Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Though it had only been a few hours, you already missed the bright lights of Tokyo. Instead of magnificent skyscrapers plastered with neon signs and shining billboards, you looked out the window to see nothing but scattered house lights and sand particles coasting in the hot night wind. Occasionally, the chirping of a cricket broke the silence. There were no sounds of traffic. There were no sounds of anything, actually—save for the insects. The whole town seemed empty. Desolate. Abandoned. The remnants after a nuclear blast. The environmental clash overwhelmed you.

Trying your best to brush that aside, you turned around to face your new room, glancing over the bland decor. A white bedspread covered the queen sized mattress, matching with the light colored curtains surrounding the window. Little knick knacks littered the dresser, none of which you knew what to do with. It was a quaint guest bedroom all things considered, and you were thankful Miko’s host parents let you stay with them for the first few days while you found a place of your own in the small desert town—once your paychecks started coming in again, that is. For now, this foreign bedroom in a foreign land would have to do.

You spotted a doll nestled in the corner with a few other clutter items. Picking it up, you brushed aside the messy bangs to reveal its plastic face. It stared at you, unblinking, and you were suddenly reminded of why you were here in the first place. Babysitting was never your original job of choice—your goal was to join the military—but you fell into it after running into a troublesome little girl years ago, eventually becoming the only one she would listen to. You figured she respected you as a role model enough to listen, but only after she caught you practicing some boxing on your balcony one night. She begged you to teach her some skills. Being alone for far too long, you couldn't help but agree to tutor the loud child. Just like that, she followed you around like a lost duckling.

You quickly came to note that Miko was a rambunctious spirit, though smart enough to know when she should tone it down—well, most of the time. Her parents, and your neighbors at the time, paid you handsomely while they were away on trips, and you grew greatly attached to the girl, but when Miko left Tokyo to venture to America, you were left with no income, and a hole in your heart. It quickly became too quiet to bear.

It was no surprise you jumped at the chance to reclaim your job at her parents’ request. Apparently Miko’s host-parents were desperate for help in corralling the excitable teenager. You figured something like that would happen. It took years for you to hone the art of ‘Miko-sitting’, and the soft-spoken couple that took in the girl couldn’t hold their ground against a small child, much less Miko of all people. You vaguely met them over a video call a while back.

You filed away your reminiscing to process your current position, having just arrived home only minutes earlier. Miko’s host parents had just wished you goodnight after graciously driving you home from the airport. Despite this, you already felt regret at your decision—you loved the constant hustle and bustle of the big city. There was never a boring day. There were always clubs open, street races scattered among the pretzeled roadways. Quiet was something never experienced, much less in a packed apartment building. Jasper, Nevada, however? You could count the number of cars you saw on the drive from the airport on one hand—including the one you rode in.

You let out a sigh, deciding to sleep all of your worry off. At least you felt relief at the prospect of baby-sitting in such a quiet town. Thoughts of endless dirt roads and sand filled your mind again. You hoped you didn’t just make the biggest mistake of your life. Crawling into bed, you made yourself comfortable, lulled to bed by the faint sounds of wind and crickets.

You awoke with a start, a shriek of excitement filling your ears. You bolted from bed, eyes wide as you prepared to defend yourself. Familiar eyes stared at you from the foot of your bed before you were pulled into a tight hug. You let out a wheezy breath of air.

“I cannot believe you’re actually here! This is amazing! I missed you so much!” Miko rattled off rapidly, leaving your tired mind in the dust. You blinked a few times before smiling.

“Hey, Miko,” you said, returning the hug, though with much less gusto. “How’ve you been? What time is it?”

Miko pulled away, grinning. She donned her usual punky style, though you noted her hair was now dyed pink at the ends. It suited her personality well. “I’m good! It’s nine in the morning!”

You groaned. “Of course it is. . .” you let out a yawn, stretching your legs as you swung yourself lazily off the bed. “What time does school start here? Shouldn’t you already be there?”

Miko rolled her eyes, pulling on your arm. Despite her effort, you weren’t budging. “What are you, jet-lagged? It’s Saturday! C’mon! Get up! We’ve got so much to talk about! I fell asleep before I could catch you last night, but I’m not gonna waste a second today!”

It took some heavy coaxing from Miko, and a few glares on your end, but you were finally up and ready to go, a hot espresso in hand. You regretted not icing it. You could feel sweat begin to bead on your face, even in your light outfit. You donned a sundress you had laying around, not finding the motivation to slide on pants.

“Okay,” you grumbled, scanning the bright environment from behind your shades, “where are we going?”

“I’ve got some friends I want you to meet!” she replied excitedly. She showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon, and you soon fell into pace with her, waves of stored knowledge flooding back about how to manage the teenager.

After a short walk, though not surprising considering the entire town was no larger than a few square miles, you arrived at a small restaurant. Miko opened the door, you in tow.

“Jack!” Miko shouted, locking eyes with a black-haired boy manning the cash-register. He looked tired. You sympathized with him.

Miko waved. “This is my bad-ass babysitter I was telling you about! The one in Tokyo! She flew in last night and now she’s here! Her name’s (Y/N)!”

You smiled politely at Jack, looking him over. He waved. He seemed harmless enough. Your shoulders relaxed.

Before you could prompt a conversation with the lanky teenager, wanting to get to know Miko’s new friend group, the girl had already bee-lined to a table where a shorter boy sat, large glasses perched on his nose as he read a book. You were pleasantly surprised that Miko knew him. Usually, Miko would tease kids like him—until you stepped in, of course. “Raf! Raf! Look! It’s (Y/N)!”

The boy looked up, startled, before smiling. He looked no older than twelve. In what situation could he and Miko have met, you wondered. You doubted she and what looked to be a boy-genius shared any classes together. You loved Miko like she was your own sister, but bless her heart she was not book-smart. “Hey, Miko. Nice to meet you, (Y/N)! Miko talks about you a lot!”

“Nice to meet you, too,” you replied. “I’m happy to see Miko has made some friends here. Especially with someone who reads outside of school. Lord knows she could learn a thing or two from you.”

Miko elbowed you. “Hey! Rude!”

You gave your signature smug smile. “Kidding. I’m glad you’ve made good friends here, is all I’m saying.”

“That’s not all,” Miko raved, “wait until—” she stopped herself.

You rose a brow. “Wait until. . .?” Did she have other friends? You prayed they weren’t part of a bad crowd. Even in such a calm and quiet town, you figured there were still questionable people. Miko had a good head on her shoulders, and though she didn’t care for academics, she had excellent street smarts. You wanted to trust that she had only made good friends with good people. Your over-protective mind started to boot up.

She shook her head. “Oh, uhh, nevermind! How about we go do something fun? All of us?” Her words brought you back to the situation. You would have to question her about it all later.

“I’m working, Miko,” Jack called from his spot behind the counter. He pointed dejectedly to his hat. “And Raf is actually attempting to study for the exams on Monday.”

Your eyes perked up. Speaking of book-smart. . . you, for one, were as nerdy as they come—unexpected considering you also spent most of your time training your combat skills. You figured you needed to be well rounded to join the military, though you sort of gave up that life-path at this point. Regardless. . . “Exams? Miko! Are you prepared for those? You know I’ll help you study!”

She scoffed. “Uh, of course not! Who do you think I am? You? C’mon! I always wing it and do fine! I work best under pressure anyways! Now, let’s book!”

You knew she’d say something like that. Even after her time here, she hasn’t changed a bit. You had hoped her boy-genius friend would have influenced her at least a little bit. “You know I’ll make you sit down later and review at least a little, right? Now that I’m here, your school work is going to take high priority. Don’t think I don’t know your current grades. Your host parents and I talked on the ride home. And 7 detentions? Really?”

Miko cringed. “Remember when I said I missed you? I take that back.”

“Hush,” you said. “I am not only the big sister you never had, Miko, I also have a job to do. And that involves getting your grades up and your absences down. I’m doing this because I care. Okay?”

“Fine. Fine. Fine. Whatever. Let’s go stir up some trouble in the meantime though, huh?”

“How about a little town tour instead?” you prompted.

“You’re really killing my vibe.”

“Sorry.”

With that, Miko began the tour, though there really wasn’t much to see.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Over there is where Jack once street-raced! Don’t tell anyone I said that, though. It was kind of illegal.” She put a finger to her lips. You were surprised to here such a small town had a street-racing problem to begin with. What vehicles were they even racing with? You hadn’t seen a nice car since you got here.

“Miko!” you chastised, flicking her forehead. “What kind of kids are you hanging out with? Don’t make me march back into that restaurant and grill answers out of those two!”

“No, you don’t understand. It was a matter of pride! He had to!” she exclaimed, her hands flying as she gestured.

You groaned, putting a hand on her shoulder. “How is it that you’re here for, what, a month, without me, and you’re already falling in with a bad crowd? I thought I taught you better than that.”

“What? They’re not a bad crowd, (Y/N)--oh, no.” Miko stopped, her eyes fixed on a car coasting by a few yards away. You turned, your hand slipping off her shoulder. Your eyes widened from behind your sunglasses. What was a car like that doing in a place like this?

Sleek red paint. Custom detailing. Sparkling rims. It reminded you of the cars you’d see racing down the street at night in Tokyo—it was the first decent car you’d seen since you got here, and had a sinking feeling it was involved in the street races Miko mentioned only a few seconds earlier.

“Woah,” you muttered. The tires halted. The mirrors adjusted. You squinted to see the driver. The tint was too dark. You frowned.

A grip on your arm caused you to look over. Miko was holding onto you for dear life with one hand, the other rapidly clicking through her phone to dial a number. Fear consumed her expression, and adrenaline began to course through your body as you moved to grip her hand with your own. Whoever was in that car, Miko was afraid of them. Your eyes narrowed.

“Bulkhead! We need back up! Stat! It’s a ‘con!”

You didn’t even register her voice, only focused on the vehicle in front of you. The car begin to drive again, only this time heading straight for you. You gripped Miko’s hand tighter, subconscious processing before you had time to think. You spotted a possible hiding spot, springing into action.

You yanked Miko towards a large decline which led into a cement drain passage. Miko stumbled down the hill as she hurriedly instructed the caller on the other end.

You glanced behind you as the red car drove down, hot on your tails. You cursed, shoving Miko into a sewer pipe emerging from the concrete wall.

“(Y/N)!” she screamed, attempting to claw you into the pipe. You remained in front of the opening, unmoving. “Get inside with me! Please! C’mon!”

“Miko,” you commanded, voice serious. “Who is in that car, and what do they want with you?”

“I’ll explain later!” she yelled. “Just get in! You can’t fight him! Trust me!”

The car skidded to a halt a few yards away from you, tires screeching. “I recognize the girl,” uttered a low voice. “But you’re new. Another Autobot fleshy? You just keep multiplying! Unlucky for you, it’s my lucky day! A two-for-one deal! I knew coming back here would pay off!”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your breath caught in your throat at what happened next.

Seamlessly, the car began to change shape, metal shifting and sliding. Parts broke and interlocked like puzzle pieces, intricately interweaving to create a new shape. Within seconds, where a car once was, now stood a giant, for lack of a better word, robot. If you hadn’t made it yourself, you would’ve thought someone had spiked your coffee with LSD.

For the first time in years, you couldn’t force yourself to move. You couldn’t control your body. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak. You couldn’t snap out of it.

Unfortunately, that was all the time the giant metal entity before you needed.

“No!” shrieked a helpless Miko behind you as you were hauled into the air by huge claws. Sharp, shrapnel like edges dug into your exposed legs and arms.

“Run!” you managed to choke out, finally shaking yourself from your stupor. “For fucks’ sake, run, Miko!”

She shook her head, pointing a finger at the being holding you. “Put her down! Let her go! When Bulkhead gets here you’re dead-meat!”

A honk sounded beside you. You swiveled your head, eyes widening at the sight of a semi truck barreling towards you.

“Oh, shit!” yelled Miko. “The head honcho himself has arrived! You’re fucked now!”

“Uh oh,” spoke your captor, tossing you helplessly into the air. You couldn’t even scream as you squeezed your eyes shut, only to land harshly in the passenger seat of a familiar red car. “Just one captive will do!”

You lurched back in the seat as the vehicle took off, speeding down the dried drainage inlet. Muscle memory kicked in before you knew what you were doing, and you delivered a harsh kick to the passenger window. It didn’t budge. “Hey! Watch it!”

You kicked again, only to be strapped against the seat, legs pinned to the floor boards. “Cut it out! You’ll ruin my interior—”

The voice was cut off when the car jerked to a halt. Something held onto the back of the car, and you heard the tires spinning uselessly against the concrete. “Fine! If you want her—” Once again you were flung into the air as the robot shifted once more, though this time it didn’t attempt to catch you, only reshifting as it sped off. “--Catch!” Your life flashed before your eyes.

The last thing you remember is Miko’s scream of your name before you blacked out.
___

First posted 05/27/2022.

Unedited.

Chapter Text

When you came to, you recoiled at the searing pain along your head, neck, back, and all the way down your legs. You compared the sensation to being thrown into a washing machine set on heavy duty. All in all—not fun. You couldn’t even bring yourself to open your eyes, merely groaning in pain as you cupped your forehead. Everything was a blur. “Mother-fucker,” you muttered.

“(Y/N)! You’re alive!” a familiar high voice squealed, and deja vu washed over you as Miko wrapped you in a painful hug. Reluctantly, you wrenched open your crusty eyes, only to widen them in shock as everything came rushing back to you from before you blacked out. The car. The robot. The careless toss of your frozen body into the air. Your breathing picked up speed as you surveyed your status.

You were situated on a worn and uncomfortable hospital bed, though you knew damn sure you weren’t in a hospital, at least, not a legal one. You vaguely hoped your organs were all still safely inside you.

A black-haired woman in hospital scrubs lingered beside you, and her hand pressed against your shoulder when you attempted to shoot up from the bed. “Don’t,” she said sternly.

Immediately, that overwhelming feeling of dread in your stomach returned at the sights before you. Metal entities resembling the antagonist earlier scattered about the massive cavern-like room. Your seething eyes sucked in every detail like leeches as your hand shot out to latch onto Miko’s. She squeezed your hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, (Y/N),” Miko said. “These are the good guys!”

The first figure you scrutinized sported a yellow paint job, and its eyes resembled spiral galaxies. It did not possess a mouth that you could see—instead a silver mouthguard covered the lower half of its face. Compared to the only other robot you had seen, this one looked. . . friendlier, in a way. You couldn’t seem to look away from its eyes. For being inorganic, they looked so. . . emotional. When it caught you staring, it whirred excitedly, waving.

“That’s Bumblebee. He turns into a muscle car!” Miko noted. You regarded Miko’s use of the word “he.”

You focused your attention on the rotund green robot positioned beside the yellow figure—Bumblebee, you recalled. The navy green ‘bot possessed an underbite, and also waved when you locked eyes, though you showed no sign of friendliness. “Hi there.” The voice was rumbly and gruff, though not unkind.

“That’s Bulkhead! He and I are best buds!” You again took note of Miko’s pronoun choice. Even if they were going to kill you, torture you, or everything in between, you still respected them enough to address them correctly. You might be a bitch sometimes, but you weren’t an asshole.

The next robot you studied resembled the colors of an ambulance.

“He’s Ratchet! He’s grumpy though, so watch out!” Said ‘bot scoffed, waving your presence away dismissively. Rude.

A smaller blue metalloid figure leaned against a stairwell, arms crossed.

“Her name is Arcee!”

You turned to look at the final robot in the room, whose paint job seemed vaguely familiar. An image of a semi truck flashed across your brain.

“And finally. . .”

“My name is Optimus Prime.”

“Miko,” you whispered, hand still clutching hers as you looked around erratically. “What the fuck is going on and how hard did I hit my head?” You flexed and relaxed all of your muscles, trying to ground yourself. The woman beside you helped you sit up slowly, pushing up the hospital bed headrest all the while. Miko released your hand to assist as well.

“I need you to relax and breathe,” the woman spoke calmly, eyes locking with yours. “You don’t have any major injuries that I can see, but you did sustain major bruising all over the back of your body. If you strain yourself you will only make it worse.”

“I’m. . . okay,” you managed dryly. “Just. . . somebody tell me I’m not going crazy.”

Miko opened her mouth to speak, but a familiar face hushed her. It was the teenager from the restaurant. Jack. Raf lingered beside him. You hadn’t even noticed. You hoped they were both okay. “Miko. Let’s let Optimus do the talking. Okay? No offense, but you’ll probably just confuse her more,” Jack explained.

Miko huffed. “She’s my babysitter, but whatever.”

At the sound of heavy footsteps, you looked back out into the open room. The familiar-colored robot knelt down, looking you in the eyes. You glared, putting a hand out to guard Miko despite your bed-ridden state. Honestly, you couldn’t care less about anything that happened to you. Your first priority was Miko. Always was. Always will be. She was your only real family, though you weren’t even related. And you would protect her with your life.

“Explain,” you demanded—a little too harshly for someone in your current state. “Now.”

“First and foremost, know that protecting Miko and the other children is always a top concern. Their continued presence in our base is of their own freewill,” the robot—Optimus, was it?--began. His baritone voice reverberated throughout the room. “We are robotic organisms known as Cybertronians. We come from the planet Cybertron. Our presence on your planet is the result of centuries of war between two factions which destroyed Cybertron—Autobots and Decepticons. We, the Autobots, wish to protect humanity from the Decepticons, whose ultimate goal is to conquer Earth and its inhabitants—”

“Stop,” you said curtly. The room went silent. All eyes looked at you. Apparently cutting off Optimus Prime was a rare occasion. “I just need to know how these kids got wrapped up in all of this. Why do you continue to let them be involved in this war if it was bad enough to destroy your home planet? I understand you said they’re here of their own volition, but they’re still children.”

The woman beside you spoke up. “I understand where you’re coming from. As Jack’s mom, I worry sick about his well-being, but these kids. . . they’ve grown attached. They may be kids, but they should still get a say in how their lives are lived.” She glanced at Jack. “At least, that’s what I think.”

You sighed, frustrated. You looked at Miko who grinned at you. “I’m okay! I promise! You don’t have to act like my mom all the time, you know. Trust me, the bots would never let anything happen to us!”

“Then what was that earlier, huh?” you gritted, now facing Optimus. Your eyes narrowed into slits, quickly getting fed-up with this entire situation. The fact that your entire body pulsated with pain didn’t help. “Miko could’ve been kidnapped and brought to who-knows-where! Where were you all then?”

“Optimus stopped Knock-Out, didn’t he?” Arcee piped up angrily, arms folded. “We’ve been keeping Miko, Jack, and Raf safe before you ever got here.”

“(Y/N),” Optimus said. “You have a right to be upset; however, now that the Decepticons know of their, and your, interactions with us Autobots, they will not simply leave you be.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have anything else to say. You balled your hands into fists. What could you say? He brought up a good point. Regardless of whether or not they, and you, interacted with them, you were still targets. Though you hated to admit it—you couldn’t protect Miko on your own. Not from the Decepticons—an army of evil robotic organisms hell-bent on conquering Earth. You wanted to cry out of frustration, but you didn’t. Crying was pointless. You relaxed your hands.

“What now,” you muttered. You looked down at your legs, noticing the ugly bruises splattered everywhere but the very tops of your thighs, knees, and calves. You looked like a sad banana. You just wanted to lay down and sleep.

“You need to rest for a few days,” Jack’s mother said—you didn’t even know her name yet. “You should be able to hobble around if necessary, but don’t push it.”

You felt a weight settle in your stomach. “I just want to go home,” you mumbled. “To Tokyo.”

“Hey,” Miko exclaimed, gripping your hand. “Don’t say that! C’mon! Let’s go watch a movie and you can lay on the couch up on the landing!” She gestured to a high platform looking above the large space. You noted the only way up was a ladder. You grit your teeth.

“Fine,” you muttered, swinging your legs off the bed. Your bruises flared in pain. “But only because I’m not leaving you alone here.”

“Woah! Woah!” Jack piped up. “Maybe don’t try to immediately walk and climb a ladder! Like my mom said—be careful.”

The woman smiled at her son’s words. “That’s my boy.”

“Unless there is an elevator I don’t know about,” you sneered, emotions flaring up as the full impact of your fall started to take effect, “then I don’t really have a choice, huh?”

Raf raised his hand tentatively. “You can just have one of the ‘bots give you a lift.”

Your entire body tensed. You thought back to the feeling of air whooshing all around you as you fell, lungs too empty to even scream as the force took the breath out of your flailing form. You remembered the horror you felt as the red-eyed Decepticon first picked you up. Your sides ached at the thought of its claws digging into you.

“No!” you shouted. You cleared your throat. “I mean. . . no. A robot is the reason I’m in this state in the first place. I’m not putting my life in their hands again.”

“Ya know,” Miko said, “A ‘bot is also the reason you’re still, ya know, here. . . Optimus caught you before you fell all the way to the ground. Remember? I was there. I saw it all.”

You shot a glance at the mentioned Autobot. “Oh. I don’t remember that. . .” you suddenly felt embarrassed at your attitude thus-far. You felt like an idiot. An ungrateful idiot. “Thank you. . . I guess. . . for saving me. . .” you mumbled, “though. . . I would’ve appreciated it if you caught me a little sooner than you did,” you added, laughing softly.

“You are welcome,” he replied, nodding. “And your feedback is noted.”

“Now will you quit being stubborn and come watch a movie!” Miko whined. “We can watch your favorite!”

“Okay, okay,” you said, waving her off. “Fine.”

With great effort, you slowly slid closer to the edge of the gurney, grabbing Miko’s shoulder for support. “Let me at least try to hobble over to the ladder first before hitching a ride.” Painstakingly, you began to put pressure onto your feet. “I’m not completely useless.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the robotic medic scoffed. “If I know anything, it’s that you humans are fragile. You won’t even make it a foot!” He waved his hand as if swatting away the idea like a pesky fly.

Miko groaned, shaking her head. “Ratchet! Why’d you have to say that! Now she’s never gonna accept help! She’s too stubborn to admit defeat! She’s got a point to prove now!”

With a newfound strength, you took a shaky step forward. You winced. “Damn right,” you muttered.

Embarrassingly, however, you only made it another step before collapsing onto the ground. Your eyes threatened to roll backwards as blood drained from your head. You let out a groan, attempting to regain your stance.

“(Y/N)!” Miko yelled. “Are you okay?”

You opened your mouth but words never came out. You fell to the floor, out cold. A cacophony of voices erupted.

“I warned her to be careful!”

“Ratchet, you broke her!”

“This was the result of her own stubbornness!”

“Is she still breathing?”

“She’s fine. Just stood up too fast and lost consciousness. She should come back around any second now.”

“Quick, some ‘bot move her now so she doesn’t attempt that again!”

“Not you Ratchet, you already broke her once!”

“She’s not broken!”

“Whir. Blip. Click.”

“You said it, Bumblebee. I’m stayin’ out of this.”

“Bulkhead, you’re Miko’s guardian. Doesn’t that make you (Y/N)’s by association? You can move her.”

“I don’t wanna hurt her, Arcee! Optimus can do it! He’s the boss!”

“Beep. Click.”

“See! He agrees with me!”

“Would somebody just get her off the floor!”

“I will assist.”

“Don’t drop her, Optimus! She’s got enough fall damage as is!”

“I won’t, Miko.”

“Now someone get the duct-tape so she doesn’t leave that couch! I can baby-sit my own baby-sitter for a few days, how funny is that!”

“Miko, if your idea of baby-sitting involves duct tape. . . don’t ever become a baby-sitter.”

“Shut up, Jack. C’mon. Let’s watch a movie!”

“Why do you two always fight?”

“We’re not fighting, Raf, we’re just arguing!”

“That’s the same thing, Miko.”

“Whatever.”

Your eyes peeled open from your spot now on the couch. You let out a huff at seeing your new location. You looked at Miko’s figure popping up from the ladder. Raf and Jack followed behind her. “I could have come up here myself if you just gave me a minute.”

“You made it a foot and fell unconscious,” Ratchet commented. “Give it a rest.”

“That’s a foot further than you thought I would make it,” you retorted.

“Primus,” he muttered, clutching his forehead. “What have I done to deserve yet another stubborn human wandering the base?”

“Pfft, don’t worry, Ratch’,” Miko quipped. “She’s a nerd. You’re a nerd. You’ll get along great in no time.”

You and the scientist both shot Miko a glare. She laughed. “See! You’re already mimicking each other!”

You ignored the girl, instead opting to bury your head into the couch cushions as you made yourself comfortable. “Wake me up when everything I’ve witnessed thus far turns out to be a nightmare.”

“I apologize for the events you have experienced thus far,” Optimus Prime spoke up. “If there is anything I can do to improve your current state, let me know.”

You didn’t bother responding, merely acknowledging his statement with a dismissive wave. The only thing that would improve your current state would be a time machine. Or narcotics. Lots and lots of narcotics. God, did your body ache. It wanted nothing more than to shut down and recover, but your mind refused to shut off.

Did you really have to live the rest of your life in fear of alien robots? Was there any way to stop them? If so, was there anything you could do to make that happen? Despite all of your rage towards these Decepticons, you couldn’t hold your own against even one. How were you supposed to dismantle an army? How were you supposed to protect Miko in all of this? What about the other kids? The other humans? Even with a team of their own, the Autobots appeared to be few in numbers. Were you really safe with them? There was always a chance of failure. Of danger. Of death.

