Greeeeettings. :D

We have returned once more to fanfiction!

Actually, you can thank Kibble Beast for not only getting us started on this chapter, but with writing quite a bit of it.

The bold talking done here, in one small section, is the Autobots speaking in Cybertronian.

Side note--If you happen to notice a spot where the sentence abruptly cuts off, or seems like its missing a few words, please point it out for us to fix. Decep-top (my laptop) does this sometimes when I save large documents. . I tried to catch the ones I saw, but I may have missed some.

UPDATE: Kibble Beast found some tiny problems (that she absolutely went crazy over :P) and has notified me, and thus I have fixed them. :P And here I thought she wasn't going to be online for a few days.

As always, we own nothing.

Once again, Ratchet was concentrating on ventilating. Somebody had said it would make him feel calmer. Then again, they probably hadn't had to work with such imbeciles. How was it a genius could be so irritating? "No, Wheeljack," he hissed for the fortieth time. (Oh, yes, he was counting. Optimus would know about this.)

The inventor glanced up, pausing. "But Ratchet, I need to-"

"It's not going to explode!" the medic nearly howled, but controlled himself, merely twitching his fingers. "If anything is going to explode, it will be you, because you wanted to find out exactly how flammable the natural gas on this planet is."

"But who would have guessed it?" Wheeljack replied, obviously excited and oblivious to Ratchet's building fury. "It just lit up so easily! You really should-"

"No," Ratchet replied shortly. "Move out of the way, it's my turn."

Wheeljack shifted slightly.

"More than that, you idiot. Let me help you." Ratchet barged into the engineer's side, forcing him into some shelves that held the many strange, slightly creepy instruments Wheeljack had brought with him to Earth. The medic triumphantly took the now vacated space.

"Ratchet!" Wheeljack complained, instantly beside him again. "You could have made me drop the Matrix!"

"You weren't even holding it." The CMO narrowed his optics slightly, eyeing the artifact on the table. "And clean up that mess, would you?" he added. "What are those instruments even for, anyway? To anyone else this place would look like a torture chamber with all those...things."

Ignoring this request, Wheeljack stared almost adoringly at the Matrix."It's beautiful," the inventor sighed.

"It would be even more beautiful if we could figure it out."

"Well, it seems slightly more active today. It's practically vibrating with contained energy."

"Hoorah."

"...Perhaps I could perform a controlled explosion and-"

"You are not exploding anything near this!"

The Ford wasn't deterred, and simply eyed the Matrix lovingly. "Oh, what I could do with its energy."

"I'm going to show you violent energy in a moment." Ratchet picked it up pensively.

"I have an idea," Wheeljack cried. "Let's re-enact. I'll be Optimus, you be Sam, right?"

"What a fair deal," Ratchet witheringly replied. "Fine. Get on the floor and be dead."

The inventor enthusiastically lay down. "So, what happened?"

"Sam died. He came back as the Matrix reformed. Then he simply plunged it in here." Ratchet crouched down and tapped Wheeljack's chassis. "...We've been through this so many times- we can't have missed anything."

Wheeljack paused. "So Sam was holding it?"

"Yes. What of it?"

He frowned. "Nothing, really. But- didn't you conclude he had met with the Primes from what he said?"

"Met isn't the word I'd use for a brief encounter, but yes."

"...And we both agree the Matrix is acting differently."

"We do agree, for once."

They contemplated it.

"Maybe we should talk to Sam again," Ratchet admitted, slowly standing and placing it back on the table. "He could be key to this."

"Can I talk to him?" Wheeljack practically begged as he sat up.

The CMO firmly placed a foot on his chassis, pushing him down roughly. "You'd want to touch him soon as look at him. No."

"But you touch him!"

"For important medical examinations," Ratchet justified. "No human could possibly monitor his condition like I can."

"Come on," Wheeljack pleaded, hands clasped. "Just the once! I'm coming too!"

There was a desperate silence as the medic removed his foot.

"...Up," he commanded.

Wheeljack was a white blur. "Thank you, Ratchet! You won't regret-"

"You aren't conducting the talk with Sam. I will deal with him because he knows me. You might squash or kill him with some fiery blast. No, you can come to the meeting I must attend."

"Meeting?" Wheeljack repeated. "Meeting? Will there be humans?"

Sometimes it felt like working with a dumb animal or child. No, even they had more intelligence. It was like working with an amoeba. Nobody else had to work with amoebae. "Yes, Wheeljack. There will be lots of humans, and the boy may even be there."

"Lead the way!" the inventor cheered.

Ratchet had already left the room, but continued speaking. "Matrix, Wheeljack. Will you put it somewhere safe?"

The Ford nodded eagerly. "Of course, Ratchet-!"

Of course, there wouldn't be any harm in bringing it to the meeting. Whilst Ratchet and everybody was talking, Wheeljack reasoned he could have a look at the enigma then. And there was no place safer than with Wheeljack. Everybody said so.

The inventor carefully picked up the delicate artefact, then rearranged the right side of his chest armour so he could hide it underneath. He often stored important things there, like inventions, or odd things like boxes. Wheeljack liked boxes. Boxes were so versatile. You could put things in them, stack them up, even put them inside each other! What a wonderful invention. However, the humans weren't to know about the Matrix, so hiding it from their view was a good plan. Although he didn't understand why they weren't being told, Wheeljack was sure somebody would explain it to him. After all, the humans were a nice lot.

After checking the Matrix was safe and secure, Wheeljack hurried after Ratchet. "Wait for me-!"

"No," came a faint reply. "We're going to be late."

"But I don't know where I'm going!"

"That's the point."

Wheeljack couldn't understand it; how could a genius be so sour and grouchy? Clearly, all Ratchet needed was to be cheered up. This was Wheeljack's mission, and it would be completed.

"So, 'bee- you know where we're going?" Sam's eyes were narrowed in concentration as he tried to work out which building they were following Optimus to.

"Fozzy, look up ahead there," Bumblebee instantly responded through the radio.

"Real helpful. That's where I'm looking," the human huffed, then threw himself back into the seat. "I give up. Who the hell said that, anyway? Who is Fozzy?"

Bumblebee revved mysteriously, then headed through a hangar entrance after the huge flamed semi.

"We there yet?"

"We'll get there when we get there!"

Sam was triumphant. "...That was Mr Incredible."

"Booooooooob," a man growled.

"Yeah, same person. Bob is Mr Incredible." Sam looked around with renewed inquisitiveness as Bumblebee slowed, passing through another opening.

Optimus was already transforming as the Camaro's door popped open.

Sam remained inside for a moment, peering out of Bumblebee's windshield: he was determined for once to not be taken by surprise by anything- well, as much was Sam-ly possible. No doubt an unprecedented something would burst in his direction. Never mind; at least he could be prepared for this room.

Big room, check. Large enough for Optimus to be standing up in, which was precisely what he was doing.

Big table kind of in the middle (but really, Sam concluded after further musing, was actually much closer to the other side) of said big room, check.

A couple- (no, two. Now was no time to be inaccurate) two other, smaller tables in the other corners of the room.

Lots of important looking people around said tables, check.

Couldn't anything be done in smaller sizes around here?

One corner left- Sam hurriedly glanced to his left and saw Optimus standing in it, peering intently at somebody on a walkway who was gesturing excitedly at him.

Sam closed his eyes, swallowing. "I shouldn't be here. Could we go now? Will the plane still be there? I'm sure they won't mind taking us back, like, now?" He shook his head slightly, voice suddenly tiny. "...Oh, 'bee. I really don't know what I'm doing here. I can't do this."

"I believe in you, Peter. And I know you'll find a way to put it right." Bumblebee's engine rumbled softly as his voice clips changed. "I want you to know I'm... I'm here for you if you need anything."

