Generation Breakers: Intuition
Author's Note: This has been sitting on my harddrive since . . . probably early 2008. I had wanted to make sure that it was going in the direction that I was looking for, and since the second Transformers movie, I wanted to have some time to be able to let ideas percolate, settle, stir themselves up, and then settle back down again before adding more. So far, this has four chapters, but I know that it's not finished.
Thank you for your patience for this next installment! I hope that it doesn't disappoint!
When Massachusetts was cold, California was warm. When it was hot in Massachusetts, people reached for their AC units in California to crank them up to a brisk 60 degrees Fahrenheit to counter the almost-100 degree Fahrenheit weather outside. Fortunately, it was late winter in the northern hemisphere, so it wasn't very cold for Raevyn when she went to where her boyfriend lived, having brought only her essentials on the two-month-long trip to help Ratchet with some upkeep of the command crew of the Autobots. She had yet to meet the second wave of bots even after a full month and a half of them landing. It had something to do with government official junk and idiocy as far as she was concerned. She had the clearance to chew out a metal being that could step on her and not even notice, but not the clearance to meet their support crew.
She was going to have a talk with Lennox about this.
It was three months after Sam had come out to New England to visit her and her family, and so far, everyone had been getting along, except for Gloria. By default, anyone who Raevyn liked, Gloria despised.
Sighing, tired, oddly alternately cranky and weepy, she walked to a calendar, counting the days up while she waited for Jazz to complete his daily training with Ironhide and come back.
Wait . . . that wasn't right.
Recounting, she cussed and began pacing, her mind in a flurry. She needed to have a talk with Sam. And Jazz.
"Wait . . . what?"
"Hey, don't use that tone with me!"
"Holy slag . . . but . . . how c'n ya be so sure?"
"It's called a calendar, yanno? I happen to keep track of the days that I'm—"
"Primus, no thank you! I don' need that kinda info, Rae. I really don'. Ew." Jazz scooped her up and left the room that they had been in. "Your biological systems jus' are weird."
They ran into Ironhide, who looked like he had just gotten his feathers ruffled by some human military official again. He seemed to be having a lot of bad times with them recently, which was probably because he and Lennox were of one mind in some things. He glared down at the duo for a moment while Jazz looked up at the mech, wondering what was wrong, even as he was trying to deal with his own problems. Jazz knew that Prime knew he wasn't completely healed mentally or spiritually from his time of being dead. Even though he wanted to take up all his duties as first lieutenant and morale officer again, both he and the Autobot leader knew without actually talking it over that he wasn't ready for that burden. So Ironhide was filling in for a short time for him as the second-in-command, but everyone knew that his diplomacy skills were far from adequate for the job. The weapons specialist snorted. "What are you two bawlin' about this time?"
"Where's Ratchet?" Jazz asked quickly, not wanting a confrontation.
"If it'll cease the lovers' spat—"
Giving up, his own patience worn down to the nub by worry, Jazz barked in his native tongue, "Old man, go die!"
Storming down the hallway of the first wave's base to find the medic, Jazz growled almost inaudibly to himself, only to have Ratchet holding the door open for him and Raevyn to come into his bay. His voice was quiet, worried. "Jazz, that was most unlike you. In, please." The medic watched as the lieutenant put their charge upon his workbench, handling her as if she were antique spun glass.
Running his scans upon the woman, Ratchet asked, "Did you hurt yourself, Raevyn?" He was as worried as a parent when their toddler child tripped and fell onto concrete. Stopping his scans mid-round when she shook her head, he reset them. Something must have been wrong with his previous scan . . . it was coming up with extra mass, but she wasn't exhibiting signs of over-eating and added fat deposits.
"No, I didn't. Jazz is in a panic about nothing." Raevyn looked miffed.
"Over nothing?" Ratchet held his hand out, showing her precisely what he had gotten from his scans to her in a small hologram, hiding the results from Jazz for the moment. "Would you truly call your condition nothing, my child?"
Face softening, then falling, knowing that his scans never lied and he always rescanned the affected area three times on his mechs, often times more on humans, the young woman whispered morosely, "I . . . I had a suspicion it was this . . . but . . . I didn't know for sure . . ." Sighing, she rubbed at her face. "No, Ratchet, it's . . . it's something, all right. But for what purpose, I don't know."
"Dear youngling, are you ready for this?"
"I don't know."
Jazz's face was slowly beginning to lift into an ecstatic smile, the prospect of a new life filling him with joy. He loved Sparklings, babies, of all races and species!
Ratchet sighed, leaning both hands upon the table, watching the human woman's face with a tender expression on his own. "And you told Jazz that you had just missed what you call a 'monthly.' Oh, Primus. Raevyn, you are carrying a little boy, and you are forty-six days into gestation."
"Aw, damn." The young woman sagged, staring into space as she began to wonder what to do.