In hindsight, you knew that life itself was dangerous regardless of who you were. People die all the time for perfectly mundane reasons. Instead of meeting your end to a giant robot one day, maybe you could simply choke on a donut. Was there any point in stressing about your current situation if you could do nothing about it? Probably not. Unfortunately, your knotted stomach didn’t agree with your conclusion.

Eventually, you managed to drift off to sleep, the sounds of a monster movie lulling you to bed. Your face softened as your breathing steadied. For once since you got to America, you actually looked at peace. Not tired. Not angry. Not sad. Just. . . calm.

Miko glanced at you, smiling. She knew you stressed out a lot, mainly about her. Despite that, you always kept a cool composure, making sure to think fast to keep her safe, even at the risk of your own safety. She really felt awful about the way you were introduced to the bots, but a part of her was also glad that she didn’t have to hide them from you. You would come around and realize they weren’t so bad. . . at least, Miko hoped you would. You were never a trusting person, but given your background, you had a right to be hesitant.

Miko turned her head back to the movie, placing a hand on top of yours. You were like the older sister she never had, and she loved you for it.

“Miko,” called Optimus suddenly, his heavy footfalls echoing closer to the platform. “I hate to interrupt your movie, but I would like to discuss a few things with you regarding your baby-sitter.”

Miko turned around and nodded. “No problem, Optimus. I’ve seen this movie a dozen times anyway! I just put it on ‘cause it’s (Y/N)’s favorite. What did you want to talk about?”

__

First posted 05/30/2022.

Unedited.

Chapter Text

You awoke to silence, save for a scattered metallic tapping sound. When you opened your eyes, you noticed the silo was cloaked in darkness and near empty. Jack, Raf, and Miko were nowhere to be seen. In fact, nobody was anywhere to be seen—well, except for Ratchet. You sat up carefully, body still unhappy and aching. Your stomach growled. You groaned, notifying the doctor of your presence.

“The children went home,” Ratchet noted, his eyes not moving from his screens as he typed away—the source of the tapping sound. Did he ever do anything but work? “The other Autobots are resting or out.”

“Miko didn’t wait for me?” you asked. You fished your phone out of your wrinkled dress pocket, which was surprisingly still intact despite the events of the past day. Your eyes widened as you noticed the time. Two in the morning. How long were you out? You honestly had no sense of time.

“She tried,” he replied. “It took quite some convincing for her to leave. We, err, the others, didn’t want her to run herself ragged trying to keep an eye on you until you finally woke up. I’m sure she’s still awake and worried.”

You sent her a text letting her know you were alright before shoving your phone back in your pocket. “Seems like I’ve already caused her more harm than good,” you muttered to yourself. You rolled your shoulders around, shaking off your sleepiness as you prepared to stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Ratchet commented.

“To get some pain meds. And food.” You braced yourself on the railing, making your way to the ladder. “I also need to get back home.”

“What—are you going to walk there?”

You shrugged. “If I have to. I’ve been through worse. I know you’re a doctor and all, but don’t worry about me.”

Sighing, he trudged over to the platform where you were about to climb down the ladder. He held out a hand, palm up. “Don’t be a fool. I’ll take you.”

You cringed. “No, you were busy doing something. And I still don’t feel comfortable around giant alien robots like yourself—regardless of your affiliation.”

“I see where Miko gets her stubbornness,” he muttered before looking you in the eyes. There was a hint of annoyance, but also honesty. Despite your gut, you wanted to trust him. “I swear on my spark—I will not drop you, nor hurt you in any way. Now let’s go. Doctor’s orders.”

Huffing, you relented, cautiously stepping into his palm. It was weirdly warm. You’d assumed it would be cold like the metal on machinery, but cybertronians were living entities. It made sense they’d give off heat. It was just. . . bizarre to experience first-hand. Literally, in this case. You tensed as he moved, lowering his hand to set you down on the cold gray floor. You let out a breath of relief as you stepped off.

You heard the familiar sound of metal slipping past metal and in a flash an ambulance sat in front of you.

The passenger door swung open.

You got in slowly, your whole body tense as you sat down. You set your hands on your thighs, unwilling to touch anything more than you had to within the foreign space. The door shut, leaving you trapped inside. Before you could reach to your right, a seat belt reeled out, strapping you in. Your breath hitched. You froze, heart rate spiking. Everything felt too tight. Too hot. Too claustrophobic. A dark interior illuminated red flashed across your vision. You tightened your hands into fists.

“Hey,” a voice called, snapping you back to reality. “I’m not going to hurt you! Just. . . calm down. Breathe. Ground yourself.”

You inhaled, holding it for a second, before breathing out. You loosened your hands. You blinked a few times. You registered your environment. Cool A/C blowing against your skin. Warm seats relaxing your bruised muscles. You could hear the hum of the engine. Taking in another slow breath, you noted the smell of cleaner. You focused on the dashboard, reaching out in front of you to touch it. You nodded to yourself. You were okay. It was okay. Ratchet was. . . okay.

“I’m good,” you breathed out, leaning against the headrest tentatively. “I’m good. Just. . . head to the nearest CVS pharmacy, okay?”

You watched as the gear-shifter moved on its own, switching from park to drive. It was a mostly silent drive. You looked out your window, watching the darkened desert pass by in a blur. The moon casted shadows upon objects in the night—mostly cacti with the occasional large rock. You watched as a lizard scattered behind a boulder. It was the polar opposite of Tokyo, but some part of you almost preferred the peace and quiet of it all. It was untouched nature. Harsh, unyielding, merciless nature. It felt more. . . real than Tokyo.

“Why Jasper,” you asked suddenly, shifting to stare at the glowing interface nestled in the dash. You watched it fluctuate as Ratchet spoke. You decided you liked his voice. It felt. . . comforting. It was unlike you to trust so easily, but you couldn’t help it. Even though he was snappy, that much you could already tell, he was also grounded in a way you could never be. It seemed like he had an answer for everything. He felt. . . dependable. Consistent. You appreciated that.

“There’s not many places that have an abandoned missile silo ready for giant inhabitants. It wasn’t my first choice, but the U.S. government decided it was best.”

You nodded, though you were unsure whether or not he could see you. “I should’ve guessed the military was involved with all this. How many know about you? I can’t imagine the government is too eager to release this kind of information to just anyone.”

“Agent Fowler is our main liaison. He’ll probably show up any time to brief you on the situation. As for others, I am not sure.”

You hummed. “Does this ‘Agent Fowler’ know about the kids? He can’t be okay with them staying around you all.”

Ratchet scoffed. “He tries his best to keep them out of it, but some of the ‘bots have gotten attached. At this point, he’s just accepted defeat. I would love to know how he explains them away to his fellow agents and whatnot.”

“Have the kids. . . ever gotten seriously hurt being a part of all this?” you asked. “I love Miko—she’s family to me—and I would hate to keep her from you all if it would make her upset, but her safety comes first. I know Jack’s mother seems confident in you all, but. . .”

“Trust me when I say I understand your concern—I was less than thrilled having three small creatures to watch out for—but they’ve been nothing less than resilient. We may not look like much compared to an entire army, but we’ve made it this long.” He chuckled. “And the children are in safe hands. Always. Even Miko and her antics.”

You let out a sigh. You set a hand on the dash. “I appreciate that. But just know that if anything happens to Miko—” you hand morphed into a fist. “I will hunt every last one of you down, Decepticon and Autobot alike.” You sat back in your seat.

“You. . . refer to Miko as family, but you’re not related? Do you have blood relatives? From my limited research, human families seem to span for eons in every direction.”

You froze up. “That’s private,” you hissed. “But yes. Miko is the only family I have. I don’t know you enough to spill my whole life story, but know that she’s all I have.”

Ratchet wasn’t stupid enough to pry further. It was obviously a touchy subject. Luckily, he just pulled into the pharmacy. Having a built-in GPS came in handy.

“Just wait here,” you said, hobbling out of the ambulance. “I’ll be back in a second.”

With effort, you managed to make it inside, grabbing a cart to learn on. You thanked the Gods this store was open 24-hours. You bee-lined to the pain-killer aisle. You swiped up a few different options, tossing them in the cart. Hopefully some combination of them would do something to help. After that, you snatched a few snacks from the food aisles. Within a minute, you had a small mountain of items. You nodded, reaching into your pocket to grab your wallet—you groaned. You never brought your wallet. It must’ve still been on your night-stand.

Sucking in a breath, you made a quick decision, all your old habits flooding back to you. You slowly wheeled the cart near the back of the store, noting the locations of security cameras and mirrors. Once the coast was clear, you stuffed a few essentials into your dress pockets. You made sure to adjust your clothes to create the most subtle appearance you could.

As inconspicuous as possible, you stumbled back towards the door. You shot a glance towards the cashier, who was dozing off watching television. You hobbled out the door. No alarms sounded. You couldn’t help but grin. You still had it.

You opened the passenger seat, sliding in as you pulled some extra-strength Tylenol out of your pocket. You popped two in your mouth, swallowing them dry. You followed them up with some chips from your other pocket.

“Did. . . you steal those?” Ratchet questioned as he pulled out of the parking lot. You put a finger to your lips.

“What are you, a cop? Shush. Don’t ever tell Miko about this, either. I just forgot my wallet on my nightstand.”

“Human laws are none of my business,” he replied.

With that, you were off. “Just take me back to the silo,” you said. “I don’t want to press my luck tonight and sneak into Miko’s host-parents’ house. I also don’t want to explain my day to them when they inevitably ask.”

He headed back towards the dark desert, dust kicking up in his wake.

The drive started off nice, though of course you couldn’t even have a few hours of peace. You were ten minutes in when headlights flashed in Ratchet’s rearview mirror. You looked behind you. All you saw were headlights, unable to make out the car utilizing them. Luckily, Ratchet’s vision was better than yours.

“Just my luck,” he muttered, speeding up. “It seems like Knock Out is back with a vengeance. He must’ve been patrolling the area ever since Jack’s speed-racing stunt. After spotting you and Miko once—it was only a matter of time.”

“That’s. . . the one that tried to kidnap me. . . Knock Out,” you said, voice quivering. “He’s here to finish the job. . . right?”

“Not gonna happen,” Ratchet replied, though the car behind you quickly shortened the distance.

“Pull over!” called the ‘con, laughing mockingly.

“I’ve got a situation,” Ratchet said. “Anyone available? It’s Knock Out. It seems he’s figured out the general location of the humans. I’ve got (Y/N) and am in need of back up.”

You lurched forward as the ‘con began shooting at Ratchet. You flinched with each piercing sound. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!” you cried. “Can I not have a day of rest without that sports car getting involved!”

“I’ll have to engage him head-on,” Ratchet said hurriedly. “I will let you out as soon as I stop. Run and hide. There’s a boulder up ahead. You’ll be safe until back-up arrives.”

You barely had time to process his sentence before he skidded to a halt, drifting in the dirt. The door flew open, and you jumped out, running as fast as you could in your state. You spotted the aforementioned rock, and quickly lunged behind it. You shoved yourself against it, breathing heavily. You turned around, peaking above the boulder. You spotted Ratchet and Knock Out exchanging blows, though you could tell it wasn’t going to last much longer.

Knock Out was just too fast, able to dodge and retaliate faster than Ratchet could move. You winced as the ‘con finally knocked the orange ‘bot aside with a yell. “I appreciate your spirit, but you’re a little too outdated to pick a fight with me!”

Ratchet lay on his back, unresponsive. You noticed his eyes close slowly. You winced. You were on your own. You were just thankful the ‘con didn’t decide to end the doctor’s life then-and-there.

“Now, where-oh-where did you go!” The red cybertronian began to comb the area, tone light as he taunted you. “You can’t hide out here forever!”

You knew that. You had to make a decision, and quickly. With a determined huff, you watched until Knock Out turned away from you, then sprinted across the desert to get to Ratchet. You had to try and wake him up. He was your only hope, you concluded.

Though your body was on fire with pain, you made it. You climbed onto his neck, making your way to his face. “Ratchet,” you whispered harshly. “Wake up! We need to go! Now!”

He didn’t stir. “Fuck it,” you muttered. You cleared your throat. “Wake up!” you screamed. The ‘bot stirred, eyes opening slowly. Good.

Unfortunately, Knock Out was now heading directly towards you. Bad.

You scampered down from Ratchet, crouching down beside his arm. “Can you move? We need to get out of here. Now!”

“I—”

“There you are!” You were wrenched from the ground, grasped in familiar claws as you came face-to-face with your attempted kidnapper once more. “Second time’s the charm! Now strap in!”

Metal slipped against metal. You found yourself strapped against the passenger seat once more, though you barely had time to process before a taser appeared from the dash-board. “I’ve learned my lesson with you! Good night!”

An intense shock coarsed through your body, and with a scream, you blacked out.

Ratchet could only watch as you were stolen away, seeing a spark of a taser before Knock Out careened through a freshly-opened ground bridge.

At the same time, the other Autobots flooded out of a groundbridge just behind the fallen doctor.

“The groundbridge!” Ratchet managed to yell. “Knock Out took (Y/N)!”

Arcee sprang into action, transforming and speeding towards the fading portal. Just as her wheel touched it, it disappeared, and she skidded to a halt on the desert sand. “Scrap.”

Bulkhead and Optimus helped Ratchet up, assisting him back through their own groundbridge. “We’ll get her back,” Optimus stated. “For the time being, let’s get you patched up.”

Ratchet shook his head. “I said she would be safe,” he muttered. “I lied to her.” That’s all he could think about as the familiar silo appeared in front of him and he took a seat on the medical table. “I had a job as a doctor—and I failed.”

__

First posted 06/02/2022.

Unedited.

Chapter Text

You awoke with a jolt, hands gripping the blanket you felt underneath you. Your eyes darted around wildly, taking in your current location in a giant bottle-like glass prison. Bare necessities scattered the small place. Past your prison was an extensive laboratory, if you had to guess, though the tools placed on the counters looked to do more harm than good. You paused when your eyes met a familiar pair of red ones. Knock Out waved condescendingly. “Good morning!”

Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you sprang up, hands rapping against the glass desperately. This was the worst location you’d woke up in thus far—though that one prison cell in Tokyo was a close second.

“Let me out of here!” you screamed. “I’ll gouge your eyes out, I swear to fuck! Let me go!” The glass didn’t budge. Your hands flooded with pain. It was useless. You were stuck in here. For what purpose? You didn’t dare to guess.

“What do you want from me!” you interrogated, fists now frozen against the glass as you glared at the now laughing ‘con.

“Oh, my. You’re like a little bug in a jar! How quaint. I assure you that you can hit, and hit, and hit until you bleed to death, but that’s not budging,” Knock Out quipped, extending a finger to tap the glass prison. “Lucky for you, you’ve got everything you need to survive in there for the foreseeable future! That is, until Megatron determines your usefulness to him, if any. Fingers crossed you’ll be my next test subject!”

A massive door suddenly opened, revealing an equally massive blue ‘con. “Breakdown! Just in time! Look what I caught! An Autobot pet!”

You noticed this Breakdown character only had one glowing eye. An eye patch of sorts covered the other. The robust exterior of this ‘con reminded you of Bulkhead, though less bulky.

The aforementioned ‘con leaned down, eye looking your comparably tiny form up and down. “Doesn’t look familiar. New?”

Knock Out shrugged, crossing his arms. “Most likely. Ratchet’s pet if I had to guess. He put up quite a fight for an older ‘bot.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” you shouted. “If you had the decency to provide me with necessities, you should have the decency to talk to me directly! Just take me to your leader already!”

“If you insist,” Knock Out said. He gestured to your prison. “Breakdown, grab the human.”

The aforementioned ‘con lumbered towards you, opening the top of your circular domain and reaching in a bulky hand. You cringed as you were lifted up and placed upon the blue cybertronian’s shoulder.

“Look! It’s like I have a bird or something!” Breakdown chuckled.

“Whatever,” replied Knock Out, already heading towards the dark metal door. “Just don’t drop it.”

“Her,” you corrected as you found a stable spot against Breakdown’s neck. You prayed you didn’t slip and fall.

“Don’t drop her,” Knock Out hissed.

For an evil alien, you appreciated his respect for your identity. “Thank you,” you replied quickly.

He waved you off. Breakdown lumbered behind him in silence, eventually coming to a stop at a door even larger than the ones you’d seen previously. Knock Out knocked twice.

“Enter,” uttered a deep and foreboding voice. You nestled yourself flatter against Breakdown. Whoever was behind that door. . . you didn’t want to know.

The door shifted open and the pair of ‘cons stepped through. Your breath caught in your throat at the massive cybertronian seated at a grandiose throne. Silver spikes adorned an imposing form. There was no part that wasn’t sharp—claws, shoulders, head. You stared directly into the most intimidating eyes you had ever seen. They gave off a red glow, though they seemed to flicker to purple momentarily. You weren’t sure if you were seeing things or not. At this point, you were willing to believe anything. An insignia emblazoned in the middle of the cybertronian faded off and on.

When the terrifying being finally spoke, you noticed sharp teeth. You flinched. “One of the Autobot humans, I presume?” When the silver ‘con stood, you felt the ground shake and quiver. With every step, you winced. It took only a few strides before you were in the shadow of the monstrous Decepticon.

“I believe she’s Ratchet’s human, Lord Megatron. Oddly enough, I caught the doctor out of their base. It was a snap snatching her from his feeble grasp, if I do say so myself.” Knock Out really didn’t know when to shut up, huh? There was no doubt he was a vain and prideful ‘con.

“Don’t talk about Ratchet like that,” you snapped. “If I wasn’t in the way he could’ve kicked your ass.” At this point, your self-preservation had run out. You were running on adrenaline, pain meds, and a handful of chips. You were definitely not thinking straight. Whatever happened to you, you weren’t going down without a fight. Your old instincts took control of you. You clenched your fists.

Knock Out moved to respond, but Megatron hushed him with a flick of his clawed hand. “You’re sprightly for such an insignificant being.” He let out a low chuckle. “How. . . idiotically brave of you.”

“What do you want from me,” you demanded, though your voice quivered with every syllable. “I don’t like being toyed with.”

“A bargaining chip, at best.”

“And at worst?”

The warlord glanced at the mad scientist. “An experiment.”

You felt a rope tie itself around your insides, slowly wrapping tighter with every breath. The Autobots would never give up something valuable for a human they just met, right? From a logical standpoint, it made no sense. You held no emotional, monetary, or intellectual value to them. Though they were good guys, they weren’t that stupid, you mused. You sighed. You were on your own. You couldn’t just roll over and die. Not like this. You needed a plan of action. A way to buy time, at the very least.

“What about. . . a confidant?” you suggested, palms sweating. You prayed to whatever Gods were willing to listen that this would work. “I have information on your enemy that you don’t.”

Megatron arched a pointed eyebrow. A grin formed on his face. “You would betray the Autobots to save yourself?”

“They’ve done nothing but drag me into this mess,” you said, forcing yourself to mirror the warlord’s expression. You smiled as cunningly as you could. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“And. . . what information do you have that’s so valuable as to spare your life?” he mused, leaning down to meet your eyes.

“I know the location of their base,” you replied, forcing yourself to keep eye contact. “With one well-planned attack—you could win this war.”

“I’m. . . listening,” Megatron replied, turning to face his throne. He grasped his hands behind his back. You felt so small and insignificant standing in the shadows of the massive 'con.

You had no doubt that Megatron was the largest cybertronian you'd seen thus far. Even on Breakdown's shoulder, you had to look upwards to take in his entire terrifying being. It didn't help that he looked the most. . . alien of everyone you'd seen—from metallic silver sheen covering the entirety of his silver body, save for purple accents, down to the massive blaster welded to his arm. He resembled no earth vehicle. Instead, he reminded you of an ancient deity, like those often sculpted for the sole purpose of having sacrifices thrown at their marble feet. Hell, even his name had the word 'mega' in it. If that didn't exemplify just how intimidating he was, nothing would.

It physically pained you to converse with him. You had never been more stressed in your entire life. Your entire body yelled at you to run and hide. “In exchange—there are a few non-negotiables."

The warlord spun back around, eyes lighting up as he glared at you. You fought the urge to nestle into Breakdown's neck and cry. “I don’t believe you’re in a situation to be making demands, human.” Every word punctured your soul with venom. He was like a snake, slowly coiling around you until you burst.

“I don’t believe you’re in a situation to turn down such a valuable piece of information,” you blurted out. Your knees wobbled as you attempted to stand. Your saliva dried in your mouth as you gulped. You quickly followed yourself up.“Don’t get me wrong—I loathe the idea of having their. . . or any. . . deaths on my hands, but. . . I have priorities. So. . . “

You bit back your terror, staring the warlord in the eyes. It was like staring into a black hole. You felt that if you looked for too long, you'd never escape. “The choice is yours. Hear out my terms. . . or. . . don’t.” You prayed to any gods you could think of as you continued your unwavering glare. Ironically, the closest thing you'd ever seen to a god was looming in front of you.

Finally, he held out a massive silver palm, clawed fingers extended towards your frozen form. He tilted his head, grinning widely, as if taunting you forward. “We have much to discuss. Knock Out. Breakdown. Leave us be.”

You bit your cheek, shooting one last glance at the closest spot you felt safe at, before stepping away from Breakdown's shoulder and onto Megatron's hand. Much like the previous giant palm you once resided on, it exuded heat, though this time your only thought was stepping directly into an active volcano. You were on fire.

Megatron strode back to his throne, footsteps shaking the floor as he did so. You tried desperately to keep your balance as he moved. You weren’t about to take a seat on his hand, so you were left faux-surfing until he finally sat down and tossed you lazily on the metal armrest of his throne. You caught yourself on your hands and knees, stifling a gasp of pain as you hit the floor. You wondered just how much of your body was covered in bruises at this point. You would kill for a hot bath at the moment. Unfortunately, you seriously doubted that was happening any time soon.

You dragged yourself to the edge of the armrest, letting your legs dangle as you rested your weary body for a moment. You took a few breaths, dusting your crinkled dress off as you attempted to calm yourself.

“Resilient,” he muttered, eyes narrowing as he glanced you up and down. “Yet still very much pathetic.” He rested his forearms on his throne, narrowly missing knocking you off the edge. You had to lean forward to avoid his forearm smacking into you and sending you flying. You were now trapped on a small open ledge, legs teetering above his lap as his arm brushed against your back. One wrong move and. . . you didn't want to think about it. You hoped you'd just die on impact.

You knew exactly what the Decepticon leader was attempting to do—his scare tactics wouldn’t work—couldn’t work. You weren’t about to rat out the only cybertronians on your team for nothing in return. You kept repeating one thing in your head over and over. 'I cannot die here. I cannot give up here. I cannot die here. I cannot give up here.'

“First,” you began, bravely deciding to break the silence, “I want your word that no humans will be. . . harmed. . . during your raid. I want to hear your exact battle strategy down to the fine details. If I think it’s a risk to humans, it’s off the table.” You crossed your arms. “No need to drag humans into a robot war.”

“I’m not so foolish as to discuss battle strategies with the enemy,” he replied, clawed digits drumming his throne. “Don’t think your information is so valuable that I would risk Decepticon secrets to possess it.”

You clicked your tongue. This was going to be a long and terrifying discussion. You just hoped it would end in a compromise—not a murder. At least, not your murder. If you somehow managed to assassinate the warlord in the next few minutes, then good on you.

It felt as though an hour had passed before you reached a reasonable agreement, during which a faceless 'con who reminded you much of a certain pale man in a suit entered the room. Megatron introduced the 'con as Soundwave, and noted that he would be keeping a record of the entire session.

Even after you decided on a compromise, the leader had refused to give his final word, yet. Megatron dismissed you, stating that he'd have to think about it before making a final decision. He then called for Breakdown, who fetched you and returned you to your glass prison.

Thankfully, you were set rather gently into the jar. You gave the blue ‘con a nod of thanks. He smiled slightly, tapping your head with a massive digit. You winced. You had a strange feeling he viewed you as some kind of new pet. You shrugged. As long as you remained alive, you supposed it didn’t matter.

Speaking of remaining alive. . . you carefully looked over the full contents of your cell now that you had time to spare.

The bed you had sprang up from was a simple mattress with no bedframe—there was a single sheet on top that you remembered gripping earlier. The setup reminded you of a dog bed—further solidifying your previous thought regarding Breakdown. You wondered if he was the one to provide you with these things. None of the Decepticons seemed particularly interested in understanding how to keep a human alive, in fact, it seemed like the opposite, so you wondered who was stuck with the task. Was it Knock Out? He did mention the fact that you had everything you needed in here earlier.

Pushing aside that thought, you continued your survey of the room, if you could call it that. You spotted a few cases of water stacked upon each other. You also noted a few children’s toys in a box. How old did they think you were? 4? You scoffed. Either this set-up was quickly thrown together with little research, or nobody decided to question whether an adult would utilize toys in the time after it had been set up. You supposed it was mere coincidence that Knock Out spotted you and Ratchet, though it seemed he’d been scouting the area beforehand.

Having a sudden realization, you shoved your hands into your dress pockets, feeling around. Empty. Damn. You hoped they wouldn’t be so smart as to take away your phone, but alas. They stole your food and pain meds too. Rude. They at least know enough of humans to understand human technology, much to your dismay.

Well, regardless of how long it took to set your prison up or how long they’d been doing research, they failed to gather some of the basic items. There was no food anywhere, nor was there a toilet, shower, or sink. Did they think you were like them, robots who didn’t need sustenance or a way to dispose of said sustenance after it was digested? Though, for some reason, needed toys to live? You rolled your eyes, annoyed.