"...Thanks, 'bee. You're the best." Sam felt a slight surge of courage. Besides- if this whole ambassador thing didn't turn out, they could always find somebody else. That was the good thing about being a human. There were plenty to take your place. He hesitated for a moment, preparing himself for whatever was to come with a huge breath- because this was just what everybody did. You know, always breathe deeply, an extra large one before you do something unthought of. He was calm, he was cool, he w-

"Sam!"

"Lennox-!" the young man cried, startled into almost tripping out of Bumblebee and staring at the figure rapidly approaching. "You're here too!"

"...I do work here most of the time." Lennox reached him, giving a slight smile of greeting before remembering something and rootling in a pocket. "I've got something for you."

"It isn't an Allspark, is it?" Out of the corner of his eye, Sam managed to glimpse Optimus shifting slightly. He turned, narrowing his eyes and trying to hide his amusement. "Yeah, I'm watching you. All of you. I'm not saving the world today."

Prime huffed, then continued his conversation with the awestruck humans on the walkway.

"Pockets, pockets, pockets," Lennox grumbled, finally finding what he was looking for and handing it to Sam. "Visitors pass. For now, anyway- depends on how much you like all this."

"I only ever wanted to be normal," Sam mildly complained as he clipped it onto his shirt.

"Well, I see normality got you this far, so come on- I'll show you where you're at." He began to walk with Sam back the way he had come. "I bet you got questions already."

"Back to the previous point; you're a soldier," Sam was sure of a flaw in this whole Lennox-being-here. "Why are you here and not- not shooting at things?"

The Major paused before replying, clearly trying to think of how best to reply. "This is where NEST is based. We don't have... things to shoot at all of the time- much to Ironhide's regret."

"Poor thing." Sam felt a smile twitch at his mouth.

They reached the table, and he nodded nervously at a few curious faces.

"Seat," Lennox pointed.

Sam lowered himself into the indicated object anxiously. He usually only saw the soldier just before/during/after some kind of massive battle- and if he had thought Lennox was calm before, the indescribable, untouchable air of effortlessness about the man now was striking; ease came naturally to him. How exactly he also permanently radiated a readiness for action was one of those peculiar paradoxes.

Sam suddenly realised Lennox was talking to him, and hurriedly snapped back to reality.

"Conference," he was explaining. "You don't have to say anything. In fact, don't. Just watch and learn, alright?"

Eternally grateful, Sam nodded ferociously. "So-"

" So say nothing. At most, all you're going to do is just be taking it all in- how we do these things, who people are, that sort of thing. You'll be with me," he quickly added, "so relax." He gave Sam's shoulder a manly slap.

Sam tried not to flinch, merely grinning like a fool (in an attempt at mature, manly thanks).

"Right." Lennox waved away some eager male with a headset and clipboard, then sat down next to Sam. "See the screen?"

Sam blinked at the large, transparent object in the middle of the table. "Pretty much."

"That's where some other people are going to appear," he said slowly.

"But what about people on the other side? They won't be able to see."

"Look again," Lennox said mysteriously. "It's see-through, right? The same image can be seen from both sides, just in reverse."

Sam blew air through his cheeks. "That's seriously cool."

" See that little- webcam lookalike thing there?"

"...No."

" Just- just there." He discreetly indicated at its location with an eye movement.

"Ah, yes."

Ironhide suddenly entered through another doorway (presumably this one led to some other buildings; there was definitely a corridor on the other side), bringing an odd smell with him.

Lennox immediately wrinkled his nose. "You've been shooting things again."

The black Autobot casually stomped his way over in three steps. "...And?"

" And you reek of explosives," the soldier continued, eyes crinkling in teasing amusement. "You're absolutely disgusting."

"You're just upset you weren't there," Ironhide retorted. "It was a highly interactive session." He rotated his cannons once before retracting them, his blue gaze falling on Sam. "Obviously you managed to arrive without bringing trouble for once."

Was that Ironhide caring? Sam smiled, and was about to respond when the Autobot continued.

"Can't wait to make a man out of you. You'll be diving and blasting at slaggers like the rest of-"

A suddenly standing-right-behind-them Optimus smoothly intervened with what Sam assumed was some Cybertronian, and Ironhide threw a cannon-toting arm out, audibly ventilating.

Prime eyed Sam. "Major Lennox has sufficiently enlightened you?"

" Um, not everything in the whole world, that would take a long time- a very, very long time, but this, right now, here-? Yes, I think."

"You don't have to do anything," Optimus assured. "We're not thrusting you into anything. You can just sit with the Major-"

" And watch the big boys play," Ironhide cut in.

"So- so what are you doing?" Sam asked.

Prime blinked. "I'm going to be just here."

" He gets his own camera," Lennox noted with a wry smile, jabbing a finger at the walkway.

The male with the clipboard he had waved off earlier burst out, clearly unable to control himself. "There's no possible way to get all of you in the shot! It would be totally insane- either you'd have to be up there, or we'd have to get it to come down here-"

Sam frowned. "It?"

The techie was a little startled to be cut off mid-flow. "...Is there a problem?"

" Who are you calling it?" Sam demanded.

"Oh, not you!" the other enthused. "The giant robot!"

Sam felt his eyes narrow. "No, no. You don't understand me- or maybe I don't understand you. For a moment there, I thought you called Optimus an 'it'."

"But-"

He stood, almost feeling blood pulsing through his body. "Optimus Prime is not an- an it. Show him some respect; he isn't an object or- or a machine!"

The human-torn between bewilderment and alarm- hurriedly and uselessly gestured at his clipboard. "Sound- the sound's all good. I'll be gone now. Sorry." He fleetingly glanced up at the towering Autobot Commander and back to a fuming Sam, then almost ran back to his station.

"You didn't need to do that," Optimus said softly after a moment.

Oblivious to the mix of frowns belonging to the people nearby, a still bristling Sam flung himself back into his chair. "Yes, I did. If this is the way you're being treated, it's not right; it's going to change. That's what I'm here for, right? To bridge the gap? Well, I'm not going to just let people be ignorant of you." He glanced at Lennox, and caught the faintest trace of a bemused smile. "What?"

" You're... different to how I thought you'd be."

"What are you talking about? I haven't even done anything," Sam protested. "I-"

"Listen to me, kid." Lennox was quietly serious. "They'll think that because you're young, you're not good. You may not have as much life experience, but you damn sure do have courage, determination and luck- and they'll get you far. Not to mention a strange bond with our alien buddies."

"But-" Sam was suddenly reminded of Sharsky and Fassbinder. "What about hackers? Couldn't they- you know- hack in and see this feed-?"

"Not a chance," Ironhide gruffly responded. "Our technology is far superior to anything your race's most prominent could even fantasise about."

"...Thanks, Ironhide."

"Remember that we have had to deal with 'hackers' of our own people before," Optimus explained. "We have defences against such attacks, and these will be easily sufficient to guard against anything a human could possibly attempt."

"But what about yours? Couldn't one of the Decepticons be lurking-?"

"Even if they are," Prime answered with definite pride, "I am confident that there is ample security. The Autobots have been working tirelessly to upgrade these facilities."

"Ah, the meeting's due to begin soon," Lennox commented, looking at his watch. "Everyone else should be arriving about now."

Sure enough, more humans and Cybertronians entered the large meeting room and took their places. Admittedly, Sam didn't know very many of them at all, but he definitely remembered Master Sergeant Epps and Captain Graham. Ratchet, Wheeljack and Prowl also entered, taking their places in front of the camera they shared along with Ironhide.

"You," Ratchet said, glaring at the scientist beside him. "Stay quiet. We need to convince the government that we are not useless, nor do anything life threatening, like unexpected explosions. Two things that tend to describe you quite well."

