Generation Breakers: Imposition
By Sinead

Chapter Five
Relevant Song: Yuki Kajiura "Open Your Heart"


Author's Note: Last chapter before the third story goes up! I'm sorry that I've been slow, I'm now living at my college, and have been absolutely going crazy in keeping up with classes and everything else that's involved with the college experience. I love it, it's mental, but it's all good. Third story is in the process of being written, I have three chapters that I have to edit, and will have all that done before the end of next week, I promise.

Thanks for all your patience! See you in the next story!


Jazz was distraught. And a distraught Jazz was one that unnerved even Ironhide. It meant that something serious bad was going to happen, or was about to happen, and Jazz had no idea how to deal with the situation. That one who had a cool head even when he had been facing Megatron, up to when he had been killed, was almost to the point of panicking, well . . .

It didn't bode well.

Unable to stand still, Jazz clenched his hands, released them, then clenched them again in a rhythmic clang-whoosh-clang-whoosh manner. He was pacing one step this way, four steps back, then two steps this way, and one step back . . .

Temper rising, Ratchet grabbed Jazz's shoulders, forcing him to not move. His firm tone was able to cut through the rising panic of the younger bot while his optics searched to gain contact with Jazz's. "Jazz! Calm yourself!"

"Can't!" he babbled in their native, electronic tongue, showing how truly distressed he was. "I did something wrong, I know it--"

"If you don't calm down, I'll ration your energon just enough to keep you able to run about in your alt mode. Am. I. Clear," Ratchet growled, lowering his face towards Jazz's.

This got through, and the silvery Autobot stopped trying to struggle free. But his expressions were still showing clearly upon his face. They were shaken, fearing that something truly awful had happened . . . He feared something so deeply, and now he was being faced with that fear.

"Now slowly. What do you think you did wrong?"

"Raevyn. I don't know what I did, but in the middle of a explaination I was giving, she just stared at me, then started crying and ran into her room and locked the door and won't answer me through the window and I don't know what I said wrong!" The babbling stream of barely modulated sounds were deciphered only by those who had been born into the Transformer race.

"What had you been talking about, Jazz?" Prime stepped closer, his face both serious and worried.

"I . . . nothing . . ." He had come back to speaking English, but hanging onto that thread of relative calm only barely.

"You're the last person I could think of that would speak about nothing," Ironhide said through a chuckle, sure that the little bot was panicking about something so insigificant that it only seemed like it was a huge problem. He'd seen it before in the younger Sparklings these days. They had a thing for panicking that he was sure he had never gone through before.

"Guys, he might not have had to say anything. Trust me on that one." Sam walked up to the group, having just arrived from his parents' house with edible goodies that they always sent over when they got wind of Raevyn even planning to come over. Judy just adored the girl, much to everyone's wonder. They had arrived unnoticed thanks to the brouhaha Jazz was kicking up. "Bee, thanks for the ride."

A thumb's-up and the second-smallest Autobot set the spoils of spoiling down upon a table outside the back door. It was only two grocery bags, and there was a spare fridge they could be tossed into and sorted through later. The sunny Autobot then walked over to Jazz, roughly biffing his smaller friend's shoulder as a way of saying, "Suck it up, you pansy. You're fine."

Grinning at the look of "did you just scratch the paint job?" that Jazz was wearing upon his face, Sam took that opportunity to pick the bags up and put them where they belonged before daring to glance at the stairs. Walking over and pausing to listen, all he heard was the soft sounds of someone crying. He knew in his heart of hearts that he was the only person who really could do anything about it. She wouldn't come out of her room in such a state, and he was the only one who could get in there.

Walking silently up the stairs, he knelt before her door, pulling his wallet from his back pocket to shake out a few lockpicking tools that were hidden in the spine. The one thing that was his redeeming key, no pun intended, into Ratchet's good graces was that he could pick locks fairly quickly, showing that he had a grasp of a mechanical nature in him, even if it expressed itself in a small, odd way.

Finishing, letting the door swing open, he looked up from where he had been staring at the ground, feeling his way through the lock by touch alone, to gaze upon the back of Raevyn's 1980's punk band t-shirt. She was on her bed, curled away from the door. She had shut Jazz out from her by closing both window and shades, making the room stuffy. Propping a book in the doorframe, Sam made sure that the door would always be open by at least three inches, exchanging stuffy air for fresh.