Jazz stopped his pacing long enough to look at his human with dueling expressions of exasperation and worry. "How can you be so . . . augh, Rae! This doesn't excite you?"
The young woman winced. "Jazz, you know human biology and physiology. Sometimes, we just don't plan for this. Or even dare to expect for children to happen."
Silence engulfed them, and Ratchet bowed his head over Raevyn. His words were evenly placed, calm. "I will tell your father. Take Jazz, get all you nutritional needs to keep the child healthy. That's on medic's orders." He looked to the smaller Autobot, then raised his personal dampening field around both himself and the human who didn't know that she was his as well, but in a different way than she was Jazz's. His voice was low as he made sure that Jazz couldn't see or hear her responses. He understood the medical nature of the humans' culture. Sometimes . . . the mother just wasn't ready to have a child. "Are you planning to keep the child?"
"All life deserves a chance . . . even if it's unexpected. Worst case scenario, I'll see about putting the baby up for adoption," came her reply. She let herself fall apart slightly as she looked up at Ratchet. Had he been human, he would have teared up at how scared and childlike she looked. It was unfair of life to put this upon her when she was not ready for it. Her voice shook. "How am I gonna tell Sam?"
"I don't know. That is something you have to figure out how to do. But . . . I am proud of your decision. Please . . . do not skimp on supplies. I know you have more than enough to provide for this child." He gently brushed her hair out of her face, leaning down so that his blue optics would meet her golden eyes. "I will speak with Optimus of this new development, and will ask him to speak with your government about any special privileges that you may acquire during your term of pregnancy." Smiling, the grouchy medic added on, "If Jazz gets antsy, let me know. I'll knock him down a few pegs for you." Letting the field drop, brushing away the small grateful tears upon her cheeks with a very large but gentle finger, Ratchet snarked, "And don't get hurt! Jazz! Don't strangle her with your seatbelts, or you won't be happy with what you wake up with when I repair you next."
Picking Raevyn up off of his workbench to set her carefully upon the ground, Ratchet turned and left them alone while he went off in search of his leader. He walked towards the separate building where Prime often could be found, enjoying the peace. When Secretary Keller came to either discuss past events or just pressing matters that the President entrusted him with asking for advice about, they were often found together. The President wasn't comfortable with the Autobots, while Keller enjoyed their unique perspective on life. Hopefully, when the current leader's term ended, the next Commander in Chief would have a broader perspective upon their presence.
Keller wasn't alone with Optimus today. Lennox and his daughter Annabelle were also with the Autobot leader, the little one climbing over his legs while he sat, her four-year-old mind taking in all of who the leader was, pausing often to look up at his face. Ratchet paused to look at the scene with a smile, seeing how young Annabelle smiled over at her father, then looked up at Optimus again, moving up to his torso to embrace it. It was adorable to see how she just laid spread-eagle against Prime's stomach. Keller and Lennox were sitting upon a simple smooth concrete bench, watching her. Ratchet walked closer, his voice calm, warm. "Sparklings have always congregated around Optimus. A Prime must be kind and gentle, fair, just, and above all, have compassion. His leadership, traditionally, would have depended completely upon being patriarchal and non-militaristic. Times have changed."
"I strive to match the achievements of my forebears," was the deep murmur of the leader, his hand cupping around Annabelle lightly, keeping her safe from falling while she moved to try to climb his torso. "But their time is not my time, and their methods are not mine."
"All those before you did not have the same trials that you face," Ratchet replied, smiling and standing behind the blue and red mech. "Nor did they have to worry in the same way that you have had to worry. The Primes had to provide for the energon needs of our ancestors. You have to provide security for not just our kind, but for the humans as well."
Lennox sighed, calling up to Annabelle, "Don't go too high, baby girl!" He held a hand up against the sun, watching as she slipped slightly, but was caught by the massive hand before she could even fall, holding her against his metal frame while she regained her balance.
Chuckling at seeing how the little girl displayed the trait of determination that her own father lived upon, Keller looked up at the picture of complete trust. She continued to climb up to his shoulder, unafraid, and rested and laid down her head against the warm metal, then looked up at Ratchet with a smile. "Hi!"
Epps was shooting pictures of this entire spectacle, smiling at seeing how happy his commanding officer was while around both his daughter and or wife, but if he was around his self-appointed guardian, Ironhide, or around another commander, Optimus, he was completely at ease. The big black man grinned, understanding the sweetness of feeling totally and completely at ease, protected and knowing that they were more safe now than they had ever been before in their lives. The Autobots would sense an attack far quicker than any human sense would be able to discern. The two races complemented one another in many more ways than Epps wanted to think about. After all, if humans were made in God's own image . . .
Ratchet came up beside the Secretary of Defense, crouching to put his head upon a lower level. "Sir . . . when will our country know the Autobots?"
