Professional Massive Nerd

Chromedome had learned a few consistencies in his functioning. One of the first was that no matter what, arguments would happen. It didn’t matter how well anyone got along with anyone else; arguments were an unavoidable part of social interaction. 

Being alone in tight quarters with a mech he barely knew was a good way for an argument to break out from even the smallest thing.

He was expecting some sort of fight to happen. But, he had expected it to happen over what type of ration they were eating, or argue about the day's schedule. Something small, or inconvenient, or maybe even annoying.

In Chromedome’s opinion, this was not a small thing. In fact, the subject of their argument was a rather large thing. A large giant monster that had almost dragged them into the ocean. He was calm. He figured that his almost demise hadn’t settled into his processor yet.

“Why wasn’t that thing in the files you wanted me to read?” Chromedome said. 

The two Mer they had been observing had vanished back into the ocean. Chromedome was eager to get away from the coastline. Away from whatever that thing was.

“I didn’t think we would actually see a prototype; they should be extinct,” Jazz looked out toward the ocean. He shook his helm. “I would have put it in the brief if I thought they were still around, don’t get me wrong. We’ll just have to be more careful near the shore.”

Chromedome silently stared at the back of Jazz’s helm.

“Just be more careful?”

Chromedome knew he should have been more upset. He should have been arguing more. It was just hard to express. Nothing ended up happening. He still felt distant anger. But it was muted.

Jazz’s shoulders dropped.

“Come on, I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing,” Jazz said.

Chromedome followed behind Jazz as they started the short trek back to their camp. 

“Are there any other potentially dangerous animals I should know about? Maybe a giant winged creature that will carry me off?” Chromedome said flatly.

“I didn’t know it would come out of the water; we’re both fine,” Jazz waved a servo casually. He started climbing back up the cliff face.

“Jazz, we could have been dragged off.”

“Probably not? It wasn’t able to go very fast on land.”

Chromedome groaned, “Please just let me know if there are any other horrible creatures that would eat us on this planet.”

“Anything else would be deeper sea life, and I’m sure you’ll be happy to know we have no way of going down into the actual ocean.”

“Why are they even called prototypes?” Chromedome hoisted himself onto an outcropping on the cliff.

“The Senate thought they were prototypes the colonists made before they made the Mer.”

“Descriptive name,” Chromedome said.

“Some Senate scientists that came after the colony fell managed to kill and dissect one; specifics are locked away, but the report concluded they wouldn’t be able to survive on Gelu long term, they couldn’t breed, and the temperatures here were too harsh,” Jazz said.

Chromedome couldn’t imagine why so many records related to this planet were sealed. He was almost tempted to reach out to some of his old coworkers to see if they had access to some of the sealed information. It was an urge he was already fighting back. He didn’t have any way to pursue a case here. Even if he did, he wasn’t an enforcer anymore.

“How pleasant,” Chromedome said.  “You ever wonder why so many records related to this planet were sealed?”

Jaz scratched at the back of his helm, “Not really. If I wondered about everything the Senate sealed, I don’t think I’d have time to think about much else.”

The two of them climbed to the top of the cliff. Jazz kept walking back toward their little camp building.

“I might try to look through some of the other buildings,” Chromedome said.

“Really? Why?” Jazz asked. “Don’t you want to warm up for a bit?”

Chromedome shrugged, “The cold isn’t bothering me much. I need some time alone to calm down from almost being eaten.”

“Fair enough,” Jazz said quickly.

Jazz shot him a look before they separated. Chromedome relaxed as soon as Jazz managed to push the door to their camp open.

Chromedome drew his plating in closer to his protoform. He hoped the inside of the other buildings would at least be a little bit warmer than outside. Chromedome walked quickly toward another building. 

There were only a few buildings left over from the settlement. The one they had claimed was on the smaller side. It only had one room. It was cramped, but the small space made it easier to keep warm. Chromedome imagined a mini con must have lived there. He couldn’t imagine a full-sized mech living there.

Besides that building, there were only two others. One was larger. A partially broken satellite tower stood on its roof. Elements of a climate control system peeked out under layers of snow and ice on the roof. 

