Generation Breakers: Ignition
By Sinead

Chapter Six
Relevant Song: Sarah McLachlan "Fear"


Sam stared. He could do nothing but stare, and stare hard. It was a sight both beautiful and horrifying, heavenly and what he assumed he could only see in Hell.

The young woman was half-engulfed in the car, her shorts riding a bit high, her tank-top hitching up to her waist . . . An untanned and porcelean-skinned beauty at its best. Tendrils of her black, black hair fell free from under the bandana she hid it under. When she reached out to one side to pick up a tool that looked almost hazardous to use, he saw that she was grimy up to mid-forearms, and odd splatters of grease and who-knew what else above that line.

But what made this whole heavenly scene of watching a beautiful girl bending over into an engine turn into something he would have seen in hell . . .

Was that the engine belonged to Bumblebee. And with a few parts missing.

"No! No, stop!" he yelled, bolting out of Ironhide's passenger door without stopping to close it. He stopped dead in his tracks when she turned around. The look on her face would have frozen the blood of any man. Her eyes were glittering, hardening.

But she spoke kindly. "Bumbles, how's that feel in there?"

An affirmative and languid beep answered her, followed by his still-rarely-used voice, the smooth tones still hitching over a few syllables. "Better than . . . the last time. Mm."

Raevyn laughed heartily, thumping his side, just above his left-front tire, had you been facing him while he was facing you in car mode. "That's right, luv! That's because now I know the specifics of where things usually build up in Transformer bodies are. Not just car engines." Turning, she tossed a pure-silver-clean piece of equipment to the young man. He caught it, fumbled it, caught it in his hands again, then looked at her. She grinned a touch maliciously. "Spike, wazzit you got in your hands?"

He was still in shock at seeing a few pieces of his friend littering the area around the bright yellow Camaro. But before he could say or do anything else, she giggled, shocking him. Her face transformed into a radiant smile, kind and warm. "Jazzman, you didn't tell me he was so serious."

"Sorry, babe," Jazz said with a smile, leaning around the corner of the garage, his hands frittering around with a component that only a Cybertronian could fix, and Ratchet had just arrived, having left it up to the spy to help Raevyn. Besides. He knew enough about emergency repairs to keep up with her. "But I guess that I forgot to mention it. You know. So that I could laugh later on?"

"Mm-hm. Well. Try to remember these things, willya?" She tossed a spare washer at Jazz's head, not shocked in the least when he batted it aside, laughing at her. Turning back to look at Sam, she said, "Call me Hawkeye. You're Spike Witwicky."

"Sam. Where'd you get that outrageously odd nickname?"

"Uh . . . Because 'Sam' is too bland for someone who's partner's name is Bumblebee. It doesn't balance out. Besides. I couldn't remember your real name for a while." Winking, she tossed a clean rag onto Bumblebee's windshield. Her hands went back into the engine, and Sam watched as she deftly pulled an odd, blackened and unidentitifyble component out of nowhere to hold up, snarl at, and toss into a tub of liquid a few feet away. When Sam went to investigate, she snapped her arm out to grab his collar, dragging him back. "Acid bath. You'll get burned. Hand me the three-fourths ratchet over there."

"So many comments, and the medic woudn't catch any of them."

"Don't say that, Jazz!" the mechanic admonished through a window of the garage the Autobot often slept in. "You don't know what he does and doesn't understand about the human nature of jokes!"

"Getting better at it," the transformed medic said, walking up to the garage to sit and watch Raevyn's hands as she worked. "Once I've seen you clean out Jazz and Ironhide, I'll consider allowing you to do the same for myself and Optimus."

"Trust me," Jazz said, moving around the small building to lounge beside the medic. "I just got a semi-cleaning a couple o' weeks ago . . . purred, baby! Just . . . mmm! Girl's got wonderfully capable-- Ow!"

Hefting another wrench, Raevyn said, "I can hit you in the same place with a heavier one. Don't freak the boy out too much."