Sighing, the older man shook his head. "I'm not sure, son. But I'll be running for Presidency this year, and when I do, I'm going to be promising answers. Especially answers concerning that fiasco in Mission City. The people want to know, and I understand that. I don't want the American public to be left in the complete dark about why, for some, their loved ones died in Mission City because of a 'military experiment gone wrong.' The President will not allow the information to go out, and he won't tell me why."
Lennox sighed, understanding that. But as he looked up to their mechanical allies, his gaze was drawn to Ratchet's. The medic's face was expressionless, optics guarded and held all emotions and thoughts private. But Ratchet looked up at Optimus, then let his gaze drift down to Annabelle upon the leader's shoulder. The young girl was stroking the flames on Optimus' shoulder, singing as only a little girl could, no real tune or words. He sighed, and simply transmitted the scan results to his leader, letting the data speak for him.
Optimus blinked, then looked sharply to his Chief Medical Officer, speaking aloud out of habit and in shock, forgetting to speak in their language. "Primus . . . Ratchet . . . will she be ready for this? By our standards, the girl is but an infant . . ." Realizing his method of communication, Optimus looked guiltily to the humans.
Secretary Keller only smiled, his face compassionate, wondering about who it was they were speaking about. He hadn't directly met all of the humans who now surrounded the first wave of Autobots, or those that were with the first half of the second wave. And that second wave had been very, very wild and unpredictable. Optimus had explained that they were still settling in and coming to understand their new home. They would calm down in a few weeks at the very most. Maybe. Keller read through that as being that one or more of the second wave was hard to control and they needed time to set up a new set of rules. "How old is this young lady?"
Optimus sighed. "Almost twenty-three."
"She's not too young . . . she should be fine."
"Raevyn?" Ratchet prompted, wanting to know how the three men before him would react to that.
Epps blinked and moved to take a picture of his commanding officer's shocked face, grinning and darting just out of range of Lennox's fist, which predictably and playfully was lashed out at him. Lennox looked up at the two Autobots with a serious gaze while Keller just absorbed that information. "Well . . . she's babysat for me and Sarah before, and my baby girl loves Raevyn. She'll make a great mother, Ratch. Are she and Sam going to do a shotgun wedding? Annie, don't climb towards Optimus' back and arm, please. Atta girl, thank you."
Ratchet shook his head. "I would rather doubt it. Sam is not ready for that kind of commitment, and Raevyn wouldn't want to marry someone just because of the fact that she's going to have a baby. If they are going to marry . . . they might do so later on in their lives, between three and maybe up to nine years from – Augh, this talk is useless! Prime, I'm ordering her to say here. I want no complications to arise in this." Pacing, then stopping, Ratchet sighed. "Jazz is panicky."
"And you're not? Does Sam know?" Secretary Keller asked, his voice pensive, thoughtful. He liked the young woman. She had a snarky sense of humor that he thoroughly enjoyed, and he hoped that she would stay with the Autobots, for the sake of both their peoples. She and Sam, whether singly or together, would make great liaisons, along with Jazz and Bumblebee.
"Does Sam know what?" Sam asked from the driver's-side window of Bumblebee as they rolled up. They had just come back from his home, where he had been having dinner with his parents. They had wanted to talk to him privately about something, which Raevyn didn't mind as she had to do some cleaning and maintenance on Jazz's engine and some of his other systems, making sure that Ratchet's post-mortem modifications were working properly.
Epps shook his head, while Lennox sighed explosively. The larger and darker of the two men gave the youngest man in their group a look of complete pity. "Boy, talk with your woman once in a while!"
". . . what?"
Ratchet saw Jazz speeding off towards the local mall and shopping area, Raevyn in the front seat. "Nevermind, son. Lennox, don't tease 'im, just remember that your wife will be back soon, and once she learns of why you were teasing Sam, she'll have your head. I have studied such things, and I am wary of human female tempers."
Optimus cut into the conversation, effectively changing the topic and setting things into motion while he held his hand up to his shoulder for Annabelle to climb onto it. She did, but not before hugging his face and kissing what passed as his nose. His voice was smiling, low toned, and comforting. "Sam. Tonight, I believe that Raevyn would appreciate someone else cooking the dinner, even if it is her turn."
Nodding, Sam took the hint and walked towards the barbeque, asking, "When will she be back from errands?"
Consulting Jazz, Ratchet replied, "By seven. That's an hour and a half."
"Gotcha. Barbeque chicken . . . hot dogs for Annabanana—"
"It's Annabelle!" The little girl said, stomping her foot on the ground.
"Whassat? Annabanana, did you say something!"
Shrieking in play, the little girl ran up and tackled Sam's leg, only to be walked along with while he went inside the house.
Watching after them, Keller whispered, "I sure hope that boy will be able to take the news well. Being a big-brother type of person to someone else's child is one thing, but to have a child of your own . . ."
"Mmn," Ratchet replied, moving back towards his medical bay. He really, really wished that Sam took the news well. If not . . . well . . . Ratchet would be there for Raevyn, no matter what.
Just as Jazz was there for her right now.