You clicked your tongue, turning on your heels. Breakdown and Knock Out were on the opposite side of the large room, looking to be working on something you couldn’t see.

“Hey!” you yelled, banging a fist on the glass. “I’ve spotted a few issues with this setup!”

The red ‘con turned around, rolling his eyes. “What else could you possibly need?”

“Food,” you snapped. “Unless you want me to starve to death before providing you with invaluable information. I’m hungry.”

“I told you it felt like we were missing something,” Breakdown commented as the pair stepped towards you.

Knock Out dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Nobody asked you.”

Breakdown scoffed.

“Also,” you noted, “how am I supposed to clean myself, or use the bathroom? What if I hurt myself? There’s no med-kit in here. What about pain-meds—”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Knock Out interrupted, waving you off. He sure loved to do that, huh? “I suppose Breakdown and I can. . . provide you with all of your. . . human stuff. Just make a list or something.”

“Just let me go with you to get everything. It’ll be easier,” you suggested.

“Not a chance,” he replied. “I’m not that stupid. As soon as you’re off this ship you’ll try to escape, and you humans are notoriously slippery to hold onto.”

“Then don’t give me that opportunity,” you replied. “But I’m not dying because you forget something important on your little supply run to who-knows-where. Take me with you.” You stomped your foot to further emphasize your demand.

“We can test out your newest creation,” Breakdown spoke up, gesturing to the machine behind the pair. “If it works, then she won’t go unmonitored when she goes into her human stores. If not, then we’ll leave her.”

Knock Out paused for a moment before giving a resigned nod. “Alright. But if it goes haywire and fries her in the process, I’m blaming you.” With that ominous statement, Knock Out walked back towards his earlier location, this time picking up what resembled a speed-gun. You gulped. What the hell was that?

You didn’t have time to think about it before you were being grabbed out of your prison and set onto a nearby counter. “Wait—” you started, though Knock Out didn’t hesitate as he pulled the trigger. You squeezed your eyes shut, preparing for the worst.

__

First posted 06/07/2022.

Unedited.

Chapter Text

Nothing happened. You opened your eyes hesitantly, peering at the foreign weapon Knock Out had shot. You knew it had fired. It just. . . didn’t feel like anything. You were thankful for that, but also mildly confused.

Meanwhile, the mad doctor was now examining the weapon as he plugged it into a hand-held tablet. The tablet lit up and must’ve displayed a result he liked because he smiled widely. “It scanned properly, so the first step is a success!”

You let out a groan. It was just a scanner? Not some murder device made to zap you into submission or reveal your darkest secrets? In that case, why did he scan you? What was he scanning for? Or trying to get data on? Did you want to know?

“Alright, Breakdown. Come here,” Knock Out gestured the large ‘con closer. “Let’s move on to step two.” Breakdown came to stand beside the doctor hesitantly, wincing as he did so.

“I should be able to access your T-cog using this device and encode it using this newly acquired data.”

Knock Out held the scanner out, pointing it at Breakdown. “Just. . . hold still. Who knows what’ll happen if I miss.”

You hovered at the edge of the table in anticipation. Worst case scenario, you might be able to escape this cursed room if something goes hay-wire.

The gun fired a beam of light directly into a spot on Breakdown’s abdomen. It pulsed with energy for a moment before shutting off completely. Knock Out shrugged, setting the weapon on the table. “Nothing exploded, at least. Transform into vehicle mode.”

Breakdown did as told, and you watched as he morphed into a rugged all-terrain vehicle. Even his vehicle mode reminded you of Bulkhead. It was like they were alternate versions of the same person. Weird. “Now what?” he prompted.

Knock Out hummed. “I’ve upgraded your T-cog using this device—I think—so you should be able to scan organic lifeforms and create an alternate form more suited to this planet. I believe you can access it in your vehicle mode.”

“You don’t seem very confident,” Breakdown muttered.

“Just try to scan the human and see what happens.”

A beam of light expanded from Breakdown, and you felt a tingle go up your spine as he scanned you. He hummed.

“Were you able to scan the human successfully?” Knock Out asked.

There was silence—the driver’s door swung open and out stepped a human. Your eyes widened in shock. “I think it worked,” he mumbled, examining himself as he looked back and forth from his vehicle form to his now fleshy body.

You stared, unblinking, as your fascinated eyes examined the now-human ‘con. He was well-built, tall, and sported a nice tan. His cropped military-esque hairstyle suited him nicely, as did the stubble on his chin which faded off as it neared his sideburns. His dark faded blue hair reflected the dim lights of the room. A metallic eyepatch covered one of his eyes. The other looked around curiously. His facial structure was strong and defined, and a crook in his nose pulled his whole face together as a battle-worn yet still rowdy individual. His clothes were simple enough, just a black tank-top and some jeans. You noticed a large hammer strapped to his back. It was clear the man standing before you was Breakdown. . . but how? How did an inorganic being create something so human? How did he spawn with clothes on? Why were you suddenly thinking about him naked? You shook your head.

Whatever or however this happened didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered now was the fact that you knew how to pick on someone your own size. If Breakdown in this form brought you into a public place, you had confidence you could wriggle your way free and contact the Autobots.

Knock Out crossed his arms. “I had no doubts. Now I’ll activate a groundbridge to a nearby city. Be back as soon as possible. . . I don’t want Megatron to find out we took the human off the ship for even a moment, even if it is to get supplies for said human.”

Knock Out picked you up off the table and set you onto the floor. You really hated being picked up like some lap-dog or small animal with no warning. “Don’t get any ideas, fleshy.”

“My name’s (Y/N), not fleshy, or human, or any other name you insist on calling me,” you replied, annoyed. Breakdown’s passenger door swung open and you got in. Breakdown’s human form climbed into the driver’s seat before disappearing. You blinked. Cybertronian technology was wild.

“Don’t get any ideas, (Y/N),” Knock Out retorted.

A swirling portal appeared in front of you, and Breakdown wasted no time in driving through. Your stomach did flips as a weird sensation filled your entire body. The portal disappeared behind you.

You looked around at where you were brought but didn’t recognize the place. Given the landscape and the mountains surrounding you, you assumed it was somewhere in the western United States. Maybe. You were pretty sure but also wouldn’t bet money on that fact.

You kept your eyes alert as Breakdown drove down an empty road and towards a town lower down the mountain. Maybe you could spot a street sign or something to give you more information.

“Where’d he spawn us?” you asked, looking out the window. The environment was very pretty, and nothing like you’d seen before. You spotted small patches of snow littered amongst the dense forest and steep landscape. Birds chirped noisily in the distance. It was cold here. You rubbed your bare arms, still in your sundress from yesterday. In Nevada weather, it was nice to show some skin, but wherever this was? You shivered.

“Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. The less information you have, the better,” replied the ‘con. “No hard feelings.”

You crossed your arms. “No offense, but it’s a little too late for that, with the kidnapping and threats upon my life and imprisonment and all.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t ya? Could always be worse.”

You sighed. You supposed that was true. You were still alive, and that meant you still had a chance to get away from the Decepticons. “Why Decepticons?” you questioned. “What made you join that cause?”

“Why do you wanna know?” he replied, though continued on anyway. “The same reason anyone joins any cause—a purpose. Before the war, life was boring for me. I had a job. I did it. That was all. When everything exploded in chaos, I saw a chance to change my life. That’s about it.”

“Do you believe in what Megatron is trying to do?” you prompted. “Destroying humanity to create a dictatorship where he rules all? This war already destroyed your planet. It seems silly to destroy another and the innocent people on it.”

“What I think isn’t important,” he said. “I have a place in the Decepticons and that’s all that matters to me. Now drop it, (Y/N).”

“Thank you,” you said suddenly. “You’ve been the. . . maybe not nicest, but least intolerant of me during my imprisonment here. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like that you treat me like a pet, but it’s better than treating me like a pest. I don’t trust ya, nor any other cybertronian, really, but I do respect your. . . let’s say, gentleness? No, wrong word. Whatever. Just. . . thanks for not squishing me anytime you pick me up.”

Breakdown hummed. Or was it a scoff? “If you’re trying to butter me up so I’ll let you go, it’s not going to work.”

You rolled your eyes. “Can’t just say “you’re welcome”, huh?”

The rest of the ride was silent, but it only took a few minutes before Breakdown pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store. You tried to open the door but it was locked.

“Not so fast,” he said, his human form reappearing in the driver’s seat as he got out and opened your door for you. “I’m not taking my eyes off of you.”

You hopped out, taking in the cold air. It was windy, too. You could see your breath as you let out a huff. You moved to take a step towards the store, but a hand on your wrist stopped you. “I can’t even walk on my own?” you muttered.

“No,” was his quick reply, still holding your wrist as the two of you walked.

“Someone is gonna say something if you keep gripping my wrist. It’s not exactly human custom to look like you’re kidnapping someone, even though that’s exactly what’s happening.”

Breakdown looked around as you two stepped into the store. A few eyes were already staring at the strange pair. A looming man and a girl in a dirty sun-dress in the middle of a cold area was not exactly the norm. “See,” you said pointedly.

He examined the area, spotting a couple holding hands. He moved to grab your hand instead, clutching it tightly. Your eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Would you just grab all the scrap you need so we can get outta here?” he muttered, hand unwavering as the two of you walked.

“Fine,” you said. “But let me use the bathroom first.” You gestured to the nearby lady’s room. “Wait outside unless you want to cause a scene.”

Hesitantly, he released his hold on your hand, and you slipped inside the restroom. As soon as the door shut behind you, you scanned the area for anything useful. Unsurprisingly, there was no pay-phone in the bathroom. However. . .

You ran up to an elderly woman washing her hands. “Ma’am. Would you mind if I used your phone for a second? It’s an emergency.”

She looked you up and down. You sure did look like you were going through something. She dried her hands before pulling out an old flip-phone. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

You shrugged. “I’ve been better, but I’m fine. Thank you!” you took the phone from her, quickly dialing Miko’s number. It was the only person you could think of. Unsurprisingly, it went to voicemail. You taught her never to answer an unidentified caller. For once, you cursed your good advice. Luckily, you could still leave a voicemail.

“Hey, Miko,” you started, trying to choose your words carefully as to not confuse the old woman. “It’s me. Could you come pick me up? My car died and I lost my phone and don’t really know where I am—” you looked at the elderly woman. “Ma’am, what city is this?”

“Colorado Springs, Colorado,” she replied. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, continuing your message. “I’m in Colorado Springs at a local grocery store. Walmart, I think. I don’t know how long I’ll be able to wait. . . thanks, bye!”

You ended the call, handing the woman her phone back. “Thank you so much,” you said before retreating into a stall. You really did have to use the restroom.

__

First posted 06/09/2022.

Unedited.

Chapter Text

Back in Jasper, Miko looked at her phone, confused. It buzzed, signaling a call from an unknown number. It registered as coming from Colorado. She raised a brow. She waited, letting it go to voicemail, as she looked back towards the television. She was hardly paying attention to the show, however, too caught up in her own thoughts.

Jack and Raphael sat beside her, both unwilling to break the awkward silence. Ever since your kidnapping, Miko wasn’t herself. It was understandable, but seeing the girl quiet upset everyone.

Bulkhead suggested a monster movie to ease the tension, but nobody paid attention. He attempted to talk to Miko earlier but she refused to speak to anyone. She only responded with glares whenever someone attempted.

The green ‘bot decided to check up on your search, making his way to where Ratchet and Optimus were discussing something. Bulkhead felt useless just pacing around the base, but there was nothing he could do until Ratchet gave the Autobots a place to search in the first place. If anyone could figure out where the ‘cons were keeping you, it was him.

“There’s been no sign of any Decepticon activity or signals since her kidnapping,” Ratchet explained, gesturing to the green screen displaying various maps. “There’s no real way to determine the warship’s location, if that’s where she was taken. Her phone’s signal isn’t active, either.”

“Continue to monitor all possible signals,” Optimus replied. “I’ve requested Agent Fowler look into the situation, as well. It’s possible that human satellites could pick up the warship’s location.”

Ratchet huffed, crossing his arms as he turned to look back at his monitors. He felt useless. There’d been a nagging weight on his shoulders ever since he returned to base. Even after his injuries were repaired, he still felt a pain in his chest. “Optimus. . . we are all trying our best to find and rescue (Y/N), but. . . there’s a high possibility that—”

“It’s (Y/N)! She called!” Miko yelled, jumping up from the couch with a gleeful squeal. “She left me a voice-mail! She’s in a Walmart in Colorado Springs!” She booked it down the ladder, already rushing towards the ground-bridge. “Fire it up, Ratchet!”

Bulkhead held out a hand, stopping her. “Miko, wait. It could be a trap of some kind.”

“Colorado?” Arcee repeated. “How’d she get off the warship in one piece by herself? It doesn’t sound. . . possible.”

Bumblebee buzzed in agreement.

“You don’t know (Y/N) like I know her,” Miko replied stubbornly. “If anyone could do it, it’s (Y/N)! Now let’s go!”

“Trap or not,” Optimus spoke. “We cannot ignore it. If there’s a possibility that (Y/N) has escaped and is in need of pick-up, we need to investigate. Bumblebee, Arcee, Jack, prepare to roll out.”

“Me?” Jack gasped, standing from his place on the couch. “Why?”

“Think about it,” Arcee replied, transforming. “If she’s hiding in a supermarket, we can’t exactly waltz in there and find her.”

“I’m going, too!” Miko asserted. Bulkhead shook his head.

“Stay here. (Y/N) won’t be happy if she sees we let you come to a location possibly crawling with ‘cons. Let’s not stress her out anymore. . .”

Miko pouted. “Fine. But only for her. Let’s book it to my house, Bulk, and I can grab her a change of clothes. She’s probably miserable in that dirty dress!”

The pair sped off as Optimus and the others prepared to enter the groundbridge. Raphael quickly found the coordinates of the aforementioned supermarket, sending them to Ratchet. “This should be it,” Raf said. “Be careful!”

Ratchet pulled the groundbridge lever. “Stay on your guard. Good luck.”

Meanwhile, you were stuck with Breakdown hovering over you as you perused various aisles. “Hey,” you spoke up, throwing a can into the cart with your one free hand. The other suffocated in Breakdown’s grasp. It sucked pushing a cart and grabbing groceries with only one hand, but the ‘con was insistent. “How are you paying for all of this? I don’t have any money on me.”

Breakdown shrugged. “If we run fast enough, we won’t need any. Just hurry up. Megatron will have all of our heads if he finds out about this.”

“He’s the one who can’t make up his mind about my offer,” you replied. “I wouldn’t need to get supplies if he was quicker about it.”

“I think he knows you’re just trying to buy yourself time,” Breakdown said. “There’s no way you’d betray the Autobots.”

“Aren’t you perceptive,” you quipped, rolling your eyes as you moved on to the next section of the store. “But you don’t know me well enough to make that kind of assumption. And neither does he.”

You scanned the large place, praying you’d see some sort of sign that Miko got your message. Would anyone come for you? It did seem quite unlikely, especially given the fact that you’re only a single human. It made no sense for you to be in a random Walmart in Colorado. They probably thought you were dead by now. At that thought, you winced. How was Miko taking all of this? She didn’t deserve this kind of stress. It was foolishly selfless of you to be thinking of her during this whole ordeal, but you were more-or-less used to dangerous situations with questionable outcomes. She was still a young and innocent teenager with her whole life ahead of her. You’d hate to be the memory that stops her from finding true happiness.

You mentally gagged. These sappy thoughts weren’t doing anyone any favors. You snapped out of your slump, continuing your examination of the store. Your eyes widened as you saw a familiar face. It was one of Miko’s friends—Jack. The only issue now was getting his attention without alerting Breakdown. And then managing to slip away. Or. . .

You figured there were two ways to go about this. One—be quiet, subtle, and slow. Two—fuck it.

You harnessed all of your strength, delivering a swift kick to the back of Breakdown’s knees. He stumbled forward, loosening his grip just enough for you to wriggle free. You raced forward, pushing the cart backwards and straight into Breakdown. He let out a groan as you ran towards Jack. You waved him down, motioning him to start running.

His eyes widened before he took off, heading for the exit of the store. Adrenaline fueled you as you followed, excitement brewing in your chest. You could taste freedom.

You ran straight into a large chest, stumbling backwards. It was Breakdown. And he was pissed. “Not so fast,” he hissed.

“Fuck,” you muttered, now sprawled out on the floor. You had to think fast. With a burst of speed, you shot forward, slipping underneath the ‘cons legs and rocketing to your feet. You sprinted out the door, rushing towards familiar vehicles. The passenger door to the red semi flew open and you dove inside.

“Fuckin’ drive!” you screamed, clutching your knees to your chest. The door slammed shut. The truck lurched forward, pinning you to the passenger seat. You wrenched your eyes shut, hyperventilating. You refused to look outside. You couldn’t bear to see whether or not Breakdown was giving chase, nor could you bear to see the look on his face as you escaped his grasp. An odd weight buried itself in your chest. Pity? You shook your head. Whatever happened to him was his problem. You resisted the urge to roll down the window and flip him the bird. He deserved what was coming to him. Still. . .

The sound of a groundbridge portal opening finally urged you to open your eyes. As the Autobots pulled through, a missile silo greeted you. Tears pricked your eyes. You did it. You fucking did it. You made it out of the Decepticon’s clutches alive.

Optimus came to a halt and the passenger door clicked open. You slid out of the cab, shaky feet wobbling against concrete. You fell to your hands and knees. Arms wrapped around you. Miko.

“You’re back!” she said, pulling you into her chest. “I was so worried! But I knew you’d escape! You’re my badass babysitter, afterall!”

You wrapped your arms around her small frame. She could feel your chest rise and fall rapidly and then begin to shake. A wetness stained her shoulder.

“(Y/N),” Miko asked. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I’ll kick the ass of whoever ‘con hurt you! You know I will!”

You didn’t reply, silent sobs shaking your entire body. You hugged the teen tighter. It was all too much. You don’t remember the last time you fully broke down and sobbed. It’d been too long. You always scolded yourself for crying. It didn’t solve anything. It was stupid and uselss. And yet, you couldn’t stop. You felt like a child.

Miko pat your back gently. “You’re safe now,” she said. “You’re okay. I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”

You sniffed, pulling away as you wiped your eyes. “I thought Jasper was supposed to be boring,” you muttered.

Miko laughed. She helped you back on your feet, and you looked around with blurry vision. “I’m. . . okay.” You blinked away the last of your tears from your impromptu meltdown. Your eyes met those of the Autobot leader. “Thank you,” you said, voice cracking. You must’ve looked like a kicked puppy. Pathetic. Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Thank all of you.”

He nodded. “Are you alright?”

You laughed dryly. “No. I’m really not. It’s been a pretty stressful day for me, actually,” you quipped lightheartedly. You dusted off your filthy dress.

“Understandable,” replied Optimus. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“A bath.” You felt slimy with filth. Sliding on a Walmart floor was the last straw. “And a nap. A long nap. Also food.”

“Uhh, (Y/N)?” Miko chimed in. “We don’t actually have a bath at my house. . . sorry. . .”

You blinked, clicking your tongue. “Motherfucker.”

Ratchet chuckled. He seemed disapproving of his own action and quickly shut his mouth.

“You actually made Ratchet laugh?” Miko gasped. “Today is just filled with miracles! You’re like a goddess! First escaping the ‘cons single-handedly, now this? My babysitter is the coolest!”

You snorted at her words. “Thanks, Miko. . . but trust me when I say it was no cakewalk.” Your smile faded.

“How exactly did you escape the warship?” Arcee questioned. She glared at you, suspicious. You didn’t blame her. What you did seemed impossible.

“It’s a long story,” you said. “Which I promise I will tell you all. . . but not right now.” You were at your limit. “You have a right to be wary of me, Arcee. But I swear I didn’t strike a deal, if that’s what you’re thinking.” You almost did, though. . . you brushed that thought aside. Would you have actually gone through with it if all else failed? You decided not to ponder that question for too long, afraid of the answer. “Can I just. . . go home?”

“(Y/N),” a voice yelled from atop a platform. A man stepped out of the elevator. “My name is Special Agent William Fowler, and we need to talk.”

You groaned. You were never getting a break, were you? “With all due respect,” you said. “Not right now.”

The man didn’t budge. “I’m sure you’re shaken, but it’s important that we—”

“I said not now!” you yelled, throwing your hands up. You clamped your mouth shut, surprised at your own outburst. But you weren’t about to apologize. Your last fuck had been lost a while ago. If he wanted to talk to you, he’d have to strap you down.

Fowler made his way downstairs, a large stack of folders in his hands fluttering as he walked. “Listen, you’re not the only one stressed—” he began, but as your hand reared back to slap him, he paused.

“Shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you,” you hissed, voice cracking as your body shook with rage. “I am not in the mood for conversation and nothing out of your mouth will change that, do I make myself clear, Agent?”

Fowler’s eyes narrowed. “Miss, I highly advise—”

Your hand would have collided with his face if not for Optimus moving Fowler out of the way. He placed the agent back on the elevator platform. “I am sure your government can wait, Agent Fowler. Let her rest.”

With a huff, he stormed back into the elevator, shooting you a glare. “I’ll be back.” You bore daggers into his skull, unblinking, until the elevator doors shut.

“He deserved what was coming to him,” Bulkhead muttered.

Miko nodded in agreement. “He needs to loosen up and leave (Y/N) alone! We really need to ban him from the base or something.”

“That was really uncalled for,” Jack spoke up. “Even for Fowler. I wonder what was so important that it couldn’t wait?”

“It’s probably not easy doing his job,” Raphael commented, adjusting his glasses. “Maybe they’re being harder on him now that more humans are involved.”

“It wasn’t easy coming face-to-face with Megatron either,” you hissed none-to-quietly.

“You actually met Megatron and got out alive?” Ratchet said, flabbergasted. All eyes were suddenly on you.

“We talked,” you replied. “He’s a condescending dick. Can I leave now? I said I’d talk about everything later.”

Miko shoved some clothes into your arms, breaking the odd mood that had settled over the silo. “Here! New clothes! Go find a backroom to change in and then we can get some food. I’m starving!”

You gave her a soft smile. “Thanks, Miko.”

She pushed you towards a massive hallway. “Yeah, yeah, no problem, now go!”

You shook your head at her antics. “Okay, okay. Just point me to a room. I don’t want to stumble across a weapon’s chamber or ‘bot bedroom by accident.”

Miko had already run off, probably to nag some ‘bot to drive the two of you to a restaurant or something.

You sighed, deciding to open the first human-sized door you stumbled across. Bizarrely, it looked to be a studio apartment of sorts containing a kitchen, dining area, and even a bed nestled in the corner. Sure, it was a small space, but it was a space nonetheless.

You supposed that the previous residents needed a place to live while they worked, but it was still odd seeing so many human-sized items in a base for giant aliens. You huffed in amusement at your own thoughts. Never in your life did you think you’d be saying something like ‘base for giant aliens,’ and yet here you were.

Pushing your musings aside, you began poking around for a bathroom. You found one, and your eyes widened at what you saw. A bathtub. A corner tub at that. You thanked the previous residents of this place for providing such a gracious gift. You were tempted to wrench your clothes off and take one then and there, but reeled yourself in. You made a note of the convenient object before stripping off your disgusting dress, tossing it aside.

As you put on your new attire—a t-shirt and sweatpants, how classy—you also came to the realization that your phone was no longer with you. You hopelessly checked the dress pockets just to be certain, though you knew damn well it was taken from you during your imprisonment. It was, in fact, still on the Decepticon warship. You cursed.

Deciding to deal with that problem later, you turned on the sink and gave your face a quick rinse. You looked ahead, staring your reflection down. A look of determination formed on your features. Like it or not, you were now fully involved in an alien war, but make no mistake, you weren’t about to roll over and die. You’d been through crazy shit before, and though nothing quite this crazy, you were confident in your ability to maneuver your way through it. Somehow.

The next time you crossed paths with a ‘con, you were determined to settle the score—you swore it. You just needed a plan. And a gun. A really large, alien frying gun.

After your little pep talk you took a deep breath, shaking out your sore muscles. You gave your reflection one last glance before you walked out of the bathroom. You made a note to grab your dirty clothing later. You fully intended on coming back to take a long, well deserved bath.

You made your way back to the main room which had fallen back into relative normality. Jack and Raf were situated on the couch playing video games as Bumblebee and Arcee watched behind them. Ratchet was typing away on his usual keypads and whatnot. You didn’t spot Bulkhead or Optimus anywhere. Miko was sitting impatiently on the bottom of the steps leading to the elevator. She hopped up when she spotted you.

“Took ya’ long enough! Bulk had to go do something or other with Optimus, so ol’ docbot is gonna give us a lift!”

The aforementioned ‘bot scoffed. “And who said that? Have Bumblebee take you. I’m busy.”

Miko gestured to Bumblebee. “He’s in the middle of cheering on Raf as he tries to beat Jack! C’mon. You don’t wanna leave (Y/N) stranded and hungry, do you?”

“(Y/N) is an adult. She can fend for herself.”

“Now that the Decepticons are closer than ever to Jasper, we needa stick together,” Miko pointed out. “You heard Optimus before he left. No leaving the base unaccompanied, especially not (Y/N)!”

