Disclaimer: The Transformers and all related material belong to Hasbro, concept originally created and licensed through Takara Co. LTD.

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Author Note: This story "springboards" off of PuraJazzBot's fic "Moving On" (third in the Jazz Trilogy). It's helpful to have read her works, first, but not entirely necessary. This fic, like "Moving On", takes place post Transformers: The Movie, roughly a year following Unicron's destruction. Jazz and several of the other surviving Ark crew members have returned to their old base in Oregon to call it quits from the war and to try to put the pieces of their broken lives back together, as well as cope with the deaths of many of their comrades. Everyone has their own way of dealing with loss, and this Tracks' story...

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"Finding Peace"

"New York? What're you going all the way out there for?"

"The lights, the city, the sights, the music, the culture. Why else would one go to the Big Apple?"

Inferno didn't look convinced, the larger red mech eying Tracks with a raised optic ridge. "I know there ain't much around here, but all the way to New York City for that? Is anyone goin' with you?"

"I'm going on this trip alone, flying solo if you catch my drift," came the terse reply, Tracks' usually airy voice sounding a notch snootier than usual.

"Jazz know about this?"

"As a matter of fact, he does. But unlike you, he's not being nosey about my reasons."

"Hey, sorry for the concern!" Inferno shifted his chair so that he rotated back to face the old console of Teletran-01 again. "Just thought I'd ask since it's my turn at watch and I like to know who's comin' and goin'."

Tracks shrugged and shook his head before making his way out of the Ark. "Don't wait up. I'll be gone a few days."

"Oh don't worry, I won't!"

Outside, the sun had barely risen, the first rays of light illuminating the tree tops of the forest surrounding Mount Hilary and its long time guest, the Autobot Ark. Every other time Tracks set foot outside, he was reminded of the "good old days" when the marooned craft had been full of familiar faces, many of whom had left the mortal coil over a year before. It had been Jazz's idea for those remaining soldiers who no longer wished to fight to return to the old base and escape the slaughter of future battles. Granted, Decepticon activity had been low in the months following their triumph over Unicron, but no one was foolish enough to think the war was over entirely.

And for some, like Bluestreak and Sideswipe, it never seemed to end, the horrible memories flooding back far too often.

Because no matter how merry they tried to make the lounge at Christmas, no matter how many jokes were told in the halls and no matter how many trips were made into the nearby city for work and play, the ghosts still lingered. Optimus Prime, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Prowl, Ironhide, Windcharger and Brawn... Long gone and out of reach, yet still clinging in painful memory.

Tracks stood in silence for several minutes, watching the sun rise before converting to his vehicle mode and extending the wings beneath his rear fenders. Everyone had their method of coping and he knew he had waited far too long as it was to do so, himself.

xxxxxxx

In taking his time to reach New York City, Tracks used up a few days in transit alone, alternating between ground and air travel. The stops made during the excursion were brief at best - a couple hours in a city here, pausing to help a stranded motorist there. Many Autobots did not often think of him as the first to stop when someone else was in trouble and it was probably due to the attitude they were accustomed to seeing from him. But truth be told, Tracks was just as much an Autobot as the rest and, if trouble arose, would not hesitate to get involved.

Late morning came and went before he reached the sprawling downtown area of New York City. Circumnavigating the usual traffic, Tracks headed for an old hangout spot he hoped still existed - Sparkplug's Garage. While it seemed the city was ever changing, the blue bot hoped that those in charge and those who followed in years after had remained steadfast in their promise to leave all Autobot outposts and information sources intact. Granted, things had been quiet on Earth for a while, but one never knew when even localized trouble would call for Autobot aid. The last of Tracks' concern for the old garage fled as he approached the block where the main entrance stood. Although covered over with graffiti on the outside, the door still responded to his remote command to open.