"You got it, Ratchet," Wheeljack replied happily, the insults literally sliding off him like water on a freshly waxed car.

"Alright, Sam, here we go," Lennox said, sitting down at the table next to him. Epps was on his other side, while Graham was on Sam's.

"Hey, Lennox," Epps whispered. "You hear about the punishment Ratchet gave the Twins?"

The other soldier grinned. "Hah, yeah. It's well worth seeing; one of the funniest things in a long time!"

"Ah, haven't gotten a chance to head over to that hangar yet. Remind me to get over there as soon as this meeting ends. God, I hate meetings."

After a few minutes of fidgeting and camera-adjusting, the images of several important people appeared on the transparent screen, signalling the start of the conference.

"Good afternoon, Optimus, Will," General Morshower said in greeting, having become familiar with both.

"Good afternoon, sir." Lennox replied. "How is the cover-up for the world broadcast coming?"

"We've collaborated with the world's governments and have decided on an excuse."

"What's that, sir?"

"That we were working on a worldwide broadcast system in case of emergency, and some hacker thought it would be funny to hijack the system with a CGI alien talking about some random kid they chose."

"And how well is the general public buying that?" Lennox asked, lips twitching into a small smile.

"It's been difficult to get this story accepted, but we're seeing less and less uproar about it each day." The General then turned to Optimus. "How are your efforts coming?"

"We have intercepted several messages from Decepticons scattered across the globe, which have led to the downfall of two of them. They seem to know we're looking for them, and have taken greater measures to hide themselves more deeply."

The Vice President was less than thrilled to hear this news. "So you're telling us that the threat is still not eradicated? After all of this investment?"

Sam saw Ratchet's fingers twitch slightly.

Optimus answered calmly. "Our war has endured for millennia. Perseverance and patience are two of the most valued features our race commands."

" And it's not getting you anywhere much," he replied shortly. "What exactly will end it? You're supposedly far more intelligent than we are- I don't see it. When we humans war, we don't fight forever-"

"You don't live forever," Ratchet interjected, then paused. "With respect."

"So now you're immortal."

"Immortal, - with the factor of possessing the right resources met- yes." Ratchet paused again, optics brightening wickedly. "Bar a brutal death, which we have all become quite accustomed to. Even then, our luckiest get to return for a second shot at this life, and they can continue the violent cycle right where they left off."

Ironhide rotated his cannons loudly. "You just hate the fact that there's power beyond Ratchet."

"Shut-"

Optimus silently intervened with a warning look at them both.

"About that," a different man suddenly spoke up.

Sam glanced at the screen, then saw Lennox's lips twitch. Frowning, he mouthed at the soldier. "...What?"

" He's our favourite," Lennox replied quietly, then raised his voice to address the link. "It certainly is good to see you looking so well, Galloway. Still got sand in those places sand shouldn't be?"

There was a slight murmuring of concealed laughter from some of the NEST soldiers at another table.

"Story of my life," Epps muttered.

Galloway shot Lennox a poisonous look, then returned his attentions to Optimus. "You died."

"I know," Prime replied.

The bureaucrat glowered. "And yet, you're alive now."

Optimus looked concerned. "Do you have some kind of condition, Director? You seem to be stating the obvious. Ratchet, perhaps you should-"

Galloway's entire face tightened. "No, robot. I do not have a condition. What I would like to know is this: if you died and returned to life, how did you do it? Couldn't every single one of your people do the same?"

"No," Prime replied shortly.

Reminded of the Matrix of Leadership, Sam wondered where it actually was. Not that he wanted to go near it- no more touching of alien stuff. No.

"But the leader of the Decepticons did it."

"I assure you that these were both unusual occurrences."

"And yet you will not specify the conditions under which they took place."

Optimus blinked slowly. "...As much as I- we- appreciate everything you have done for us, our race has sacred secrets that belong to Cybertronians alone."

"And if we demanded-"

"There are some things that we will not share," he replied firmly. "We do not ask you to explain everything mankind does or has done, nor do we expect it."

"Okay then," Galloway continued, knowing he had lost that particular battle.

There was a pause in which Sam realized he'd stopped breathing. He tried to discreetly begin again, but ended up sucking in too much air with a loud snort.

By the time he recovered from the humiliating embarrassment, the Director had continued to monopolize the conversation. "But as the leader of the Autobots, you are surely a target for the Decepticons, am I right?"

"You are correct," Optimus replied cautiously.

"Then what will happen when you are inevitably killed once again? Who will take command of the Autobots in your absence?"

"Prowl is Second in Command of the Autobots," Optimus informed. The tactician nodded slightly as Galloway glanced at him."If I should fall, leadership will be his."

"Until you come back to life again."

"It is highly unlikely that I will manage that."

"Command is shared between yourself and Major Lennox," Galloway instantly replied- as if he had been waiting for that response. "Am I right?"

"At present," Prime answered carefully.

" Well, when you pass on the next time, Major Lennox will take over the NEST forces."

Lennox blinked, clearly stunned. "Are- are you insane? I can't do that-!"

" If you can't do it, we'll have to draft somebody else in to hold your hand."

"Sir, with all due respect, I won't. Why would I? There's no advantage whatsoever."

Sam coughed- suddenly eyes were on him. "...Surely the point of an alliance is to work together? I mean, with each other? Not trying to control the other half?"

"Who is that?" Galloway demanded after a moment.

"Change the subject, why don't you?" Ratchet countered.

About to answer, Lennox opened his mouth.

Sam got there first. "I'm nobody important. Just a visitor. See?" He tapped his badge, nodding. "But even I can see that you're talking absolute rubbish. Are you anal-retentive or something? What gives you the idea that you can simply order the Autobots around?"

Galloway stared blankly for a moment. "Did- did he just call me anal-retentive?"

"Yes, I did."

"Do you even know who I am?"

"With all due respect, it doesn't matter. The Autobots invited me here, and I can see why. But I'm done with my point; carry on."

Utterly derailed, the stunned bureaucrat blinked at him.

"Perhaps he has realised his proposition was completely idiotic," Ratchet suggested.

Prime was somewhat less aggressive. "Director Galloway, we simply cannot agree to that."

"You- well, not you- your Autobots were perfectly happy to obey our orders without you in your death."

"And only because there was no other clear and immediate way to remain on Earth and not be targets of the United States military," Ratchet replied, becoming venomous.

"Then why did you stay?" Galloway asked pompously.

"Are you seriously asking why we stayed and saved your entire planet?"

Derailed once more, Galloway changed the subject. "But you said your obedience was to remain in good favor with us. Do you not want to remain allies in the wake of your leader's death?"

"Director Galloway, Optimus is neither dead nor incapacitated at this point. But if he ever were to be again, we would not take orders from you humans so readily. We were unprepared for his death last time. Jazz was Second in Command on Earth, and with his earlier death, we were left without leadership," Ironhide replied with a low growl, shifting his cannons irritably.

"And that has been taken care of," Ratchet added with a scowl. "We have made arrangements amongst ourselves for our chain of command. In the extremely unlikely event that both Optimus and Prowl should fall, Ironhide is next in line for command, followed by myself."

"Who takes command after you?" Galloway snapped, obviously displeased with this news.

"In complete honesty Director, should all four of us fall, you really have no chance of survival should the Decepticons attack. Naming a fifth successor would be useless."

"But you would still be acting against the wishes of the United States government! What about our alliance?"

"We are allies with more than just your country, Director. I feel as if they would be less inclined to agree with you if you had allowed them in on this meeting," Prowl stated.

While Galloway was trying to splutter out an excuse, Optimus took advantage of the opening in the conversation.

"I will not hand my people over to you as if they were possessions," the Autobot leader replied evenly.

"I don't see the problem," Galloway countered. "We have granted you asylum, and we're not being repaid."

