People always bring back Jazz with the same "the AllSpark shard revived him" explanation in the author's note. Or they skipped over his death in the movie. I decided to try something different. Edit: I ditched his accent. I can honestly say I have never met a black kid who spoke the way people write it.

Not Me

Ch. 1: Ratchet

Ratchet was looking over Sideswipe when he first noticed it, and would later smack himself on the head later, when he was alone in his office.

Sideswipe was complaining about his "bedside manner" when Jazz bounced in, dancing to a tune no one else could hear. Except this wasn't the adult everybot knew and loved. He was dead, had been for over fifty years. This Jazz was his clone, about thirty Earth years old, a child, really.

Ratchet had taken a piece of the original Jazz's Spark to create him. He'd even given him the same protoform build Jazz had, or as close to it as possible with the Earth metals he was forced to use. Now he was raising the youngling with Mirage's help. Though if he wants to be honest, whenever the psychotic, sword-wielding Special Ops mech takes the kid on what he called "necessary adventures" a.k.a. disappearing to Primus-knows-where for weeks at a time, he is sorely tempted to reconsider this decision.

"Hey Jazzy," Sideswipe called, waving. Ratchet had looked over to greet him when he noticed the tiniest frown on the youngling's face. It vanished after a millisecond as he gave them the Spark-breaking smile only Jazz (original and clone) could pull off. He decided to let it go.

The second time was when Sam and his grandchildren came to visit. All the Autobots whom Sam had originally met, way back in 2007, were in the hanger with the family when someone (Ratchet recalled it being Ironhide) had the brilliant idea to introduce them to the young clone. Ratchet resisted the idea, remembering the youngling's face when Sideswipe had called him Jazz. In the end, it didn't really matter, because Jazz came in there, wanting to meet other children his (mental) age, nine or ten years old. Ratchet made note of his claws flexing just the slightest bit when Prime said his name. However, he, again, let it go.

The third and final time, he was in the medbay, wiping it down while Jazz sat on a berth, swinging his legs back and forth and humming to himself.

"Jazz, will you hand me that?" He asked, indicating the tool laying next to the kid on the berth. Immediately, the leg-swinging stopped and a look of pain flew across his face before being replaced with a blank expression. He handed the medic the tool before hopping off the berth and leaving, mumbling about being late for sparring practice with Mirage.

That last incident more than anything is the reason he's standing behind the kid, watching him as he's sitting on the beach, just out of reach of the waves, staring at the stars. Ratchet remembers another Jazz doing the same, back on Cybertron, when the war seemed unwinnable. Pushing that thought to the back of his mind (it still hurt too much to think about it), he moves closer to the youngling as quietly as he can, which frankly had nothing on an Ops mech, even one in-training.

The kid had turned around before Ratchet had taken three steps, smiling faintly. He pats the ground next to him, which relieves the older mech. Evidently he had forgiven and forgotten what had happened in the medbay.

"Hey, sparklet," He says, gears groaning in protest as he sits. He notices the smirk Jazz is doing his best to hide. "And what are you laughing at?"

"Nothin' really."

"Uh-huh."

"Really, I swear!"

They're both laughing now. The kid's isn't the baritone Ratchet is used to hearing, but it was getting there. A couple more vorns and he'll be just like Jazz...

"I want to talk to you, sparklet."

"About what?" He's looking at the stars again.

"About how you seem uncomfortable when people say your name." Jazz clenches his claws a second, then relaxes just as quickly. "That's what I'm talking about, right there. Why do you do that? You never have before."

"Jazz isn't my name." He replies quickly, harshly. Ratchet raises an optic ridge.

"What do you mean? Of course it is."

"No. I mean-I mean I'm not Jazz. That's the name you guys gave me, but that's not me. I didn't choose it. Not like you got to." He flicks up his visor and looks Ratchet in the optic.

"I know regular sparklings come from the Well of Allsparks. And I know you got to choose your name, and everyone else did, too. But not me. I know I'm a clone. I read your medical files you have on me and the first Jazz," he adds at Ratchet's shocked look.

"What I want to know is, why? Why didn't you let me choose? Did you really miss 'im so much ya needed to create another just like 'im? Do-do ya even recognize me as mah own bot?"