The stairs were in good condition, but they were covered in layers of ice. Chromedome gripped the rail hard and ascended the metal stairs slowly. As he got closer to the entrance, he saw a darkened window. It reflected the midday sky. Chrome pressed his helm into the window and tried to look inside. He couldn’t make out any details. The glass was heavily tinted. 

Chromedome continued walking and stood in front of the door. It was sealed shut. There was an access panel, but without power, it was useless. Chromedome stretched his arms over his helm. He pried his servo into the door and hefted. He strained his frame against the door and heard a creak. 

He pushed harder, and the door started to move. After some time, and with too much force, the door was open wide enough for him to slip inside. Chromedome shuffled sideways into the building. As soon as he was in the dark space, he adjusted his visor. 

The room looked frozen in a panicked time. Smashed data pads had been left on the floor. Chairs were pushed over. Items littered the floor. It was like walking into a crime scene. 

His processor was already trying to spin up old protocols. He shut them down aggressively. He scanned over the room, looking over the crushed items. The data pads looked like they had been crushed or stepped on. There were terminals and desks in the room, too, but they were toppled over and crushed.

He saw a flash of light reflect from under one of the remaining desks. He kneeled. He saw another data pad; this one was still intact. It was ancient. It was older than him, and it was probably older than the bots that designed him. He felt like he was holding something that belonged in a museum.

Chromedome delicately held it in his servos. He dragged a digit around the edges of the device and found a button. He tapped gently against the datapad. He never quite pressed the button down. He stared down at the screen and into his reflection. 

He contemplated the chances of the device even holding a charge after all of this time. He swept a look around the room. He wondered how it was still there. He was surprised there was anything left. He would have thought the Senate would have taken any equipment to figure out what had happened to the colonists. 

Curiosity won out. He depressed a digit into the button on the side of the data pad. He heard a quiet click, and the device let out a shrill noise before the screen flashed. Chromedome was shocked to see the device actually power on. 

It was locked, but the data pad was practically an antique. Any algorithm used to encrypt it would long be considered defunct. He flipped the data pad towards his visor and scanned the edges. He transformed one of his digits and plugged into the only port he could find. His processor tore into the encryption with ease. 

It wasn’t one he was familiar with directly, but a newer version was used by his instructors to demonstrate breaking weak encryption. The key was short, and there were only so many options for it to be. Chromedome removed his digit and watched as the device unlocked. 

“Rewind, huh?” The bot who had owned the data pad had his name and colonist profile in the top corner. 

It was a little morbid to imagine how long ago this mech would have died. Long before Chromedome came online. Drowned beneath the waves of this icy planet, along with however many other bots where assigned to live here. 

He flicked through file names absentmindedly. He tapped on a random one. He let out a frustrated huff through his vents when he was met with another layer of encryption. 

Chromedome thought it was going to be a minor inconvenience. He was surprised to find the secondary encryption to be much stronger than the first method. The algorithm looked custom-made. It should have been easy to crack with how old it was, but his programs were struggling with it.   

Chromedome unplugged and gave up on accessing it that day. But he stored the data pad in his subspace. He hoped to keep working during his downtime. He thought it would be a good way to take a break from working on the documentary. If he learned anything about what had happened to the colonists, he would consider it a nice bonus.  

It was enticing to have a mystery to solve. Chromedome didn’t miss his old function. He didn’t. He wasn’t supposed to miss it.

He shook his helm and diverted his attention away from thoughts that would go nowhere. He kept scouring the abandoned space. He found other data pads, but they were all destroyed. Broken into small pieces. Any other piece of computer equipment was similarly destroyed. 

Chromedome jerked when he heard quiet pede steps echoing on metal. He twisted around and saw Jazz standing in the doorway. 

“Find anything interesting?” Jazz asked.

“Lots of broken computer parts, some broken data pads.”

Jazz walked fully into the space. He kneeled and held one of the destroyed data pads in his servos.

“Wonder if the colonists did it on purpose,” Jazz mumbled. 

“Why would they do that?” Chromedome asked. 

Privately, he couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. The destruction did seem intentional. 

“Wish we had someone to ask,” Jazz said. “I’m not a fan of the conspiracy documentaries that have been done for this planet, but I do wonder what happened to all of the mechs here.”

“I do too,” Chromedome said. 