"You realize that without the Autobots, we wouldn't even be alive to have a planet?" Sam muttered to himself. If Galloway heard, he chose to ignore it.

"Again, you are forgetting we are now formally allied with the United Kingdom, France, China, and Egypt as well, not to mention every world government knows of, and has not objected to, our presence," Prowl stated again, this time with slightly more force. "Just because you feel saving this planet is not enough compensation for our presence does not mean that they will feel the same way. If you no longer feel we deserve asylum with you, we will seek it with a different country."

"But that would be an act of betrayal! It would be treachery! It would be an act of war!" Galloway nearly shouted at the calm tactician.

"Let me stop you right there, Director," General Morshower said immediately. "Even if the President should agree to declare war on one of our allies for granting asylum to the Autobots after we have revoked it, not only would you have almost the entire world against you, but you would be hard-pressed to find the soldiers to fight."

Ratchet had had enough. "This 'conversation' has finished," he practically hissed.

Ironhide's cannons rotated, causing several suited members of the meeting to flinch. "I am inclined to agree."

"You are a danger to our country!" Galloway snapped, becoming further enthused. "You need order!"

"The only danger to your country, Director, is its greed. The Autobots will not be enslaved." Optimus' optics were narrowed. "If you have nothing of merit to add, some of us have worthwhile things to be doing."

Realizing he may have pushed too far, Galloway chose to become silent, and was relieved he was not in the same room as the Autobots. Unfortunately his silence was not long-winded.

"I see that new Autobots have arrived," Galloway suddenly announced, eyeing Prowl and Wheeljack.

"Last week," Prowl replied.

Optimus was eyeing Galloway with expression akin to suspicion. Sam had a sinking feeling that this wasn't going to end well.

"Then why haven't they been profiled? They could be a threat-"

"No Autobot is a threat to the human race," Ratchet interjected. He added something in Cybertronian, and Ironhide sniggered.

Prowl cast him a frosty glance. "Our unfortunately esteemed CMO is correct. You do not need to fear us."

"It is not fear." Optimus suddenly spoke. "No, it is not fear that Theodore Galloway is held by, and he knows it."

General Morshower cut across the surely venomous reply. "I think it's time for a break. Meet you all back here in an hour. Dismissed."

As everyone stood up and stretched, Optimus made to walk with Sam as he left the room.

Somebody else got there first.

Sam's eyes widened slightly as a tall, white and green mech dived in front of him. "Optimuuuuuuuus-!"

"Wheeljack," Prime hissed in Cybertronian. "Be careful."

"My deepest apologies, boy!" Wheeljack babbled. "Gosh, it's simply fantastic to finally meet you!"

"Um, you too? Who-"

"I'm Wheeljack," Wheeljack cried.

Sam paled, immediately glancing to Optimus for help. Unfortunately, the mech was busy talking to Prowl. "O-oooh, right. Ratchet's told me- ah- a lot about you."

"Ratchet's great, isn't he? Oh, look! He's looking this way; wave at him, boy!"

Sam's cheek spasmed. "You- you see that frown? He doesn't look very happy."

"Ah, he doesn't want me to talk to you. I don't know why," the inventor sighed. "But never mind! Here, would you do something for me?"

"Depends," Sam replied suspiciously.

"Oh, it's nothing much! Here," Wheeljack's fingers suddenly grasped him, and lifted the human up to his chassis, indicating a part with his other hand. "See that? That raised green section?"

"Y-yeah?"

"Would you just touch it for me? And tell me what you feel."

"...Is- is it going to eat through my skin?" Sam asked nervously.

"No."

"Not corrosive, then. Is it an irritant?"

"No."

"Is it scalding hot?"

"No."

"Is it ice-cold?"

"No."

Sam couldn't think of anything else. "So- so why?"

"Consider me curious."

"Right."

Wheeljack watched him intently as he leaned forwards.

This fact was not lost on Sam, but he dismissed it as curiosity with a brief shrug, and pressed his palm against Wheeljack's chassis. "Like- like this?"

"That's just fine. Just keep it there."

"...Are we waiting for something?" Sam blinked as he noticed glowing blue streaks along the sides of the inventor's face. "Those are cool."

"How did you feel when you were about to bring Prime back to life?"

Startled, Sam opened his mouth to stutter anything, just one word from a thousand-"he saved me; desperation, determination, hope; this can't be the end"- when some of Wheeljack's armour shifted with a whir. His hand fell through into the space made, and he cried out as it tingled, a shock jolting into his forearm. He rapidly jerked his hand away, cradling it and eyeing the mech with trepidation.

The engineer's face was lit by brilliant white light. "Fantastic."

Optimus' helm snapped in their direction. He was immediately beside Wheeljack- Sam literally threw himself at the flamed mech and was gently and firmly caught.

The huge Autobot was concerned. "Sam?"

"I'd- I'd like to speak with you alone? By ourselves?"

Prime's optics narrowed. "Is this because of Wheeljack?"

The inventor was in a daze. "That's me!"

"No, no," Sam assured hurriedly, still clutching his arm. "It's about something else- but please, now?"

"Would you like to walk?" Optimus asked.

"Yes, good, walking, healthy," the human gabbled whilst Prime motioned with his optics at somebody over his head.

Ratchet suddenly stalked past them. "Wheeljack!"

"Ratchet, you have to see this," they heard the engineer breathe.

"I don't need to see anything. You're coming with me. Now."

Sam blinked as the medic forcefully led the other out. "What's going on?"

"I told you not to talk to him!" Ratchet could be heard snarling.

Optimus tenderly placed him on the floor. "You wanted to speak with me. We should take a walk; a change of scenery is always highly beneficial."

The boy obviously had a lot on his mind, as he immediately started talking to the Autobot leader.

"So- I don't really understand how I can help you," Sam desperately appealed, walking -er, almost running to keep up with the other's languidly long strides- out of the meeting. "There's- there's all these guys with qualifications and experience- I don't have anything, nothing at all! I'd screw up majorly- I mean, I always do- it wouldn't even matter what you wanted me to do!"

Prime's optics held him for a moment, then seemed to almost soften. "We ask too much of you."

" Optimus, I just don't see how I can add anything. Do- do you see? I've just been in the right place at the right time- or maybe that's the wrong place? Look; I could have been anyone; anybody could have had those glasses."

" But you had them," the mech replied. "And you have achieved incredible feats already in such a short span. You are the one we need."

Unable to express himself, Sam struggled for a moment and then sighed, shaking his head. "You seem pretty set on me."

"Nobody else could possibly do what you could."

" I don't know what you want me to do," Sam's voice suddenly seemed quiet, far away as he stopped walking- after all, what was the point in walking when you had no destination? "I don't know."

He didn't need to look around to sense Optimus kneel behind him.

" I realise that you feel overwhelmed- and I truly regret to ask so much of you. But ask I must, because the Autobots depend on this. If you cannot fight for us, then nobody else will do. You know us, Sam, and I trust you- with my life."

Turning his head, Sam looked up at the huge being. "You always believed in me."

"I always will."

Maybe it was at that moment Sam realised that Optimus wasn't an alien. Size was nothing. Metal was irrelevant. Hearts were meaningless. Souls were what really mattered. Optimus Prime was a friend- a friend who needed him. And if he wouldn't even try and help, he didn't actually deserve to look the other in the eyes.

Hang on- did Transformers call them eyes? Sam doubted it. Oh dear. He had a lot to learn.

"...I'm going to need your help," he began truthfully. "A lot of it. I don't know the first thing about representing anything- well, 'part from being a dork. You don't have many people to stand up for you besides yourself."

Prime paused. "...Dork?"

"Never mind. I'll do it- as best I can." Sam frowned suddenly. "And I'm not going to fail- I can't."