“And what use was I last time she was in danger!” Ratchet snapped, his fists coming down to dent his keyboard. You winced. Raf and Jack looked up from their game, both silent. Arcee and Bumblebee shot each other a look. The doctor quickly composed himself, letting out a huff. “As you were,” he muttered to the gaming duo.

“You put up a hell of a fight,” you spoke up, walking to place a hand on his leg. “And I’m okay. Don’t beat yourself up over it. If you don’t want to drive us, that’s okay. We can wait for the others to get back. Or for Jack and Raf to finish up their game.”

Ratchet looked down at you. “I. . . fine. Give me a moment. Let me wrap up my thoughts.” You nodded.

“Take your time, Ratchet.”

You headed towards the bottom of the stairs, taking a seat where Miko once was. She plopped back down beside you. “When you were gone,” she started in a whisper, “he never once left that computer. I think he blames himself for what happened. I may have snapped at him when I first heard about everything. Everyone was super worried about you, but I think Ratchet was the most upset. Besides me, of course.” She gave you a side-hug. “I’m just glad you’re back. I knew you’d make it, though. You’re tough as nails.”

You elbowed her lightly, letting out a soft laugh. “Damn right. I’m sorry I made everyone worry.”

Miko elbowed you back. “Don’t say sorry, dummy. It’s not like you got kidnapped on purpose! Everything is okay now. Let’s just hurry up and get some food. I’m so hungry. I don’t think I ate the entire time you were gone. I was too worried.”

“Miko!” you scolded.

She squealed, shooting up from her seat before you could elbow her again. She pointed to where Ratchet was now stepping away from his work. “Hey look, ride’s here!”

You followed behind her, though much slower. You hadn’t had a full-night's sleep since you’d come to Jasper, and you craved a full-body massage followed by a ten-year nap. You finally reached Ratchet, now in vehicle mode, and climbed reluctantly into the driver’s seat. You weren’t about to sit in the back. Miko clicked on her seatbelt next to you.

“Let’s just run-through a drive through,” you said. “I’m too tired to go in and sit down.”

“McDonald’s it is,” Miko exclaimed. “Let’s book!”

As Ratchet began to drive, you leaned back against the seat lazily, hands folded in your lap. You’d have to pretend to drive once you got into town, but for now you wanted to do nothing more than go limp.

“Miko,” you said, turning to glance at her. “Do you have money on you?”

“Yeah, some allowance. Why?”

“My wallet’s still at your house,” you replied. “And I can’t use my phone to pay because it’s still on the Decepticon warship.”

Miko stifled a laugh. “You left your phone!?”

You nodded. “It’ll take me a while to get a new one, too. They aren’t cheap and I don’t exactly have “I-left-my-phone-on-an-enemy-spaceship” insurance.”

“That sucks,” she replied. “I’ll just ask my parents to send you a new one. You know how they are. They’ll buy you anything. You’re practically family to them.”

You waved Miko off. “I can’t ask that.”

Miko shook her head. “Too late. Just texted them.”

“Miko!” Sighing in resignation, you rested your head against the headrest once more. You knew Miko’s biological parents were pretty high up in economic status, so a new phone was no issue for them, but you still hated to depend on others for things like that. You weren’t a charity-case, though looking at you right now, it sure seemed like it.

“We’re almost there,” Miko said, shaking your shoulder. “Look alive.”

You sat up, hands hovering awkwardly over the steering wheel. The idea of grabbing the interior of a living being and being the one to steer seemed so. . . intimate. Scratch that. Bad word. Weird word. You cringed. “Do you mind if I. . .”

“I drive. You pretend to steer.” he instructed.

“Okay,” you mumbled out, hands coming to rest on the steering wheel tentatively. You felt it begin to swivel to the left and followed it accordingly. You were suddenly reminded of playing video games with Miko a long time ago—handing her toddler self an unplugged controller so she could pretend to play along.

You pondered if that’s how Cybertronians viewed humans—children. Were humans even worth assigning a viewpoint to? You figured the Decepticons didn’t care enough to have an opinion on humanity—after all, you held no opinions on ants crawling on the sidewalk. They weren’t evil, good, young, or old—they were just insects whose life would probably be over by the end of next week. You supposed ants didn’t talk like you, act like you, nor resemble you in any way, however. Did that make a difference? You’d like to think that if you encountered an ant who you could understand, you’d at least ponder it enough to form an opinion of it.

What about the Autobots? You knew that Optimus had a strong belief in protecting humanity—but you wondered what the reasoning behind that belief was. Did he only care because he saw the destruction of his own planet? Was it because you were intelligent lifeforms who could voice an opinion? Would he bother to save a being unable to make its own decisions? That question made you frown. Though you tried to be a decent person, you’d definitely fried a few ants with a magnifying glass, and squished a few unsightly bugs. Was it the same concept? Would Optimus, or any of the Autobots, feel anguish if they were responsible for a human’s demise?

You’d only known them for a short time, and yet you felt confident that they’d be crushed if anything happened to a human on their watch. You’d already witnessed their distress when you were taken—Ratchet especially. It was illogical to think that they’d express such emotions if they viewed humans as mere insects.

Perhaps it was more along the lines of losing a pet? You’d never had a pet of your own—you would take care of Miko’s cats from time to time, though. You actually sort of missed them. Did the Autobots feel the same way about people? You thought back to Breakdown’s interactions with you. Certainly he viewed you as a pet, but did anyone else?

It would be terrible if your pet died, you assumed, but it wouldn’t be the same excruciating pain that comes with losing a person. You only knew how one of those things felt, and so couldn’t make a true comparison. Even then, those memories were blurry.

If something happened to one of you all, would they grieve for a few weeks and then move on like nothing happened? Was it less like losing a dog or cat, and more like something with an even shorter lifespan? Was it like crying over a hamster? A fish, even?

You supposed it didn’t matter, really, as long as they kept everyone safe from harm. Whether they viewed you as insects, animals, or didn’t form an opinion at all, you assured yourself that they would protect you.

A glimmer of a thought formed in your brain. Maybe, just maybe, they viewed you as equals? You scoffed at that idea. Even though the Autobots were the good guys, you couldn’t imagine them placing themselves at the same level as humans. They were giant alien beings with technology eons ahead of you all. Their lives lasted inconceivably longer than yours. Would they really view humanity as a capable, intelligent, and worthwhile species? While you supposed humans and Cybertronians did resemble each other, metal aside, you had a feeling that didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things.

You weren’t quite sure why you were thinking so much about this in the first place. Maybe it was because this was the first time you really had to think since your imprisonment on the warship. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to depend on beings who thought so little of you. Maybe it was because you started to actually respect the Autobots, and the thought of them viewing you as less than because of your species made you inconceivably angry. You weren’t even sure why it did. If you were in their shoes you’d think the same way.

You let out a sigh, finally pulling yourself from your thoughts as the iconic golden arches came into view. You really just wanted to get a bite to eat, take a bath, and then fall asleep.

__

First posted 06/18/2022.

Unedited.

Chapter Text

Breakdown was 100% fucked. He realized this as he watched the Autobots race out of the parking lot with his captive. Well, former captive, that is. “Knock Out,” he grumbled, a hint of fear in his voice. “There’s been a. . . problem.”

It didn’t take long for Breakdown to explain the situation as he returned to his vehicle mode and pulled out of the parking lot. He didn’t dare call for a groundbridge back to the warship. He couldn’t even think about being in the same ship as Megatron at the moment, not after making the mistake of the century. He could only hope that his lord would show mercy on him. If Starscream has lasted as long as he has, surely Breakdown would be spared. Right?

“Lord Megatron will have our heads for this!” Knock Out hissed, quickly ground-bridging to Breakdown’s location. He wasn’t about to stay within walking distance of the Decepticon warlord, either. The thought of Megatron finding out made Knock Out want to bury himself in a hole and stay there. Even then, it’s not like anyone could hide from the warlord’s grasp forever.

“We need to get her back before he finds out,” Breakdown concluded as he transformed. He began to pace around the desolate mountainside.

“Sure,” Knock Out mused sarcastically, transforming alongside him to roll his eyes, “why don’t we just kill Optimus Prime while we’re at it, too? We don’t know where she is, scrap-brain! We’ve been looking for the Autobot’s base for years! It’s not going to suddenly appear just because you want it to!”

Breakdown huffed, resisting the urge to sucker-punch the red ‘con. “You don’t have to yell, and besides, it’s our only option! We still have her. . . phone thing, right? There’s probably something useful on there. Humans love documenting their lives, don’t they?”

“I already dug through everything,” replied Knock Out with a wave of his hand. “There’s nothing worthwhile. Some pretty juicy backstory, though. With the help of Soundwave I managed to uncover all of her dirty little secrets. Quite interesting, if I do say so myself.”

Breakdown cringed at his cohort’s sadistic nature. “That’s useless in finding her.”

“Maybe, but it was fun snooping, nonetheless. Regardless, I suggest we lay low and return to the warship. If we’re lucky, we can pin this on another ‘con—” Knock Out paused, a grin suddenly forming on his features. “A certain conniving Seeker, perhaps? Starscream has been on Lord Megatron’s bad-side a lot as of late. . . with any luck, we can take care of that headache of a ‘con and this headache of a situation in one go.”

“Should you talk about Starscream like that? He is the second-in-command. . .”

“Don’t act like he’s not the most bothersome ‘con you’ve ever met,” Knock Out muttered with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Now let’s hurry back. We don’t have much time before some ‘con realizes she’s gone.”

As the two re-entered the groundbridge, a certain metal bird flew off, reporting back to its ever-silent master.

After eating more cheeseburgers than you thought possible, Miko was dropped off at her house. You let her know about the bathtub inside the Autobot base, explaining that you’d love nothing more than to use it after the days you’ve had. She was also surprised at the fact that something like that was located inside the base, but encouraged you to give yourself the luxury of relaxing into bubbles.

After grabbing a change of clothes, you got a lift from Ratchet back to base. When he pulled into the cavernous space, the last thing you expected to see was Jack’s mother holding a basket full of gifts.

She smiled at you warmly as you stepped out of the car with a half-eaten cheeseburger in your hand. You looked curiously at her.

“I never got to formally introduce myself,” she explained. “I’m June Darby—Jack’s mom. I work as a nurse. I know how stressful it is being thrown into all of this, especially when you just want to protect the ones you love. I also heard about your run-in with the Decepticons. I’m sorry all this has happened to you, sweetheart.”

A soft smile formed on your lips. You almost teared up at her words. It was a foriegn experience—being welcomed back with warmth and kindness. Normally, it would be vacant hallways and lonely nights. “I’m (Y/N). . . and it’s been. . . pretty stressful, but I think I’ll be okay. Is that for me?” You pointed at the woven basket decorated with a little bow on top. Items practically overflowed out of it.

She held it out to you. You took it gratefully. “Just something I put together. It’s got medicine, bath salts, chocolate—all sorts of things that I wish I had when I was dragged into all of this.”

“Thank you,” you said, nodding your head as you tilted your body to bow subtly. “I’m glad someone like you is around during all of this—” you interrupted yourself, letting out a yawn. Your body was screaming at you to lay the fuck down. Unsurprising, given the shit it’s been through.

“You should get some rest, hon. I put some pretty strong pain medication in there. Be careful with it, but it should help with your bruising pain, and any other injuries you might have gotten. Take care of yourself, (Y/N).” She called out a goodbye to Jack before returning to her car and waving. You waved back.

As she drove away, you looked back down at the basket. You weren’t used to gifts from near-strangers, especially such nice ones. Did you accept the gift right? You hoped so.

Brushing that off, you turned your gaze back up, spotting someone you needed to talk to about your future bathtime. You could practically taste the soap. Eww. It tasted like soap. You snorted at your little joke.

Setting off on your mission, you meandered towards the greenscreens, trying to subtly make as much noise as you could to catch the ‘bot’s attention so you didn’t have to yell out a greeting. You were never very good at greeting others, probably because you had no friends.

Luckily, Optimus noticed your small form and greeted you with a nod. You sighed in relief.

“Hey,” you started, “this is going to be a. . . bizarre request, but I thought I would ask for permission just to make sure, I guess. . . can I take a bath here?” You waited for an answer, clutching your basket like you were on your way to grandmother’s house or something.

He blinked.

You glanced away awkwardly. Maybe you should have explained yourself more. Too late now.

“I. . . wasn’t aware we had such an amenity here.”

You gestured down the familiar hallway. “Well, there’s a room that looks like it was set up for whoever used this silo before you all. It’s got a bathtub in it. . . I just figured I’d ask before using it. . . just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Arcee spoke up, a hand on her hip. She and Optimus had been speaking before you wandered over. “One of us wants to take a dip?”

You snorted. She smirked at you. It seemed she was comfortable enough with you to joke around a bit. You appreciated that. You knew she was unsure when you first arrived back at base, which was understandable. She probably still had her doubts. You still hadn’t explained yourself yet, either. You’d have to do that at some point soon. And you promised yourself you would. Just. . . bath time comes first.

You shrugged at her comment. “I don’t know. Do Cybertronians enjoy bubble baths? I won’t judge.”

Her smirk changed into a legitimate smile. “You’ve got wit.” She nodded at you before heading off, giving you a chance to talk with Optimus alone. Though you were still practically strangers, she joked with you like you were a friend. Under all that suave silence, Arcee really wasn’t so different from you.

“So. . .” you started, swishing your gift basket around lightly. “Do you. . . umm. . . mind?”

“Go ahead,” he replied, still mildly confused. “Let us know if you need anything while you are here.”

You wasted no time in jogging that direction despite your aching body. You couldn’t wait to sink into a volcanically hot bath and relax.

It didn’t take long for the bath to fill up, so you were feeling like a boiling lobster in no time. The bath salts June gave you smelled amazing, and also helped so soothe your sore muscles. The bubbles floated serenely over the water. You leaned back lazily, head resting against the ledge of the bathtub as you closed your eyes.

You didn’t even process falling asleep until you woke up hours later in cold water. You let out a yawn, climbing out of the bath and sitting on the bathroom mat. You didn’t even want to stand up, and so sat boredly, air-drying until you felt dry enough to slip on your pajamas.

Groaning, you stumbled to your feet, swinging open the door to the empty apartment space. You promised yourself you’d find the energy to go to Miko’s house before falling asleep for the night, but the empty bed only a few feet away called to you.

You dragged yourself over, collapsing onto the soft mattress. “Yeah,” you muttered, nestling into the blankets. “I’m sleepin’ here tonight.”

The last thing you expected that morning was to be woken up with a gentle poke to your cheek. You let out a groan, opening your eyes lazily, only to see Arcee kneeling beside the bed.

“Miko wants you to help drop her off at school. Bulkhead’s about to leave to go get her.”

You yawned, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. “Okay, I’ll. . . be out in a second,” you mumbled, mind still booting up. “What time is it?”

“7 a.m.” the ‘bot replied. “Miko mentioned you weren’t a morning person.”

Stretching, you swung your feet off the bed before standing up slowly, slipping on your shoes. You hummed in response, following behind her bent form as she exited the small-ceilinged room. You were surprised any of the ‘bots could fit in the little apartment.

You trailed behind her as you headed into the large rocky-roofed area, waving lazily at the others. Bulkhead transformed, opening the driver door to invite you inside. “Ready to roll?”

“Something like that,” you replied, sliding into the seat. You leaned back into the comfortable back-rest.

“You alright?” Bulkhead asked, driving out of the base. You were greeted to a beautiful sunrise lighting up the Jasper sky, but didn’t pay much attention.

“I’m okay—just still processing everything,” you absentmindedly responded, elbow resting on the windowsill as you stared out the window. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he responded, Autobot insignia lighting up as he did so.

“Miko. . . you’re her guardian aren’t you? In charge of making sure she’s okay?”

He didn’t respond at first. Did he think you were going to yell at him? Given your history of emotional outbursts over the last two days—it was reasonable.

“I’m not asking to yell,” you continued. “I just. . . tell me she’s never gone through what I went through. Tell me she’s been safe-and-sound while she’s been here. Tell me my kidnapping was a one-time incident.”

“Miko’s never been through what you’ve been through,” he said. “And she’ll never experience any harm from those ‘cons as long as energon still runs through me. I promise.”

“Thank you,” you muttered. “As much as I’d like to protect her all on my own. . . I don’t stand a chance against the Decepticons.”

“You did manage to escape them all on your own, didn’t you? I think that’s more than standing a chance.”

“Barely. . . I know I still need to tell you all what happened. Don’t think I forgot. If not for perfect circumstances, I’d still be in Megatron’s clutches.” You shivered, thinking back to your time conversing with the warlord. You’d never forget his piercing gaze.

“Give us some credit,” Bulkhead responded. “We would’ve rescued ya in no-time. We never leave a friend behind, even a new one.”

You didn’t reply, staring out the window at the desert landscape. He thought of you as a friend? Did the other Autobots feel the same way? Would they really have come to your aid even if you hadn’t made it off the ship? There was no knowing. It was in the past now. Did it even matter? You supposed the past always matters. It always has a sickly way of creeping up to you. You knew that much.

You banished your thoughts when you pulled up to Miko’s house. She was already outside, backpack swung over her shoulder and a guitar case in her hand. She waved at you excitedly before opening the passenger door and jumping inside. She threw her guitar case in the backseat.

“Good morning!” she chirped, nudging your arm with her elbow.

You smiled lazily. “Hey, Miko. Ready for school?”

She let out a sigh, slumping against the seat. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. Do I really have to keep going? High school is stupid.”

“What would your parents think if you dropped out, huh?” you scolded. “Besides, an education is important.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes, pouting. “I hate when you act like my babysitter.”

“Miko, I am your babysitter.”

“Nuh-uh! You’re my cool older sister that flew all the way from Japan to hang out with me!”

You smiled softly at her words. You knew she thought of you like her own family, but it always pleasantly surprised you anytime she called you her big sister. She was the only family you had, and it comforted you to know she felt the same way.

“That too.” You snorted.

It wasn’t long before you arrived at the school, bidding Miko goodbye as she met up with Jack and Raf at the steps. You spotted Arcee and Bumblebee parked alongside the road.

“You all really care about the kids, huh?”

“Of course. After losing our home, a lot of us gave up hope—we had nothing to fight for. But after discovering this planet and the people who call it home. . .”

“You all have something to fight for. . . them,” you finished.

“Exactly.”

You asked Bulkhead to drop you off at Miko’s house to get dressed for the day. Her host-parents were already gone to work, so you had the entire house to yourself. It was nice.

You looked around the place as your morning coffee brewed, all dressed up in a new dress. Again, you didn’t feel like wearing real pants. Or any pants for that matter.

You wandered down the main hallway, glancing at the pictures on the wall. None of them were of Miko. In fact, you didn’t see a single picture of her anywhere. For her host parents, they didn’t seem to care too much about her. . .

You shook your head. She hadn’t been here that long. It was understandable. They didn’t know her very well. In fact, you were certain they were scared of her which was ridiculous. She was a teenager. Not a criminal.

You let out a sigh, grabbing your mug of coffee and sitting at the table. If you could, you would love to move Miko into an apartment with you instead of these strangers. You were certain her biological parents wouldn’t mind, especially given the fact that they treated you like their own family.

If only. . .

You sipped your coffee, watching as the sun rose higher and higher into the sky. Maybe once you saved up a few paychecks. . .

You wanted nothing more than to spend the entire day relaxing, but a horn outside made it clear that wasn’t happening. You looked outside to see Bulkhead. Did he never leave?

You finished your coffee, placing the cup in the sink, before walking outside. This time, you made sure to bring your wallet and put it in your dress pocket. If you didn’t have a phone, at least you had money.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked, standing next to the driver door.

“Fowler’s at base. He wants to see you.”

You groaned, climbing back into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go, then. Wouldn’t wanna keep that asshole waiting.”

Bulkhead snorted. “I agree with ya.”

When you entered the base, you spotted Fowler up near the TV center, arms crossed as he sat on the couch impatiently. You grumbled to yourself.

You jumped out, heading towards the ladder. You almost forgot your muscles still ached from your fall thanks to Knock Out.

You still didn’t particularly like the idea of being lifted, but you had no choice. “Bulkhead, do you mind helpin’ me out?”

He held his hand out. You climbed in, taking a seat as you were lifted to the top. You stepped off gently. “Thank you.”

You faced the irritated government employee, mimicking him by crossing your arms over your chest. “Hello again,” you muttered, drumming your hands on your arms.

“Are you ready to talk now?” he huffed.

“I don’t think I really have a choice,” you replied, taking a seat on the couch. You glanced at the paperwork scattered on the coffee table. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Let me start by saying I’m no more pleased to be here than you are. But I’ve been assigned to babysit these oversized tin cans, and that includes debriefing anyone who comes into contact with them.”

“Debrief? What else is there to talk about?” You gestured around you. Ratchet typed away at his computer. Bulkhead and Bumblebee began to toss a ball of metal to each other like a giant game of catch. Arcee watched from the sidelines. Optimus was nowhere to be seen. “I think I get the gist of what’s happening around here.”

“It’s a United States government formality,” replied Fowler. He slid a large stack of papers to you. You flipped through the pages briefly. “That’s all the legal stuff.To save you the read, you can’t talk about what goes on here. To anyone. Or the government can and will silence you. You are also to receive financial compensation for your involvement. It will be wired to your bank account. In exchange, you must report anything and everything you know about cybertronians—Autobot or Decepticon. Since you’ve already had a run-in with the ‘cons, you’re expected to tell me everything that happened.”

You blinked. “Keep my mouth shut. Get money. Tell you everything.”

“Correct.”

You let out a sigh, leaning back to rest your head against the couch. “Alright. . . are you ready to listen?”

He nodded, pulling out a small voice recorder and setting it on the table. “Go ahead.”

The ‘bots went silent.

You cleared your throat. “All right. . .”

With that, you began your story, starting with your attempted kidnapping by Knock Out. When you got to the part in your imprisonment where you spoke to Megatron, you paused. Should you tell him you tried to strike a deal? Tell them? It’s not like it mattered, right? But they’d be suspicious as to what the two of you spoke about. . . should you lie? You shook your head. Whatever their reaction, you had to tell the truth. It’s not like Megatron ever agreed, or you ever told him anything of importance. You just offered him a deal. That’s it.

“And what did you and Megatron discuss?” Fowler prompted.

“I. . . I said that I would. . .”

You stopped your sentence when the groundbridge activated. Optimus stepped through. You let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t. . . you couldn’t tell Fowler what you tried to do. You couldn’t bear to tell him. Tell them. It hadn’t been long, but you had already grown to respect the Autobots. And you’d like to think they tolerated you. . . at least just a little. If they found out you’d offered their lives in exchange for your own. . .

“Is everything alright?” the Autobot leader spoke, looking to you and agent Fowler as the bridge closed behind him.

“She’s informing me—”he looked around, noting the others fixated on your story—“well, us—about what happened behind closed doors with the ‘cons.” Fowler looked at you. “Continue, if you would.”

“I told Megatron that. . . I would never tell him anything. He told Breakdown to put me back in my prison after that,” you lied. You tried your best to steady your breath. You hated to relive any part of what you experienced, but having to lie to save yourself the trouble of confessing. . . it made you sick to your stomach.

Still, you continued with your story, trying your best to explain the odd device Knock Out had created. Fowler was reasonably concerned about this.

“You’re telling me the ‘cons can just walk into shopping malls no big deal now? Great! Our one advantage is we know exactly what they look like—now what?”

“But we know it’s possible that cybertronians can become human. Isn’t that an advantage for us, too?” you pointed out.

“Maybe if we had the technology,” Fowler grumbled. “But we have no idea how that ‘con managed to create that thing!”

“I’m not saying I know exactly how,” you said. “But I don’t think it’s that hard. From what Knock Out was saying and doing, I think it’s just a sort of upgrade device that scans humans, then uploads the scan to the T-cog, I think he said it was, and then voila. Plus, from how the ‘cons treat humans, I doubt they’ll realize what an advantage being human can be.”

“Regardless, continue. We can talk about that later.”

After you explained the shock you felt at seeing Breakdown as a human, you told Fowler about how you managed to get off the ship. Once that happened, and you had contacted Miko, the rest was obvious.

“You’re tellin’ me that you convinced the ‘cons to let you off the ship to get groceries?”

“Not everyone,” you responded. “Just Breakdown and Knock Out. Like I said, I think their biggest weakness is their disregard and ignorance for humans and their capabilities. Unfortunately for them, I know how to take on someone my own size. Breakdown may be strong, but his lack of agility cost him.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to report before I cut the recording?” Fowler asked, his hand on the stop button.

“That’s all,” you replied.

“Look, I know what you went through was rough,” he admitted, tucking the recorder back into his suit jacket. “Sorry for being inconsiderate last night. My higher ups expect me to know everything at all times. It’s like they don’t realize just how much there is to know.”

You nodded. “I get it. I wouldn’t want to be in your position right now. Can’t imagine the U.S. government is too fun to work in.”

“Right, you’re from Japan, aren’t you? Miko’s babysitter, correct?”

“I try to be, but she can be lots of trouble with or without me. A great example being making friends with giant alien robots.”

“She’s a good kid,” he replied. “Strong-willed. Thinks on her feet. I see who she gets it from, now. She talks about you a lot.”

“All good things I hope,” you joked.

“You’re her hero,” he said, chuckling. “Despite all the Autobots she’s seen, Miko still thinks you’re the strongest thing alive. She admires you more than anything. It’s all she ever talks about when it comes to you.”