No answer from her, only more sobs.

Entering the room, Sam sat upon the edge of her bed softly, resting his hand upon her shoulder. "Wassa matter, Hawkeye?"

"Y-you know . . . what it is," she managed to get out around her sobs. "Sam, you know better than anyone . . ."

Sighing, he leaned over her to wrap his arms around her shoulders, pulling the crying young woman into his lap effortlessly. While his frame didn't show it, he worked out, and the effect was that now it was simple for him to perform such a maneuver. He gently stroked the hair away from her wet cheeks, absolutely loathe to see it sticking there. "What did he say?"

"Just . . . stuff . . . an-and . . ." Her voice broke, and she whispered, "Sam, it hurts."

"I know . . . I know . . ." Unable to come up with anything else to say that would comfort her, Sam had the feeling that if he made one wrong move, she would literally hurt him in some physical way.

And yet that didn't stop her from talking to him. "Is it wrong? To cry?"

"Why should it be?" he replied, remembering a night not too long ago where their roles had been reversed. He lowered his head closer to hers, whispering, "It's what heartbreak is."

"Y-yeah . . . yeah, it is. C-could you stay a while?"

Nodding, Sam whispered, "Yeah. You bet."

What man in his right mind would leave a beautiful woman alone when she was in such a state? It made them feel like the white knight in shining armor . . . Well, until the lady changed the rules on them again. But the feeling like being the big, manly rescuer felt so good that when the opportunity presented itself, a true man had to take it, no matter if the damsel was a friend or a lover. He just had to take the chance on her.

Sam kept his hand running through her hair. After a while, the sobs petered out, and when he opened his eyes from just resting them shut for a while, the younger mechanic saw that she had fallen asleep with her arms still holding onto his waist.

Gazing down on her with a soft expression that he didn't know that had never been seen upon his face before, Sam Witwicky wished with all his might that it had been him that she was crying about.


As soon as he had stepped out into the bright afternoon light, Sam found himself pounced upon by Jazz. He wasn't touched by the metal being, but he wasn't able to move what with the gleaming Autobot looming over him. "What d'you know about my girl that I don't know?! I heard you in there; everyone heard."

Bumblebee and Ironhide looked harassed, leaving Prime to watch in an odd sort of amusement at what was unfolding before him. He wasn't worried about this, and had seen situations like this particular one rise up before. Conflict was essential to forge firmer bonds in life. Ratchet had long since left the spectacle to do other things with his time.

Sam exchanged a look with his guardian that asked Bumblebee to hold onto his patience for just a moment longer. Bumblebee knew about Raevyn's predicament, and for some reason that had mystified his human for a moment. When Sam asked about it, he found out that the Transformers had been the sister-species of a long-living organic race that grew to be an even eighteen feet tall, without exception. The two species worked together upon many projects, even trying to study the Allspark with scientists of both races.

One of their member, a female with a name only Bumblebee could pronounce correctly, had been sent as a member of the guard for the leader of their kind. After that leader had left, she stayed upon Cybertron, fascinated with the occupants of the small globe and their culture. She had been there for so long that when Bumblebee, new to the guard detatchment force, had made a few mistakes, she was able to correct the problems within days, becoming his mentor. After too many years to begin to count, they shifted from "teacher and student" to best of friends, close to what Bumblebee had equated to a pre-marriage couple. But it was friendship, an intellectual compatibility that bound them, even if both wished it were possible that it could have been more that just that.

Sam shook his head, clearing it. "Jazz, I can't tell you. It's a secret I have to keep for Raevyn. Even then, she's the only one who can let it out of the box when she's ready to share it. Is that fair, man?"

Pausing, processing this, Jazz looked up at the house. "Well, then I'll ask 'er now."

"Not advisable," Ironhide said as he looked down at his smaller friend. "She's currently rechargin', an' I don' feel like dealin' with an irritable femme." What Ironhide didn't mention was that Ratchet was upon the other side of the house, relaying to his friend that Jazz should go and drive off his agitation. Once he came back, he should wait to see if Raevyn was awake, letting her come back out from what she obviously considered to be a safe haven. Ironhide considered being the one to tell Jazz what to do, thought better of it, then handed off all the information he had recieved from Ratchet to Optimus. Within nanoseconds, the leader acted upon the sound advice, basically ordering Jazz to talk off and to come back only when he was calm.

