Arcee wanted to go for a ride. Primus, she wanted to go with Optimus and the team, but Ratchet had insisted he make her stay. She wasn't going to heal if she kept aggravating her injuries.

Decepticons had ran across her and Jack while they were out for a night drive in the cool autumn air. It had been a miracle they'd walked away with just the injuries they did. Arcee had torn up her shoulder, wrist, and elbow when she'd transformed as they'd began to roll in order to shield Jack from the impact and her weight. It had worked at least. Jack only had a broken ankle to show for it, and Arcee had only needed one good arm to beat the vehicon goons.

She hated being cooped up in the base. If she wasn't fighting or driving or just out, keeping her mind occupied in general, she was more aware of … them. Or more like aware of their absence, she guessed. The old feelings began to resurface of someone watching her or thinking she felt someone else's energy field in her room with her when she powered up from a recharge. They weren't bad feelings, but she would've been just fine without them. Optimus and Ratchet said they understood. Maybe they really thought they did, but they didn't. How could they? How could any of her team?

But, she didn't bring it up. Even when someone startled her from her thoughts as she stared at nothing in particular, she just said she was tired. The team didn't need a femme adding her drama to their troubles. So, she'd serve her sentence with Ratchet at base and get the frag out of here as soon as possible.

Poor Jack was just as confined to the base as her. She'd been surprised June had let him even talk to the Autobots on the phone after the accident, but his mother seemed to understand that it could have been a lot worse if not for Arcee's actions. So, while she worked her twelve hour shift at the hospital, she had entrusted Jack to Ratchet's supervision. Arcee knew Jack would have insisted he wasn't helpless or stupid enough to hurt himself, but why argue when he wanted to be with his friends anyway?

He was up on the couch, flipping through channels on the TV with his foot elevated on a crate in what Miko had called a space boot. Miko and Raf where engrossed in some sort of game. Arcee had been lead to believe that all human games were played on a monitor, but this one was played on a black and white board with different pieces. Both had been in deep thought for the better part of the day, and Miko's apparent skill at the game had surprised Raf and Jack.

"Check. Check. Check. And, check. Check again."

Raf lay one of his pieces on its side in surrender.

"Three out of five?" Miko offered hopefully.

"I don't know, Miko. I hadn't really planned on two games eating up a whole afternoon."

"Find us a timer online. We can do a lightning game. Two minutes each, winner takes the title."

"I think I'm going to take a break," Raf said apologetically.

"Jack?" She grinned at him. "You know you want to."

"Pass."

"Come one dude. Or do you not know how to play?"

"I know how," he defended. "Chess just … isn't my thing."

"You scared of getting beat by a girl?" she teased.

"No. I'm scared of getting beat by someone that could fail study hall," he explained, going back to channel surfing. "It might ruin my image."

"Dude. You wear the same clothes every day, and everyone at school's seen you sing and dance the KO Burger Birthday Song," she pointed out. "Your 'image' has nowhere to go but up."

"It's part of my job," he growled, not wanting to think about it. "And, you wear the same clothes too!"

"It's called fashion!" she explained. "What's your excuse? Mommy stop doing your laundry, and black's the only color that doesn't bleed?"

Jack scowled. "….. No!"

Arcee walked over to Ratchet with her data pad of notes on the system updates she'd been doing for him.

"Everything should be good to go. Need me to do anything else?"

The argument had evolved into a battle of teenage wills, and nothing was sacred. The remote, what game they wanted to play, how much of the couch the other was taking up, … The medic grumbled something under his breath.

"Babysit, maybe?" he suggested. "If I could just put them in stasis …"

"Hey Ratchet?" Raf climbed onto the railing that looked out over Ratchet's work area. "Do you think Optimus will be back in time for us to go to the drive-in like you said?"

The white mech paused and surprised Arcee by looking guilty for half a second. While Ratchet cared little for monster truck rallies and giant monster battles, he might admit - if pressed - that he didn't mind watching more intellectual horror movies with Raf. And tonight, there was a double feature at the drive-in featuring one of their preferred B-horror movie actors in "Re-Animator" and "From Beyond."

"I don't know, Raf. I'm sorry." He shrugged. "We'd have to park across the street anyway. No one's going to let a kid driving an ambulance into the drive-in, are they?"

"You could borrow Sadie," Arcee offered, smiling. "And, I could wait for Optimus to call."

"Sadie doesn't even have a face," Ratchet pointed out dryly.

Arcee scoffed. "People in Jasper see weirder slag than women in leather jumpsuits and helmets driving little boys around in ambulances. What do they care as long as you pay?"

"Well … maybe …" Ratchet struggled.

"Come on, Ratchet. Please?" Raf asked. "You never get out."

He huffed. "We'll see."

He would. Arcee knew it. She just wouldn't mention that Sadie frequently got hit on by unsavory types everywhere she stopped. It'd give the old mech an interesting story to tell and something fresh and new to complain about.

"Miko!" she scolded. "Give it a rest already. It's not a fair fight if Jack's injured."

Jack happened to be pinned under a couch cushion trying not to bang his leg and struggling for breath.

"That's just an act," Miko reasoned.