The inside had obviously seen better days, but much of the old scrap and half finished projects littering some of the workbenches could no doubt be attributed to the absent mindedness of Wheeljack. As Tracks shut the door behind him and transformed, he paused on his way to the control room to examine the dusty remnants of the garage's better days. He could still hear Ironhide's drawling growls over Decepticon activity and Prime's requests for patience even there. Somewhere in the background, Ratchet and Sparkplug argued companionably over a repair job, and nearby, Prowl merely shook his head and smiled. Sighing, Tracks pressed on to the computer console where he got to work after wiping the dust aside with a lay about rag.

As advanced at Autobot technology was in comparison to Earth back in the day, Tracks did not find it difficult to patch the computer through to public records networks and begin a search. Much to his surprise, however, he did not find the information he sought right off, but rather had to dig a little to learn that the one he sought no longer resided in the downtown area. As maps popped up on screen with alternate routes traced in varying colors, he committed the image to his memory banks before shutting the old mainframe down to depart.

On his way out, he picked up a dust covered circuit panel from one of the tables. As empty as the old garage felt, perhaps the little remnant of Wheeljack would feel more at home back in the Ark where life still stirred.

xxxxxxx

The owner of "Roll For It Auto Repair" couldn't believe his foul luck. Not only had the transmission on his car failed, but thanks to a short staff situation, it would be two days before his crew could even begin to work on the problem. Then again, given it was the transmission that had gone out, perhaps he just needed to face facts and trade the old POS for a new car. His daughter, raised with an appreciation for cars, would be disappointed that they'd have to get rid of the old clunker, what with all the little things she and had her father had added to it over the years. Additionally, it was his wife's old car and well...

"Hey, boss!"

Glancing up from the mountain of paperwork on his desk, he glanced over to see one of his crewmen at the office door. "What's up, Jimmy?"

The twenty year old mechanic had a grin on his face the size of Texas. "You gotta come check out this car that just pulled up out front! Vintage wheels and in almost perfect shape."

"Alright, but I got a lot of work to do back here. By the way, you know if Tony's free tonight? I'm gonna need a ride home, what with my wheels parked in the garage and dead."

Jimmy nodded as his employer got up and joined him in the hall, the pair walking towards the front of the garage. "Sure, but we were gonna go get a few drinks later, too. You wanna go?"

"No thanks. I need to make sure Hanna actually does her homework tonight. Her grades have really been slipping this last year."

As the pair reached the window overlooking the main lot, they noted that half the crew on duty had also turned out to gawk at the sleek vehicle parked nearby, glossy dark blue paint glinting flawlessly. Jimmy's employer squinted at first, experiencing a moment of deja vu before his heart jumped behind his ribcage.

"Isn't it a beau-" the youth began before noting the look on the other's face. "Hey, boss, you okay?"

"Wha-yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Look, Jimmy, I'm gonna check out for now. Tell Maurice he's in charge until I get back," came the slightly dazed response before he left the lobby and headed outside, leaving the confused mechanic behind.

As he approached the parked vehicle, he noted the distinct lack of a driver in or anywhere nearby it. From ten feet away, he could also clearly make out each detail and curve in the fire red design of the phoenix emblazoned on the car hood, although the red on yellow decal on the top of the cab remained difficult to see. He took a few steps closer, thinking he must be crazy for even considering the idea that-

The driver's side unlocked of its own accord, the door swinging open a second later. He could only stare, not daring to believe it. After all, it had been what? Twenty years now?

"Going to stand there with your slack jaw hanging open or are you going to get in?" an all to familiar voice questioned out of thin air, loud enough for the head mechanic to hear, yet soft enough to remain unheard by other folks in the lot.

"Tracks? Is it really you?"

"No, Raoul, it's the toothfairy. Are you coming or not?"

For a brief moment, Raoul hesitated. Was it possible this was all a trick of some kind? Then the engine roared to life and a song he hadn't heard since his break-dancing days echoed from the interior speakers of the vehicle. Grinning, he got into the driver's side and allowed the door to shut after him before the car pulled out and onto the main road.

"Lovely clothing, by the way." The lights on the car's console blipped and changed color in sync with the voice coming out of it.