A sudden urge to cry overwhelmed you. Your entire life, all you ever wanted was someone to be there for you. To protect you. To love you and comfort you and tell you everything was okay even when it wasn’t. You had that ripped away at a young age. . . but to be who you needed in your own life for Miko? That meant the world to you.

You stifled your tears. “She’s family to me,” you replied. “So I’m glad she thinks so highly of me.”

Fowler opened his mouth to respond but a phone call interrupted him. He pulled out his cell before answering. “Special Agent William Fowler. Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you. I will. Right away.”

He ended the call just as fast as he picked it up.

You watched as he gathered his things.

“I’m sure we’ll see each other often. Take care,” he said.

You nodded. “Goodbye, agent.”

__

First posted 9/11/2022

Unedited.

Chapter Text

You weren’t sure what to do after that, unwilling to bother the ‘bots as they went about their daily routines.

With your confidence in getting down from the tall platform next to zero, you thought it best to stay put. For now, at least. Maybe you’d get lucky and someone would ask if you needed any help. Or you’d be left to ask someone yourself. You hoped it didn’t come to that.

Absentmindedly, you began to flip through the television channels. After flipping through a few, you found something that piqued your interest. You hummed. A romance movie played. You rolled your eyes but didn’t change the channel.

You pretended to be uninterested, though weren’t sure what you were trying to prove or to who, but quickly got sucked into the overly-convoluted plot. As much as you hated to admit it, you had a soft spot for rom-coms. With Miko around, it was always action or horror movies, but you always snuck in a romance after she passed out on the couch.

Romance was never something you had time for in your actual life so a movie would have to do. Unfortunately, it was a pretty shitty substitute. No matter how much you watched two fictional characters fall in love, that would never be you. An aching part of you yearned to find a lover to confide in—to be there for and love you unconditionally. To cuddle with you at night and kiss you to sleep. But any lovers you had were fast and fleeting. It meant nothing. One-night stands and weekend partners. You’d awake naked and alone. Always. Not even a goodbye. They’d be long gone, leaving only the marks on your body to remember them by. Even then, those faded too.

You huffed. You might as well kiss the whole relationship idea goodbye. Something like that, now? You’d have to lie to them constantly about where you were and what you’d been through. What kind of romance would that be? It seemed like a lost cause to even try. You weren’t about to wrap another person into your complicated life, either. Nobody deserved that. Besides, you had enough to juggle already. With Miko’s safety always on the line, plus your own anxieties, it was all too much.

Still, as you watched the movie, seeing the couple giggle over a milkshake, ice-skate together, cuddle by the fireplace. . . you wanted nothing more than to have someone by your side right now. Would you have had a chance at that if you had stayed in Tokyo? Been kept blissfully unaware of all the nonsense happening? Lived your life without lurking in the shadow of the girl you babysat? After all, who’s going to find the love of their life in Jasper, Nevada?

Not you, that’s for damn sure.

Letting out a dejected huff, you changed the channel. The taste of romance on your tongue suddenly turned sour. Your stomach ached watching the lovey-dovey bullshit on screen. It wasn’t fair. Why did they get a happy ending? Stupid Hallmark. Get real.

It took some channel surfing, but you settled on an action movie instead, nestling yourself against the old couch as the film played. You weren’t sure what b-movie you’d landed on, but as long as it distracted you that’s all that mattered.

Still, despite the constant explosions on screen and the sounds of gunfire, your eyes wandered away from the movie.

After all, your life resembled an action movie at the moment. Why bother watching something on screen when you could look around and see giant metal beings from another planet? You had your own movie right here on the old couch. All you had to do was turn your head a little. It’s a shame you couldn’t watch a movie about the aforementioned beings, though. This was a once-in-a-life-time opportunity to investigate an alien race. There was still so much you didn’t know about Cybertronians. You couldn’t help but wonder about their home planet. Their culture. Their beliefs. Their food. Their medicine. You could go on and on listing the things you wanted to ask about. Would they care if you asked? Probably.

After all, their entire world was destroyed. It seemed like a sore subject to bring up. You frowned. Maybe if you phrased it in a certain way? But how? Could you bring it up casually in hopes they would somehow forget the trauma associated with the war on their planet? No. Definitely not.

You rested your hand against your chin, thinking, as you stared mindlessly at nothing in particular.

“Are you busy?” Arcee spoke, interrupting your wandering mind. You shook your head, turning the television off as you looked at the blue ‘bot.

“No, just thinking too much. Do you need something?”

“Not me. Ratchet. After hearing about what those ‘cons cooked up, he wants to recreate it,” she said, gesturing to the doctor as she did so. He stood in his usual spot, staring at symbols you couldn’t understand as they flashed across his monitors.

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” you replied, standing up with barely masked effort and heading to the edge of the platform. “But alright.” You could still feel your bruised back ache as you moved. You understood that the other option would’ve been death via pavement, but falling ass first onto a metal hand didn’t seem any better at the moment.

You didn’t have to say anything to Arcee about your weakened state. She noted your hunched form and exhausted expression. You looked like shit. And it would be quite a while before you’d be back running on all cylinders. She held her hand out and you sat down, allowing her to lead you to the large computer Ratchet typed away on.

You stepped onto a nearby counter, giving Arcee a nod of thanks before greeting Ratchet, trying your best to look like you weren’t about to fall over if you didn’t sit down. You kept forgetting how much your body had been through, too busy thinking about your overwhelmed mind. “What can I do for ya?” you asked, glancing at the foreign characters fluttering across the green screens in front of you.

“Is there anything else of use you can tell me about the device Knock Out used?” he prompted, sparing you a glance before immediately resuming his task. Did he ever do anything but work? Did he even sleep? Wait. Did cybertronians need sleep? Who knows. Certainly not you.

“No.” You wished you could provide more information, but honestly you were too busy trying not to die at the time. It’s not like you could’ve sat down and asked the ‘con doctor how he cooked up his contraption. “Sorry. I said all I knew when I talked with Fowler. It was just some sort of scanning device that edited something about a t-cog. I’m really not much help.”

He waved off your self-deprecation. “It’s fine. I can’t expect you to know the inner workings of a device you barely saw. Just thought I’d ask.”

“If anyone can recreate the device, it’s you,” you said, confident in the scientist’s abilities. You hadn’t known Ratchet long, but it only took a glance to know he was the most determined and stubborn ‘bot you’d ever seen. And he would stop at nothing to crack the code of how Knock Out did it. “Still, I wish I had more to give. But being that I can’t even read the language you’re working in, I should probably quit before I just get in your way.”

“You’re not,” he said, turning to look you in the eyes.

“Not what?”

“In my way. You humans are too small to be in any ‘bot’s way,” he quipped, gesturing with his pointer and thumb as if to squish you. “It’s remarkable how you all function in such small frames.”

You knew, in his own way, he was trying to comfort you after all you’d gone through. And you appreciated it. But if he was honest in saying you weren’t in his way as he worked, you might as well take a seat and observe for a while. Maybe, in a stroke of genius, you could figure out some Cybertronian along the way.

“Feel free to shoo me away, but how different are humans and Cybertronians? Obviously we’re made of different substances, but we look pretty alike,” you wondered aloud, taking a seat on a convenient office chair on the platform. You might as well push your luck—you couldn’t help your curiosity. Ratchet was the most likely to tell you to leave him alone if you asked something you shouldn’t, which soothed you in a way. He wouldn’t fight to keep a conversation he didn’t want.

“I believe that’s part of why Breakdown was able to obtain a human form, of sorts,” the doctor explained. “Humans and Cybertronians appear to be connected, in a way. Despite the massive distance between our home planets, and differences in our biological makeup, we are “pretty alike,” to put it your way.”

You let out a hum, looking the ‘bot in front of you up and down. It really was remarkable just how many parallels your two species had. If you looked hard enough, the metal platings around his frame resembled muscle mass in humans. His hands, though also metallic, were remarkably human. Each digit bent in all the same places as yours did. You glanced at his facial features as he continued his work. You could see the concentration in his eyes. The way his mouth murmured words underneath his breath. The subtlety of the curves in the facial plating mirroring cheeks and a brow bone and a chin. Hell, if you were slightly more unhinged you might even say he was handsome, as weird as it sounded.

A certain comparison popped into your head—that one older professor that everyone got flustered around because his worn features were still sculpted beautifully, and behind his glasses sparkled intelligent eyes. It was like something out of a romance movie, but it’s the only thing you could think of.

You quickly became aware of just how thirsty your thoughts began to sound, and so averted your eyes down, unable to continue looking Ratchet in the eyes. Unfortunately, your view now consisted of his hips. A new stream of curiosity flooded your mind. Obviously, cybertronians came in all shapes and sizes, so they had diversity within their society. They weren’t just made. They had to have come from somewhere, so where? How did they create new life? Did it resemble human reproduction? Did they have—

“Do I have something on me I don’t know about?” Ratchet spoke, noticing your staring.

You blinked, cheeks burning. Oh, my God. You needed to be doused in Holy Water. You really had to stop thinking. Why did all of your thoughts lately delve into sex territory? Jeez. “Sorry, just thirsti—thinking. Just thinking.”

“Alright. . .?”

You scratched your cheek, wanting nothing more than to be rid of the awkward energy you’d just created. “Anyway. . . are our cultures similar, as well? From what I can gather we share things in common there, too.”

“If you’re really curious to know, I would consider asking Optimus. When he’s not busy, of course. He was a librarian of sorts, once.”

Your eyes widened. You couldn’t imagine the Autobot leader stuffed behind some information desk or with his head in a book. No offense to him, but he looked more jock than nerd. You supposed you couldn’t judge a book by its cover. It brought a smile to your face thinking about him relaxed and enjoying a novel. It seemed like the Prime never rested, much like Ratchet. They deserved some down-time, though you doubted they’d ever give themselves such a luxury.

“I can’t say I expected that,” you said, glancing at the imposing figure of Optimus discussing something with Bulkhead. “But I’ll make a note of it. But like you said, I don’t think he’s ever not busy. Does he ever rest?”

Ratchet let out a sigh—or the closest cybertronian equivalent, you supposed—and shook his head. “Not unless he gets knocked out. Even then, he never stays down. As long as I’ve known him, he’s been like that. Even as a data clerk, he worked tirelessly.”

“You know, you could use a break every once-in-a-while too,” you pointed out. “You’re vital to this team. More vital than anyone else, I’d say. You can’t run yourself ragged all the time.”

He waved off your concerns. “I’m fine. I’m not out in the field fighting. It’s just mental work.”

“Which is still work,” you said. “Don’t say you do ‘just’ anything. You deserve a break just as much as anyone else on this team. Remember that.”

“Why don’t you go talk to Optimus? It looks like he’s finished his conversation with Bulkhead. I’ve got work to do,” he replied swiftly. He straightened his back, digits typing faster on the screen as though to prove his ‘fine’-ness.

You sighed, standing up. “Take care of yourself, Ratchet.”

__

First posted 9/22/2022

Unedited.

Chapter Text

You sent a wave to Optimus, hoping to catch his attention before he busied himself with something else. He had a habit of doing that. Maybe this would be his chance to catch a break.

The leader spotted you, walking over. Even on the platform, he towered over you. It was terrifying, in a way. You knew he was a good person—err, Cybertronian—but you still stifled a jump when he leaned ever-so-slightly forwards. While you appreciated his attempt at being courteous, your PTSD did not. A massive silver visage suddenly encroached your peripheral, and you blinked hurriedly to clear the make-believe image away. You had to stop yourself from replaying your time with Megatron, instead greeting the large ‘bot with a pleasant smile.

“Good afternoon. Are you healing well?”

“Good afternoon to you, too,” you replied. “I’m doing alright. I was just talking with Ratchet. He mentioned you were a librarian, of sorts, is that right?”

“Long ago, I worked as a data clerk in the Iacon hall of records, yes. Why do you ask?”

“Would you mind just. . . describing Cybertron, I guess,” you said, voice trailing off as you ended your sentence. You felt stupid, like a student approaching their teacher about a ridiculous question. You honestly just wanted to know anything and everything there was to know, but had a feeling that would take a while. “If you have the time,” you added.

You expected him to wave off your silly little inquiry, but instead he held one of his large hands out towards you. “I was just leaving on patrol if you’d like to join me. I will answer any questions to the best of my ability. Normal Cybertronian civilization was long ago, however, even for us.”

You accepted his offer with a nod, glancing at his open hand hesitantly before carefully stepping into his palm. You would never get used to getting carried around like a doll. You were just glad they treated you better than you did your childhood playthings.

You forced your mind to forget about just how dangerous and imposing they could be only for a second before you were set on the floor, leaving you to crane your neck upwards just to see his face, back-lit by the many silo lights. You bit your cheek, restraining yourself from taking a few steps backwards. Your mind fired with thoughts of scrambling away to seek shelter, but you brushed them aside. Your nails dug into your palms, but you managed to remain, albeit very reluctantly. You weren’t a child anymore, you were a big girl with bigger things to worry about than getting squashed by the good guys.

Finding it best to clog those thoughts, you instead watched as Optimus transformed, metal parts transforming and melding into a large semi-truck—so unassuming and normal. If you saw it driving down the interstate, you wouldn’t bat an eye. It was ingenious really—such an amazing adaptation for this planet, being able to blend in so perfectly that nobody could possibly figure out aliens lived among us. You couldn’t even begin to understand just how complex they were compared to simple human biology, but you hoped this drive might provide some insight.

Deciding it best to slide into the passenger seat—not wanting to rest your hands on pedals and a wheel that wasn’t yours—you buckled your seat belt, leaning back into the surprisingly plush seats as Optimus departed the silo. The giant gate opened up, revealing the vast Nevada desert. It was so foreign—miles of nothingness slowly bending behind the curve of the earth—a stark contrast from Tokyo, even in the outer city.

You shielded your eyes from the bright sunlight beating down on you from inside the cab. And yet another thing you’d never get used to seeing—that damn Nevada sun.

You looked away from the landscape, instead glancing down in front of you to avoid the harsh rays. Your eyes focused on the clean, modern interior. Last time you were in the cab, you didn’t exactly spend time ogling the decor, but looking closer, it was—nice. You thought it deserved a better description than something as plain as ‘nice’, but words weren’t your strong-suit at the moment. Your hands rested on either side of you, fingers pressing into the fresh-smelling leather. If Optimus was wearing himself ragged, he certainly did a good job of hiding it. You supposed the interior didn’t get much use, however, imagining the children preferred their own guardians as rides.

“Where would you like me to begin?” his voice spoke, steering wheel insignia lighting up as he did so. You almost forgot he was there, weirdly enough. It was scarily easy to ease your mind inside the spacious cab, only focusing on the slight rumble of tires on dusty road as the small town of Jasper came into view. You cleared your throat, deciding to look out the window, staring at your own reflection as you talked. You did your best to ignore how exhausted you looked, fingers wiping at your eye bags in a useless attempt to be rid of them.

“Why is it that Cybertron and Earth—humans and Cybertronians—are so similar? It can’t be a coincidence, right?” you asked.

“I do not believe such close societies would form out of mere coincidence, even taking into account the vastness of the universe. As to why, however, I am unsure. Unfortunately, the dawn of our civilization was before even my time. If you believe in an ultimate being, then perhaps it was their doing.”

You stifled a scoff at his mention of an ultimate being. If a god existed, it must be a sadistic one. How could you endure such misery at such a young age—an innocent child being subjected to—no. No god you wanted to believe in could sit idly by and watch such things happen. Besides, why would the Ultimate create such societies, even if it wanted to? Was it low on ideas? Wanted to rest after a long week and decided to press the copy-paste button? There must be something more. Something stringing the two societies together. You just wished you knew what.

The voice of the Autobot leader drew you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry I do not have the answer you seek, but the same thought does occur to me, as well.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” you replied, fingers drumming against your arms as you rested your head lazily against the seat. “Just thinking out loud, I guess. It’s just. . . bizarre that I can look at you all and see a metal version of myself. Despite being made of completely different substances, and being unfathomable distances away, you found us. Befriended us. Understood and continue to understand, even if not fully, humanity. One small tweak and maybe we never would have met.”

“That is something I am grateful did not happen—the Autobots have found a place here—and the children have found friendship with them, as well. One might even say a family.”

A burning ignited in the pit of your stomach. Despite trying to quench it, it sparked an aching emotion that you couldn’t shake. You should’ve been thankful that Miko had found solace in Jasper, found a team willing to protect her when you couldn’t, but the only thing you could process was the fact that you were no longer needed. You could feel a shift within your role as her caretaker. She no longer needed you, and yet you were lost without her. Almost your whole life up until now was to raise Miko, protect her and make sure she could have the childhood robbed of you, but now she had beings much more capable than you—leaps and bounds ahead of anything you could accomplish—watching over her. What was your point in being here? What was your purpose if not to protect the only family you had left? You didn’t know how to live for yourself. And you were petrified.

“Have I said something to upset you? You’re crying.” His voice alerted you to the wet drops trickling down your face. You clenched your eyes shut, pulling yourself together before wiping the tears away.

“I’m fine,” you coughed out, throat suddenly parched. “Sorry for that—it must be the dust in the air.

You knew he didn’t believe that, but he didn’t press you for the truth, instead letting out a low hum of acknowledgement. “I see. Take care of yourself. You’ve been through a lot.”

You cleared your throat, unsure of how to respond. Deciding it best to change the subject, you spoke. “So how did the kids get wrapped up in this in the first place? I can’t imagine Fowler is keen on running a day-care.”

“He is not. I was not there to witness what happened, but from what I’ve been told, Decepticons forced Arcee to reveal herself to Jack, and Miko and Raphael not long after. It was never our intention to involve them, but I thought it best to keep them under our watch. The Decepticons are not above going through them to get to us.”

“I’ve noticed,” you replied, mouth acting before realizing the possible blame within your words. The Autobots are outnumbered and outgunned—what happened with your capture wasn’t something ever intended to happen—merely an unfortunate accident. They risked their own lives to save you, and you were thankful. Still, you knew how hard something like that could weigh on a person.

“You have my deepest condolences, (Y/N). It was never our intention to bring any human to harm. And yet, from the start, I harmed you. The bruises still on your back serve as a reminder of that. Know there is nothing I will not do to end the Decepticon’s reign and protect you and this planet from any more violence.”

Impulsively, your hand touched just behind your shoulder, wincing as your fingers caressed the purple skin, shoulder blade twitching in pain. It was then you realized just how small your problems were compared to his. You can’t imagine the guilt weighing on him after fighting a war longer than your lifetime. Many of your lifetimes, in fact. Your injuries were a drop in the bucket, and yet, his words were genuine. Despite the fact that he saved your life by catching you, it still wasn’t enough for him.

“Thank you, Optimus,” you said, hand coming to rest on the dash in front of you. “You’re the reason I’m still here. And that’s all I could ever ask for. Bruises or not, you saved my life. I can stand to be sore for a while—trust me. I’ve been through worse.”

“You’re a kind soul,” he replied, voice coinciding with the low rumble of his tires on the road.

“So you’re one to dodge compliments as well,” you quipped, a small smile crossing your lips as you leaned back in the plush seats. Your eyes scanned the bright desert landscape, lazily noting the odd cactus or sand-sculpted rock poking up from the orange ground. You wondered if Jasper felt as foreign to him as it did you. You supposed he’d been here longer, but a trek across space seemed a hell-of-a-lot different than a flight across the globe.

Regardless, it was something you and the Autobots had in common—technically, you shared the same foreign-ness as the Decepticons, as well, but you didn’t picture yourself bonding with them over jet-lag any time soon.

“Is there anything you need in town?” he spoke, pulling you away from your musings.

“I don’t think so, but if there is, I’ll get it on my own time. I’d hate to use the leader of the Autobots as an Uber.”

“I don’t follow your latter statement, but nonetheless, let me or my companions know if you require anything, no matter how small. You’ve been displaced enough. It is only right to offer up our assistance.”

You hummed in reply.

Despite your comment that you didn’t need anything from the small town, your driver pulled onto the main road, tinted windows hiding the suspiciously empty driver’s seat. You looked outside, watching the little shops in the dusty downtown pass by. It was so unassuming—giant robotic organisms residing just outside a town so small it didn’t exist on most maps. You supposed that was the point—a clever way to hide their existence. If they ever had to reveal themselves in Jasper, the government would have a much easier time covering it up.

As you thought, a quaint bookstore caught your eye, and without thinking, you spoke. “Think that spot’s semi friendly?” you asked, pointing to the shop and the one minuscule parking spot in front of it. You stifled a laugh picturing a semi in such a space. There’s no way he wouldn’t block traffic.

“No,” he replied curtly, brakes halting his movement on the slender road, “but I can circle around if you’d like to take a look.”

A part of you hated to cause him any hassle, and you touched the door handle cautiously.

“I am in town to assess possible Decepticon activity. Your presence in or out does not hinder that.”

Taking that as his way of saying, ‘quit being an indecisive burden and get out all ready,’ you popped open the door, stepping down the large gap between the door and the road. You had no idea how semi drivers got in and out daily—it was kind of difficult, and also embarrassing. You felt like a child on a jungle-gym.

Still, you managed, shutting the door and making your way to the storefront. Hearing the hiss of Optimus beginning to drive away behind you, you opened the small shop, sending one last glance at the semi as it rolled forwards.

“Welcome in,” a voice called from behind a wooden counter. You looked to see a fresh-faced teenage girl—blonde hair in a pony tail swaying behind her as she nodded her head to greet you. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” you replied, though you couldn’t help but wonder if she was supposed to be in school at the moment. She couldn’t have been older than 16—and you knew the kids had school today.

“I’ve got a work permit from school. The lady who runs this place can’t by herself anymore. This counts as a learning experience, I guess. Either way, I get out of chemistry,” she answered, knowing your question before you could even ask it. “I get that look a lot. Anyway, my name is Sierra. Feel free to browse and come to me with any questions.” She gave you a smile.

You nodded, heels turning as you wandered towards the multitude of closely stacked shelves. It was cluttered, but in a way that made it feel homely. Your fingers lightly skimmed the many worn covers, eyes wandering the titles lazily.

You almost made it to the end of the aisle when a title caught your eye. ‘EXTRATERRESTRIALS OF JASPER: WHAT THE GOVERNMENT IS HIDING’. Stifling a laugh, you slid the book off the shelf. The cover detailed an ominous set of glowing eyes lingering behind a cut-out picture of the small Nevada town. Curious, you began to flip through. There were a lot of diagrams and pictures, all with red circles and arrows pointing to things you couldn’t tell the significance of. You continued your perusal, about to close the book, when you spotted a chapter title that hit the nail on the head. ‘ALIEN TECHNOLOGY: CARS WITH NO DRIVERS?’.

Suddenly a lot more interested, you started the chapter, reading as the author described multiple accounts of people witnessing vehicles with no clear drivers. Apparently, it was quite a popular sighting years ago, though drastically died down after government agents began interviews throughout the town. You assumed it was agent Fowler’s doing.

Still, the author mentioned that if one were to look very closely, these driverless cars still exist and peruse the streets to this day.

You snapped the book closed, too curious to continue the reading to leave without it. Luckily, you had your wallet on hand, and wouldn’t have to steal from an old lady’s book store.

Walking away five dollars poorer, you leaned against the outside of the building, continuing where you left off as you waited for Optimus.

“Excuse me ma’am,” a voice interrupted, pulling you from your reading. You looked up, greeted by a man with closely shaved hair, dark glasses on as he looked at you expectantly. His clothes seemed out of place for a desert environment, long dress pants and a white button up. A black blazer dangled from his arm. “Can you tell me where the nearest restaurant is? I recently moved in and I’m no good at finding stuff.”

“You’re outta luck,” you replied, shutting the book. “You’ve actually managed to find the one other newbie in this town.”

“Really? Where from?” he prompted.

“Japan,” you said curtly. Questions like that always set you on edge, even if common in such a close-knit environment. Who was he to care? Why did he care? “Anyway, I’d check inside. Maybe they can help you. My ride’s here.”

With that, you left the man, heading towards the semi that just came around the block. You could’ve waited until he pulled up beside you, but something about that guy left you wanting to get away, and so you trotted the few yards, walking around to hop in the passenger seat. This time, you managed to get in easily, shutting the door beside you.

“I see you’ve found a book,” Optimus commented, leaving you to brush off the strange man.

“Seems like someone’s got your cover blown,” you half-joked, re-opening the book to pick back up. “I found a conspiracy theory book about aliens in Jasper. It’s got a whole chapter on driverless cars. It sounds completely loony when reading it, and the author makes some pretty ludicrous claims, but he comes eerily close to the truth.”

“I see. I will let agent Fowler know.”

“I wouldn’t bother. According to this, agents have already confiscated most of this guy’s work and the town thinks he’s crazy. It’s unfortunate, being that he’s completely correct. Well, partially. It says here you guys were built by the government using alien technology.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you flipped the pages. You supposed you shouldn’t be so judgemental, just a few days ago you too had no idea the truth of the situation. Honestly, you still didn’t really know much, but at least you weren’t tossed into the loony bin.

__

First posted 3/05/2023

Unedited.

Chapter Text

You managed to finish the chapter by the time Optimus rolled back into base, shutting it as you climbed back out of the big rig.

“How was the drive?” Arcee spoke up, hand on her hip as she nodded at you.

“Ran into some stranger at the book store,” you replied, gesturing to the book as you did so,“and also found a compilation of all of Jasper’s best alien conspiracies. You all are in here. Congratulations, you’re all cryptids, now.”

