and sagged against him, her fingers slipping into the nooks and crannies of his frame and holding on tight as if she were afraid to lose him.

"Cybertronians believe in somethin' called the Well of Sparks. It's where we come from," he explained, "and when we die, it's where we go back to until we're ready to return again. It's supposed to be a place where you're reunited with everyone that you've loved that's gone on before you."

"Like heaven," Amy ventured.

"Yeah," Jazz agreed, giving her another squeeze. "Kinda like heaven. I always thought when my time finally came, that Zephyr would be there waitin' for me, that I'd finally get to hold my sparkling, and see all of the family and friends that I've lost to this war...that I'd be whole again. When I died, though, there was...nothing."

Amy pulled back to look up at him once more, confused. "What do you mean, nothing?"

Jazz clarified, "it was just a vast expanse of endless, black nothingness surrounding me. It felt like it went on and on forever. Just...a huge void of emptiness."

Amy felt like someone had just punched her in the gut. Her mind immediately flipped to the strange dreams she'd had ever since arriving on the island and that only seemed to be held at bay by her proximity to the twins.

"I couldn't understand it," Jazz continued. "All I'd ever wanted, all I'd ever worked toward, was to see my family again and they weren't there. Nothing was there. I thought I'd done something wrong and I was furious. I was angry at Primus for allowing everything to happen in the first place, at myself for screwin' things up, at Zeph for not being there, and at Ratchet for havin' the audacity to save me...I spent the first few months after Mission City in medically induced stasis. When they decided to ship us here, I spent the first five months immobilized in the med bay, hooked up to machines that kept my spark burning and energon pumping. I was on one side of the room and my legs were on the other and I didn't even care. The doc was doin' his best, but I didn't see any point in anythin' anymore. Why bother if there was nothin' out there, nothin' to look forward to? Life felt meaningless."

Amy blanched and her mouth went dry. She'd heard that it had been bad, but to hear it from the mech's own mouth was an entirely different story. "Jazz..."

"Then Prowler showed up," Jazz smirked, "and tried to knock some sense back into me. He told me politely that I needed to pull my head outta my aft and let Ratchet do his job. He'd brought intel with him on Teletraan's location and told me that if I could do that, he might be able to convince Optimus to let me resume some of my duties."

Amy reached up, her fingers brushing against the mech's own where they rested against her shoulder.

Jazz caught the woman's hand and held it carefully in his own. "I just wanted to be left alone. I was tired of hearin' everyone tell me how lucky I was and how fortunate I was to be alive. I didn't feel lucky or fortunate. I felt miserable and alone, but I faked it. I put on a smile and told everyone that I was cured, that I was ready to put it all behind me and get back to business as usual."

Amy huffed and nodded. This was something she understood all too well. She knew all about having to it through life.

"As promised," the mech continued, "I was put in charge of Teletraan's integration into the defense grid. Along with that, I was also put in charge of staffing. I received box after box of information on potential candidates. Too me almost another month to get through them. Most of 'em were people with PhDs and backgrounds in aerospace science or quantum computer engineering." Jazz smiled down at her, "and then there was you."

A look of confusion clouded Amy's face. She'd long wondered how on Earth she'd ended up on the list. This revelation only served to deepen her confusion. She gazed up at the mech, hoping he'd continue.

"It was a clerical error," Jazz answered, as if reading her mind. "I could tell right away, as soon as I cracked it open." He chuckled, "Someone somewhere had pulled the wrong personnel file and sent it in."

Amy frowned, her brows knitting together. She murmured, "so, I'm not even supposed to be here? This is all one big mistake?"

"No, scraplet," Jazz quickly corrected her. "There was never any mistake. As sure as my spark's burnin', you're supposed to be here with me." Pulling her tight, he continued, "I sat your information to the side, figurin' that I'd deal with it later, but I couldn't get you off my mind. I kept pickin' your file up and going through it over and over. I'd probably read it two hundred times. I started carryin' it around with me. I had this voice in my head, Zeph's voice, sayin' over and over again, 'pick her, she's the one. You promised me...it has to be her.'"

Goosebumps broke out all over Amy's body. "Zephyr?"

"Mmhmm," the mech smiled. "I never could say no to her, either. I think Captain Lennox thought I'd been dropped on my head. He kept asking me if I was sure you were the one I wanted. I told him that I'd never been more sure about anything in my entire life and so we sent Epps out to bring ya home to me."

"What are you trying to say here, Jazz?" Amy's heart raced, her pulse pounding in her ears. She felt as though she were on the verge of some huge epiphany. She was almost afraid to know. "I don't understand."

"At the time, I didn't either," he admitted, "not at first, but I get it now." He shifted his bulk slightly so he could see her face to face. He lifted his hand, tenderly tracing his fingers down the side of her face. "Zeph knew somethin' I didn't."

Amy felt moisture once again gathering in her eyes. "Knew what?"

"That I hadn't lost you both," Jazz stated with every fiber of belief in his body. "Zeph wasn't there when I died because she knew you were here. She knew that if she had been there waiting for me, that I wouldn't have come back, and I made her a promise a long time ago that I still needed to keep. If you've learned anything about me, scraplet, you know that I always keep my promises. Always."

End of Chapter 51