"First time we've seen each other in two decades and one of the first things you do is make fun of my mechanic's gear!" Raoul replied with a smirk. "You haven't changed a bit, Tracks."

A soft chuckle echoed out at him. "I have, but not in as many noticeable ways as you have. Where can I take you, kid? We've got catching up to do."

"I'll direct you to my house, but only so long as you promise to turn that noise down!"

"Did my audio receptors fail me or did I just hear Raoul nay say the music he grew up on?"

The human laughed. "Classic stuff, but looking back, sometimes I can't believe how hung up I was on it. Don't tell me you and Blaster still listen to it?"

"I...actually am not sure. I don't see Blaster much, anymore."

The slightly downtrodden tone of the Autobot's voice prompted Raoul to nod in understanding. "Know how you feel. But we'll talk about it when we get back to my place. Now take a right up here..."

xxxxxxx

As Tracks pulled up into the driveway leading to Raoul's suburban home, the latter pulled a remote from his pocket and got the garage door open.

"You can pull inside if you want. Since my ride's out of commission, there's plenty of room."

The Corvette pulled in, the door sliding shut behind it with a low rattle. After Raoul vacated the front seat, Tracks transformed and eased himself into a sitting position on the concrete floor, his head and shoulder mounted weapons just low enough to avoid scraping the ceiling. Around them, various tools hung on wall mounted peg boards, a workbench in one corner covered in a variety of car parts. Various storage containers took up space along one wall, a pair of bicycles leaning against them. Near the door into the house, a box piled high with old toys sat gathering cobwebs and dust. Judging from the neighborhood, the exterior of the house and the garage, Tracks concluded that Raoul was doing decently for himself, although it certainly wasn't the upper class side of town.

"Yeah, still the same old Tracks," Raoul commented as he gave the Autobot an appraising glance, a smile on his face. "Must be nice not to age like we do, huh?"

Tracks shrugged. "And it must be nice not to experience mechanical failures and relay malfunctions. You certainly have grown up quite a bit, though."

"A little older and wiser, maybe, but still the same old me underneath the grease monkey gear and shorter haircut. I had to grow up some to be a family man, though."

"You, a family man? Now I really have heard it all!"

"Oh, stop the teasing already," Raoul replied with a smirk as he took a seat on the stool by the workbench. "I'll introduce you to my daughter, Hanna, when she gets home from after school tutoring. But how about you? Have you been home at all after all this time?"

"Home? To Cybertron? Well, a few times... But to be honest I don't think of it as home as much as I used to."

"Earth ruin you, huh?"

"I suppose."

"So what about the rest of the guys? They still hanging around down here, too?"

Tracks let his gaze drop to the floor of the garage, silent for a few moments. Raoul blinked, arching a dark eyebrow. "Tracks?"

"Some of them are," the Autobot finally said. "Some of them went back to Cybertron. And some of them..."

As he trailed off, realization hit Raoul. "The attack on Autobot City... I remember hearing it on the news. You weren't...?"

"I was there. But I was lucky...not like some of the others."

"Tracks... I'm sorry. Maybe we shouldn't talk about this if it's not a good subject for you."

"No, it's..." The blue mech sighed, resting his elbow joints on his knees. "I need to talk, I think."

He started from the beginning, the fateful day Megatron led his forces into the unsuspecting Autobot stronghold, slaughtering its inhabitants and leaving the once thriving metropolis in ruins. He recalled the excursion he undertook with Bluestreak, Hoist and the others to find the downed shuttle the Decepticons used to get within attack range just before the battles got underway and what they'd found. In low tones, Tracks explained the final outcome of the war, the building of the mausoleum and, finally, Jazz's decision to return to the Ark. More than once, his voice broke and he was forced to pause a moment to collect himself in order to continue. Raoul listened carefully, not speaking until his old friend finished, the bot's blue optics looking a little more glassy than usual.

"Sounds like you really need to get that off your chest," Raoul said afterwards, a concerned frown on his face. "And I'm sorry, Tracks. I really am."