“Cryptids? Like mothman and stuff?” Bulkhead asked, leaving Bumblebee in the dust as he walked towards you. The yellow bot’s door wings fell, like the ears on a whimpering dog. Annoyed buzzing stemmed from him as he joined Bulkhead, abandoning the game of catch they were playing.

“I’m surprised you know that word, but yeah,” you said. “Anyway, even if the guy who wrote this book is off his rocker, I’d still be careful driving around Jasper. Wouldn’t want to piss of Fowler.”

“I think that’s his natural state,” quipped Arcee.

“You got that right. You go off-roading one too many times and suddenly he cares about our well-being,” said Bulkhead, gruff voice laced with annoyance.

“You’re leaving out the part where you caused a rock-slide that closed a road for weeks,” Ratchet butt in, eyes darting away from his computer to shoot the green bot an unamused look.

The sound of Bumblebee buzzing drew your attention, and though you couldn’t understand him, the way Bulkhead huffed told you everything you needed to know about the scout’s words.

“We’re allowed to have fun every once in a while,” Bulkhead insisted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. You could hear the squeaking of metal on metal as he did so. “Seems we’re in a deadlock with the ‘cons for the time being, anyway. I’ll bet they’re tearing each other apart over losing (Y/N).”

“While it’s true her escape might trigger some infighting, we can never let our guard down, especially considering their new ability to possess human disguises,” Optimus spoke, footsteps echoing across the floor as he came to stand beside Ratchet.

“How is your research coming along, old friend?”

“I’d be a lot easier if I knew how in Cybertron humans work in the first place. I would assume their biological make-up is completely incompatible with ours, but in order to create a human alternate form, Knock Out would have needed to have unforeseen knowledge of human biology that I don’t yet possess, as well as mesh their form with ours in a way that makes sense.”

“How is it that Knock Out knows more about humans than we do?” Arcee commented. “We actually have humans on our team.”

“I’d hate to see what he does in his free time,” Bulkhead said, stifling a shiver. “Dissections? Human experiments? Primus knows.”

“It seems breaking the laws of humanity has worked in the Deceptions’ favor,“ muttered Ratchet.

“Knock Out’s corrupt methods may have given the Decepticons a temporary advantage, but we must not forget the resources we have on our side,” the Autobot leader said, glancing at your minuscule form as he did so.

“If you think I can help, let me know,” you said, nodding to Optimus and Ratchet, though the doctor had his back turned. “It’s only right after what you all have done for me.”

Ratchet acknowledged your words with a wave of his hand, obviously tuned out of the conversation. “Yes, yes. I’ll let you know. Thank you very much. You’re dismissed.”

Arcee shot you a look, as if to say, ‘he means well, but he’s also a work-a-holic that doesn’t have time for small talk.’

Deciding that the conversation with the bots was over, you made your way to the television area ladder. You took a quick look around before deciding to try and climb it yourself. You weren’t getting any younger, and the quicker you work through the pain, the faster it would be over with. Or something like that. . .

Buzzing caught your attention before you could start the climb, and you turned to see Bumblebee holding his hand out. “I appreciate it, but I want to try getting up myself.”

Nodding, he stepped back, ready to spring into action if needed.

Slowly, you began to climb, each rung passing creating more and more soreness in your back. You grit your teeth, taking a moment to roll your shoulders before getting back to it. You felt miserable by the time you reached the top rung, but you completed your small task, nonetheless.

Taking a moment to stretch, you held your hands above your head, letting out a satisfied sigh. It was a small achievement, but it meant you were healing from your fall, and a newfound glee buried itself in your gut as you fell back onto the couch.

You looked over to see Bumblebee clapping lightly for you, giving you a thumbs up.

You smiled softly. “Thanks for the encouragement.”

He nodded, letting out an optimistic chirp, before heading towards one of the long hallways leading out of the hub. You hoped to do some poking around at some point. Still, any motivation you had was out the window.

Deciding it best to spend the rest of your day lounging about, you grabbed the remote and clicked on the television, watching as it fluttered to life. In Japan, you’d spend your free-time boxing or some other form of exercise, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything else after climbing up the ladder.

Eyes focused on the t.v., flipping channels lazily, you were greeted with a scene you could not have prepared yourself for, and raced to click to the next channel as the sounds of moaning and squelching emanated from the screen. You let out a yelp of embarrassment, slamming the next button. The image changed from that of a sex scene to the local news, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Uhh, what was that?” a voice chimed in from behind you, and you whipped your head around in horror to see Bulkhead standing behind you, optics widened.

“Something I did not expect to see in the presence of anyone, much less you all.”

“From your reaction, I guessed that. Don’t tell me they were. . .”

“In English? Having sex,” you replied with a grimace. You could feel blood rushing to your cheeks, and you stifled the urge to cover your face like a child.

“What is that doing on the television?”

You hated to be the one to explain this, but you supposed it had to be done. “It’s called pornography, and people like to watch it. Usually while. . . masturbating.” You now understood what it was like to be a middle school teacher, and currently wished you had a rock to hide under.

“I should’ve guessed humans had stuff like that, too, but still–on television? You all have some big bearings to play that where anyone can see it.”

“Cybertronians have porn, too?” you asked, question coming out faster and louder than you intended.

“What in Primus’s name are you two talking about over there?” came Ratchet’s irritated voice.

“Nothing!” It was Bulkhead’s turn to be embarrassed. “It’s not something you just bring up in conversation, especially with the kids always here, but.. yeah.”

“Huh. You learn something new everyday,” you muttered. “It’s crazy how alike our two species are.”

“Can I go now? I think I’m gonna wash my optics out with soap.”

You laughed at the awkwardness of the entire encounter, nodding. “Me, too.”

With that, he stumbled off hurriedly, leaving you to your own devices. Well, one device. You turned your attention back to the television after scoping to see if anyone else caught the obscene sounds. Luckily, they didn’t. Or if they did, they didn’t say anything.

You half-payed attention to the news broadcast going on about the weather, but quickly got bored. Skimming the channels, carefully this time, you landed on an old cartoon. Deciding you could use some easy watching, you set the remote down, giving your full attention to the animated cat chasing after a determined little mouse.

Before you knew it, the children were back from school, and you tore your gaze away from the show to watch as Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Arcee pulled into the silo.

“How was school?” you called, only half paying attention.

“Uhh,” started Jack, and you decided to glance once more at the three kids now headed towards the television area. “About that.”

Your mouth opened, ready to ask what he meant by that, but the sight of Miko’s face had you racing towards her, fuming as she made it up the ladder. A dark splotch stained around her left eye, swelling causing her to squint slightly. “Hey, ya.”

“Who did this to you?” you commanded through gritted teeth, fires alight in your eyes. Any soreness you had was replaced by the urge to bash someone’s face in.

“Some jerk at school who’s always picking on Jack. Doesn’t matter–”

“Like hell it doesn’t–give me a name or I’ll hunt them down myself,” you interrupted, already cracking your knuckles.

“I said the same thing,” Bulkhead chimed in, transforming and balling up his fists tightly. “She won’t budge. Says she’ll deal with it herself.”

“Just tell me, Miko. I’m your babysitter. This is my job, you know.”

“I told you I’ll handle it!” she barked back, suddenly irritated. Pouting, she sat down on the couch, leaving Raf and Jack to scoot to the very ends in an attempt to not anger her further.

Letting out a sigh, you kneeled down in front of her, gently brushing her hair aside to get a better look at the black eye. A slight cut above her eyelid oozed blood. You spoke softly, fingers pulling back to rest in your lap. “You need some ice and Neosporin. Looks like they nicked you a little.”

“Are you not gonna keep yelling at me?” she questioned, watching as you began to dig around scattered boxes for a medical kit.

You paused your actions, breath passing gently out your lips. “I know you won’t spill. You’re just as stubborn as me, Miko. Your parents raised a mule.”

“I think that was your doing,” she replied, snorting.

You gave up your search, looking back at her. “Why are you so insistent on keeping the name to yourself, anyway?”

“I wanna get back at that jerk myself,” she replied, nodding to herself. “I can’t rely on you to beat up people forever.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. Just–don’t hurt yourself any further or else I will intervene.”

“Got it,” Miko said, pressing a finger to her black eye. You pushed her hand away, kneeling back in front of her. Gently, you pressed a kiss to her forehead. She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a mom.”

“Quit touching it. It’ll make it worse,” you chastised. “Now go to the bathroom and wash your face. There’s a little apartment just down that hallway.”

Knowing better than to argue, she stood up, giving you a quick hug before making the descent back down the ladder. “Thanks, (Y/N). You’re the best.”

As soon as she was out of ear shot, you turned back to Raf and Jack. “Okay. Now spill. Who is it?”

“What?” Jack exclaimed, gesturing to where Miko just sat. “You just said you’d drop it!”

“I said that because I know she’s not gonna talk. You two, however, I will crack like an egg.”

Raf looked behind you, eyes pleading Bumblebee for help. The yellow bot held his hands up and shook his head, emphasizing the fact that he was not getting in your way.

“Arcee, a little help? We’re cornered here,” Jack mumbled.

“I’m just as rearing to get the bully who gave Miko a black eye, Jack,” the femme responded, hand on her hip. “Spill.”

“Okay, okay,” the black haired teen said, shoulders slumping in defeat. “His name is Vince and he drives this stupid sports car with flames on it. Impossible to miss. We were passing him in the hallway on our way out and he made some stupid comment about me. Miko snapped and threw a punch. Turns out he’s not afraid to hit a girl.”

“Vince again?” Arcee muttered.

“He doesn’t give up,” Raf emphasized.

You shook your head. “Oh, he will. I’ll make him cry about it.”

“While this bully has inflicted violence upon Miko, we must not–”

You stopped the prime with a stare so intense he hadn’t seen one like it since the pits of Kaon. “I’m not a monster, Optimus. I won’t touch him. His car, though?”

“Scrap metal.” Bulkhead finished.

“Precisely.”

“While I don’t condone ‘optic-for-an-optic’ vengeance, I understand your frustrations. All of you. The first priority should be Miko’s well-being, however. Jack. Is your mother available?”

“Just texted her. She’ll be here soon.”

“Who?” Miko asked, finally back within earshot. She pressed damp toilet paper against her eye, wincing.

“June. She’s gonna patch you up,” you said.

“Not helicopter mom! Can’t Ratchet do it?” she complained, slumping forward.

“With what? A welder?” the medical bot chimed in, rolling his optics.

“Anything is better than Jack’s mom!”

“Hey!” Jack defended. “She’s still my mother, you know! She cares about us!”

“Ever since she showed up, we haven’t gotten to have any fun!”

“Like what?” you asked, eye brow raised. Miko, now back up the ladder and slumping back on the couch, suddenly paled. “Anything I should know about?”

“No!” the three children said in unison.

“Yes,” Ratchet muttered.

“Hey! Don’t be a snitch!” Miko chastised.

“No. No. Go on. How much extra studying will Miko have to do when she gets home?”

“Enough to make up for nearly-daily detention,” Ratchet replied, fingers clutching his nose bridge. Well, where his nose bridge would be. “That’s not including the times she’s skipped out.”

“Hey, what gives, doc-bot! I thought we were buddies!”

“Just answering the question,” he replied, trying his best to hide his snicker. “Besides, isn’t it our jobs to keep you all out of trouble?”

“Traitor,” the teen mumbled, huffing.

“Thanks for the info, Ratchet. I appreciate it,” you said, giving Miko an ‘I’m-not-angry-just-disapointed’ look.

“You can’t gimme that look! I’m injured!” she whimpered, pointing to her swollen eye.

“What happened to you being fine?”

“I think she’s got you cornered,” Raf whispered.

“Yeah. She’s no joke when she’s angry,” Jack agreed.

You shook your head at the situation. “We’ll talk about it when you’re feeling better. For now, you’re free.”

“Nice! Up for a race, Jack?”

“Not that free, Miko.”

“I meant a video game, (Y/N)! I swear!” She clicked a few buttons on the controller she dug out of a box to prove her point. “See!”

Deciding it best to let the kids be kids, you made no other comments, taking a seat on the floor, as the couch was now full of gaming teenagers. Unfortunately, that wasn’t too pleasant for your back.

“Radio incoming,” Ratchet suddenly spoke, pulling your attention away from Miko’s winning streak. “Looks like it’s from Wheeljack.”

“Wheeljack? Nice! How’s my old buddy doing?” Bulkhead spoke up, clamoring to look at the big green computer screen.

“Wheeljack?” you questioned.

“He’s one of Bulkhead’s buddies from Cybertron. He’s probably the second-coolest Autobot. After Bulkhead, of course,” Miko said, still going head-to-head with Rafael. “He doesn’t take well to authority, though, so never stays on Earth with us. Shame!”

“I wonder what he’s back again for,” Arcee questioned aloud. “What’d he say?”

“Seems like for a pit-stop. He was caught in a meteor shower not far from Earth. Apparently, there’s no telling how long it’ll take to get fixed. Oh, joy.”

“We’ll rendezvous at his coordinates,” Optimus said. “Ratchet, prepare a ground-bridge. And bring a repair kit. He could be injured.”

“I’m coming with,” Bulkhead replied.

“I’ll watch the kids,” Arcee said.

Bumblebee beeped, eyes focused on the video game.

“Guess it’s the three of us,” Ratchet grumbled, activating the ground-bridge.

“Make it four?” you asked. You wanted to get out of the silo for a bit, and you couldn’t help but feel excited at the idea of meeting a new Autobot. You looked at Optimus, waiting for his answer.

“You can ride with Bulkhead.”

You nodded, racing down the ladder as fast as your crippled body would let you.

Suprisingly, Miko didn’t jump at the chance to come with, but judging by her ever-growing winning streak, she had other things to tend to. Besides, she had to stay and wait for June, anyway, so you would’ve told her to stay-put, regardless.

Watching as the green bot transformed, you quickly hopped in the passenger’s seat, preparing yourself as the swirling portal grew ever closer. The last time you went through a groundbridge you were too busy hyperventilating over escaping a kidnapping to pay much attention, so a fear dug itself in your stomach as you crossed the teleportation threshold.

Coming out on the other side, you flinched, stomach doing a flips as you assessed your surroundings.

“He’s not here yet, but this is his projected landing point. He should be here any second now,” Ratchet explained, medkit in hand.“

The land was lush with greenery all around the small clearing you found yourself in, surrounded by massive trees that shielded a dense forest. The sounds of insects of all sorts filled your ears, and you noticed a large snake slithering just out of sight as you exited the green off-road vehicle.

“It’s beautiful here,” you said, turning in a circle to take in the scenery. “Where are we?”

“Somewhere in the Amazon rain forest. He wanted a place to work without satellites picking up on his ship, or cons spotting him,” Ratchet explained. “Though I don’t know if I’d call this place beautiful. Just standing here is giving my rust under my hood.”

You had to agree it was muggy, but a little moisture didn’t stop you from perusing the edge of the clearing, trying your best to see any animals that might be hiding in the wooded landscape. You’d never been anywhere like this before, so you might as well sight-see while you’re here.

“Careful, (Y/N). There may be dangerous wildlife,” Optimus cautioned.

“I think we scared off anything within a 10 mile radius,” you responded. “Groundbridges aren’t the most subtle way to enter.”

“I didn’t think Earth could be this green,” Bulkhead commented, lurking behind you as he, too, scoured the landscape. “What’d you say this place was, Ratch? A rain forest? Why do they call it that?”

As if on queue, a drop of water splashed gently onto your head. “I think we’re about to find out,” you muttered. Quickly, more drops began to fall, and within seconds the light sprinkle became downpour so violent you thought you might get bruised.

You ran between Bulkhead’s legs for some cover, hearing the harsh pattering of rain on metal. You walked under him as he made his way back to the middle where the other two transformed back into vehicles.

Bulkhead did the same, and you quickly jumped back inside, already soaked to the bone and chilly.

“Here,” the big bot said, kicking on the heat. You felt the seat get warm as well. Heated seats? Don’t mind if you do.

“How is Wheeljack going to get through all this weather?” you asked, voice loud to compete with the pouring water. “He’s not gonna crash-land, is he?”

“He’s a better pilot than that,” replied Bulkhead. “At least, I hope he is. Do you want to bridge back? He might take longer now that it’s like this outside.”

“I’m fine,” you said, nestling against the warm seat as you stared out the window. You could barely make out the silhouettes of a semi and ambulance in the misty atmosphere. “It’s nice, in a way. Relaxing.”

“Glad you’re safe-and-sound, but this rain is hard enough to scratch my paint. Jackie better show up sooner rather than later.”

Suddenly, a different voice spoke through the speakers–Optimus. “Are you two alright?” You could see him flashing his lights.

“All good,” Bulkhead said, signaling back. “(Y/N) is a little damp,” he joked, “but nothing the heat won’t fix.”

“Good. We should expect a delay for inclement weather. Hold your positions and keep an optic on the sky.”

“Roger that.”

With that, rain consumed your ears again, and you began to draw figures in the window condensation as you stared out at the barely visible jungle trees. “I’m glad I got stuck with you out in this,” Bulkhead spoke up. “Optimus and Ratch are the quiet type. I can’t stand sitting around not saying anything. From what I’ve seen, and heard from Miko, you have quite the stories to tell.”

“Me?” you said. “I guess I’ve had an eventful life, but nothing compared to yours, I assume.”

“Ehh. Just ‘cause I’ve been around longer doesn’t mean I’ve got something to say about it. I used to do construction. Pretty mundane. Then the war broke out, and after some tussles, I wound up here.”

“Well when you put it that way–” you commented, letting out a small laugh. “I could tell a bedtime story with more gusto than that.”

“I’ve got the odd good one stored away, but when Jackie gets here, he’s full of ‘em. With him out-and-about all the time, he’s never gonna run out,” Bulkhead joked.

You hummed. “Can’t wait to meet him. Just hope he hurries up, though–”

“Autobots, evacuate the area, now!” Optimus commanded, loud enough to hear even past the pouring rain. “Crash landing incoming!”

Before you could blink, you felt the harsh rain on your body, tossed around as Bulkhead transformed with you in hand and ran for the cover of the trees.

You let out a gasp, vision filled with a careening space ship headed straight for the clearing, flames cascading around it like a water past a swimmer.

Your body jostled violently, every muscle extending and contracting in a useless attempt to ground yourself. Bulkhead wrapped his hand tighter around you, afraid to lose you to the slick weather as he dove into the brush.

With a sound so loud your ears roared with pain, the ship crashed square in the middle of the opening, creating a flash of light and fire too bright to look at.

You couldn’t stop yourself from screaming, but your voice was drowned out by the sound of incinerating metal.

It all happened so quick, your eyes squeezing shut as your hands clutched your ears, feeling yourself tumble onto soft leaves as Bulkhead guarded your small form with his body, positioned above you as shrapnel rained down.

As quickly as it happened, it passed, leaving the sound of rain extinguishing flames as the spaceship lie halfway in the dirt, smoldering.

You coughed, smoke in your lungs drying your throat as you reopened your eyes. Bulkhead was still above you, though pulled himself back on his feet as he stared worriedly at you. “You okay?” he asked, brushing himself off.

“I’m good,” you replied, standing up shakily. “Where are the others?”

You stared at where the clearing was, only to be met with dense forest. You let out a confused hum.

“Good question,” the bot replied, turning in a circle with no luck. “I guess I ran farther than I thought. No problem. We’ll just follow my steps–”

You stared at the ground. The undergrowth was so slick and dense, and with the pouring rain, it was impossible to see any footsteps–even giant ones.

“New plan–I’ll just comm them–”

All that came through was static. “Scratch that. You got a plan?”

You groaned. This is what you get for signing up for this. “I guess we should just pick a direction and start walking. Turn your lights on so they’ll see us easier, at least.”

He nodded, doing as told. “Here, I’ll give you a lift.” You accepted his offer, hopping onto his massive palm. He covered you with his other hand, making a rain-shelter. “You wanna pick the direction?”

You thought for a moment, taking another look at your surroundings. “Let’s try. . . that way.”

“Works for me.” With that, he began to walk.

-

First posted 3/06/2023

Unedited.

Chapter Text

“Optimus!” Bulkhead yelled, having been walking for a solid half-hour with no luck. “Ratchet! Jackie! We’re over here!”

You sighed. At least the rain had calmed to just a sprinkle, leaving you to hitch a ride on his shoulder. Still, getting lost in the jungle with no way out wasn’t on your to-do list.

“Think I should light something on fire? They might see it better than my headlights.”

“Do you really want to be responsible for burning down the Amazon rainforest?”

“Just a suggestion.”

You rolled your eyes. You two had been conversing the whole time, him pausing to yell every few minutes. It was nice getting to know him, and you could see why Miko liked him so much. Still, you were cold and miserable, and really wished you could just find the others already so you could all get the hell out of here.

Regardless of your thoughts, it didn’t change the fact that you were stuck here until further notice. You hated to think about what would happen if you never ran into the others, but you tried to remain optimistic. It’s not like you were out here alone. Worst case, you still had Bulkhead to keep you company.

“Do you think we should turn around and try a different way?” he asked, stopping in his tracks to survey the dense foliage surrounding the two of you.

“Maybe,” you replied. “But then again, what if we’re just short of finding them? It’s impossible to know.”

“Right. Maybe we could wait here for a few minutes—see if we can hear the others without my big feet stomping around.”

“Works for me. Turn off your headlights, too. Maybe we’ll see their signals better without any light interference on our end.”

Copying that, Bulkhead’s lights flipped off, leaving the two of you in silence. Any large movement had to be them, so you focused as hard as you could, praying to pick up the sounds of the others.

You let out a sigh, eyes staring at the sunset that slumped behind the gargantuan trees. You had no idea what lurked in the rainforest at night, and even with a bot at your side, you hated to be out here long enough to find out.

“Hold on—” Bulk said, turning his head to his left. “Listen. I think there’s something just out of our sight. Hear it?”

You stiled your breathing, ignoring the chirping of birds all around you. It was faint—but he was right. There was something big traveling towards you. The ground vibrated with every step, sounds coming increasingly closer.

“Should I get their attention?” Bulkhead suggested. “It’s gotta be one of the ‘bots.”

You nodded. “Just. . . be careful.”

Turning to the direction of the noise, Bulkhead began flashing his headlights. “Hey! We’re over here! Jackie? Optimus? Ratchet? That you?”

“Bulkhead? That your voice I hear?” An unknown responder prompted. You didn’t recognize it, and could only assume it was Bulkhead’s buddy.

“Wheeljack!” Bulkhead called back, beginning to trek closer to the white figure visible through the trees.

Finally, the two of you reached the ‘bot, though he didn’t look too good. Burnt paint peeled off in chunks, leaving him to resemble a birch tree. A gash across his chest slowly oozed a blue substance, dripping to the ground like rain. Two silver rectangles protruded from either side of his head, though one looked in disrepair, cracks littering the surface. Still, judging by the smirk on his face, even as he limped closer, using the trees for support, he’d been through worse.

“Took you long enough,” he joked, leaning against a particularly large tree.

“You alright, Jackie? You look like you crawled out of a scrap yard.“

“Nothing fatal,” the white bot replied. “Who’s the human? She’s new, ain’t she?”

You nodded. “Miko’s babysitter, (Y/N). You’re Wheeljack, right?”

“You got it, sweetspark,” he said, arms crossing over his wounded chest. “If I knew a lady was coming, I would’a cleaned myself up.”

“Did you run into the others? Ratchet and Optimus? They’re out here somewhere, too,” Bulk asked.

“Can’t say I’ve seen ‘em, though I could use a patch up right about now.”

“How far away is your ship?” you piped up. “It’d probably be best to rendezvous there and wait for them.”

“Not much of a ship left,” Wheeljack said, “but it’s back the way I came.”

“(Y/N)’s right. Maybe we can find something to patch you up while we wait,” Bulkhead said. The green bot gestured to the shoulder you weren’t currently hitching a ride on. “Lean on me, would’ya? You look three seconds away from going into stasis.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” he replied, but grabbed Bulk’s shoulder, anyway, pulling himself away from the tree.

“You’re a stubborn glitch,” Bulkhead said, letting out a laugh. “Can’t ever admit when you need help.”

“Oh, please, I’ve made it this far on my own. Ever since I split from the Wreckers, it’s just been Jack Hammer and I.”

“You know the offer about joining team Prime still stands,” Bulkhead said, moving slowly as Wheeljack limped beside him. “Seems like fate keeps bringin’ you back here.”

“Until I fix the Jack Hammer, I’m stuck here whether I like it or not.”

“Is he always this hard-headed?” you muttered.

“Ever since I’ve known him.”

“My stubborn aft has saved you more times than I can count,” Wheeljack rebutted.

“And how many times did I have to vouch for you after blowing up a city block during a failed explosive experiment?” Bulkhead replied. He slapped Jackie’s back.

“An abandoned city block,” corrected Wheeljack.

“Hey, up ahead,” you spoke up. “I’m guessing the smoldering pile of metal is your ship?”

You three broke through into the clearing, staring at the torn ship strewn about, dug into the ground from the impact.

“Home, sweet, home,” the white bot replied, stumbling forward to brush off a layer of dirt. It didn’t look much like a ship at all, but you supposed it did fall from space. You wouldn’t look too hot after that, either.