Ratchet just stares. A freaking sparkling has managed to silence him by asking questions he couldn't even begin to answer, mostly because he doesn't know how. But dammit, he has to try. If only for the kid's sake.

But first, he has to find out his name, the one he chose for himself.

"Before I answer, I need to know what to call you." The youngling looks surprised, but then a slow smile spreads across his face.

"Bassline." Ratchet considers it a moment, then smiled.

"Fitting." Then he drops the smile. "It's true, yes. We missed Jazz. I realize that was selfish of everyone, myself especially, to...well, create you to replace him. And for that I'm sorry." Bassline drops his gaze.

"You're sorry I exist?"

"No," Ratchet says, surprise lacing his voice. "Of course not, sparklet. I meant I'm sorry we expected you to be our new Jazz. That wasn't right."

"So ya do see me as a different person?" Ratchet pauses a moment.

"I do now," He says carefully. "Now that I've seen you growing up. There are differences between you two."

"Like what?"

"I assume you know Jazz was in Special Operations?" Bassline nods.

"Tha's why Mirage is trainin' me."

"And I still don't think it's a good idea," Ratchet mutters darkly. "Anyway, the job is very difficult, as you know. Jazz was very good at it. He had a...darker personality, I guess you'd call it, that made it easier for him to blend in with the Decepticons. He kept it hidden, putting up a cheerful front. I don't see that in you. You are a naturally happy-go-lucky sparkling."

"Couldn't that change?" Bassline asks, frowning. "Maybe Jazz was the same when he was younger." Ratchet shrugs.

"Maybe. I don't think so, though. I met him before the war. He had a strange vibe. I don't know how to describe it. But that doesn't mean he wasn't a good mech. He genuinely believed in the cause and did his best to keep everyone alive."

Okay, so he may have lied a bit. Jazz did believe in the Autobot cause, but he hated the war more and had tried to abandon it after finding what he called the "Information Highway" or something like that. He came back after the planet tried to absorb him, but Bassline doesn't need to know any of that.

"Anything else?"

"Yes. Mostly minuscule, like the way you tilt your head to the right when you're confused about something. Jazz's always went to the left. Things like that. It may not seem like much, but it proves you're not a carbon copy of him." That makes the youngling smile.

"Ya know, despite how weird it would be, I would've liked to have met 'im."

"That would be weird." Ratchet puts an arm around Bassline, pulling him to his side. "Do you have anything else you want to tell me, anything you need to talk about?" Bassline begins messing with the plating on Ratchet's arm, much like a human child would with a parent's sleeve. He's quiet for a minute or two, but Ratchet is patient. Finally, he begins to speak.

"I heard one of the Minis talking. Don't know which one. Can't tell 'em apart. He didn' know I was in the room, none of them did. I was practicing sneakin' around," Bassline explains, a hint of pride in his voice. It vanishes as he continues.

"He said I shouldn't be alive. Said he didn't know why anyone could want me. He-he also said that you and Mirage only pretend to care about me." Here, he looks up at his surrogate Creator. Ratchet feels a surge of rage, but manages to keep it off his face. Barely.

"What that 'bot said was a bunch of bullshit." Great. Now he was resorting to human curse words. "There are a few bigots who resent you, I'll admit that. But you can't pay them any attention, okay, sparklet? You have just as much a right to live as they do, more even." He tilts Bassline's helm back up to look at him since he had tucked his face into Ratchet's side.

"Mirage and I do love you, Bassline. Very much. Don't ever believe otherwise." The youngling's smile lights up his face, clearing away any doubt caused by that piece of shit of an Autobot. He stands up and wraps his arms around Ratchet, hugging him tight. The medic responds back.

"I love ya too, Ratchet." Bassline lets go and steps back. "Do we have ta go back now?"

"Yeah. I think it's long past your recharge time anyway." And I need to find those Mini loud-mouths and give them a new hole to breathe through. Thankfully, Bassline doesn't seem to realize there is another reason they need to get back to base. Or maybe he does and just chooses not to say anything.

They walk back in silence. Right before entering the base, Bassline stops. Ratchet does, too.

"What's wrong?"

"When are we gonna tell 'em?"

"How about tomorrow?" He nods.

"Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good."