Sam just stared. But as Ironhide growled, "I'm next, Jazz. You've had a month here to get this done," Raevyn tugged on the young man's sleeve to watch what she was doing, pointing out what she was disconnecting and why. When she had to pull out the odd thing that had been tossed into the acid bath, she had Sam take care of that, using tongs to pull it from the liquid and hold it out while she sprayed it down with water, then set it out to dry. That took about half an hour, within which Jazz and Ironhide had continued to bicker about who would be next. Putting a small amout of lubricant upon the joints, Raevyn walked out of the garage to look up at them. "Ironhide."

He "lightly" tapped Jazz's shoulder to quiet the smaller bot. "Yeah."

"My beast of a sister is at a horse show, or convention or something. So the indoor horse rink is okay for you to rest in tonight. I won't be able to get to cleaning you until tomorrow. Jazz will be after you." Raevyn had started to put washers onto the piece as she talked.

Able to relax around the human, the old war-dog just grinned, genuinely looking forward to getting a thorough cleaning. "What that boy's getting . . . that completely detailed treatment of where you know the real problems of build-up to end up clogging . . . well . . . mm-mm. I'd wait a week fer."

"You're really starting to get a local accent, aren't'cha?" Raevyn laughed, turning back into the garage where Sam was waiting almost impatiently for her to piece Bumblebee back together.

"Sure thing! 'S fun. Heard Jazz's accent get a bit odder here an' there. Thought I'd add in to the annoyance factor for Prime since it's peacetime again. He needs the entertainment." Sitting, the black Autobot looked up at the sky, which was still afternoon-bright, for all that it was edging towards sundown. "You've been workin' on Bumblebee all this time?"

"Nope. He got here at noon, and I started on him just as soon as my sister left. Dad's in the house, doing an online consultation about the next karate tournament his dojo is participating in." Grabbing the last few parts to put back in, Raevyn paused, then smiled unexpectedly at Sam. But her words were like a death knell. "You get to put him back together again. And no excuses. You're his partner, and it's far past time that you've learned how to make emergency repairs."

Thankfully, he was able to do so under her careful eye.


Sam stood next to Bumblebee, totally at ease with his odd friend. "So . . . none of that hurt?"

Shaking his head, the first Autobot on Earth gave a reassuring look to his human friend, indicating that everything was all right with a light pat to the boy's back.

"Doesn't hurt to get any of that pulled outta you or put back in?"

Not having any way to tell the adopted little brother of his Spark that he was all right, Bumblebee looked to Optimus, shrugged, and sat, legs limp over the grass of the deserted nighttime clearing they had claimed. They were in the preservation land again, enjoying the untamable nature that rested not even half an hour's drive from Downtown Boston. Sam walked up to stand beside "his" Camaro, then leaned against the arm that supported the large torso. Bumblebee spoke, his voice still hitching oddly here and there. "Everything is . . . all right. Hawkeye was doing me . . . a rather large favor."

Optimus had been admiring the landscape of their new home. He ambled over, totally at ease and relaxed in the privacy that they had found in the mainly-forested and oddly-placed countryside after dark. They couldn't be more than twenty minutes away from Downtown Boston. "Sam, we do not feel the same type of pain that humans feel. You are unable to pinpoint down to the millimeter the extent of a wound. We can. And we only get one single transmission of where the injury we had sustained is, then store it, rather than experiencing constant reminders. Can you understand this concept?"

It seemed like a better neural-transmitting system than that of the humans' own kind. "Yeah . . . so what about someone digging around in your engine? Is that somehow different?"

A new, still somewhat unfamiliar voice broke in. "You know how you'd get really, really sweaty, gritty and look like you've been through a war, then you take a long, hot shower? Know that feeling afterwards of feeling really good and on top of the world?"

Turning to see Jazz, within whose arms sat Raevyn, the young woman who had spoken, Sam nodded to her. "Yeah."

"That's all that I had been doing. I was the shower."

"But . . . you . . ."