She was about to rescue her human companion when the commlink chimed, announcing an incoming call.

"It's got to be Optimus," Raf said hopefully. But, he was disappointed when Ratchet opened the commlink and Wheeljack's mug shot appeared on the screen.

"Knock, knock. Anybody home?"

"If we say no, do you think he'll go away?" Arcee suggested.

"What is it, Wheeljack?" Ratchet sighed. "We're waiting for a call and need to keep the line open."

"I knew you'd be happy to see me," the wrecker said, the smile audible in his voice. "The Jackhammer's damaged, and I need to bring her in for some repairs."

"What… you… are you insane!?" Ratchet sputtered. "Decepticons could see you! They'll find out where we're at. Turn around immediately!"

"Don't get your gaskets in a twist. I scanned the area. We're fine."

"That does NOT reassure me," Ratchet snapped. "Turn around and I'll send a ground bridge for you."

"Too late, Doc. Open up; I'm coming in."

"Wheeljack!"

"Come on," he coaxed. "The longer I sit here, the more likely I'm going to be seen. Besides, I come bearing gifts."

Ratchet growled but flipped the switch to open up the silo's elevator.

"Sweet!" Miko cheered, launching herself off of the cushion and Jack. "Maybe he brought some more grenades to blow up stuff or some new swords to show off …" She danced around, slashing at the air with invisible katanas. "I know! We need some music!"

There was a collective "NO!" from everyone before the elevator began to come down.

The Jackhammer was a mess. It was scorched and dirty like he'd had to make a crash landing. Some kind of gore spattered the front and looked to have choked up the intakes, and a plume of black smoke trailed after one of the thrusters as it descended. Wheeljack stood in the open back hatch.

"Decepticons?" Arcee asked, walking up to the edge of the elevator.

"Nah," he dismissed. "At least, not recently. Most of it's from a rough re-entry I had to do last week."

"And the engine?"

His cocky smirk faltered. "Well… "He rubbed the back of his neck almost sheepishly. "About that. No one mentioned there was so much air traffic on this planet when the seasons changed. I've sucked up a couple dozen battalions of these big, dumb birds. They don't show up on my radar or scanners. I never see them until they're plastering the window."

"Well, clean it up before it stinks up the whole place," Ratchet demanded. "You said you found something? I hope to Primus it's energon. We're running dangerously low after all the fighting lately."

"Sorry to disappoint you," he said, ducking back into the hatch a moment. When he returned, everyone gasped when he produced a data cylinder and put it in Arcee's hands. "It made me think of you guys, so I just had to get it."

"What's on it? How … how do you know it doesn't have a tracking beacon on it?"

"Cool it, Doc. I haven't seen a 'Con for days. I'd know if they were following me."

Arcee plugged it into the computer for Ratchet, and he began extracting the data. "So, where did you find it?" she asked.

Wheeljack shrugged. "Side of the road," he said dismissively. "Coincidentally, I happened to lose most of my energon supply when I stopped to pick it up."

Ratchet growled. "We are NOT a charity! We barely have enough to fight this war without having to support a bunch of … deserters too!"

"For the most part, they're deserters that couldn't defend themselves if they were spotted by the Decepticons. Expecting servant-class bots to fight a war isn't right or fair - even if it is for their own good."

"They could at least move closer so we could help them," Ratchet snapped.

"And be cannon fodder for you guys?" he countered doubtfully. "Doesn't seem like the boss' style."

"They could stand up for what they believe in and support what we're risking our lives for!"

"Ratchet…" Arcee placed a hand on the medic's arm and looked at him with warm concern. "How about you go double check my updates or something? I'll listen for Optimus."

He calmed a small measure and cast Wheeljack one more glare before leaving the room.

The wrecker turned to her after watching him go.

"Thanks for the support," he smiled.

"I didn't want him to throw a rod," she reasoned. "I never said I supported you or them."

"But you know I'm right," he pointed out smugly.

She frowned at him, but walked back to her data pad and picked it up. "We can't spare much. Maybe you should consider robbing the Decepticons to give to the poor instead of hindering the good guys."

"Hey! How many times have I been here asking for donations? Oh right. None," he countered. "I just thought you might consider compensating me for handing something important over that you'd normally have to risk your afts for. Energon to replace what I bartered for it would be nice, but I guess I'd take whatever you have in abundance." He flashed her an unnerving smile, not hiding his roving blue optics. "But, you'll have to sweet talk me into it."

Her optics widened, and she shuddered with the effort to keep from slapping him, but it was too late. Wheeljack knew he'd hit a nerve. "You're not my type," she managed to say with some measure of restraint.

"What?" he chuckled in disbelief. "I don't think you know what your type is, Crotch Rocket."

"I know it's NOT cocky, insubordinate, reckless grease balls," she snipped and turned away.

"You forgot good looking," he called after her.

She growled with disgust, sounding more like Ratchet than she cared for. She really needed to get out of here. Amusement tickled the back of her processor, or at least some kind of memory of it. Yeah; they'd have thought this was a riot.

"Maybe you should go hit up some of those poor, defenseless bots you've been protecting if you're looking for some action," Jack suggested scornfully.