Convincing the little Autobot to do so, however, was a totally different matter.


Later that evening, Raevyn awoke to hear Ratchet speaking softy outside her window. His voice was punctuated by Sam talking back, verbally taking a quiz that she remembered taking not too long ago. The sounds of Ironhide and Bumblebee sparring lightly was carried over by the breeze, the rough curses running smoothly from Ironhide's old mouth. Smiling at the inventive ones, such as something having to do with Bumblebee's reversed polarities or whatnot, Raevyn stretched, feeling oddly detatched from her emotions. She felt . . . fresh, renewed. Yes, those where the words.

"You didn't listen to that lesson, did you? Score is a sixty-five, and we will review your wrong answers later," Ratchet groused. His hand pushed aside the curtains of Raevyn's window, looking into the second-floor room. He had known the exact moment she had awoken, having been monitoring her bio-signs carefully. Lowering his voice to an affectionate growl, he asked, "Did you rest well?"

"Yeah . . ."

"Optimus and Jazz are out working some steam off, racing in the desert. They'll get so much sand in their system that it will take a year for it to all work free." Ratchet made a face, then shook his head. "Jazz is truly upset about how you will not tell him something. I feel it has to do with the fact that you and he are completely open with each other, and this is the first time that you wish to hide something."

"I . . . Ratch, I can't tell him yet," came the soft, sad reply. She rubbed at her face, sitting in the open bay window and leaning against the frame, letting one leg fall free outside. "I don't know how to tell him."

"And when you do know what to say, will you tell him?"

"Yes. Soon. I hope."

"That that is enough for now." Smiling, he moved his head to glare at the dueling bots when screeching metal rent the air, followed by bellows of indignation and semi-rage. Ratchet sighed. "Raevyn, your turn to fix Ironhide."

"Sure, but you get to hold him down, this time!"


Bumblebee helped Ironhide limp over, worry dancing around his optics. But as soon as he saw Raevyn finishing a braid in her hair and then tying it up in a bun, both brightened considerably. She wrapped a bandana around her head as well, to keep all her hair back and out of the way. Ironhide cracked a grin. "Good! I thought that I'd only have Ratchet to bark at me."

"Set him down, Bumbles, dear," came the grinning reply. "What did you do to him, you menace?"

"Him?! He wrenched my bad hip out of place again, that's what!"

"Oh, stow it, old man. Once I get this fixed, you can go back to the park and play chess with Ratchet."

". . . that was mean."

Raevyn looked up to see Jazz behind her, grinning tentatively. At her nod of greeting, he sat back to watch the spectacle of Raevyn getting her hands into Ironhide's jury-rigged and fallible right hip. Halfway through, old warrior snarled that Ratchet should have been the one to fix the injured joint, until Raevyn grabbed some odd part of his inner workings, which caused the old wardog to groan in pain or something, then mutter, "I give. Just fix me."

"Yeap. 'S right," crowed Raevyn. "Does that answer your question as to how knowledgeable I am to your personal anatomy? Or will I have to do something else?"

"No! No . . . 'M good . . ." Raising a hand to his head, Ironhide muttered, "I'm gettin' too old for this slag . . ."


Raevyn was in her borrowed bedroom, pouring over her laptop in an effort to take what Ratchet saw her do, record it, and then upload it upon the portable computer. It was a collaboration between them in order to make a sort of "user's manual" or procedural handbook for any other humans who would be coming to join the crew. Maybe. Either way, it was an easy and good way for Raevyn to truly memorize what she had done. She especially learned with Ratchet's commentary upon the different actions she had done, sometimes for good, sometimes for critiquing. The manuscript had pictorial references, taken straight from Ratchet's memory banks, and they were beginning to plan a computer program equivalent so that one could watch actual real-time procedures.

The medic-in-training was so absorbed in her work that she didn't notice Jazz appear at her window. He watched her, wanting to know everything about her, but knew that it wasn't possible unless she told him. So he was at a standstill. Partners were supposed to be able to tell each other every little thing, whether it be for good or if it was something that hurt. Transformer partners were close, almost as close as a life-mate, and having had a Transformer partner before, Jazz knew how it was supposed to feel.

But it wasn't the same with a human partner.