Gently, Bulkhead set you back on the ground. “I’m gonna see what I can find on the ship. Make sure Jackie doesn’t do anything stupid.” You nodded, walking over to where Wheeljack was now sitting against the damaged vessel, a hand on his chest gash. Despite putting on an unbothered expression, the barely noticeable wince when he tried to put pressure on the open wound told you he was in pain. And a lot of it.

You doubted you could be of use in fixing him up, and so sat on the damp grass in front of him. “If you die before we get you back to base, I’m going to be pretty upset that all this was for nothing,” you joked.

“I don’t plan on dying today,” he replied. “Like I said, I’ve been in worse shape and lived to tell the story. Maybe it comes as a shock to you humans, but we’re tougher than we look.”

You didn’t reply, instead resting a hand on your chin. You’d never seen a Cybertronian so hurt before, and it was a strange sight, indeed. You knew your two species were similar, that had been established pretty quickly, but it was still bizarre to think that they bled, hurt, and died just like humans did. Though their lives were eons longer, they still came to an end. Nothing was invincible. And yet, that also meant the Decepticons could be defeated permanently, though it was a monumental task. They had an army. They had Megatron—the biggest, most intimidating Cybetronian you’d ever seen. Still, if a human could escape their grasp, they were far from perfect.

Deciding to be of some use, you stood back up, brushing off your soaking wet dress. Spinning around on your heels, you stared out into the woods, hoping to spot the other two any moment now.

“They’ll be here,” Wheeljack said, picking up on your impatient movements.

You turned back to face him. “I know, but even then, there’s no signal out here. We’re just sitting ducks until the base realizes we need a groundbridge out of here. It’s already been almost an hour, and no sign. They’re probably too focused on Miko and getting her black eye patched up.”

“She get in a fight?”

“Yeah. With Jack’s bully,” you said through gritted teeth. “I love her to death but her stubborn and impulsive attitude gets her into situations she can’t safely get out of. Plus, she wants to deal with it on her own, but once I get my hands on him—” you cut yourself off. “You get the point.”

“That kid’s definitely a fire-cracker.”

“Try raising her,” you responded. “Every time she does something like this, I’m left wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do.”

He laughed. “I’m never having sparklings. Too much work.”

You gestured to his ship. “Judging by the state of your ship, I’d say that’s a good thing. Why the crash-landing, anyway?”

“Must’ve been more damaged than I thought. Coming through the atmosphere burnt ‘er up. It took all the power left to stop myself from becoming a pile of scrap right along with it.”

“Think you can repair it, or are you stuck here?”

“Guess I’ll find out.”

“I couldn’t find a med-kit,” Bulkhead spoke up, reappearing from behind the giant pile of busted metal. “The next best thing is to wait for Optimus and Ratchet.”

You clicked your tongue. Just waiting here for rescue wasn’t something you enjoyed—it was up to fate whether or not they’d stumble upon you. “Hey, Bulkhead?” you asked. “Remember what you said about lighting something on fire?”

He nodded. “We didn’t want to light the forest on fire, though. Do you have another idea?”

“Hey, Wheeljack. Just how attached to your ship are you?”

“You want to blow up my ship as a signal, don’t you?”

You shrugged. “Unless you two have a better idea.”

The white bot stood up reluctantly, leaning on what was left of his ship. “It’s been fun,” he said, patting the tangled metal mass. “Sorry you gotta go out this way.” With that, he took a few steps back.

He stared at the two of you. “Hurry it up before I change my mind, Bulk.’

“Grab (Y/N) and stand back. I’ll shoot at the main engine. This thing should blow sky high,” Bulkhead said, ushering the two of you towards the tree line.

Without warning, you were picked up and placed on Wheeljack’s shoulder, leaving you to grab onto his neck cabling as he limped away from his destroyed ship. “This better work, sweetspark, or you owe me a ship,” he muttered.

“Ready?” Bulkhead called out.

“Fire away!” Wheeljack responded, putting a hand in front of you. “This’ll be bright. Might wanna close your eyes.”

You agreed, eyes closing as you braced yourself.

You heard the shot of Bulkhead’s weapon, and immediately a large heat wave overtook the three of you. You could hear Wheeljack’s feet slipping on the wet ground. Even with your eyes closed, you could see a bright flash of light. A thunderous noise loud enough to burst your eardrums led you to cover your ears with your hands, face buried against Wheeljack’s armor. It sounded like a trainwreck.

You re-opened your eyes after the light diminished, leaving you to stare at the shrapnel littered about. It was still smoking, the black fog lifting higher and higher into the sky.

You spotted Bulkhead on his back, though he managed to stand up, looking unhurt from your point of view.

“You two in one piece?” Bulkhead asked.

“Just peachy,” replied Wheeljack, stumbling back into the clearing. “Can’t say the same for the Jackhammer. No fixing ‘er now.”

“Looks like you’re stuck with team Prime,” Bulkhead said, resting a hand on Wheeljack’s shoulder.

“I doubt the others will share the same enthusiasm,” Wheeljack muttered. “Want your human back?”

“I’m not her guardian, Jackie,” he said. “She’s old enough to handle herself.”

“I thought all humans had a guardian, compliments of team Prime.”

“Just the kids,” you spoke up. “I’m a big girl. Like Bulk said, I can take care of myself.”

“You’re still just a human,” Wheeljack commented.

You understood where he was coming from, but he had no idea what you’d gone through to get where you were today. You’d lived through hell without the Autobots, and you knew how to keep yourself out of trouble just fine.

You didn’t bother responding to his words, instead scanning the tropical environment for any sign of blue, red or orange.

Sensing the tension that had built up, Bulkhead tried his best to break it. “Let’s keep an eye out for the others, huh? They’ve gotta be close after that.”

With that, you three were left to basically just spin in circles.

Luckily, it didn’t take long before two familiar faces walked through the clearing. You let out a sigh of relief. Finally, it was time to get out of here.

“About time,” Wheeljack said, crossing his arms. “What took you two?”

You could see Ratchet’s face curl into one of annoyance. “We were out looking for the ‘bot that decided to crash land with no prior warning before blowing up their ship in a highly flammable area.”

“Let us just be glad we are all together,” Optimus said. “Bulkhead—can you reach the base? Neither Ratchet nor I have a signal.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s a dead-zone out here.”

The Autobot leader let out a hum of acknowledgement. “The least we can do at the moment is tend to Wheeljack’s injuries. The others back at base should send a groundbridge soon.”

“His self-inflicted injuries,” muttered Ratchet, setting his med-kit on the ground.

“So you never did manage to dig that scraplet out of your—” Wheeljack was interrupted with an elbow from Bulkhead.

“Not the best idea to insult the ‘bot in charge of fixing you up.”

Wheeljack didn’t bother to reply, instead setting you down on the grass before taking a seat. “Just make it quick, doc. I’m leaking energon over here.”

Begrudgingly, Ratchet began to look over Wheeljack’s wounds, beginning with the large slash across his chest plate.

“How long do you think it’ll be?” you asked to nobody in particular. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my evening.”

“Any time now, right, Optimus?” Bulkhead asked.

“I believe so. Still, there is no telling. We must simply wait for the time being.”

You sighed, deciding it would be smart to get comfortable. You moved to sit down, but Bulkhead’s words stopped you. He transformed into his usual off-road vehicle. “Here, hop in. It’s not fancy, but it’ll keep you dry and warm.”

“Thanks,” you replied, climbing into the passenger’s seat. Bulkhead was right—you immediately felt better with the soft heat fluttering your hair. You let out a yawn. “At this rate, I might fall asleep.”

“It’s not like there’s anything to do but wait,” Bulkhead replied. “I’ll be sure to wake you once the groundbridge shows up.”

“I appreciate it, Bulk,” you said, patting the dashboard. You leaned your head against the window, listening to the muffled voices of Ratchet and Wheeljack arguing with each other. You let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t a surprise when you quickly drifted to sleep, succumbing to a nap.

-
First posted 3/11/2023

Unedited.

Chapter Text

A portal whooshing and the sound of voices woke you, mainly Bulkhead’s lousy attempt at a whisper. “Good to see our ride’s here, but what do I do about (Y/N) still asleep in my passenger seat? I feel bad wakin’ her.”

“She’s the one who said she could handle herself—I’m sure an interruption of stasis won’t kill her, Bulk,” replied Wheeljack.

“It’s called sleeping,” Ratchet corrected.

“Didn’t ask,” Wheeljack said, almost undoubtedly rolling his optics at the doctor.

You debated opening your eyes and announcing that you were, in fact, awake and aware, but something inside you, a childish something, to be specific, swayed you otherwise. A flashback appeared in your mind's eye, thinking about all those times you pretended to be asleep in the car or on the couch so your parents would carry you up to bed—memories so faint you almost doubted their validity. Your mother’s voice cooing at you and wrapping you in her sweater or the couch blanket as your father pulled you warm against his chest—no, it had to be real. You deserve at least those faint memories as reminders of your parents.

Whisking those memories away, you returned your attention to your current mode of transportation, who began to roll slowly towards the bridge so quiet you almost thought you imagined the movement. “Seriously, Bulk? She’s not a sparkling.”

“You don’t know what she’s been through, Jackie—Primus, we don’t even know everything she’s been through. Only time I’ve seen her completely unbothered is when she’s knocked out.”

“I don’t think human life spans are long enough to warrant—”

“Wheeljack, Bulkhead’s decision does not require justification. Regardless, I find it best we all get back to base before discussing anything further,” Optimus interrupted.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed, Prime,” the Wrecker replied, brushing past the tall ‘bot to enter the groundbridge.

Bulkhead followed suit, leaving your stomach to turn as you entered the teleportation portal. Upon entering, you heard the voices of the others speak up.

“Figured we should send a bridge,” said Arcee. “Looks like Wheeljack had a rough landing.”

“Woah! You look like you lost a fight with a woodchipper, Wheeljack!” Miko exclaimed. You heard her footsteps as she made her way to the ground floor. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

“Apparently Bulkhead’s new sparkling,” Wheeljack muttered.

“Someone jealous that their only friend is hanging out with someone else?” Arcee quipped.

Whether or not he had something to say, he didn’t respond, instead following Ratchet as the doctor chatted to himself about the measures needed to be taken to fully heal Wheeljack.

Deciding to finally drop the act, you slowly stretched out in the seat, arms raising as high as they could as you unknotted yourself. “Have a nice nap?” Miko joked as she opened the passenger door, leaving you to ungracefully tumble sideways, barely catching yourself before you fell flat on your face.

“Miko!” Bulkhead chastised.

You stepped out, steadying yourself before glancing over Miko. Her eye looked slightly better, and a bandaid covered the scratch. You noticed an ice pack in her hand. “Miss Darby patch you up?”

“Yeah, but she acted like I had a life-or-death injury and yelled at me the whole time.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Did you say thank you?”

“For what? The yelling?”

“Miko.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what happened with you guys! You were gone for like 2 hours!”

“Jackie had. . . kind of a rough landing,” Bulkhead said, transforming behind you two. He gestured to the aforementioned ‘bot bickering with Ratchet.

“I wouldn’t call it landing,” you added. “But we’re all alive and mostly intact, so it didn’t go too bad. Looks like he’s stuck with us for a while, though. Bulkhead blew up his ship.”

“There was an explosion and I missed it? Aww.”

“My head is still ringing,” you said. “Wasn’t worth the pyrotechnics.”

“Why the sabotage, Bulk?” Arcee questioned, hand on her hip as she gestured to the green ‘bot.

“We all got separated after Jackie fell from the sky—it was (Y/N)’s idea to create a signal so Optimus and Ratchet could find us.”

“It worked, but after all that I think I’m ready for a fresh change of clothes and a meal,” you said, tugging at your damp dress chafing your skin.

“My host-parents made some tacos. Plus, you can sleep in your own bed for once instead of crashing at the base. Oh, maybe I can sleep here tonight instead?”

Despite being seemingly out of ear-shot and actively welding Wheeljack’s wounds shut, Ratchet’s gaze immediately centered on the excitable teenager. “Absolutely not. Running around with no supervision in the dark while we’re all trying to get some rest? Sounds like a nightmare.”

“Hey, Doc? Mind keeping your optics on the welder melting my plating?”

You shot down Miko’s idea with a shake of your head. “You have school tomorrow. Now let’s go before Ratchet decides to bar you from the base altogether.”

“He can’t do that! Can he?”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s not stay and find out, hmm?”

She crossed her arms but didn’t debate further, instead walking back towards Bulkhead who transformed back into vehicle mode. “Can’t even have a ‘bot sleep-over. . .”

You watched as she slid into the passenger seat. “Cheer up, Miko. It’s stuffy in here, anyway,” he said.

“I’ll catch up,” you called to the pair. “Get Miko home—she needs to get her homework done before bed.”

“Hey! This was a set-up!” she huffed, a hand on the window as Bulkhead pulled out.

You watched them leave before setting your eyes on the pair of ‘bots bickering in the med bay. Despite your tired state, your curiosity got the best of you. Any chance you had to further understand your alien compatriots, you would take. Compatriots? Was that the right word? You held back from calling them friends, as it still felt to foreign to you, but still—were they nothing more than a means-to-an-end? You weren’t sure. A few days ago you were ready to give them up to Megatron, but now?

You didn’t dwell on it, instead walking towards your destination. As you drew nearer, Ratchet halted his scan of Wheeljack’s systems, panel on his arm clicking back in place. It would never cease to amaze you the technology they possessed inside their bodies.

“Can I help you?” Ratchet asked, optics focusing on your comparably tiny form. “If you’re injured, I’d suggest giving June a call.”

“I’m fine, just—wanted to watch I guess. He gonna be okay?”

“Peachy,” Wheeljack replied, standing from his seat on the examination table. He brushed off Ratchet’s welder before he could continue his work, leaving the doctor to sigh in exasperation.

“He’ll live,” Ratchet muttered, turning his back to dismiss the white ‘bot.

“Plan on sticking around?” you asked, studying his newly patched scrapes and gouges. The metal still flickered with heat, and the bubbly surface stood out from the smooth white paint surrounding the injuries.

“Until I find a new ship, I don’t have a choice,” he said, annoyance flashing in his eyes as he shot a glance at Ratchet. “Why? Attached already?” He smiled smugly.

“Maybe, but mostly you seem like a bad influence—I want to make sure you don’t give Miko any bright—and dangerous—ideas.”

Your blunt response took him by surprise, and he looked almost offended you would assume such things. “I’m a scientist—ideas are all I have, sweetspark.”

“Scientist? Hah!” Ratchet quipped. “Is that what you call it?”

You stifled a laugh. You weren’t sure what sparked the ferocity between the two, but at least it provided decent entertainment. “What’s your focus?” you asked, his words piquing your interest.

“Explosives.”

“So I’m right about the bad influence part,” you thought aloud. Still, an idea suddenly appeared in your head. Wheeljack was the most irresponsible and impulsive ‘bot you’d met by a long-shot, which meant he would take no issue with a little. . . revenge. Better yet, he had a Ph. D in bombs! Or. . . whatever the Cybertronian equivalent was. Regardless, you were certain he’d help you with taking care of Miko’s attacker—well, his car. . . for now. But how to ask without the others catching word of your childish scheme?

“It’s getting late,” Ratchet spoke, shooting a glare at Wheeljack. “Why don’t you drive (Y/N) home? And leave the rest of us to peace and quiet. . .”

‘That was easy.’

“Anything beats staying here,” Wheeljack responded, transforming. You had yet to see his vehicle mode, and so was pleasantly surprised to see a sleek sports car detailed with red and green. It was sharp around the edges, but it fit him. “You just gonna stand there gawking?” His door flipped open, and you slid into the passenger seat.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said, staring out the window from the comfy seat, watching lights blur past as he raced out of the tunnel. Within moments, you were outside, greeted to a pleasantly pink sky spotted with clouds.

“Don’t mention it. Where we headin’?”

“Just keep on this road until you see Jasper—I’ll let you know where to turn from there.”

“Copy that.”

You two sat in silence for a moment, but you broke it with a question. “Do you want to help me commit a crime?” you blurted. You squinted your eyes shut, realizing the completely disastrous phrasing too late. Still, from what you’ve gathered from the Wrecker, he’d still say—

“Why not—what’s the plan?”

It was nearly an hour later before Wheeljack pulled up in front of the house, gruff voice still chuckling over Vince’s car. “Nothin’ like the sight of burnin’ metal to get your energon flowing!”

“Remember—this is our little secret,” you said, trying your best not to laugh alongside him. While watching the tacky flame-decor get swallowed in fire was satisfying as hell, you knew there would be disappointment in the act of arson from the others. Still, a smile graced your lips. “And thanks again. That was fun.”

“Looks like we have more in common than you think—who’s the bad influence now, huh?”

“Good night, Wheeljack,” you said, ignoring his question as you stepped out, door shutting behind you.

He watched as you walked towards the door, only pulling away once you were out of sight and safely inside.

“Wheeljack,” Bulkhead’s voice called in. “Where’d you drive off to? Don’t tell me you’re planning on camping in the desert tonight.”

“I’m headin’ back, (Y/N) and I were just taking care of something.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry about it. See you soon, Bulk.”

Back at base, Bulkhead shook his head. He knew you two got up to something, but what? He had no idea. He had a feeling he’d find out sooner-rather-than-later, though.

Bumblebee beeped behind the large ‘bot.

“Yeah, he’s heading back. Don’t know what took them so long, though.”

“Do you really want to know?” Arcee asked, hand on her hip. “Anything with Wheeljack is trouble.”

“Yeah, but (Y/N) wouldn’t agree to anything that bad, right?” Bulkhead thought aloud.

“We still know next to nothing about her, Bulk,” she said. “Who knows.”

Bumblebee chimed in with his own comment.

“Sure, she keeps Miko out of trouble,” Arcee noted, “but something tells me she’s speaking from experience, Bee.”

Bulkhead thought back to all of Miko’s stories of her babysitter. “From what Miko’s said, she doesn’t even know how (Y/N) grew up. She’s gotta be keeping a lid on it for a reason.”

“Whatever reason that may be,” spoke Optimus, approaching the other three ‘bots, “it is her decision.”

“Aren’t you the least bit concerned about what she is capable of?” Arcee asked, gesturing to the Prime. “We all know what Miko says about her and her skills—she escaped the Decepticons single-handedly. Normal humans can’t do that. Until now, I didn’t think ANY human could do that.”

“I am sure Agent Fowler would have alerted us to any. . . concerns, given his background in government,” Optimus responded.

“U.S. government,” Ratchet chimed in. “She’s not from here. . . that we know. I confess that I attempted some digging, but even with my newfound internet skills thanks to Rafael, I have found nothing.”

“If it is a concern of the team, I will notify Agent Fowler,” the Prime concluded. “But for the time being, we must not assume the worst.”

“Miko’s gonna be furious if she finds out what we’re saying about her babysitter,” Bulkhead muttered, shaking his head. “For all we know, she’s just a private person—nothing to worry about.”

The sound of tires on pavement notified everyone of Wheeljack’s return. He transformed, walking over to where the others stood. “Worry about what?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Ratchet replied. “It’s a team issue.”

“Not like I can leave even if I wanted to—so what’s got you all so concerned?”

“It’s about Miko’s babysitter, (Y/N),” Bulkhead explained.

Wheeljack smiled, still giddy from the act of arson, seeing your content face as you watched the car burn—”What about her? Seems more than good to me. She’s a real firecracker under that blunt exterior—caught me off guard.”

“Elaborate,” spoke Ratchet, raising a brow. “Just what did you two get up to?”

“Sorry, doc. It’s a secret,” he replied, winking. “Can’t break a promise. Nothin’ personal.”

“Should we expect a call from Fowler?” Arcee asked, eyeing the happy-go-lucky Wrecker.

“I wouldn’t worry about it—anyway, I’m gonna find myself a spare room and rest off these wounds—I’ll catch you all in the morning.” With that, Wheeljack strode off, patting his now bare hip contently.

“That’s a—” Arcee started.

“Bad sign,” finished Bulkhead.

-

First posted 3/11/2023

Unedited.

Chapter Text

You woke up the next morning, pleasantly surprised at the smile on your face even with Miko jolting you from your sleep. “Dude, what did you do last night!” she yelled, grabbing your shoulders. You gently pushed her aside, sliding off the bed. It looked to be early morning—you assumed she just got up for school. The sun was just barely poking above the horizon, casting a soft glow around the entire room.

“What do you mean?” you replied, padding out of the bedroom to get yourself a coffee. You sluggishly grabbed a cup. “We had tacos, then I fell asleep.”
You noted her annoyed expression and the way she placed her hands on her hips. “I meant before then! It’s all over the local news! Vince’s car was found out in the desert and on fire!”

Opening the fridge, you grabbed the creamer, setting it on the table as the coffee finished brewing. You turned, hands grabbing the countertop behind you as you leaned against it. You stifled a yawn, shrugging. “That’s weird. Vince is the one who gave you the black eye, right?”

“Who told you?” she retorted, pointing a finger at you as she narrowed her eyes. You drummed your fingers on the counter, a deadpan expression on your face as to not reveal your confidants.

“A little birdy. Doesn’t matter. What are they saying about his car? Any evidence left at the scene?”

“See for yourself,” Miko replied, walking over to click on the television. It was already on the local news as a well-dressed woman spoke, a picture of a familiar flaming car behind her. The woman glanced down at the papers in her hands before introducing the story.

“Authorities are still trying to uncover a motive and a suspect or suspects in a car-fire discovered early this morning just out of Jasper, Nevada. The owner of the car’s identity has been kept hidden to prevent unwanted attention. It appears the car had been set aflame by some sort of explosive device, and police are searching to discover further evidence around the scene. The area has been sectioned off and the car has since been put out by the fire department. The vehicle is totaled, and it’s unclear whether insurance covers—”

Miko shuts the television back off, still holding the remote as she puts a hand on her hip. “Fowler is going to freak when he finds out. Did one of the ‘bots help? And why couldn’t I come? If you were going to get revenge behind my back, you could’ve at least invited me!”

“That’s not how ‘behind-your-back’ works,” you said, holding your now finished coffee as you took a sip. You couldn’t help but smile at her, noting the way she paced around the room in a fit. “Anyway, you need to get to school. Is Bulkhead coming to pick you up?”

“He always does,” Miko replied, pausing in her pacing to shoot you a skeptical glance, her eyes narrowed. “Why, he your partner in crime?”
“Why do you assume a ‘bot was involved?”

“I don’t think even you could sneak an explosive through the airport. So. . . who was it? C’mon. I wanna know the details!”

“You’re a smart girl, Miko,” you told her, stifling a laugh as you drank your coffee. She was quite perceptive, a habit probably picked up from you. “Get ready. I’ll ride with you to school, and then maybe, I’ll spill what happened.”

That kicked her into gear, and within minutes, you two were waiting outside on the porch. You had changed into some jean shorts and a tank top. You stuck your hand in your shorts pocket, unconsciously reaching for your phone. The phone which still resided on the Decepticon warship.

You sighed. You hated to rely on Miko’s parents for a new one, but you didn’t really have another choice. You just hoped the new device would get here soon. Chugging the rest of your coffee, you stepped back inside, plopping the now-empty cup in the sink before returning out to the arid morning air. You noted Miko was already walking down the side-walk to a familiar car, though it wasn’t who you were expecting.

“Wheeljack!” she cried happily, clambering into the passenger seat as she tossed her school bag into the back seats. “What are you doing here?”

“Had to pick up my favorite human this morning,” he replied, making the girl giggle.

“I guess you can come too, Miko,” he added, making her cross her arms and let out a huff. She leaned back against the seat, rolling her eyes.

“Hey!” she retorted. “My babysitter may be cool, but you’ve known me longer!”

As they continued to bicker lightheartedly, you slid into the driver’s seat, the door shutting behind you. The seats were as comfortable as you remembered them to be, and you absentmindedly relaxed into them as Wheeljack began to drive. You could hear the sound of his engine roaring, shattering the silence of the morning air.

“So,” Miko spoke up, turning to look at you with an eager expression. Even first thing in the morning, it seemed she had too much energy to spare. She was practically bouncing in her seat, her pigtails moving around on her head wildly. “Are you gonna tell me, or what?”

Wheeljack chimed in before you had a chance to reply. “Tell you what?” he asked her, the insignia on his steering wheel lighting up as he spoke.

Miko leaned in close to the dash like she was diverging a top secret. “Didn’t you hear? Vince’s car got totally scorched last night! It’s all over the local news! And I know that (Y/N) has gotta have something to do with it! I’m trying to get her to spill!”

Wheeljack made a humming noise, like he was trying to force himself to act surprised at the news though you and he both knew what happened last night all-too-well. “Really?” he prompted with a laugh. “Well, that’s karma for ya. He got what was comin’ to him.”

Miko huffed, gently hitting the dash in front of her. “You’re missing the point, Wheeljack! I know that (Y/N) did it as revenge, but I also know she didn’t do it alone! And I wanna know what ‘bot she roped into helping her!”

“Miko,” you spoke up. “Who said that I had anything to do with it, muchless a ‘bot?”

She rolled her eyes, gesturing around. “Don’t try to deny it! C’mon! Who helped you? Was it ‘bee? Or maybe Arcee? Bulkhead?” she asked, giving you a pleading look. She shook your arm. “I’ll keep it a secret, I swear!”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand before you gave her a familiar look, one she recognized as meaning she should probably drop the conversation. Still, you knew she would keep prodding until she got a satisfactory answer. “Fine,” you said. “You’re right that I might’ve had something to do with Vince’s car, but that’s all I’m telling you. I don’t need a ‘bot getting in trouble because of something that was my idea.”