He didn’t mention the intact data pad he had found. He wanted to keep it to himself for the time. A private thing to look into. It wasn’t a case. He told himself. It was a personal project. Thinking about it like that almost made him eager to get started. He hadn't felt this mentally excited to do something in a while. He didn’t want to think about the last time he had felt like this. It was already giving him a processor ache. 

He wanted to start working on it, but he wanted to do it in private. He didn’t want Jazz to take the data pad from him. He was worried Jazz would take his project away. Chromedome promised himself that when he got it unencrypted, if there was anything of interest for the documentary, he would share it with Jazz.

Chromedome racked his processor for an excuse, or a way to be alone even for a little bit. His visor dimmed when he came across an idea. 

“Is it all right if I borrow the drone?” Chromedome said. “I think I might try to take it for a spin.”

“You want some company?” Jazz asked. 

The other mech was still looking around the ruins of the room. 

“No, it should be boring anyway.” Chromedome paused, “Besides, maybe you’ll find something in here that I missed, could even be some intact hard drives in here, maybe some data sticks if you look hard enough,” He said.

“Maybe,” Jazz said, “You sure you want to head off on your own?”

“Positive, besides, there had to have been some record the colonists kept on the wildlife here, right?” 

Chromedome was trying to get Jazz to take the bait. He just hoped he wasn’t overselling it. 

“Some of that information could have been kept here,” Jazz traced a digit along one of the desks that lined the room. “This does look like some sort of communication center. They would have kept a lot of data here.”

Jazz seemed to already be looking into the ruins on the floor. 

“I’ll meet you back at camp soon,” Jazz said. 

Jazz waved him off as he pushed through some debris. 

Chromedome felt a call. Or maybe he thought it was just an urge to be alone. Either way, he felt like heading back down to the shoreline. Or at least near it. It was secluded; it was private. Chromedome just promised himself to stay far away from the shore in case the large creature from earlier decided to come back. He sat down on the last outcropping that led down to the shore. When he sat down, his pedes almost touched the beach.

Chromedome itched to dig into his subspace and to pull out the data pad he had found. As soon as he was sure he was alone, he pulled it back out. He passed the first screen with ease and made his way back to the spot where he had gotten stuck. He wasn’t built for this type of data work, but he had hoped since the algorithms were older that he stood at least some chance of breaking the encryption. 

He got more lost in the work than he would have liked to admit. 

He flinched when he heard something near him. He flicked his helm up and looked around. His first assumption was that Jazz had snuck up on him. 

He was not mentally prepared that one of the two Mer had snuck up on him. The smaller white one. It was practically right next to Chromedome. Staring up at him from the base of the stairs. Chromedome could almost feel its gaze on him. Or more accurately, on the data pad in his servos. 

Chromedome slowly moved the data pad, and the Mer followed the motion. He slowly moved to put the data pad back in his subspace. He hoped that if it wasn’t in his servos anymore, the Mer would loose it's attention on him and go back into the ocean. 

The Mer pushed itself up as the data pad went into his subspace. He hoped it was going to turn around. Instead, it almost glared at the boulder Chromedome was perched on top of.  The Mer pushed itself forward and started to drag itself up. Chromedome scooted back.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Chromedome said to himself. 

The Mer slipped and fell back down. It screeched as it landed.

Chromedome laughed. 

The Mer rolled over. It dragged its claws against the ground. Chromedome watched as it grabbed a rock. Then he winced as it reared its arm back and threw it. It knocked against his helm. 

“Hey!”

Chromedome wasn’t about to chase an animal down. But he did watch it as it almost seemed to laugh. It pushed itself across the beach and slid back into the water. Chromedome didn’t move to follow it. 

Optimus

Prowl

Jazz

Blaster (Rewind, Eject, Steelejaw, and Ramhorn)

?????

Perceptor

Wheeljack

Red Alert

Mirage

Smokescreen

Bluestreak

Hound

Sideswipe

Sunstreaker

Inferno

Jazz would have liked for things to calm down a bit. He knew that probably wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. But, he couldn’t help but dream. Even tasks that should have been mundane felt exhausting. Jazz kept pushing through. He did his best to keep moving.