The Autobot shook his head once. "Don't be. It isn't your fault."

"What happened to the others, no. But...I'm sorry for what I sometimes thought over the years. Part of me always wondered why you never bothered to visit again after those last few times almost two decades ago, but I think I see why, now."

"Humans are caught in the crossfire all too often. We worried enough as it was about Sparkplug, Spike, Carly and Chip... I'm sorry about it all, too, Raoul. I should have at least said my goodbyes then, but I didn't think you'd understand."

The mechanic managed a slight smile. "It's fine. I probably wouldn't have understood then. It took having a kid of my own to get it. And I understand what you've been through in a way. Ever since my wife, Julianna, passed away three years ago, I've had to deal with being a single parent, picking up the pieces."

"Passed away? Why?"

"Cancer... We didn't catch it in time and by the time we did...well..." Raoul trailed off, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "We've never been entirely poor, but the hospital bills were insane. When we found out there wasn't much that could really be done outside of the most expensive treatments, Julianna conceded defeat. I'll never forget the night at the hospital she told me she was giving up...quitting because she didn't want financial burdens to keep Hanna out of college in the long run. I argued with her, but...we both knew she was slipping, regardless. In the end...I had to let her go."

Tracks felt a stab of guilt hit his relays. "I wish I'd known, I'd-"

"Don't worry about it," Raoul interrupted with a mild shrug, forcing a smile. "Everyone's gotta make their own way, right? We've managed even though it's been hard. And look at you and everything you've been through. Not like life's been a cake walk. Never has been, never will be."

"Yeah, you're right. I suppose it's all just 'could haves' and 'would haves' in the end. Every time I think back on the Great War, I wonder if I could have done more for those that died. I wonder what might have happened if more of us had been in the right place at the right time to help Prime. I can't help but wonder what it would be like now if certain things had been different."

"Nothing unusual about that. We all think that way sometimes."

"I also wonder...no, I wish I could have been there for them all, been there to at least say 'goodbye'," Tracks admitted, hunching over his drawn up legs, his voice wavering slightly.

Sliding off the stool, Raoul walked to the Autobot's side, reaching up to rest a hand on the bot's armored leg, an empathetic expression on his face. "I don't know how much it helps and I know stuff like this is different for everyone, but being able to say goodbye to Julianna didn't make things much easier. It doesn't change the outcome and it doesn't change how we feel about them, or even how they felt about us before they passed on. I've found that what's most imporant is just accepting, coping and walking on. You don't want to forget the past, but you don't want to live in it so much that you forget about the future."

The bot's voice broke again as he spoke, arms gripping his legs a bit tighter. "We'd all lived so long, I think some of us started to wonder if anyone would ever really die in this blasted war. When you come right down to it, the twenty years we spent here was hardly a moment compared to the millions of years we existed... But those years... There weren't many of us while we were stuck here. We got so used to each other..."

"You guys got to be something like a family, huh?"

Tracks nodded mutely after a moment, trying for the millionth time since Great War's end to sort out of his thoughts and feelings. So many times he'd tried to work things through and come to the conclusion that he was being silly and over-dramatizing things. Yet, the simplest reason for his sorrow had always been right there in front of him, voiced so easily by a man he hadn't seen in years. Perhaps he'd just been afraid to admit he'd been so dependent on the others for company? Despite all the times he'd butted heads with Ironhide over something or complained about Ratchet's "failure" to put him back together perfectly after a battle, he'd never ever meant anything maliciously. And perhaps that was why the ghosts still haunted him, even though he tried not to let it show in front of the other guys.

"Hey," Raoul said gently, breaking the silence. "I found out a long time ago that all that macho stuff the guys and I used to worry about years ago really isn't worth all that much. Sometimes you just have to cut loose and fess up to what's going on inside. We all grew up thinking that real men didn't cry, but when Julianna died, I found out it takes a real human being to let it all go. And all you Autobots are as human on the inside as robots come, aren't you?"