"You have never failed us," Optimus assured. "Even when all seemed lost, you refused to admit defeat."

" No, no- I didn't mean that. I..." (Why was it that the words you wanted never presented themselves?) "I'm probably the only one who could do this for you, right...? Then I won't let you down." He couldn't find the words to tell Optimus that this time, this time he'd do it right; he'd fight for them. But when he glanced at the majestic lifeform, Sam saw that he understood.

Prime spoke earnestly, softly. "Thank you, boy."

" Hey," Sam feebly protested, "I'm not a boy anymore. Look; I'm a man- pff, what am I saying? You all call me boy. Even Megatron called me boy."

"You'll always be a boy to me," Optimus firmly told him.

"Woah, woah!" he complained. "That's not fair! I'm grown and mature and-"

The mech hurriedly reassured him. "It is meant with no offence. Compared with any of the Autobots, you are the most youthful being we come into contact with."

"Youthful? As in, young?"

Optimus gave him a nod.

"I'm going to feel like a boy when I talk to those old people," Sam confessed, slightly abated. "They're all so intimidating."

" You have us, Sam- and regretfully, I believe that we can be rather intimidating too." The Commander paused for a moment. "Megatron remains undefeated. He is coming back."

"Tell me about it," the human quietly replied with a small exhalation. "...I try not to think about it."

"If you do this for us, I fear you will be in even greater danger. It would grieve me to have you without constant surveillance."

"But I have 'bee," Sam reminded. "He doesn't let me out of his sight unless another Autobot is there- and even then he's still wary."

"Bumblebee is a strong mech with incredible agility," Prime agreed, "But he could not contest Megatron- nor many Decepticons- in terms of strength or firepower. If Megatron himself came for you, he would be vanquished."

" But- but there's always been that chance," Sam objected, forcing back horrific flashing images of various demons hurting- torturing, killing- Bumblebee. "And I don't see why Megatron would be after me. I'm nothing now, just another human. No Allspark knowledge, nothing."

" And yet you have defied him," Optimus disagreed with a sad smile. "You have killed him, and you came back to life after he killed you. You brought about the end of his old master through resurrecting me, which must have been fairly annoying in its own right. If he hears of you aiding us further, I would say his strong dislike will erupt into rage."

Sam's cheek twitched. "...I guess when you put it that way-"

"When Megatron returns, it will be swift and brutal, you can count on that much." Optimus lifted his gaze to the stars. "I learned that the hard way."

"...Did you know him well?" Sam asked, intrigued. "Before the war, I mean."

"I did," Prime replied softly without hesitation. "I did know him for a little while."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the skies.

"I would prefer it if you stayed here from now on," the mech suddenly proposed. "It would be far safer."

" I learnt to take your advice the hard way," Sam replied wryly. "I'll stay, but I need to have contact with my parents and Mikaela."

"It is your right," Optimus hurriedly assured. "We do not aim to deprive you in any manner. We are in your debt again."

"Eh, we'll see how much you thank me when I try to stand up for you." He was suddenly struck by something. "Are those meetings usually so heated? I mean, it was really quite aggressive and- vicious, really. Like scoring points, like some kind of challenge."

"The Director seems to hold some unusual grudge against us, and I cannot fathom its origin. I am afraid you only assume the worst from your experience today. It is not always so-" He definitely grimaced. "-unpleasant. Nor, in fact, is it always so Galloway orientated. I fear some sort of scheme is underway."

"...Scheme?" Sam repeated uncertainly. "What, like a plan? Underhand, sneaky?"

Optimus paused. "Know that I will not keep information from you, Sam- but now is just not the moment to speak. We do not have the luxury of time."

"We have an hour," the human recalled. "An hour is plenty of time."

Sam could have sworn that- for a second- Prime's Spark had been broken. The mech's entire face was cast in a shadow of sorrow- and it vanished in a blink.

"...Optimus?"

"Mm?"

"You- you alright, big guy?" Sam peered up at him.

"I am." Prime suddenly began shifting, folding- armour slotting together in a rearrangement that never failed to provoke awe, Sam didn't even notice he had finished transforming, and was slightly startled when the low voice rumbled out of the Peterbilt's speakers."How would you like to have a tour?"

Some sort of excited gurgle erupted from Sam's throat as he hurried towards the semi. "Yesyes-!"

Once he was safely inside- door firmly closed- Optimus began moving. "A proper tour would be better conducted in a greater span of time, of course."

"Pah, we've got all the time in the world," Sam grinned. "And besides, you need to start teaching me all about you."

"I suppose we do," Prime replied quietly.

"Are- are you sure you're okay? You seem down. Cheer up; nobody's killing either of us today!" Sam's smile only grew wider as his companion's engine rumbled suddenly. "See, 'bee does that when he's amused. I brilliantly conclude that that's what you do! Hey, I'm not so bad at this. You wait, I'm gonna show Galloway."

"That will be a fine occasion indeed," Optimus mused. "Speaking of, Ratchet insists on giving you diplomacy lessons."

"Wh-what?"

"Ratchet is multi-talented- or so he tells everyone," the Commander of the Autobots explained with a wicked lilt to his tone. "All will be revealed later."

"Why not now?"

Prime paused again. "Not in such a public place when ears are all around."

"You mean like people, listening in? Eavesdropping?" The human suspiciously peered through the windows. "I don't see anybody."

"They would not be able to hear us whilst you are inside of me, but I would prefer to continue this particular conversation in a more private location."

"...One question," Sam suddenly bit his lip. "...Where am I sleeping?"

Optimus was amused again. "The Autobots invited you here, and thus you will be with us predominantly. I will briefly show you our sector in this hour."

"Drive on, my boy," Sam dramatically intoned. "...You will protect me from that golden nutter, won't you?"

"Golden nu- Sunstreaker? I'm sure he's busy at the moment. He shouldn't bother you," Prime assured. "He should be very busy."

Ratchet and Wheeljack were in the latter's lab, somewhat in a debate- or, rather, Ratchet was seething.

"I told you not to go near him."

"I know you did, but I couldn't control myself." Wheeljack shifted his chestplates, and carefully removed the Matrix from the panel.

"Ratchet, you have to see the Matrix, it's-"

"It's in a safe place where it should be. Why should I look at it?"

"Because-"

"Wheeljack, are you an idiot? Do you realise what that boy has been through at the hands of our race? You can't just- assume he can handle you!"

"But- he seems fine," Wheeljack said uncertainly.

"Are you an expert on humans?"

"No," he admitted quietly.

"We're all very lucky he hasn't had any breakdowns," Ratchet exclaimed. "He isn't a normal boy!"

"Listen, Ratchet- you must look at this," Wheeljack pleaded as the artifact vibrated, glowing.

"Wheeljack, I swear to Primus that if you're jabbering on about the Matrix I will reformat you. This isn't the time. And if I think that I don't have your full attention, I'm going to sedate you and fiddle with your processor."

The inventor hurriedly placed the Matrix of Leadership onto a shelf. "I- I am listening, and I'll apologise to Sam. I didn't mean to startle him; I was just excited."

Ratchet wheeled around, optics narrowed. "I'm serious, Wheeljack. You realise that Megatron's after him-? He must be scared witless. Out of all humans, he needs to have faith in us the most."

"Mega-?" Wheeljack winced, his facelights dimming to a dull shade. "I didn't know that."

"Now you do. No excuses." Ratchet suddenly brightened. "In fact, I'll show you what might happen if you are an idiot again."

"I promise I won't do anything to Sam," the inventor swore.

"Oh no, not just him. I mean, if you directly ignore an order from me."

"Right-ho," Wheeljack enthused, facelights a sudden dazzling blue. "What's that, then?"

"I'm sure the Twins will be quite happy to give you a display. Let's go and find them."