It was getting hard to do. Mainly because there just wasn't a lot for him to do. Eventually, they’d probably be asked to start helping with whatever repairs Wheeljack was doing to the ship. It was going to be dull work. Jazz just knew it. But it was something.

He didn’t want to give in to the urge to hide away. Prowl needed him, and so did Blaster. Jazz was going to push through everything for them. They had each other through every strange moment and uncomfortable discovery.

Jazz was worried that if he slowed down, everything would catch up with him. He didn’t want that to happen. He normally could talk to the others. Blaster or Prowl. Or even Mirage. It kept him at least a little busy.

Prowl had been more distant the last few days. Blaster was being dragged off more and more by his kids. Mirage had been as elusive as ever. If anything, he had been seeing less and less of all of them.

Blaster was spending some time with Jazz. He didn’t really have a good way to keep track of time, but the two of them had just gotten up from recharge. The little guys all had duties, and Blaster decided to spend some time with Jazz. The two of them were slowly making their way toward the mess hall. Jazz was already dreading refueling.

“Is it weird?” Jazz asked.

“You gotta be more specific than that, man,” Blaster said. “Lots of weird things going on.”

“You know, Rewind or the others going inside the chest thing?”

Jazz felt bad for asking. Or at least a little bad. He was curious about it.

Blaster looked away, “Yeah, don’t tell them that though. It’s familiar, but it doesn’t feel right. All of the parts moving,” Blaster shuttered.

“Why do you even let them do it then?” Jazz’s voice echoed down the empty halls.

“They’re supposed to do it, not docking for so long made them a little sick, almost?” Blaster didn’t sound very sure. “It made me sick, too, it’s why I got all weird. Ratchet tried to explain why, but parts of it I don’t really understand. He said part of it is how they were made, and how I was made, but he didn’t really want to get into that.”

“Ratchet didn’t want to explain the alien birds and the bees, I guess,” Jazz said.

Blaster chuckled nervously, “Well. He told me that he didn’t want to have to explain it three times.”

The two of them walked into the mess hall. Jazz groaned.

“No! I already had one very awkward version of that talk as a teenager,” Jazz said.

“I know, we were both there for that, so was everyone else in the group home,” Blaster said. “Just prepare yourself for however that talk is going to go. Ratchet already looked uncomfortable.”

“Great,” Jazz said sarcastically.

“I swear every time I drink Energon it tastes worse somehow,” Blaster said awkwardly.

“Good subject change,” Jazz said.

Jazz and Blaster were the only ones in the mess hall so far. It was just them and the disgusting, glowing blue, almost liquid cubes. Cubes were left out for them by Ratchet daily. They always tasted a little different.

That day, Blaster’s Energon had something that shimmered and moved like mercury. Jazz looked as if it were topped with metal shavings. They grabbed the cubes left out for them and sat at the only table in the space that was clear of dust.

The two of them had taken to drinking it slowly. He didn’t taste it as much when he took smaller sips, and he got to sit down and relax for longer. He resolved himself and took the first sip. Whatever had been added to his made it taste like a horrible mix, overly sweet with a coppery undertone that reminded him of blood.

Jazz hid his disgust. Blaster didn’t. His face scrunched up, and he blanched as he started to drink. Blaster froze and tilted his head. His audials perked, and he turned toward the door.

A few seconds later, Jazz heard the distant echoes of footsteps coming towards the mess hall—more than one set. They were too loud to be any of the smaller guys. Jazz narrowed his eyes behind his visor. It was rare for Ratchet or Wheeljack to come refuel with any of them willingly. It was awkward at best, and uncomfortable at worst.

They wanted all of them to be people they didn’t remember being. Jazz didn’t think he would ever remember; if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to remember. He was content with the person he was now. He didn’t want to become someone else. Jazz was already comfortable with who he was; he didn’t want to change that.

As they approached, Jazz felt the connection he shared with Prowl grow stronger. That had made him even more confused, and it started to make him worried. He didn’t like how much time Prowl had been spending with the two of them. Prowl was sneaking off more and more. Jazz knew he wasn’t with Mirage. None of them could leave the ship alone. That only really left one option.

Jazz didn’t know why Prowl was spending so much time with Ratchet and Wheeljack. He didn’t want to pry. They were all hurting.