"So much I would have liked to tell all of them," Tracks finally whispered, a bit of fluid beginning to slip down the sides of his face. "Even though I'm not even sure I could put it into words..."

"So don't... What matters is letting out what's inside. You know what it means and I think Prime and the other guys would understand... Your family IS your family because they understand."

"Yeah..."

Burying his face in his arms, Tracks wept bitterly. Hardly a sound left him, yet his shoulders shuddered with each silent sob as the tears fell, pooling on the floor below. He thought back to every time Ratchet and Wheeljack saw him through repairs, how he would have liked to have said thank you for all their hard work and genuine concern. He recalled all of Ironhide's awful jokes, how he would have liked to have cut loose and laugh along with the old mech in appreciation for his rough sense of humor when he had the chance. And Brawn...how he would have liked to have taken the tough little bot's sucker punches with better humor and maybe even returned a hit or two here and there in good fun. Tracks realized with sudden regret and guilt that part of his pain stemmed from his own shortcomings. He found himself apologizing out loud, his sobs becoming audible as he tried to somehow make amends with not only those he'd lost, but himself as well. Through his grief, he felt Raoul give his leg a few gentle pats. He had never felt more grateful for his friend's company than he did then.

Slowly, his tears began to dry up, his head lifting so his chin could rest on his arms. Tracks stared blankly at the wall ahead of him for a minute, almost afraid to meet his companion's gaze, but Raoul's tone was anything but mocking.

"You probably needed that. Nothing to be ashamed of, Tracks."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly. "I guess I did need that. ...I've needed it for a while. Thanks, Raoul."

"What are friends for, huh?" The mechanic smiled and stepped back. "Listen, why don't you stay a few days? We've still got a lot of catching up to do and I think Hanna really would like to meet you. I wasn't the brightest guy in my younger days...but I've missed seeing you all these years."

A faint smile crossed the other's face. "...trying to take advantage of me while your car's in the shop?"

"Hey, now..."

"I'm only joking, and I know you know I'm only joking. But sure, I guess I can't argue with staying over near New York a while longer."

Raoul tilted his head slightly at a sound outside in the street. "Squeaky brakes. Probably the late bus pulling up. Wait here while I go meet Hanna?"

The blue Autobot shrugged, managing a mischievous grin. "Do I look like I can go anywhere at the moment?"

Raoul shook his head with a smile before turning to enter the house. "Be back in a few!"

For several minutes, Tracks sat and waited patiently, audio receptors tuned to the faint voices as Raoul ushered his daughter inside. The mech caught the elder's question about how the study session went, as well as the devil-may-care response. The two moved about inside the house for a short while before footfalls indicated they were on their way towards the door into the garage.

"-want you to meet an old friend of mine," Raoul was saying as they approached, the crack in the slightly open door allowing the visiting mech to hear him clearly.

"In the garage?" came the reply. "Why didn't you just bring them insi-"

Her voice dropped away as the door opened and she laid eyes on Tracks, who cocked an optic ridge and smiled just a bit.

"Inherited your many of your father's looks, I see," he greeted.

Indeed, Hanna had the same slightly tanned skin and dark hair of her father, the latter of which was long and thick, tied back in a ponytail. Her eyes were more of a grey color, however, leading the Autobot to believe that perhaps that end had taken after Julianna. The teenage girl stood about half a head shorter than her father, wearing jeans and a baggy black sweatshirt, the sleeves so long they nearly swallowed up her hands.

"Hanna, this is Tracks, the Autobot I told you about when you were younger. He dropped by for a visit and is going to be staying a few days," Raoul explained with a grin. "Tracks, this is my daughter, Hanna."

"A pleasure," Tracks said, holding out one hand in the girl's direction. When she remained rooted to the spot, staring at the offered hand in uncertainty, he chuckled. "No need to be shy. I don't bite. And a gentlebot like myself would never bring harm to a lady."