Bumblebee had it easy. Sam fell into the category of a younger sibling of sorts, and to the Camaro, Raevyn also fell into that category. They were there to be taught, and to be teased as only elder siblings are able to tease the younger. To Ratchet, they were students, and while one was a nephew, the other was closer to being a daughter to the medic. Ironhide looked upon them as Sparklings who needed to be shown how to do things in life, and patiently did so. He was close friends with his own human partner, Lennox, in the way that two military men often were. What caused Bumblebee and Jazz to poke fun at the old wardog was that he often melted when Lennox's little daughter did something new. He couldn't resist protecting the infant, not wanting her to be hurt in any way.

Prime looked upon them all equally, but as to what he viewed them as, nobody had the guts to ask him yet.

This thinking wasn't getting Jazz anywhere. All he knew was that Raevyn wasn't exactly a little sister kind of partner to him.

"Hey, babe? Wanna joyride?"

Turning to look at him, Raevyn watched his face for a moment before smiling shyly and nodding. She saved the work she had done with the press of a button and ran down the stairs to grab her zipper-up sweatshirt as she ran out the door of the house. Breezing by Sam and Bumblebee, who were lazing around watching Optimus and Ironhide argue over a few points that should or shouldn't be in their meeting with the government officials, she got into the Jazzman's driver's seat, pulling the door closed after her.

The partners looked to each other as she took off, and Bumblebee quickly asked Jazz if it was okay to follow him. When asked why, the Camaro just replied that it was a hell of a lot better than sitting around watching Prime and 'Hide arguing. Getting his answer, Bumblebee transformed and opened the door for his human partner. "We're following them for once."


Bumblebee considered his answer so very carefully before replying. "Humans say that they have bad feelings about some things. Right now, I've got that kind of feeling."

"And if it's wrong?"

"Then we come back here and set up a bonfire. You promised to show us how to do it from scratch, no ammunition."

"Yeah, that was a fun experience."

"I did say that I was sorry!"


They came out upon a secluded, deserted of all human life. Scanning again just to make sure, Jazz opened his door, waiting until Raevyn was out before transforming and sitting upon an outcropping of bedrock. "Babe . . . can you tell me what I said wrong earlier today?"

She knew that this had been coming, and she knew that it was something that had to come up. At least he had brought her out somewhere that she knew how to walk home, if need be, and somewhere that they were alone. Finally, she was at peace with herself and what she knew that she had to do. "I'll tell you. But you have to promise to listen calmly."

That wasn't what he had expected, and it only fueled his barely-contained panic. "I promise."

Turning to face him, Raevyn looked up at his face, then sighed and whispered, "The reason why I've said no to all those guys, and to everyone else, is because I love you. And I know that it could never happen between us, and that it would be wrong to try."

Oh. Oh. Ohdamn.

Stunned silent, Jazz let his gaze drift over her lightly, then settle back upon her face. He saw the panic that she was starting to feel rise up over her face, and he held his hand out. "Babe, c'mere?"

She did so, albeit slowly. He picked her up to rest against his chest, staring at her face for another moment before speaking again. "Hawkeye, why d'you think that I wanted you to have a love-friend? I was teasin' ya a lot 'cause I had the feelin' that you might've been processin' somethin' like that."

"And then you went on about all that--"

"Oh, darlin', it's a cultural difference. Touchin' a friend's Spark chamber is like havin' a deep chat with 'em. Unless it gets deeper. I was playin' it off lightly because I didn't want you to start thinkin' that it was something as deep as your human lovemakin'. Which it really ain't, y'know?" He stroked a fingertip across her cheek in the same manner that Bumblebee had, all those months ago when they had first met.

"So . . . you an' me could never . . ."

"Baby, I will always be here for you. And I'll always be here when you need me to be." Jazz sighed, stroking a gentle finger along her hair. "I just wish that you were Sparked, not born human."

"I do too," came the soft whisper. "Then there'd at least be the chance to see if we could have ever . . . y'know . . . been."

"I know, baby." He was aware of Bumblebee and Sam creeping up behind them, their steps soft and sure, but not wanting to intrude upon the quiet talk. "So you were upset that it wasn't special for me anymore."

"Yeah . . ."