Prowl walked into the room first. He was drawn into himself. The wings on his back drooped, and his eyes snapped to Jazz. His wings drooped lower. Jazz felt guilt and sadness radiate off of Prowl before their bond went numb.

Ratchet and Wheeljack trailed behind Prowl. Ratchet’s expression was as firm as ever, and Wheeljack looked almost bothered by something. That immediately put Jazz on alert. Wheeljack had always been so positive around them.

“Prowl? What’s wrong?” Jazz stood up from the table. He placed a hand on Prowl’s forearm.

Prowl didn’t look at him.

Prowl opened and closed his mouth. He clenched his eyes shut, “I have to tell you something that might make you upset.”

Jazz was on alert. This seemed weird for Prowl.

“What’s going on?” Jazz asked, narrowing his eyes.

“We need to head near town and make some phone calls,” Prowl said slowly.

Jazz could already imagine why. They’d been gone for a few weeks. He didn’t want to dig too deep into it. Dread was building inside of him just thinking about what he was going to have to tell people. He was already thinking about lies to tell about where they went and why they dropped off the grid for so long.

“Why would that make me upset?” Jazz asked.

He could still feel something off with Prowl. If anything, it felt more intense. Prowl had done something else.

“That isn’t the part that might upset you,” Prowl looked down at the ground. “I’m going to start by thoroughly apologizing to you both.”

Blaster slowly put his cube down. He tilted his head.

“Both of us?” Blaster asked, “Prowl, what did you do?”

Jazz watched as Prowl tensed his jaw. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he seemingly forced himself to look up. He wasn’t meeting either of them in the eye.

He heard Prowl vent a few times, “I’ve been using both of your emails to assure people you aren’t missing.”

Jazz took several seconds to process that information. Then. several more seconds to decide on an emotion to attach to that information. He eventually settled on somewhere between betrayal and anger.

“What have you been telling people?” Blaster asked. Jazz saw his audials lower, and a flash of anger cross his friend's face.

“That you both left to help me take care of a family emergency in Portland,” Prowl said.

“Why?” Jazz asked.

It was the only word he could get out calmly.

Prowl looked at Jazz. Jazz glared, and Prowl didn’t look away.

“Missing persons reports would have been filed if I hadn’t reached out to people. Search and Rescue would have found my car, then there would be who knows how many people looking for our bodies nearby.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jazz asked firmly.

Jazz jerked his arm from Prowl's grip. Jazz ignored the sadness coming off of Prowl. Jazz was happy for once that Prowl could feel what he felt. The complicated combination of anger and disappointment was hard to put into words.

“Jazz, there was too much of a risk; if the earth authorities saw something they shouldn’t have, I don’t even want to think about what could have happened.”

“Why didn’t you at least ask first?” Blaster asked.

Prowl was silent. “I don’t know. I just wanted to save you the pain. We’re all going through enough already.”

There was going to be a long discussion between the three of them when the peanut gallery wasn’t present. Jazz knew they were right in some messed-up, horrible way. He was relieved that there weren’t people worried he had gone missing. At the same time, he was upset that this was another decision made without his input.

“You haven’t even spoken to your adoptive parents in two years,” Jazz said. “How is anyone buying that?”

Prowl had only spoken about them a few times. Jazz hadn’t even met them.

“I never spoke to most people about my family, I don’t even think Red knew I was adopted, let alone how often I spoke to my parents,” Prowl said,

Blaster looked down at his cube of Energon. “When are we leaving?” His voice was grim.

Prowl visibly relaxed. His wings twitched back up. “As soon as you're ready to leave.”

Ratchet uncrossed his arms, “What he means,” he narrowed his eyes down at the three of them, “Is as soon as you're done refueling.”

Jazz grumbled. He was being dramatic. He picked up the cube and chugged it down in front of Ratchet. Ratchet looked thoroughly unimpressed. He heard him let out a harsh vent. He turned his critical stare towards Blaster.

Blaster shuffled back toward the table. He didn’t chug it down, but he drank it faster than he had been. The white bit of metal on the top of his head fell to cover his face slightly. Jazz could only see the blue light of his eyes in a sea of black. His eyes narrowed in disgust as he finished off the Energon ration.