Hesitantly, Hanna stepped forward and placed one hand over the bot's segmented index finger. "I didn't think... I mean, when I was little, dad used to tell me stories. I believed them then, but I eventually got to thinking that-"

"He made them up?" Tracks finished. "Your father was known for tall tales in his youth, but his dealings with the Autobots were real enough."

"And you really do turn into a Stingray Corvette?"

"That I do. And a very gorgeous one at that, I might add."

Hanna turned back to her father, excitement overtaking her. "Can we go out for a ride around town, dad? Please? I mean, if it's okay with Tracks, can we go?"

"I thought you had homework to finish, young lady," Raoul replied with a raised eyebrow. "What about that, huh?"

"Well, I do, but I can do it afterwards! I promise I'll get it done, then!"

"We've talked about procrastination, Hanna. Your schoolwork should be your number one priority. What are you going to do if you don't pass your math class?"

"Hanna," Tracks cut in, "how about you get your books out here and I'll help you finish? I'll take you for a ride when we're through."

"Seriously?" She turned back to her father. "Please, dad? Just say 'yes', okay? Please?"

Raoul sighed before giving in with a lopsided smile. "Alright. Go get your homework. But no going out until it's completely done, got that?"

"Yes!" Then she was gone, running back inside for her schoolwork.

Glancing up at his old friend, Raoul folded his arms across his chest. "You're sure about this, Tracks? You're not exactly a babysitter and I don't want Hanna out here pestering you the whole time you're here."

Tracks grinned. "I did a fine job babysitting you years ago, didn't I?"

"Now wait just a minute! What about all those times I saved you, huh?"

The Autobot laughed. "Only joking again, Raoul. Only joking."

"Heh, I know, man. It's just good to be able to joke with you, again."

"That it is."

xxxxxxx

Tracks spent the next three days either in the company of Raoul and Hanna or driving about town, taking in the sights and mulling over not only the events of the last few days, but the last few years. At first, he had felt somewhat ashamed of his breakdown despite Raoul's kind words, but the mech eventually came to accept it as part of the coping process.

Hanna, in the meantime, took to rushing to the garage every evening upon arriving home, eager to get her homework done so she could go out driving with the Autobot. Tracks did not consider himself much of a tutor, but in the girl's absence, Raoul confessed a good amount of gratitude for his old friend's help. And whether or not Tracks understood everything Hanna was learning didn't seem to matter, since if the bot did not understand the subject matter, she seemed to take it upon herself to reverse their roles and teach him a thing or two. If anything, at least her willingness to study in earnest was a step in the right direction. Since Julianna's death, Hanna had slowly been losing interest in school, becoming moody and stubborn. Raoul expressed concern that his wife's death had only increased the pressure on their daughter, making her feel as though her mother's expectations were following her about, everywhere.

Finally, on his last evening in New York, Hanna requested that Tracks drive her out to a special place she wanted him to see. Following her directions, the bot found himself pulled up before a small cemetery on the other side of town, the humble grounds guarded by a high black fence with old fashioned lampposts staked out in evenly spaced increments down the line. As Hanna got out and walked up to the entrance, Tracks transformed and followed in silence.

The pair entered and headed up the main stone walkway for a bit, eventually veering off to a small clearing where some of the less expensive plots were located. There, Hanna stopped before a simple stone marker, her hands stuffed in her oversized sweatshirt pockets. Tracks read over the inscription on the headstone, his suspicions confirmed.

"I come out here every month," Hanna explained. "Just to visit, you know? To tell her what's been going on with me and dad, with school, with everything. She was still alive when dad would tell the stories about you guys, about the Autobots. When I was younger, I thought it would be so cool to be able to do the same kinds of things dad did with you guys. Dreaming big and all. And...I know mom would have liked to have met you. She always liked meeting new people."

Tracks knelt down, a small smile on his faceplate. "I would have liked to have met her. She sounds like she was a wonderful person."

"Sometimes I worry I've let her down. She and dad were always on me about getting my schoolwork done and getting good grades. They both wanted me to go to college, since that was something they never did. And...I try...but there's so much to worry about. I feel like everyone expects so much, like I just can't handle it all."