She looked at him dead-on, wiating for him to finish his thought. He blurted it out. "You hit him!"

The oddly-sounding snort of amusement came from Bumblebee himself. Raevyn grinned. "Well, he started the fight in the first place. If he hadn't tightened the bolts so hard, I wouldn't have to half-beat the poor sod to death!"

Optimus chuckled, sitting beside the humans, his protective and faithful friend, and his personal spy and cultural expert. Raveyn indicated that she wished to sit elsewhere, and Jazz put her upon what was now a customary perch when Optimus was around. She settled upon the leader's knee, one leg hanging down off of the side of his leg, the other knee pulled up so that she could rest her chin upon it. She grinned, realizing that the hight equivalent of where she was sitting upon was as if she was sitting upon the top of a particularly large coach bus. With a yawn, she let both feet dangle off the side, unafraid of the height.

Jazz thought about something, then walked up to Raevyn to touch her foot lightly. "Hey . . . you're considered an adult, right?"

"You bet I am," Raevyn replied, grinning.

"So then why haven't you looked for a mate, or a love-friend or what do you call them . . ."

"Jazz!" Sam yelped, shocked that he had dared ask something so personal of what he considered an attractive young woman.

But Raevyn, again, was laughing and in a very easygoing manner. "Hey, Spike, chill! Jazz has more than the right to ask me antthing. It's the same for me . . . I'm able to ask him anything." She turned to Jazz. "Because they'd infringe upon my time learning from Ratchet and you. Maybe once I'm secure enough in knowing you guys . . . maybe . . . but not until then."

"Good answer," Prime rumbled, watching the star-riddled sky. "But we do not wish to complicate your lives any more than we already have."

"Complicate?" Sam asked, then shook his head. "Optimus, seriously. You only made mine simpler."

"Agreed on that! Although you do manage to cause my mother to occasionally curse your existance." She followed Optimus' gaze up to the heavens.

"Yes, but y'r father just loves us," Jazz amended, grinning. "I believe that he enjoys drivin' your mother to her wit's end 'bout us."

"Who're you kidding? He loves tormenting her. Especially since she knows that he's going to win on issues about you guys."

"Such as?" Optimus prompted, looking down so that his gaze met hers.

It was so very odd to be able to read compassion upon the metal face. So very strange to be able to see the play of emotions, the thoughts that somehow made it to the forefront of their minds. Raevyn never tired of staring at them, which thankfully, they were fine with. "Oh, the usual stuff . . . why you act more like people and not like the emotionless and generally mindless robots that we've been able to come up with on our own."

"Nmph. Joy. That one came up again?" Jazz groaned, leaning against Prime's leg to look up at his human partner, arms crossed over his chest. "For a Fed, she's really, really stupid in some regards."

"Gee, never noticed," Raevyn's tone just dripped with sarcasm as she looked back down at her partner. Sighing, she rubbed at her eyes, tired from both her talk and emotional breakdown with Jazz the night before as well as pulling Bumblebee apart earlier in the day. So she swung down to sit upon Jazz's shoulder, resting an arm around the back of his neck to keep her balance.

In return, Jazz reached a hand up to steady her, keeping his emotions behind his visor, not daring to lift it at the moment. He was insecure at the strangest moments. Here he was, next to the largest and most powerful Autobot, beside one of the best and most inventive young fighters who was able to fend off the Decepticon Barricade, who was notorious for being a horrific fighter . . . And Jazz was still afraid. Sure, his best friend was a weapons specialist and a melee expert, but . . . it didn't reassure him.

Raevyn looked at his face, saw the absense of all emotions and feeling, then looked up to Optimus, her own face showing her worry and the knowledge that Jazz needed reassurance. The leader nodded once, resting his hand upon his first lieutenant's back, fingers curling around the much-smaller arm and side. There were a few things that he had picked up from the humans, and that he had known Jazz would have as well. One of those things that both species shared was the need to be reassured. On some occasions for humans, that reassuring wish was able to be fulfilled through contact between individuals. Touch was so very important to Jazz, who always had been untouchable, distant individual who enjoyed the occasional fun of pranking and teasing. He didn't like to be touched . . . before.