Ratchet seemed satisfied. “The sooner you leave and come back, the better. I don’t want Mirage noticing you all left.”

“Mirage isn’t coming?” Jazz asked with a frown. “You don’t think he’d want to get out for a bit?”

“No,” Ratchet looked sad, almost. “No, I don’t want him to be there. I don’t think it would be good for him.”

“I don’t want to lie to the kid,” Jazz said.

Wheeljack and Ratchet shared a glance.

“Jazz, Mirage never had this opportunity. He never got to say goodbye to anyone he knew as a human,” Wheeljack said. “He never talks about it, but we know it bothers him.”

Jazz didn’t like keeping this from Mirage. Even he knew that this would open an old wound. “Fine, but if he asks, don’t expect me to cover for you.”

“How are we even going to make a phone call? I don’t know if you noticed, we’re kind of too large to use a phone,” Blaster said.

“Rewind and Eject will dial for us; none of the calls need to be long, they just need to be consistent with what I was telling everyone,” Prowl said.

“Wait, did they help you send the emails?” Blaster asked.

Prowl’s silence continued.

Blaster rubbed his hand down the side of his face. Metal scraped against metal, and Blaster winced.

For once, Jazz was happy he didn’t have a family to contact. Everyone he considered family had been dragged into this bizarre hell with him. It was both horrifying and comforting.

Ratchet looked down, “I would join you, but one of the husks is in for repairs. We trust all of you to come back as soon as you’re done.”

Ratchet shot another look over to Wheeljack. The way they stared at each other almost made it seem like they were having a silent conversation.

“Rewind and Eject should meet you by the exit ramp,” Wheeljack said.

“You’re not going either?” Jazz said.

“Ratchet needs my help in the med bay,” Wheeljack said with a shrug.

“Let’s just get this over with, then,” Jazz said.

Ratchet and Wheeljack started to walk away. The three of them were alone.

“Jazz-” Prowl started.

“You should have told us what you were planning, Prowl,” Jazz pointed a finger up at Prowl's face. “You can’t just make decisions for us. We’re all we have right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Prowl said.

“We had a right to be involved, you should have at least asked,” Blaster said. “Don’t get me started on you dragging Rewind and Eject into this.”

“Are you going to say anything besides sorry?” Jazz asked.

Prowl stayed silent.

“What do you want me to say? I did it already,” Prowl said. “I just didn’t want you two to have to deal with it.”

Prowl’s wings twitched behind his back. Jazz could still feel the complicated tangle of emotions from him and Blaster. It was hard to keep up his anger when he could feel Prowl’s regret.

“I know where you were coming from, Prowl. I just need you to not do things behind our backs,” Jazz said.

“Just be honest, even if you think it’s going to be painful,” Blaster said.

“I’ll do better,” Prowl's voice shook as he spoke.

“Good,” Jazz said. “Come on, I just want to get this over with.”

Jazz started to leave the mess hall. Prowl followed behind him without missing a beat. Blaster trailed slowly behind both of them. Their walk was silent. Prowl started walking in front of him and Blaster. Prowl’s pace was steadily picking up.

“You good?” Jazz whispered.

“Not really,” Blaster said.

“Me either,” Jazz admitted quietly.

Blaster looked shocked.

Jazz was emotionally exhausted. Too much had been going on for too long. Jazz was the type to hide when stuff bothered him. But this had pushed him over the ledge. It felt like betrayal.

Prowl’s wings drooped ahead of the two of them. He started walking faster. Prowl felt numb in their bond. A dull buzz where Prowl’s despair and upset had been. It hadn’t felt like that since they woke up.

Prowl entered the storage area that was next to the exit ramp of the ship. The space was still disorganized with materials, but things had been moved around. It wasn’t light out yet. The sky outside the barrier looked dark.

Rewind and Eject were lingering near the ramp. Eject was leaning against a wall, staring outside. Rewind nervously stood next to him. Eject slumped as Prowl approached and turned around to face him.

“Is there still a charge on the phone?” Prowl asked.

“Yeah, fifty percent,” Eject said.

Eject had Prowl’s phone gripped in his hand.

Blaster looked conflicted. Jazz felt his distant storm of emotions through their weaker bond. He couldn’t even name which one was dominant.