"...your father told me that your mother didn't want to be a burden on the two of you. That she wanted to make sure both of you would be alright. I think the fact that you're still trying shows you care. You haven't let anyone down, Hanna."

She managed a sad smile. "You probably know more about stress than I ever will. Fighting that war... I know it had to be hard."

"It was." Tracks sighed. "I lost a lot of friends that way... Good bots I'll never see again. Hard workers, devoted fighters, loyal companions. But I'm starting to think that in the end, it doesn't really matter how we lost the ones we care about. A loss is a loss, no matter how large or small. No matter the numbers. Your father helped me to understand that it's just important to keep the memories alive and to keep on going, no matter what. I know your mother would be proud of you, Hanna. Don't let her hopes for your future burden you because I think she'd be happy no matter where your life leads you, as long as you keep trying and stay faithful to what both she and your dad taught you."

Hanna nodded, wiping her eyes briefly with one hand. "Yeah... Yeah, I guess you're right. Been a long last couple of years, but I can't quit."

"You'll do fine. I know it." He rested one hand gently on her shoulder and back, careful not to overwhelm her.

Glancing up at him, she touched his hand with her own. "Thanks, Tracks. You're everything I thought you'd."

Tracks chuckled softly. "I won't argue with a compliment like that, kiddo, but don't ever let the other Autobots hear you say that. They'll tell you I've got enough of an ego, already. Now come on. We'll be late getting you home for dinner."

xxxxxxx

It was with regret that Tracks finally left New York behind the following morning, heading west again towards Oregon. Raoul had made him promise to keep regular contact and Hanna, trying not to cry, had given the Autobot two small gifts wrapped in colored paper before kissing the palm of his hand. It was all Tracks could do not to get emotional himself as he turned to go, waving in farewell before converting to vehicle mode and heading out.

The trip back took less time than the trip out, the mech eager to get home to familiar turf once more. In fact, it was in seeing Raoul again and taking the time to mourn the lost ones that made him realize just how much he valued those who remained behind.

Late into the evening a few days after leaving the east coast, Tracks arrived at the entrance to the Ark, transforming before entering. Jazz met him as he entered, the Porsche waving a bit as he greeted his companion.

"Have a good trip, Tracks?"

"Yes, I think so." The Corvette paused, stopping alongside the other mech. "I really do miss the sights and sounds of the big city. And seeing Raoul did me a lot of good. I think I'll be going out to visit with regularity in the future. One can't take certain things for granted."

Jazz smiled in understanding. "I know whatcha mean. Livin' here reminds me of that every day. Place always seems a little emptier when one of you guys goes out for a bit, too, but we can't stay cooped up in here all the time. Gotta keep on livin' in time with the rest of the world."

Tracks nodded and smiled, himself. "Yes, very true. Thanks, Jazz."

"For what?"

"Oh, you know. Anything and everything that could be applied." Tracks patted him on the shoulder and moved off. "Shouldn't have to always be a 'what' or a 'why' attached, should there?"

Jazz shrugged, but said nothing and continued on his way outside for a little air. Seemed like the trip really had done Tracks some good in more ways than one.

Down in his quarters, Tracks sat down on his recharge berth and pulled out the gifts from Hanna. He simply gazed at them a moment, admiring the shiny blue and silver paper before carefully unwrapping each.

A pair of photos greeted his optics, each one contained within a simple wooden frame. One was literally decades old; a photograph of himself and Blaster kneeling behind Raoul and his two friends from one of their last capers in New York. The other was far more recent, a family portrait of Raoul, Julianna and Hanna, probably taken a year or two before the illness really set in. Something of a sad, yet grateful smile overtook the Autobot's features as he set the pair of frames up on the little table next to the berth, alongside the bit of circuitboard he'd brought back from Sparkplug's garage. He reflected on the three mementos for a few minutes before turning off the light and laying down to get some well deserved rest, resolving to contact Blaster first thing in the morning...if just to tell him "thank you", as well.