"Sure! But- hang on," the engineer sighed. "Might have to hold on that. The meeting will begin shortly."

Ratchet cursed in five different languages. "Afterwards, then."

Said Twins were busy valiantly endeavouring for freedom in the medbay.

"Just a little farther..." Sideswipe said, reaching desperately for the flamethrower. "Scoot us over just a little more, Sunny!"

"Why do I have to do this?" the golden Corvette complained. "Physical lab-"

"Do you want to be un-welded or not?" his brother snapped back, turning to glare at his stubborn twin.

"Fine."

Sunstreaker slowly inched the berth over (albeit reluctantly), and Sideswipe finally managed to grasp his prize. "Yes!"

Minutes later, the Stingray twins were freed from the berth, and began sanding down the welds on their afts.

Sunstreaker frantically toiled. "This- this could ruin me! This is all your fault!"

As his brother indignantly replied and argument broke out, both neglected to keep vigilance- and most unfortunately for the two, Prowl happened to be coming down the corridor to check up on them in case they were up to no good. True, they may have been welded to a berth, but the tactician knew that such a minor detail would never prevent the twins from finding a way into trouble.

"Boys?..." Prowl said, rounding the corner into the medbay.

Sunstreaker was in mid-snap. "-if you had remembered to-" His words slowly trailed away as he noticed the older Autobot. "-to... to say 'Hi, Prowlie'...?"

Sideswipe's helm whipped around. "...Say, Prowlie. How are you? You look really well...?"

Prowl eyed them for a moment.

The twins stayed motionless. //Do you think he won't see us?//

//I blame your colour. It's too bright.//

//Mine is too bright-? I like that!//

Prowl suddenly spoke; calm, business-like. "So, boys. Would you enlighten me as to why you are evading your due punishment?"

"See, Prowlie, we don't like punishment," Sunstreaker explained.

"Punishment is- is sometimes painful, and with Ratchy it's also humiliating?"

There was an ominous growl as the tactician's doorwings tensed. "What have we all told you about these ridiculous nicknames?"

"...That you all really like them and you can't wait until we tell the humans?" the golden Corvette replied.

"Yes," Sideswipe agreed. "I mean, Sam would really love to call Prime 'Oppy'. Did you know we thought of one for Bumblebee, too? How about-" He paused dramatically, thrusting an open hand into the middle-distance, moving it sideways as he continued. "Bumblemeister."

"Well, we think it really makes everybody sound more dignified and heroic, yet more relatable and friendly-"

"What part of a request from a senior officer don't you understand?" Prowl enquired, close to losing his cool again. Primus, this was happening too often.

Sunstreaker mused for a split-second. "Well, if it's only a request, we don't have to-"

The second actually growled. "You're coming with me now. Both of you."

Neither moved.

"Do you know what now means?"

"But Prowlie," Sunstreaker complained, "our interpretation of now is clearly different to yours. Now is in a minute or so, because we're busy-"

Sideswipe caught a minute flicker in the tactician's optics. "Sunny, not the logic. You're going against-"

"Now may mean immediately to you, but now to us is entirely different-"

"Sunstreaker!" Prowl snarled, shuddering slightly. "I'm going to hand you over to everybody who even remotely desires vengeance against you both!"

This finally stopped the golden Autobot, his confidence faltering. "E-everybody?"

"And they can do whatever they like to you."

Sideswipe's optics widened. "Prowlie, you wouldn-"

Sunstreaker was beyond bargaining, transforming mid-dive in the opposite direction. "Sides, roll!"

"You're an idiot," Sideswipe wailed, imitating the action before shooting after him.

They darted past an astonished Epps, who blinked, scowling. "Damn. I knew I'd be too damned late."

Sideswipe didn't bother using their bond to communicate, instead blasting his opinion through his speakers. "Sunny, this is a death warrant!"

Sure enough, the powerful growl of Prowl's engine thundered terror into their sparks, his siren suddenly howling as he swung into view.

"How in the Pit is he so close?" Sunstreaker hissed, swerving to avoid crashing into a berth.

"Who cares? Just go! Go!" Sideswipe urged as they charged into the science lab.

" Door; I see freedom!" Sunstreaker cried, spotting an exit. He and his brother made a sharp turn towards their possible salvation, causing them to slam sideways into one of the shelving units in the lab. Both twins flew out their door to freedom at top speed with Prowl right behind them, sirens blaring. A few seconds later, the medbay and science labs were blissfully silent. Well, they would have been if it wasn't for one small, minor detail. The shelving unit Sideswipe and Sunstreaker slammed into was housing the Matrix, and the ancient, fragile artifact was jolted from its position and fell to the floor to its certain doom.

Luckily, Jazz's lifeless body was in its way.

The Matrix bounced off of the mech's chassis, which released a shockwave of super-charged energy that was then absorbed by the Cybertronian metal.

For a moment, nothing happened. But then...

"You wanna piece of me, Megatron?" Jazz suddenly yelled, twitching wildly and bolting upright. "What the...where's mah gun?" the saboteur asked aloud, noticing the absence of his crescent cannon. He looked around, almost fritzing from the seemingly sudden change of scenery. His sensors were on high alert, picking up every near-silent footstep and whisper. After nervously waiting for a few moments, Jazz was pretty sure that no one else was around, and stood up to further survey his surroundings.

"Sweet Primus...am I in some sorta torture chamber?" the saboteur wondered, noticing the strange instruments and chemicals Wheeljack brought with him to Earth with trepidation. "I don't like this..."

Jazz looked to his right and noticed a door that was slightly ajar. "Well, either the Decepticons are more incompetent than I thought, or it's not the Decepticons I'm with," he concluded, cautiously moving towards it. This room was really starting to freak him out. The saboteur slowly opened the door further- and upon receiving no response from the outside, poked his head out into the corridor. It was empty. Sighing, as he had been hoping for some sort of clue as to where he was, he stepped outside of the "torture room" of doom, and was trying to determine where he should go when a familiar scent met his olfactory sensors. The mech grinned widely, instantly recognizing it. Only two cannons in the universe could create that distinct odor. Ironhide was close by- and with any luck, the rest of the Autobots too.

"Hope I can find those guys soon," Jazz mentioned, looking around the base. "Especially Ratchet. I gotta get this chronometer fixed. Keeps readin' out a time almost three years from now. Startin' to get a lil' creepy."

Though the longer he walked, the longer Jazz had to think. What was that room he was in, anyway? There were definitely Cybertronian objects there, but Ratchet hadn't brought anything with him but medical supplies. And why was he left alone in that room? Ratchet normally went a little psychotic--okay, more psychotic-- when a patient was under his care. Had he been out longer than he thought? Or did something happen to Ratchet, forcing him to abandon Jazz? Or was Ironhide the only one here? Did everyone else die? Or maybe he was with the Decepticons, and Ironhide was currently fighting his way out, diverting all Cons to wherever he was?

"All this thinkin's hurtin' mah processor," Jazz thought. "I'll just find a computer and see if it has any info f'me."

The saboteur set off on a search for a computer, getting more and more nervous each passing astrosecond. What seemed like ages later, he finally found what he was looking for.

"Huh. NEST? Never heard of that," Jazz commented about the computer's screen saver. "Ah, maybe it stands for somethin'. Like, 'No one's Ever Seen There' or 'Non-Existent Sector Ten.' Well, there is a Sector Seven..."

Suddenly, a beam of light shone from a tiny opening above the screen, scanning the surprised saboteur. Jazz was just about ready to run, in case it brought trouble, when the computer spoke.

"Designation; Jazz. Faction; Autobot. Rank; First Lieutenant. Specialty; Espionage. Height; 13 feet. Weight; 1.8 tons. Death; July 3, 2007."