“How far do we need to go to get a signal?” Jazz asked Prowl.

“Not far, a mile up a ridge, and we’ll have enough bars to send emails and make phone calls,” Prowl pointed off into the woods. A rocky mountainside jutted out over the trees.

Blaster walked forward. Rewind and Eject’s audials dropped down. Blaster had a firm look on his face as he kneeled in front of the two of them.

The two of them whispered to him as he asked them questions. Jazz forced his eyes away but kept his audials tuned into the conversation.

“We were ordered to,” Eject said. “Prowl was never happy about it.”

Blaster whispered something back to the two of them. Jazz didn’t catch what it was. Blaster stood back up. He offered a hand down, and Rewind and Eject climbed up to his shoulders.

Prowl walked down the exit ramp of the ship. Their small group took off into the woods. Jazz had trouble fighting off the thoughts of how wrong the trees looked as he walked. How small everything seemed in comparison to him.

“How long has he been having you both do this?” Blaster asked.

“Just for a few days. Ratchet came to us one morning with Prowl. We only agreed after he told us he was going to tell you,” Rewind said.

“Who has he been having you guys’ email?” Jazz asked.

Rewind and Eject shared a glance before shrugging. “Don’t really know, he just tells us what to type. Yesterday, someone emailed Blaster asking if he could call soon.”

“Do you remember the name?”

“Mitchell,” Rewind said.

Blaster’s boss. The old man must have been getting worried.

“Ah,” Blaster muttered. “I’m going to have to quit over the phone.”

“Damn, same,” Jazz said, dazed. “I didn’t even think about my job.”

“There are a lot of things I haven’t really thought about. I mean, what are we even going to do about our apartments? Mine is set for autopay. I should be fine for another couple of months,” Blaster said.

“Rent comes out of my account, probably got two months’ worth in there,” Jazz said.

He didn’t even know what they were going to do with all of their stuff.

“Nothing we can do about that for now, I guess,” Jazz said, “Another thing to talk to Prowl about later.”

Jazz was worried. He had been caught up in suddenly being a transforming alien to remember he had a life that couldn’t be put on pause for much longer. They had to officially move out of their apartment, and they had to set up something to still get mail if they were going to try to continue a ruse of being human.

They had to even learn how to look human again whenever Wheeljack and Ratchet decided they were ready to use their other bodies again.

A headache was building as Jazz thought about how complicated this situation had become.

They had reached the top of the mountain they were climbing. Eject and Rewind expertly hopped off Blaster. The drop seemed high to him, but the two of them didn’t act like they were in pain when they dropped to the forest floor.

“So,” Rewind said nervously, fidgeting with Prowl’s phone, “Who’s going first?”

Prowl kneeled to the ground. Rewind walked towards him.

“Go into my contacts and call the number under Red Alert,” Prowl said quietly. His voice was full of pain.

Rewind and Eject also seemed shocked at the weight of Prowl’s voice. At the sadness in his eyes.

Prowl didn’t feel numb in their bond anymore. Jazz felt Prowl’s grief. He hadn’t known he was this close to Red Alert. They needed to talk. Jazz needed to know Prowl wasn’t keeping anything else from him for his own good. For now, though, Jazz would sit next to him for this call like Prowl would for his.

Rewind hit the dial button on Prowl's phone, and the ringing of the phone echoed out into the trees. Prowl curled into himself the longer it rang.

Red Alert answered the call, “Prowl! I wasn’t expecting to hear back from you for another day. I thought you were busy.”

“Hey, Red,” Prowl said. “No, everything is fine, I just had to head back into service and thought I would give you a call.”

Red Alert hummed over the line, “I see. Any updates on when you’re coming back?” Red Alert couched, “Not that we’re in a rush! You can take as much time as you need to make sure everything is alright. I know medical emergencies can be,” Red Alert muttered something that wasn’t quite picked up by the phone, “Difficult.”

Prowl’s shoulders rose; he was stiff as a board. “It's looking like we’re going to stay longer than I thought. I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’ll be coming back to work.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Prowl’s hand dug into the forest floor. Jazz grabbed it and squeezed.

“I am going to come back to pick up some things. I’ll stop by and drop off my work gear.”

“Any time frame?” Red Alert asked.