Where the Heart Is 3 Jack

Where the Heart Is 3
Jack

A Transformers Prime Fanfiction

Set During the Events of “Darkest Hour” “Darkmount NV” “Scattered” “Prey”

    Never had he been this sore. Or this tired for that matter. At the end of a long day at school he had been captured by Decepticons. He had been forced to watch as Megatron had used him to wrest the greatest advantage that Optimus had yet to achieve from his father’s servos. The burning guilt at that, the strange block in his bond to his Guardian, and the fear of being separated from his family plagued at his mind with every mile that passed under Arcee’s tires. She had insisted that they keep moving. Pressing forward, changing routes suddenly, even backtracking at times to create an impossible trail. Jack was young and strong but as the sun set for the second time he was ready to collapse. The last thing he wanted to do was show weakness in front of his partner and he was relieved when she finally pulled up behind a gas station and diner tucked into the trees.
    “You can eat and rest a bit here,” the cycle-bot stated curtly.
     The human nodded and stepped off her gingerly, staggering a bit as the sleep deprivation and dehydration caught up with him.
     “Jack!” Arcee rolled forward worriedly, suddenly noting the signs of stress on her partner’s body.
     “I’m fine Cee. Just tired,” he yawned wide as he pulled off his helmet.
     “Scrap I should have thought of that,” groaned the Autobot. “I’m sorry-“
     “Not your fault,” Jack interrupted her shortly. “Not like we could have done much differently. I’m going to go eat and then I’ll catch forty in there,” he jerked his head towards an old barn that was stuffed full of sweet scented hay bales.
     The blue Autobot nodded and rocked back into a comfortable stance. The raven haired teen jogged up to the diner and stepped in. He fished out his wallet and stared dismally at the cash in it. There was no way he would dare use his debit card and risk bringing Soundwave down on them. With a sigh he grabbed a muffin that had some sort of berry in it and a bottle of water. If he had been a bit less stressed and sleep deprived he might have noticed the sharp look the middle aged cashier gave him. She stared intently at the youth as she counted out his change and he turned to walk out the door.
    The muffin was good and large Jack discovered as he carefully chewed and swallowed each bite; not a big box store brand but likely home made. He had rolled Arcee through the half open doors of the barn and they sat together in the shadows behind a tall stack of hay bales. Leaving a chunk of the muffin for the morning the youth slumped down onto the loose hay and was almost instantly asleep. It felt like only seconds had passed when the cycle-bot was shaking him awake. He staggered up with a groan and ate the last of the muffin grimacing at the taste in his mouth. He never thought he’d miss having a toothbrush so much.
    “Is that all you’re eating?” a worried voice inquired.
    Jack glanced up at the Autobot with a rueful grin.
    “I have to conserve my resources,” he shrugged.
    She frowned down at him but didn’t argue.
    “You’d better go in and stock up on what you can,” she offered instead. “It’s calm here and we don’t know when you’ll have another chance to shop.”
    The human nodded and went back into the little dinner. The same cashier was there and he nodded to her before selecting a handful of granola bars from a stand. He vaguely noted the four bulky truckers who sat at a corner booth. He was refilling his water bottle at the soda fountain when he sensed a looming presence behind him. Cautiously Jack turned and blinked at a wide swath of red flannel. His gaze traced up and up, over an impossibly thick sandy beard and into a pair of watery green eyes.
    “Ah, hello?”
    “That your bike hidden back in Old Man Krosp’s barn half-pint?”
    “Yes,” the youth replied tensing at the demanding tone.
    “You on the run?”
    “Chuck,” one of the other truckers said in exasperation. “Easy.”
    Jack darted a quick gaze around. The four men had him hemmed in and it would take three of  him to make any one of them.
    “Hey! We gotta find out if it’s him,” the first one stated stubbornly.
    “If I’m who?” Jack asked.
    “The kid the Franklins have everyone looking for.”
    “The Franklins?” the youth demanded eagerly. “They are looking for us?”
    “They are looking for tree kids; no names just descriptions. You fit the oldest.”
    “The other two? A short twelve year old Hispanic and an Asian with pink dyed hair?”
    “That’s them,” the massive trucker nodded in satisfaction. “So that means we found you!”
     A giant hand clapped down on Jack’s shoulder and he suddenly found himself steered towards a table.
    “I, I need to get going.”
    “Had breakfast yet kid?”
    “Ah, yes basically.”
    “What’s basically mean?”
    Jack’s stomach chose that moment to let out a treacherous growl.
    “Thought so. Maybell! Give me a full platter for the boy!”
    “I can’t-“
    “Hush now son. The Franklins are calling in their solids on this one. Gives me a chance to finally pay back a debt that’s long overdue. Now eat.”
     A massive steaming platter of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and a virtual log jam of sausages was piled up in front of him. The hungry human needed no further urging and eagerly dug in. When he had stated his initial hunger and found his pace the red haired trucker leaned forward.
    “So what’s going on kid? The Franklins are being kind of tight lipped but we figure you were involved in whatever shut down the Jasper Mines and the town.”
    Jack hesitated then nodded, quickly deciding on how much of the truth to tell.
    “We were caught outside of the town when,” he paused to remember what cover story Fowler had mentioned for these circumstances, “the meteor strike happened. I am traveling to meet up with my mom,” at the last word his voice caught with worry and he shifted his attention quickly back to the food on his plate.
    A sympathetic look passed between the truckers.
    “What about your dad?”
    “He,” the youth choked on the potatoes and coughed as a shudder ran through his body. He desperately prayed that they would take that as an excuse for the tears in his eyes, “I don’t know,” he whispered, “I just don’t know.”
    His shoulder was seized in a vice like grip and Jack pulled his gaze up to the watery green eyes.
    “Don’t sweat it kid. All in the Lord’s hands. All in the Lord’s hands. Now eat up.”
    The reminder of his blocked connection to Optimus had killed his appetite but he finished up and rose thanking the men. Each took the time to clasp his shoulder warmly and before he went out the door the redhead handed him a paper bag.
    “Something for the road from all of us.”
    “Thank you, really I-“
    “Don’t mention it kid,” the trucker waved his hand dismissively, “There’s not a rig on the interstate system that doesn’t owe the Franklins. They’re the ones who sent out the word. Thank them.”
    “Will do.”
    The human jogged over to the patiently waiting blue motorcycle.
    “I take it breakfast went well?” she asked curiously as he searched the contents of the bag and sorted the jerky and granola bars for easy carrying.
    “Yeah, some of the guys I there figured out I needed some help and bought me a big meal.”
     The sound of three semis revving their engines and pulling out of the parking lot rattled the barn.
     “And they gave you that bag of food too? Generous of them.”
     “Generous, for sure,” Jack blinked in shock at the last jerky bag in the bottom of the sack. It had been emptied and a thick roll of ones and fives was filling the space. He glanced at the now distant forms of the trucks and shook his head with a smile.  “Truckers.”
    “We need to get moving Jack,” Arcee pointed out.
    Jack nodded and swung up onto the seat. Despite the blocked connection and the uncertainty he felt a bit better.
    “Let’s roll Arcee. “