"Hey! I'm 15 feet, 7 inches, thank you very much!" the mech scolded the computer. "...Wait an astrosecond...I'm...I'm dead? But I'm too young t'diieeeee--!" Jazz wailed loudly, dramatically falling to the floor. "Why me? Why does the young, brilliant one always die?" Jazz continued, beating the ground with a fist. "S'not fair!" he said, letting his helm fall to the floor with a thud.

"Oww!"

Jazz rubbed his helm where it impacted the ground. "Tha' hurt! ...wait! It hurt! And y'not s'posed to feel pain when y'die!" he shouted excitedly. "I'm alive!"

"What's wrong, Ratchet?" Wheeljack asked, noticing the medic had stopped walking. "The meeting's starting again soon!"

"I thought I just heard..." he started, looking back. "Of all mechs, I thought I just heard...Jazz."

"Come on, Ratch. He's long gone. We both know that," Wheeljack replied, his usually joyful demeanor gone. "Wishful thinking won't bring him back. Or Arcee, for that matter."

"But I'm so close, Wheeljack! Arcee was much too damaged...but Jazz could still have been saved!...his Spark wasn't even out when I got to him! There has to be a way to get him back. I know we told the humans it's not a normal feat, but...I just know I can bring him back if I can just unlock the Matrix."

"You've been fiddling with the Matrix for almost a year now," Wheeljack countered, staring uncertainly at the medic. "I know you don't like to admit defeat, but sometimes you have to know when to just...give up."

"I will not," Ratchet said firmly. "Not until every single far-fetched, near-impossible idea has been tried." The medic's tone softened somewhat. "He was a big part of our team. He may have been a little dramatic and one of the most annoying mechs I've met, but he was talented, and just so full of life. He wasn't like us; he wasn't hardened by the war. His optimism was infectious; even you know that. He always knew what to say in tough situations to lighten the mood, or make accepting consequences easier. He embodied everything we were fighting for...life, freedom, goodness. He was a good mech, Wheeljack. I can't give up on him. Not when there's more that can be done."

Accepting his failure to convince Ratchet to stop blaming himself once more, Wheeljack wordlessly walked back to the meeting. Luckily for Ratchet, he was brought out of his musings at the sight of two troublemaking mechs, each trembling beneath Prowl's eerily narrow glare. Upon seeing Ratchet, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe literally crumbled to the floor.

"Prowlie, noooo-!"

"Please, please don't--! We beg of you-!"

"You've brought this upon yourselves, boys," Prowl replied firmly, crossing his arms as his doorwings twitched. "If you would only learn to follow rules, you wouldn't be caught in such situations."

"Oh, what have we here, Prowl?" Ratchet asked, an unnerving grin appearing on his faceplates.

"Prowlieee-! Save us, please!" Sideswipe begged, diving behind the tactician.

"I'm afraid not, Sideswipe," Prowl replied, firmly grasping both his and his golden twin's shoulders and turning them to behold Ratchet in his luminous glory. "You must face this punishment head on."

"P-Prowl, have mercy-!"

The tactician blinked, clearly stunned. He had never heard Sunstreaker call him by his actual name. Oh, he must be really desperate. But now was not the time to get soft.

"I'm sorry, Sunstreaker, but you lost all mercy on my part when you took advantage of my lenience earlier."

//I'm impressed, Prowl. How did you manage to catch them on your own?// Ratchet inquired.

//It was a lot of luck, actually. They chose a dead-end corridor and I managed to throw a few wheel locks on them before they could turn around and go through a wall.//

The medic looked down and sure enough, there were two specially designed locks on each twin's wheels, allowing them to still function, but at a much lower speed. //Wheeljack actually did something useful,// he commented. //Is it too much to hope they explode as well?//

//So, what sort of punishment should we bestow upon them this time?// Prowl asked, turning to glare at the two cowering mechs.

//I'm thinking,// the CMO replied, relishing in the pure fear in both of the Corvettes' faceplates. //And I think we should make them suffer in paranoia for some time.//

Prowl almost smirked. Almost. Watching the twins constantly look over their shoulders for a few days would be priceless. //And I assume after sufficient time, you will administer a real punishment?//

//Of course. We can't have them thinking their paranoia's the only punishment. They'll figure it out after a while, and that is when I will strike.//

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were so busy cowering they didn't notice Ratchet turn away from them. It wasn't until Prowl began walking forward, thus pushing the Twins forward too, did they dare open their optics.

"W-what?" the silver Stingray asked, obviously confused. "We're not being...punished?"

"Oh, no, you are, boys," Prowl stated factually. "Just not at the moment. There's a meeting going on that we must attend."

"Okay," Sunstreaker said, trying to inch his way out of Prowl's grip. "We'll let you both get on with it then..."

"Afraid not, you two," Ratchet replied from over his shoulder. "We obviously can't trust you to be alone. You will be supervised by myself and Prowl at the meeting." He glanced over his shoulder, almost laughing at the fearful mechs. "And you are to remain completely and totally silent during its course. Is that understood?"

"A-absolutely."

"Unders-stood."

"Good," the medic replied, entering the meeting room. Prowl and the twins were right behind him.

//Sunny, are you as afraid for your life as I am?//

//Yeah. Ratchet's eerily calm. He's never this calm. There's not even an evil glint in his optics. Something's wrong!//

//I hate to admit this, but I prefer Ratchet Wrath to this new, not-pretending-to-be calm Ratchet. At least then we knew what was coming.//

//And Prowlie's actually mad,// Sideswipe said, drooping slightly. //He's never actually been mad before. It was always disappointment before now.//

Sunstreaker didn't even have it in himself to blame this on his brother. //I know,// the golden twin replied. //I think we finally crossed the line.//

//We'll have to find a way to make it up to both of them.//

//Good idea,// Sunstreaker agreed. //But there's one problem.//

//What?//

//We have to get out of this alive first.//

"I'm aliiivvvee!" Jazz cheered, bouncing off the walls in his happiness. Finally calming down after realizing he was, in fact, alive, the saboteur approached the computer once more and looked for some possibly useful information.

"Awesome! Optimus an' the others are okay!" Jazz commented happily, scrolling through the information. "And 'Jack, Sunny, n' Sides are here too?" he added, grinning. "And Jolt! Man, haven't seen that mech in ages." Jazz's grin grew even wider upon reading the last Autobot to arrive. "Prowlie!" he nearly shouted from excitement. "Oh, Prowlie, y'came to Earth!"

Jazz continued to read; learning about the formation of NEST, though he became slightly confused after reading a few different things. First, it said Arcee, Mudflap, Skids, Jolt, and Sidewipe arrived in July 2008. Then, that Optimus and Arcee died, in July 2009. And finally, that Optimus was brought back to life in July 2009, followed by the extremely recent arrival of Wheeljack, Sunstreaker, and Prowl, and the subsequent absence of Mudflap and Skids in June 2010. But it was only July 2007! That time hadn't happened yet! Something just wasn't right here.

"Alright, archives; speak to me," Jazz muttered, determined to find out exactly what happened. "July 2007." Which should be now, the saboteur thought uneasily.

The silver mech looked up all the files from that time period, and pulled up the one concerning the fight in LA with Megatron."'Regrettably, one Autobot was killed in the fight. His designation was Jazz.'" he read slowly. "'All efforts to revive him failed, and he was buried at sea into the Laurentian Abyss with the defeated Decepticons until late 2009. The Autobots requested his body be brought back to the newly created Autobot base for reconstruction, and endeavours continue to return him to life.''' The saboteur quickly checked the date of the article. Definitely July 2007. And then, nervously, the current date the computer displayed. June 2010.