"I didn't get a chance finish, Hawkeye." Smiling down at her, he took a deep breath and continued. "Casually, no, it ain't special anymore. But b'tween two o' my kind who love each other an' who want t' be with each other until we return to the Matrix, well . . . I've heard that they have to calculate a recovery time into any time they want alone."

"You mean . . ."

"Hah, a partier like me settle down at my 'young' age an' at the place I'm at in my career? Not likely that I've had that experience. Still haven't found th' one for me yet." Oh, but I have, though, Jazz thought as he watched her process that. But to tell her would be to distress her far beyond anything that could have ever happened to her up to this point in her young life. "So . . . you know that I'd be more than all right with you enjoying time with a companion of sorts."

"If you don't stop trying to foist guys off on me, I'll do something drastic to you the next time you need maintenance."

"Not just any guy!" Jazz defended himself laughingly. His voice dropped suddenly, going softer. "Just f'r one."

Raevyn pressed her cheek to his chest. "Sam, huh?"

"Yeah . . . you'd both be good for each other." Jazz knew that she needed to just be with someone, not waste away for a love that could never be. The Autobot had ways of dealing with his problem of a need for companionship; Raevyn did as well, but just needed encouragement to take that path.

"How long have you and Bumblebee been plotting this?" Without much warning, she heard his Spark's beating within his chest. Smiling, she relaxed with the sound, resting her ear as close as it could get to his frame.

"A while, now."

Silence descended between them before Jazz looked up suddenly, seeing Bumblebee less than twenty feet away with Sam perched upon his shoulder. Raevyn also looked up at the pair, then waved them over to join her and her partner upon the bedrock. When Bumblebee sat beside Jazz, Sam looked down at Raevyn, only to find that she was watching him in return, her gaze steady . . . and different from before. Bumblebee made a gesture, nonhuman from the precise and twitching nature it held. Whatever it meant, it caused Jazz to laugh uproariously . "Oh, I'm sure she'll use much more discretion than that!"

"Down. Jazz, lemme down. Bumbles, I'm gonna hurt you for whatever you said, and stop signing stuff to Jazz! It's not easy climbing down when your foothold suddenly disappears because he's laughing!" Finally getting to the ground, she yawned, stalking a few feet away to sit upon lush green grass.

Within moments, Sam joined her as she sat looking out over the lake they were in front of, the setting sun painting the water a fiery red. After a while of carefully watching her while pretending be watching the sky and listening to the Autobots, he looked at Raevyn with all his attention. "Hey . . . you doing all right?"

"Yeah . . . or will be."

Sam scooted over so that his arm was just barely resting against hers, only to be surprised as she leaned into his direction at the same time. Half an hour later, she was asleep, and was about to slip down onto his chest. He held his arm around her back, careful to not let it rise above mid-rib level, nor go down to her hips. There was such a thing as pushing his limits. She was still so very exhausted from the day's events, starting with Ratchet's lessons, then the blowout with Jazz, to Ironhide getting his hip repaired again, and ending with an emotionally exhausting talk with her partner.

"Guys . . ."

"Yeah, Sam, we know," Jazz chuckled, using Bumblebee's leg to lever himself up to a standing position before walking over, optics smiling and the visor flicking upwards. "Damn girl's too cute f'r words right now . . ."

Bumblebee walked over and transformed almost all the way, carefully keeping his roof open. "Let's get her home."

Jazz plucked her off of Sam with careful movements, indicating with a jerk of his chin that the young man get in first. "Backseat. You'll keep her from fallin' all over the place."

Doing so, Sam looked up just in time to have the young woman's back, shoulders, and head carefully rested against him, her hips and legs upon the seat. Sighing in her sleep, Raevyn settled against him, curling towards his body heat. Sam just watched her face in the moonlight, until the roof finished transforming over them.

Bumblebee's holographic form flickered to life behind the wheel, depicting a smooth-looking man in his mid-twenties with a golden tan and inky black hair slicked back. Jazz took that moment to transform, settling down beside Bumblebee with purr of his engine, their driver doors inches from each other. The light bounced around the leather-lined interior, resulting in a hologram of a mid-thirties African-American man, his thin face kind, honey-brown eyes warm as he "looked" at Bumblebee, making eye contact. The electric-blue eyes of the younger Autobot were charged with life and happiness that things were beginning to work out. Yet the Camaro knew that he couldn't act out.

For now. Perhaps once the humans were asleep, however . . .

He needed to take a ride.