"No good," Wheeljack said. "Arcee's the only femme I've come across. My guess is they're waiting to see who's going to win this war before they land."

"Or they're too smart to come out of hiding for you," Miko quipped.

"You beat me to it, Miko," Ratchet said, walking back from the mechanical chase. "Aren't you wasting time you could be using fixing your ship?"

The wrecker shrugged with a smirk and walked back to the platform.

Ratchet turned to Arcee. "He might get done faster if you helped," he suggested. "I'll find something to give him for it."

"No, no." Wheeljack insisted, feigning insult. "Call it a gift - my contribution to the cause. It's not worth slag anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, not worthless. But, Megatron would have been pretty disappointed if he'd gone through all the trouble of shooting me down for it. I took a peek - couldn't help myself. All that's on it is a bunch of classical art from Cybertron."

"You mean, like, pictures of energon fruit in baskets and naked Cybertronians with fig leaves covering their junk?" Miko asked.

"What are you … ?" Ratchet looked at her, befuddled. "No, never mind. I don't want to know."

"I didn't see anything like that on there," Wheeljack said, pulling the access panel off of the smoking thruster. "But, I didn't really dig too far into it. Not my thing."

"Well, it's still important," Ratchet stated. "Optimus will be glad to have it."

An unfamiliar tone sounded and Ratchet checked his screen, confused. Arcee looked at her data pad, and all three kids checked their phones.

"Sorry," Wheeljack said, ducking back into his ship. "It's me."

"Deserter?" Ratchet asked accusingly.

Arcee walked back to the platform and peeked into the hatch, curiously. Wheeljack stood at his console, addressing a glowing monitor.

"How many?" he asked quietly. "Did they see you? … No, don't do anything stupid. Just sit tight for now …. Yeah, okay … Alright, alright. I'll check it out. Give me some time."

"Friend of yours?" she asked.

"Not exactly," he said, all of the mirth from before now evaporated as he came back out. "Ratchet, can I bum a ground bridge?"

"Aren't you going to fix your ship?"

"No time." He tossed a key to Arcee. "Don't wreck her. Maybe if you clean her up nice, I'll take you for a ride when I get back." He winked at her, and she felt her fans kick on as anger threatened to fry her processor.

"You can fix it yourself or drive there if you don't tell us what's going on," Ratchet said sternly. "Who was it? What's wrong?"

"Just a deserter with a 'Con problem," Wheeljack said, not without a little disdain. "I can handle it, so you guys can keep fighting the 'real' fight."

"Tell us," Arcee said. "If we can help, Optimus would want us to. You said so yourself."

"Thanks but no thanks," he dismissed. "Your arm's busted, so you'd just be a liability. And no offense Ratchet, but you've gotten a little soft."

"I say we let Optimus decide," Ratchet said, opening a commlink to their team leader.

"Wait, no really … "

"Optimus, do you copy?"

There was a long pause.

"Optimus?"

"Yes. I hear you, Ratchet." Optimus' voice filled the room.

"How are things going at the mine?"

Another pause.

"Better than we had expected. There is a rich energon vein here. It will take longer than we first thought."

"Well, that's some good news at least. You want to hear some more?" he asked. "Wheeljack found another data cylinder."

"That is excellent news, old friend. I look forward to seeing what is on it."

"There's some potentially bad news too," Ratchet added.

"Oh?"

"Wheeljack?" Ratchet stepped aside from the intercom.

Wheeljack cleared his throat. "Optimus, I have to help an unaligned refugee," he termed, casting Ratchet a smug sneer. "He says 'Cons have been skulking around his hiding place and energon source. He doesn't know if they're building something or looking for something, but they've been coming and going for a couple weeks. He asked me to check it out. Doc here thinks I need backup just to see what's going on. I don't."

"Where is this refugee?"

Wheeljack sighed, looking irritated. "He's located in a place called North Dakota. He would prefer I didn't send you his coordinates, if you get my drift."

"I do. It is unfortunate he does not trust us, but I cannot send you alone in good conscious. Arcee will go with you since I cannot spare any of my help at the moment."

"Wait. Optimus, I don't think that's such a good idea. This bot's not crazy about me knowing where he is, much less someone on your team. Plus, he's a little belligerent when it comes to the humans he's 'adopted.' I'll do better on my own."

"Take Jack with you to show we sympathize with the humans as well and to explain to his friends what is going on."

"Jack can't go, Optimus," Ratchet interjected. "Remember, his leg is injured."

Another pause. Ratchet frowned. Something must be interfering with the commlink.

"Yes. I had forgotten. Send one of the others. I am sure Bulkhead would trust Wheeljack to take care of his friend."

"You mean Miko?" Wheeljack asked doubtfully. "Isn't she a little high-strung for diplomacy?"

"Those are my orders," he said firmly. "I need to get back to work. Optimus out."

"Guess you're stuck with us," Miko said, smiling with excitement.

Wheeljack began to scowl but caught himself. "I guess so." He turned to Arcee. "But. I knew you couldn't stay away from me."

She vented a sigh of disgust. She almost wished she could stay at the base, but only almost.