" What?" Jazz said, staring blankly at the screen. The date on the computer confirmed his own chronometer; it wasn't malfunctioning. It really had been almost three years since that fight with Megatron. "I've been out for three years?" He slumped against the wall, sliding into a sitting position. It all made sense now. He was alone- in what must have been Wheeljack's creepy science lab- because he was dead. He wasn't in the medbay, with Ratchet making sure he wasn't dying, because he was already dead. All that information was confusing for him because, when all that happened, he had been dead. After contemplating this depressing revelation for a few minutes, Jazz began to reason that being dead for three years was better than being dead forever, and- regaining his normal, happier demeanor- once again set off to find his team. They had to be around here somewhere.

Using his sensors, Jazz concluded that most everyone on the base, both human and Autobot, were centrally located in a single, rather large room. Most likely in some sort of meeting. Jazz loved meetings. Especially trying to make important mechs laugh at inappropriate moments. "Oh, this'll be fun," he snickered, heading that direction.

Upon reaching the door, the saboteur smirked with the thought of the chaos that would ensue the second he entered. He was supposed to be dead, after all. After picking his perfect entrance line, Jazz threw open the door and dove into the middle of the meeting. However, before his epic one-liner could be said, Jazz tripped over a chair, stumbled, crashed through a table of startled NEST soldiers and skidded to a halt in the center of the room, which was now dead silent.

"Frag you, stabilisers!...I messed that one up pretty bad..." the saboteur muttered, pulling himself off the floor and dusting off his armor. "...What?" he added, unable to keep a grin from forming at the looks on everyone's faces. "Y'all look like you've seen a ghost or somethin'!"

"...Jazz? Is that really you?" Optimus asked, finally breaking the shocked silence. Suddenly a wrench came whizzing by the Autobot Commander, colliding with Jazz's helm.

"Well, he's not a hallucination," Ratchet concluded, optic brows furrowing.

"Nice to see you too, Ratch," Jazz scowled, rubbing his helm. "Ya haven't changed a bit, I see."

"Who-who's he?" Galloway asked quickly, pointing at the saboteur. As if no one noticed his graceful entrance.

"That...would be Jazz," Optimus replied, a little uncertainly.

"That's mah name!" Jazz added brightly. "So, what's goin' on in here? Some sorta meeting?"

"Well, that what we were doing, until you ever so nicely crashed in," Galloway snapped. "Wait. Wait just one second. You say your name is Jazz, right?"

"Tha's me!"

"But you're supposed to be dead! How are you here?"

"As much as I hate to agree with him, the Director has a point," Ironhide added, cannons rotating uneasily. "How are you alive, Jazz?"

"Oh, that's easy! I was..." Jazz started, until he realized he had no idea. "Um, well, that's a good question."

"You see!" Galloway triumphantly cried. "You're all doing it."

"I would ask you to retain respect for our fallen warriors." Prime's voice was a low, controlled growl as he fixed the human with a terrible glare. "I would, except you seem incapable of decorum."

Jazz blinked behind his visor. "Did I resurrect myself at ah bad time?"

"There is never a bad time to see you, Jazz." Optimus turned back to him, entire face softening even as he addressed the humans. "We need a moment."

Morshower cut across Galloway's splutter. "Of course. We'll continue with less important matters."

Epps blew air out of his cheeks. "Whoop."

"Sam," Prime paused and suddenly indicated for him to join them.

"Hey," Jazz suddenly noticed, growing excited. "Isn't- isn't that th'boy? Yes! This is jus' like present day! Boy, did you get th'Allspark away? Don't tell me ah died f'nuthin'!"

Sam winced as all eyes fell on him.

There was a slight murmuring as other people began recognising him.

Graham mused for a moment. "This is just a guess, but I reckon they're remembering you from that worldwide hacking."

"Go," Lennox muttered, glancing around.

Sam panicked. "But I'll be intruding on them- if he's just been resurrected, they won't want me there-!"

"They want you as their ambassador, kid. Of course they do. Now beat it before Galloway starts on you."

"Asshole," Epps quietly affirmed.

The centre of frowning eyes (his own nervously focused on his destination), the young man hurriedly stood, crossed the room- try not to run; no running, not cool- and nearly dove behind Ironhide's foot. Safe.

"Y'never answered mah question," Jazz probed, hurt.

Ratchet pushed the saboteur out of the room. "Questions from you later. Right now, you're in the spotlight."

"Ratchet's Spotlight," Wheeljack said brightly as they all followed. "Not the most comfortable place, eh? I've been there a lot, you see, and personally-"

Wheeljack was cut off with a warning look from the CMO.

"And...and personally, I think it's a wonderful place to be, under his caring and-and watchful optic, making sure we don't...blow ourselves up?"

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe nodded enthusiastically.

"Or make fools of ourselves!"

Ratchet didn't even look at them."Nice save, Wheeljack."

"We were just ignored," Sideswipe whispered in horror. His brother couldn't quite process the idea.

Prime, noticing Sam was struggling to keep up with the relatively moderate pace, picked the panting human up.

"Th-thanks," he managed.

"Not a problem, boy."

"...I am not a boy," Sam automatically responded.

"Just one moment," Prowl suddenly spoke. He had stopped walking some steps ago.

The group paused, turning to him.

"Prowl, if this is your processor informing you that you're glitched, dismiss it." Ratchet sounded weary. "We can all see him."

"This...this doesn't make sense. How can a mech just...come back to life after three years?!" he asked, struggling to find the logic.

" But I'm here, Prowlie! See?" Jazz replied happily, diving forward to hug the near-fritzing mech. "Touch me, I'm real!"

The stunned tactician stood frozen as he was glomped by the anomalous being. After being released, he managed a sort of wail- "It's not logicaaaaal!"- before promptly crumpling to the floor from processor overload.

"Prowlie!" The Twins wailed, diving to catch him.

Ratchet's optics narrowed. "Get away from him, cretins-!"

"We caught you, Prowlie!" Sideswipe assured the tactician.

"Damn straight we did! We wouldn't let you scrape your paintwork, or dent-"

"Ah, Prowlie," Jazz sighed. "I've missed him."

The Twins hurriedly moved away from the unconscious mech as Ratchet sucked in a deep ventilation.

"Huh, probably went a little overboard on that, though," Jazz commented, scratching his helm lightly.

"You idiot," Ratchet hissed. "You know how he is!"

"...But I died! Can't ah have some fun?"

Prime sighed. "Wheeljack, Ironhide; would you please carry Prowl to the medbay?"

"I see you have such a heavy burden," Ironhide raised an optic ridge at Sam. "Hands all taken up with the boy."

Optimus scowled at him playfully. "Be quiet and do as you're told, minion."

"Hah!" Ironhide laughed, picking up the fallen tactician by his shoulders. "The day you have 'minions' is the day I give up target practice."

" Well, maybe you should start shooting at Decepticons instead," Prime countered gleefully.

"Watch it, youngling," the black mech scowled.

" I am not a youngling-"

" Nor is the boy a boy." Ironhide's cannons whirred smugly. "Besides, you are compared to the experienced, seasoned warrior you see before you."

Seasoned? Sam was momentarily excited before reminding himself that they didn't mean flavouring. He mentally made a note to learn all he could about the Autobots- no, not just the Autobots. He wanted to know the mechs.

Ratchet pushed Jazz roughly- the saboteur crashed into the floor with a startled graak. "Hm; reflexes not up to much. Looks like you need me to inspect you."Jazz's shoulders sagged. "Oh, man."

And that's it, for this chapter. :D

Yes, we brought in Wheeljack. We couldn't resist. Kibble Beast and I actually spent quite some time figuring out what type of car to give him for his alt mode. See, he was a Mustang before, but we decided that he would end up being too small with that one, as we envisioned him to be about Ratchet's size. We kinda sorta agreed on a Ford Escape Hybrid. Because he's a scientist and eco friendly, and all. Otherwise he is relatively close to his G1 self, with the same-ish colors and design.