Generation Breakers: Intermission
By Sinead

Chapter Three
Relevant Song: "Remembrance" by Delerium

.o.O.o.

Author's Note: Sorry that this story so far has all been fluff. There was supposed to be a lot more to it, but there was this simple thing called "not really sticking to the story title." This was an intermission . . . before some of the real fun begins. Thank you so much for all your patience, the fluff is over, some great family angst is about to begin, and hold onto your seats, because once I type it in, you're in for a ride! ... Which also means . . . wait about a week before the first chapter of the fourth story goes up. Sorry! runs!

.o.O.o.

Her head actually spinning and reeling from the information given to her, Raevyn went to where Jazz now called his home until the second wave of their comrades came to Earth. Ratchet was on his was out to California, leaving them alone to talk. The smallest Autobot was laying on his back, hands behind his head as he hummed an old tune, harmonizing with himself in what passed for the chorus, then falling back to the melody for the verse. He only increased the volume very slightly as Raevyn climbed up first onto the "bed," then onto his torso, curling up partially so that she could fit against his metal body in a way that was comfortable for her. A metal hand rested over her side, and the song shifted to a human croon, perfectly in range for Raevyn to sing a harmony to.

The first time Jazz's human had sung with him, he had been shocked into actually stopping mid-phrase before laughing at himself and singing again. Raevyn hadn't missed a word, giving him a chance to catch up. Her speaking voice was pleasant but gave the Autobots no indication that she could actually sing.

To Jazz, it was the best surprise that anyone could have ever given him.

"'Sa matter, babe?"

"Just . . . thinking."

"Ratchet gummin' ya head-gears or sumthin'?"

"Yeah."

"Can I help straighten his words out?" The Autobot moved his head to look directly at the human, his face showing his concern that he was feeding her too much information too quickly. But Jazz did indeed know that Raevyn grasped at everything that she possibly could, wanting to know so much more all the time . . . It was impossible for her to not ask questions.

She didn't look back for a moment, but when she did, her face looked like that of a lost little girl's. "I'm just getting to know a lot more about your kind and your everyday culture than anyone else . . . and some concepts are hard for me to think about."

"So don't think about them right now. Drag out your bed and sleep. You had nightmares last night, and I want you close tonight so that I don't have to reach in through your window all night long. My servos almost jammed." Despite the words, the tone was light, and there was an undercurrent of a deep caring for her well-being.

Heeding his advice, Raevyn slid down to the floor, grabbing the futon mattress, pillow, and comforter from where it lay stored under Jazz's own bed. There was a set of these materials in each room in case other Autobots ended up with a friendship as strong as Bumblebee and Sam did, or as Jazz and Raevyn shared. Before she could drag any of it up to join him, the small Autobot picked her up, blankets and all, to place upon his torso again. As she straightened the bedding out upon the silver armor, Jazz began humming an old Cybertronian tune, the lower notes eluding human hearing, but could still be felt rumbling through his frame. As always, Raevyn fell asleep within moments of resting her head upon her pillow, listening to his Spark pulsing.

Ratchet opened the door.

Tilting his helm back to look at the medic, Jazz's voice was soft, barely heard over the sweet sounds of an alien singer humming traditional songs. "I thought you left."

"I did. And I went to the beach, then came back."

"What'd you say to her? She could barely talk, she was processing information so hard."

Sighing, Ratchet walked to the head of Jazz's recharge berth and leaned against the wall, outlining the events. Before he got too far, the lieutenant had to switch to a private frequency so that he could bray his laughter freely. This was rich! Ratchet had done something that he had never been forced to do before in his entire career! Said medic was glaring balefully at Jazz for his reaction. "I do not find it so funny, and nor should you."

"You . . . Primus! You gave her the full Talk, not just the anatomy lesson!"

"It was needed to explain everything in order for Raevyn to understand the significance of what she could have done," was the answering grumble, but Jazz was still too busy laughing to acknowledge it. "Pit-born waste of breath and time! Stop laughing before your air-intakes overload!"

Calming down enough to speak normally in their native tongue, Jazz smiled down at the human sleeping directly over his Spark. He felt her heartbeat through his fingertips that rested lightly upon her back. Now was one of those times where he wished she could have been born his kind, and that the pulse beneath his metal fingers was not of a heart, but of a Spark. "You have more guts than I thought! So . . . now she knows everything about us."