Now, however, he leaned into the contact. Bumblebee scooted himself over without dislodging Sam from his leg, sitting beside the smallest of the first wave of Autobots, barely half a foot between them. Before long, Ironhide came back, his own human partner upon his shoulder, hanging on easily. Neither said much, but the black Autobot sat behind Jazz, checking over his cannons and cleaning particles from places that they shouldn't have been, while Captain Lennox walked around the small grouping to take up what could be considered the "point" position. He, also checked over his sidearm before holstering it and looking out over the trees. It wasn't more than five minutes from Jazz's leaning against Prime's leg that Ratchet came and stood behind them all, silently watching.

Nothing had to be said. No words needed to be spoken. All that they needed was to enjoy the life that they had been given, the life that had been regained and renewed. As for Jazz's insecurities, he had to answer them for himself. He knew that, too. It was only up to him to take care of his own problems, and it was for his own sake that he learn how to deal with the disconcerting and horrifying memories and feelings.

Raevyn loosely curled her arms around his head, sighing and just resting upon him. His hand didn't move from where he had gently placed it around her waist, nor did he do anything to try to dislodge the group around him. It was just so hard . . . not knowing how he had come back, not knowing why . . . But he was grateful to have the friends he did, the leader he did, who understood him so much better than he understood himself.

He rested within their company.


Leukyn walked out of his house to see Lennox and Ironhide talking in low tones. He had met the Autobot so many times before, but the human was a new face to him. Coming up to them, he nodded to the Army officer before looking at Ironhide. "Hawkeye called an' said that Jazz had been feelin' down. Anythin' I c'n do tah help?"

Ironhide shook his head, sitting so that he was closer to their height. "I wish that there could be somthin' you could do, but it just ain't that easy. It's sumthin' that's gotta do with him, his emotions, an' your girl bein' able to help him with the problem."

Lennox was about to open his mouth to say something, when Leukyn interupted him. "I'm Leukyn Starwalker, Raevyn's father."

Nodding, the proper reply was made. Lennox then looked around at the property. "I'm here to help co-ordinate a project so that the Autobots can have a place here upon the East coast that they would be able to . . . ah . . ."

"Rest . . . hide . . . there's more'n one reason why we wish to have a base out here." The metal war dog grinned, fiddling with his hand and temporarily rewiring a few components within it. "Prime sent out a message that we are here. More will be comin', and we need a decentralized center of operations. The Decepticons are not all dead. We just disposed of most of those who had been the closest to Megatron."

"So what's the plan?" Leukyn asked, his voice showing how very curious he was to hear about what they could possibly be planning. "And how will it help make Jazz feel better?"

Lennox answered his question with another question. "What do you know about automobiles?"

"I'm a mechanic by trade. Taught Hawkeye everything she knows."

"What about auto detailing?" Lennox was curious to know the limitations of the project that the military and the Autobots had in mind.

"You've seen my handiwork on both Jazz and Bumblebee." Leukyn said with a grin.

"That was you?"

"Yeah. That was me, boyo." He looked up to Ironhide, pulling his long hair back into a ponytail again. "Transform and get your tailpipe into the garage so I can get yours done." He grinned to the much-younger man. "I'm guessing that you're the boy who this old man decided to finish bringing up right, eh?"

Laughing, Lennox nodded. "Yeah. He thinks that I have something in me that he can bring out."

"Don't we all." Glaring up at Ironhide, Leukyn barked, "Didn't I tell you to transform? Don't make me find Prime!"

Ironhide grumbled. "And we all know that I listen so well to him . . ."


Author's Note: It took me about seven minutes to decide recently that it would be a good idea to split this story into a series. I have waaaay too many chapters to fit into one single story. So here is the end of Generation Breakers! Next up is book two: Generation Breakers: . Please enjoy!