"Yes. The rest of the knowledge is gained through experience. I only hope that her children have as much aptitude for learning and mechanical skills as she does. Hers is a family I wish to guard and train." Ratchet's voice was quiet, contemplative as he spoke to Jazz. He had a lot of time to think over this action of asking formal permission to take over the guardianship of this young woman from Jazz. He spoke carefully, slow and respectfully. "I will keep her from physical harm. I will teach her all that I know. She will be safe from our enemies, yours and mine. I will treat her as my own family, daughter or sister, and she will be free to choose which role she wishes to be." He paused, unused to asking something instead of just doing it. "Would you allow me to become her guardian?"

Jazz stared up at Ratchet steadily. The crotchety medic was the best Autobot he knew when it meant keeping someone safe from all harm. After a moment, he dealt away with all formality, bluntly asking, "If you become her guardian, where will that leave me?"

"You, my old friend, are guardian of the most precious part of her." Ratchet's voice was low, even through the private communications link between them. "You guard her very soul."

"Then you may guard her as family."

.o.O.o.

Jazz awoke in the now-familiar garage of Raevyn's home, looking down to see the also-now-familiar sight of seeing a bundle of two futon mattresses and many blankets and comforters resting upon his crossed legs. A puff of steam exited near one end, a curled-up lump rising and falling regularly in time with the puff of steam. Smiling, Jazz rested his hand over a pane of glass, the heat of his metal melting the frost that lined the windows of the garage door. A bright yellow body was seen, Sam just climbing out of the car's driver's side, shivering in the late-autumn chill.

Outside the garage, the young man looked at a man walking around the side of the house, two steaming mugs in his hands, long graying hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He blinked, then asked, "You like coffee?"

"Y-yeah," Sam replied, unsure of what to say or do around this strange man. Who was he?

"Awright, here, boy." He handed one mug to Sam, carrying the other into the garage through the side door, re-emerging to say, "Park y'self there, an' I'll be right out."

Confused, Sam leaned against the warm hood of his friend, his voice low. "He's odd."

Wisely not replying, Bumblebee just chuckled and resumed trading information with Jazz about the last four weeks, along with the mentions of the second wave that had landed in California and who they were and how they were adjusting. Before too long, however, the strange man walked back out, moving quickly despite his full mug of coffee to give one tire a good swift kick.

"Hey!" Sam yelped, jumping back, but any further protestations were drowned out by Leukyn's powerful voice. "Bumblebee, you God-awful scrap-metal ridiculous moron! Where th' 'ell've ya been?!"

Sam's jaw dropped. It dropped further when Bumblebee replied, "Keeping the kid safe, and trying to keep him sane, now that Raevyn's out here."

"Good man! How's the engine?"

Bumblebee popped his hood in response, chuckling. Sipping at his coffee, the older man leaned in and made a few noises, then a snort. "Ya ain't keepin' yaself kept up! After all th' work that Raevyn's put inta you?!"

Blowing his horn and jerking back to slam his hood shut, Bumblebee glowered as he growled back, "I—"

"Bumblebee, shush! Raevyn's still asleep!"

". . . slag."

Jazz's bass growl echoed through the garage door, and for a moment, Bumblebee heard a few beats of his friend's Spark. The Camaro slipped forward, trying to catch the sound again. He heard Jazz trilling and clicking low reassurances for a moment, as well as a sleepy murmur from Raevyn. He didn't hear the sound of the lifeforce again, but masked his inching forward to pop his hood again. "Leukyn?"

"You'll owe me."

"I know."

"A'ight . . . Sam, I heard that you're gettin' t' know y'r way 'round an engine . . ." Grinning, Leukyn propped the yellow hood up with a smile, motioning for the younger man to begin his work. "Just tell me what needs doin', an' we'll give Raevyn a break from cleanin' s' that she can work on Jazz a bit more. He done pulled somethin' in his shoulder showin' off."

Sam wondered who it was that had Jazz showing off for, but put it out of his mind as he sipped at his coffee, looking into Bumblebee's engine. How odd was it that his own "car" never opened up for him like this, and then around a man that was supposedly Raevyn's father? He never saw the condition of the engine unless Raevyn was working on it. That was the same for the other Autobots.

How odd.