Miko looked like she was still unsatisfied, but she resigned herself to sitting back, her arms crossed over her chest. She knew she wasn’t getting anymore out of you, but at least she knew that her hunch was right. “I knew it,” Miko said, a smile appearing on her face. She laughed. “And you always say I’m the wild one!”

“Because you are,” you replied. “I just. . . don’t like when people can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

Miko grinned wider at that, giggling. “You’re the best babysitter ever,” she replied, nudging you with her elbow.

You snorted softly in response before reaching back and grabbing Miko’s bag from the back seat. Wheeljack had just pulled up to the school, and you handed Miko her backpack and waved her goodbye for the afternoon. “Have a good day at school, Miko,” you told her, watching as she hopped out. “And pay attention, alright? No doodling in class! I’ve seen your notebooks!”

Miko waved you off, and you knew that your words probably went in one ear and out the other, but at least you tried.

The door shut, and Wheeljack pulled away from the curb, seemingly headed back to base. You didn’t have much else planned for the day, save for trying to find somewhere to live besides Miko’s host-parent’s house, but that could wait. With all that’s happened in life, you were in no rush to get your ducks all in a row. Hell, you weren’t sure that was possible at this point.

“The others know something’s up,” Wheeljack spoke up, catching your attention. You glanced down at the steering wheel, gently patting the insignia in the middle to acknowledge his words.

“I figured,” you replied. “They know it was you?”

Wheeljack laughed. “Oh, yeah.”

You nodded in response. “I figured that as well. They know it was me?”

“No.”

You raised a brow at this. You figured the others would connect the dots quite quickly about what you and Wheeljack got up to last night. Unless. . . “Did you take full blame?” you asked.

“Yup.”

You pursed your lips. You weren’t sure how to feel about that. “Why?” you asked him.

Wheeljack was silent for a moment, the only sounds the humming of the engine and the tires on the dusty road. He finally spoke up. “I have a reputation,” he explained. “I do scrap like that all the time. They’re used to it by now.”

You cocked your head to the side. “So?”

“So, ain’t any point in dragging you down with me. I figured I’d spare you from the lecture I’ll be getting from Optimus later.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you replied, a familiar feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. Guilt. “It was my idea in the first place.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, sweetspark,” he said, and you could almost hear the nonchalance in his voice. It’s clear he was unbothered at getting reprimanded, like this was everyday for him. “A little yellin’ ain’t gonna snuff out my spark. Besides, it was worth it. I care about Miko, too. Seeing her all busted up. . .”

Wheeljack didn’t finish his sentence. He didn’t have to. You knew. You felt the same way. “I get it,” you replied, gently resting your palm against the middle of the steering wheel. “I’ve watched her grow up, lose her first tooth, get her first detention. . . when you see someone like that hurt, it makes you think about doing the unthinkable to protect them.”

Wheeljack chuckled humorlessly, if only to break the sudden silence. “She’s a tough kid,” he replied, as though trying to reassure you, though you could tell your words struck something in him.

You nodded absentmindedly. “I know,” you murmured. “Which is why I worry. She doesn’t know when to quit, when she’s in danger. She throws caution to the wind, and I’m afraid that one day I won’t be enough to protect her. . .”

“You’re not alone, you know,” he replied. “She’s got a team of ‘bots behind her. She’s. . . rambunctious, but the day she stands alone is the day my spark goes dim.”

You smiled—a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. “You’re right, but. . .” your face falls. “The Decepticons have an army. . . and as strong as you Autobots are. . .”

“Hey,” Wheeljack interrupted. “One Autobot is worth a hundred ‘cons, easy. You call that an army, but I could take ‘em with one servo tied behind my back.”

You knew he was trying to make you feel better, and it worked a little bit, but the worry still lingered in the back of your mind. Still, you were at the base now, watching as the large hatch opened up, and you didn’t want to drag this conversation on any longer. You instead just nodded, a silent appreciation for his words.

When Wheeljack pulled in, you noted that all of the ‘bots were in the silo, a rare occurrence from what you’d gathered. Usually someone was always out on a mission of some sort. Still, given the way Optimus glanced down at Wheeljack’s vehicle mode, the ‘bots were all here to listen to what Wheeljack had to say for himself about last night.

You exited, walking a few steps away so Wheeljack could transform back, and glanced around. Ratchet paused his typing at his usual station, his eyes trained on Wheeljack. He had a disgruntled expression on his face, but it was hard to tell whether he was more grouchy than normal or not.

Arcee and Bumblebee were next to each other, and Arcee had her hands rested on her hips. Bumblebee’s doors, usually perched up behind him like two little wings, lowered when he saw Wheeljack, presumably his way of showing disappointment.

Bulkhead looked conflicted, like he was unsure whether or not to scold his best friend. He stood behind Optimus, shifting from side to side.

The tension in the air made you flinch, and you hurriedly made your way near Ratchet, climbing until you were standing close to the small and human-sized tech set up, complete with the office chair you sat in the other day. You felt compelled to break the silence, and so you did.

“The kids all make it to school okay?” you asked, your voice echoing in the space. You took a seat in the chair, suddenly feeling awkward as all eyes turned to you.

Arcee nodded. “Jack made it just fine,” she replied. She then gestured to Bumblebee. “So did Raf. I’m assuming Miko got there, too?’

You hummed in confirmation. “She did, yeah. Not before showing me the news, first. . .” You didn’t want to be the first to bring up the elephant in the room, but you figured you should rip the band-aid off.

Ratchet let out a gruff noise, and you noted the way his optic seemed to twitch. It’s clear Wheeljack stressed him out, and the stunt last night did not help in the slightest. “Yes, the news,” he grumbled out, looking at Wheeljack.

Wheeljack shrugged lazily. “Nobody got hurt,” he clarified. “Nobody saw me. It’s not a big deal, doc.”

Ratchet looked like he wanted to say more, but Optimus beat him to it. “Wheeljack,” he said, and you had to resist the urge to wince. He sounded perfectly calm and yet impossibly frustrated at the same time.

In the time you’d spent around Optimus, he seemed skilled at keeping himself composed, but even he appeared to be struggling to maintain a level tone of voice with Wheeljack. “We are aliens on this planet, and it is of utmost importance that our presence here remains a secret. Your actions, regardless of the outcome, were reckless. Without Fowler’s help, there is no telling what information might’ve been publicly available surrounding the incident.”

Wheeljack huffed. “That glitch hit Miko. Busted her up. You expect me to sit on my aft and do nothing about it?”

“He’s still a kid, Jackie,” Bulkhead spoke up. “And that car was his prized possession. You know I care about Miko, but you can’t take your anger out and risk getting everyone in deep scrap.”

Wheeljack looked ready to turn and leave, but everyone knew he had nowhere else to go. The entire situation was killing you. The idea was yours, and yet you knew if you pinned the blame on yourself, Wheeljack would be pissed. Still, now everyone is pissed at him for something he didn’t start. Yes, he helped, but he shouldn’t be taking all the blame.

Even so, you were tired of keeping secrets. You were tired of telling lies. The fact that you never mentioned the deal with Megatron to the Autobots still ate away at you. So you needed to get something off your chest.

“It was my idea,” you called out, and suddenly you felt like a kid on stage at a school play. You grit your teeth and continued. “I asked Wheeljack to help. I was the one who hot-wired Vince’s car and drove it out to the desert. Wheeljack set it on fire. But it was my idea in the first place. Not his.”

The silo went silent, and you could tell the news was a surprise. Ratchet shook his head like a disappointed father. Arcee shot you a glance before looking over at Optimus, who had an unreadable expression on his features.

You let out a sigh. “Trust me, I know it was childish and impulsive. And I know I betrayed everyone’s trust by doing it, but I don’t regret my decision. I respect you all, but Miko comes first. Her safety, her future, that’s what matters to me.”

Optimus looked at you, silent for a moment, before finally speaking his mind. “Your dedication to protecting Miko is commendable, and I understand you care for her deeply. Nonetheless, your actions could have caused more harm than good. Actions like that draw attention to us, and give the Decepticons greater opportunities to study our patterns and learn our location. You have watched over her longer than we have, but you are not alone in protecting her.”

You glanced down, picking at the stray strings of your shorts. You felt like a child getting scolded. Somehow, his even tone and calm demeanor stung even more than any yelling you could have received. You nodded before once again meeting his gaze. “I understand,” you replied. “And I’m sorry.”

Wheeljack’s gaze flickered over to you. “Looks like we’re partners in crime now,” he said, letting out a soft and breathy laugh, though it wasn’t a humorous one.

“From now on, there will be no further incidents of this kind,” Optimus said with a sense of finality that had you nodding your head before he finished his sentence. It’s easy to see why he was the leader.

It seemed that was the unofficial close to the meeting, and Wheeljack gave you one last unreadable look before transforming and driving back out the way he came. Bulkhead followed, probably to talk to him about everything.
___

First posted 3/6/2024

Unedited.

Chapter Text

You shifted absentmindedly in the office chair, turning to glance over at whatever Ratchet had pulled up on his screen. You wanted to ask about it, seeing as you recognized a diagram of the human body amongst the many images, but something stopped you. Did he even want to talk? After all, you’d just done something stupid, something that could’ve ended in disaster. What if this was the end of whatever small friendship you had made with him? Could you even call it that, a friendship? Regardless, it seemed to be over now.

You weren’t a child. Your actions couldn’t be excused the same way. You were a grown woman, who made a choice despite knowing the consequences. And now, not only was Wheeljack paying the price, but you were too.

“The device,” Ratchet spoke up, interrupting your thoughts. You met his gaze and noticed he was already looking at you. “I’m still working on it. I’m getting closer, but things are still missing from my knowledge base.”

It seemed he might’ve been content to leave your actions in the past. At least, you hoped that’s what he was attempting to do by changing the subject. You cleared your throat, making sure any trace of guilt was absent from your voice, before replying. “Anything I can help fill in?” you said, offering a miniscule smile. “I’m no doctor, but I am a human.”

“I’ve already asked Jack to relay some questions to nurse Darby,” Ratchet replied curtly, quickly waving off your offer. “No need to concern yourself with this. You’ve done enough already.”

Something about his words made your chest hurt. He said them so dismissively, and you could no longer tell if he was trying to get rid of you or not. Sure, he normally talked quite curtly, but this felt different somehow. What did he mean that you’d done enough already? Was this about Vince’s car? Maybe you were right, maybe he was trying to get you out of his hair, and his words were his way of doing that.

You sighed softly, sinking against the seat. You’d never felt so disappointed in yourself, and yet you would do it again in a heartbeat if needed. Still, a part of you, a bigger part than you originally thought, cared about the Autobots’ opinions of you, and right now, it seemed that they weren’t high. For the first time in a long time, you had people you wanted to make proud.

Ratchet looked over at you, seemingly puzzled by your sudden lethargy. “Did I. . . say something?” he asked.

You shrugged lazily, turning your head to gaze at the black computer screen beside you. You hid your face from view, and the pained look upon it. “Nah,” you replied simply, deciding it would be best to focus on something more important than lingering feelings of guilt. You swiveled the chair to face the computer fully, shaking the mouse to turn the screen on. “It’s nothing you did.”

You could tell Ratchet didn’t really believe you, but he turned back to his work, regardless, typing away once more as flashes of a language you didn’t understand appeared on the giant green screens. You still wanted to understand the language one day, but it would be best to focus on more important matters at the moment. Besides, now that you’d seemingly butchered your trust with the ‘bots, you doubted they’d give you the time of day.

You looked over your own computer screen, noticing it wasn’t password protected. Not that you were going to snoop or anything, you just decided the best use of your time would be to finally look up available housing around here. With everything going on, you never got the chance.

You pulled up the web browser, typing in a few key words relating to housing and Jasper to try and get an idea of pricing. It only took a few moments of searching for you to scoff and close the web browser. Seriously? Un-fucking-believable. For a place in the middle of nowhere, housing was ridiculously expensive. Sure, you supposed this place wasn’t far from Vegas, but that didn’t mean you could afford spending thousands of dollars a month on a tiny house.

Apparently, your scoff was loud enough to grab Ratchet’s attention once more. He didn’t say anything, rather just briefly looked at you. You rubbed your temples. Clearly, you weren’t in a good mood.

“Be thankful you ‘bots don’t pay for housing,” you murmured, a barely contained irritation in your voice. You did not want to be stuck at Miko’s house forever, mooching off of her host parents, but you weren’t sure what other options you really had. This was frustrating, to say the least.

“Don’t give Agent Fowler ideas,” Ratchet replied with a soft huff and what could’ve been a laugh. “I’m sure with as much energy as we use, he’d jump at the opportunity.”

You perked up at that. Agent Fowler. Right. He said he was going to pay you for keeping this whole thing a secret. You weren’t sure how much, but maybe it’ll actually be enough to move out! With that idea in mind, you reached inside your pocket out of habit, only to cringe at the fact that you were still without a phone. Whatever money was in your bank account, you couldn’t see it. Damn.

You supposed you could borrow a phone to call your bank, but it was based in Japan. You doubted they’d be open. You supposed your only option was to wait for your replacement phone to arrive. Which brought another question to mind: did the Decepticons manage to do anything with your phone? Surely not, right? From what you gathered, they didn’t care for human technology, and you doubted they’d take the time to understand it. Then again, Knock Out managed to concoct a gun that allows them to turn human, so there was no telling.

“Hey,” you spoke up, your curiosity and concern outweighing your guilt at bothering Ratchet again. “This is gonna sound a little odd, but I assume my phone is still on the Decepticon warship. You don’t think they’d be able to get any info off of it, do you?”

Ratchet spared you a short glance. “I doubt it,” he replied, scoffing as he dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “I’m surprised they knew enough to take it from you. Even so, it’s useless to them. I assume they tossed it once you left.”

You hummed at that. “Well, if they did, could you track it?” you asked. You weren’t sure why, but something about your phone being in the clutches of the Decepticons made you suspicious. You didn’t trust them, and you certainly didn’t trust Knock Out. He was smart, and that made him dangerous.

“I suppose I could,” Ratchet told you, making a gesture towards his tech. “Though I don’t know why I would. Is it that important to you?”

You didn’t reply right away, instead thinking about how to frame your explanation. You didn’t know what to say. You had a hunch? You just wanted to know it was out of Decepticon reach, honestly. “If it won’t take long, could you try locating it?” you asked him.

Ratchet looked like he wanted to say more, but he instead turned back to his screens. “I’ll try,” he replied.

After a few minutes of answering questions and recalling what you could about your lost device, Ratchet attempted to ping the signal, however, it was unsuccessful. “It’s not broken,” Ratchet informed you, sounding puzzled. “I just can’t trace the location. The signal is being blocked. Almost like. . .”

Your heart froze in your chest. “It’s still on the warship,” you concluded quietly. You didn’t know why that idea unnerved you so much, but it did. Why did they still have it? If it was worthless to them, like Ratchet said, then wouldn’t they have disposed of it by now?

Thoughts raced across your mind. Was there anything of value on your phone? You’d had that same phone for a while. Pictures. Videos. Texts. All of it was there, on that device. It was mostly sentimental stuff, pictures of Tokyo and such, but you were afraid that, if they dug hard enough, they’d find out some things better left forgotten.

It had been days since the incident, and Knock Out had successfully managed to avoid termination. It was a miracle, honestly. Well, the kind of miracle that comes about when lies are used to cover up any opportunity for blame.

Just as Knock Out had suggested, Starscream was an excellent scapegoat. All Knock Out had to do was rush directly to Megatron and hurriedly explain that Starscream had the incorrigible idea to take the human off the warship! With Breakdown backing him up, and Megatron already at his wits’ end dealing with Starscream, Megatron had barely finished listening to Knock Out’s explanation before he was storming down the halls, the floors trembling with each step. Oh well, at least it’s not Knock Out’s funeral.

Knock Out hadn’t seen Starscream since, and he figured it was best to not go poking around for him. Honestly, he couldn’t care less about what the Seeker was up to. Or if he was up to anything, or up at all. Who knows, maybe his spark was finally torn out.

Knock Out was busying himself with nothing in particular when a sound captured his attention. He looked away from his trinket, scanning the room for the noise. It was faint, but consistent, pinging sounds, like a locator beacon.

The human’s phone, still laying on a nearby countertop, abandoned, lit up. Right. After his snooping, he never bothered to toss the thing.

Knock Out hummed to himself, walking over to peer at the small device. It seemed to be responding to an attempt to locate it. Odd. Why try locating it now? Sure, it made sense back when the human was still on board, but what’s the use now that she’s no longer here?

His curiosity was piqued, and it wasn’t long before he was scouring back through the phone. Surely, if they were looking for this thing, it had to have something important, something he must’ve missed. There were many pictures and videos, various messages than Knock Out read briefly, if only to satiate his need to delve into other’s lives. The first time he had looked through, back when the human had just escaped, he scrounged up a few things about her that entertained him, but he doubted military service or family drama was worth anything to the Autobots.

That’s when it hit him. The Autobots. This information wasn't of any use to the Autobots. But it’s the human’s phone. This wasn’t about information pertaining to his foes, this was about information the human wanted to keep to herself.

With that idea now put forth, Knock Out got to work re-examining everything, digging through every last byte of data until he could recite this human’s phone during stasis. It was a fascinating story, even to a being older than most of the life on this planet. The human’s backstory was intriguing, and though the pieces weren’t all there, some expunged, Knock Out still had more than enough to put a smile on his face.

Maybe the Autobots’ one advantage—humanity—was about to be their downfall. Afterall, he had a feeling that this human might do almost anything to keep this sensitive information private. All he had to do was pull the right strings, and he might earn himself a new position, one at the top of the Decepticon ranks.

__

First posted 3/13/2024

Unedited.

Chapter Text

Shattered glass and charging soldiers, leaving bullets and carnage in their wake. Screaming, so much screaming. The yells of the young couple were drowned out by gunfire. There’s blood. There’s so much blood. Your hands were covered in it. Your face. Your clothes. Your eyes, so wide and innocent, were forever stained with the grotesque liquid.

Despite the chaos, you saw his face, the face that you could never forget. Weathered by the consequences of one too many battles. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the shard of glass in your hand, the gore glinting off of it mirroring the gashes you’ve dug into his features. The slices were clean despite your trembling fingers. The blood suited his face, completing his menacing appearance.

A few bodies closed in on you, wielding unknown weaponry and dark masks, and before you could think, you acted. Adrenaline coursed through your veins like magma. You kicked and slashed and bit and scrambled away from the broken house, running as fast as your legs could carry you until you reached a safe space. A forest. Trees. Rocks. Plants. Hiding places. If you chose wisely, maybe they wouldn’t find you. That’s what you hoped for, prayed for. That’s what kept you going despite the burning of your lungs.

You tucked yourself into a hallowed log that had fallen long ago, pulling yourself into a ball so tight you thought you might suffocate. With bated breath, you waited. You could taste salt and blood on your tongue.

They searched and searched before finally leaving. The man, still bleeding from his wounds, glanced one last time at the forest, cursing wherever you might have been hiding. It was clear his mission wasn’t over, and your name was still underlined a bright red color as it flashed in his mind.

With him, nothing was ever over. . .

You woke up with a start and a barely silenced scream, heart pounding in your chest. Your hand raced to cover your mouth to stifle the noise that threatened to escape it. Sweat clung to your skin, and you felt the fabric of your clothes dampen with the moisture. You hadn’t had a nightmare like that in a long time, but you supposed the stress was getting to you. It’s no wonder the old memories surfaced.

The space you found yourself in was dim enough to sleep but not completely dark, and you looked around to realize you’d fallen asleep on the couch at the Autobot base. Your habit of snoozing during the day had clearly escalated with the circumstances. Still, you felt anything but well-rested. If anything, you felt exhausted, your muscles aching like they did all those years ago.

You shook your head, placing a hand on your forehead to gather your thoughts.

You remembered talking with Ratchet about your phone on the warship before leaving him to his work. You told yourself you’d find a way to make yourself useful, but clearly, you did not succeed in your mission.

When you glanced around, you noticed the base was nearly empty. Given the enclosed space, you couldn’t tell what time of day it was. Still, you spotted Ratchet in his usual spot, and stumbled off the couch and over to where he worked. Your mind was still racing from your nightmare, and you needed something to distract yourself from the distant memories now plaguing your mind.

“Hey,” you spoke up, just barely managing to conceal the tremble in your voice. “Where’s everyone at?”

Ratchet turned to you briefly, his optics looking over your dazed expression and frazzled appearance. If he was concerned, he didn’t voice it, though the slight narrowing of his optics indicated he picked up on something. “Out,” he replied in his usual manner. “The others are picking the children up.”

“And what about Optimus and Wheeljack?” you asked. Surely, sending every ‘bot was overkill for just picking up the kids from school.

Ratchet didn’t bother to hide his look of distaste when you mentioned Wheeljack. You noted the way he twitched in irritation. “Optimus is out patrolling. Wheeljack is. . . only Primus knows. He hasn’t been back since Optimus’s talk.”

You nodded, rubbing your eyes to rid yourself of the flashes of images you’d rather forget. You distracted yourself, focusing on the way Ratchet’s optics glowed softly in the dim space. They were a beautiful color, you noted. “Why are the lights off?”

Ratchet huffed, dismissing your questions with a wave. “No point in using excess electricity with nobody around,” he replied rather curtly, though you got the sense that a power bill wasn’t his primary motive.

Still, you hummed in response. You knew Ratchet wasn’t the type to admit when he was being considerate, even if he did dim the lights during your impromptu nap. Regardless, you had other things to think about. Clearly, your mind was still on your abandoned phone. Given the dream you’d just had, you were dreading the possibilities of your information in Decepticon hands. You simply hoped Ratchet’s dismissal of the situation was right. It was simply another forgotten trinket on the warship.

The lights suddenly flickered back to their full brightness, causing you to jump slightly. That dream had you on high-alert. Ratchet cast his gaze over to you, raising a brow. “Jack, Rafael, and Miko are back,” he said, though you already put those pieces together.

You saw the trio of the ‘bots drive into base, the children hopping out and wasting no time clambering up to their usual hang-out spot. Miko greeted you with her usual grin, walking over to elbow you lightly.

“Heya!” she chirped before her easygoing expression fell. She narrowed her eyes at you, as though sensing your uneasiness. “You alright?” she prompted, leaning her head against your shoulder for a moment. Curse that child for being so perceptive.

“I’m fine, Miko,” you reassured her, absentmindedly wiping some sweat from your forehead. You could still feel your heart pumping in your chest, residual impacts of your night terror. You pat her head, ruffling her hair. “Don’t worry.”

Miko crossed her arms over her chest, drumming her fingers. “You’ve been so sneaky lately,” she groaned with a huff. It’s clear your secrecy was no secret. And with as long as you’d known Miko, it’s no surprise she picked up on it. “You and I are besties! You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

You shook your head in response, sighing. You flashed her a gentle smile, but it didn’t quite meet your eyes. “Miko, I’m your babysitter,” you told her, setting a hand on her shoulder. “If it was important, I would tell you, but it’s not. I just. . . have a lot on my mind, is all.”

Miko frowned but begrudgingly dropped the conversation, instead walking over to where the other kids were already playing video games. She took a seat on the couch, shooting you one last glance before focusing her attention on the TV screen. It’s clear she was bothered by your emotional distance, but you told yourself it was for the greater good.

You knew Miko worried about you just like you worried about her, but you would never bother her with your personal problems, especially problems like this. Your past, your distant past, before you even met Miko, were private for a reason. And you did not plan on digging them up. There wasn’t a thing you wouldn’t do to keep your history buried, especially from Miko.

Eventually, you pushed your nightmare out of your mind, instead watching the children take turns playing some racing game. It was old-school, and probably from before any of them were born, but they seemed entertained enough by it. Still, it sparked an idea within you.

You took your gaze off the TV, instead glancing around. Though only one of the children was technically your responsibility, you couldn’t help but want to make sure all of them were taken care of. And while you couldn’t defend them like the Autobots could, you could at least keep them entertained.

__

First posted 3/25/2024

Unedited.

Chapter Text

Your eyes met Bumblebee’s, and you waved him over politely. He replied with a few scattered chirps and a nod. You had no idea what he said, but given the fact that he walked over and cocked his head, he was listening to whatever you had to say,

You couldn’t help but take note of the way his doors seemed to form wings behind him, bobbing up and down slightly as he shifted on his feet. Feet? Is that what they called them? Probably not. You still needed to find time to figure out more about these alien beings. But for now, your curiosity would have to wait.

“Could you drive me into town?” you asked, a hesitant smile on your lips. You remembered seeing some sort of game store in town the other day when you got that cryptid book, so that’s where you were headed. You leaned forward, your spot on the raised platform putting you nearly face-to-face with Bumblebee. “I want to pick up something for the kids,” you explained quietly. Miko could be surprisingly observant when she wanted to be, and you wanted to surprise the children.

Bumblebee chirped out a seemingly affirmative response before transforming into his vehicle mode, the door popping open to welcome you inside.

You hurried down as fast as you could, residual impacts of your fall still stinging your muscles, before sliding into the driver’s seat. The seats were nice. Hell, everything was nice. You supposed he was a sports car, so that was a given. The only other sports car you’d been in recently was that Decepticon Knock Out, and you weren’t really paying much attention to his interior given that you were getting kidnapped at the time.

“Thanks,” you replied, patting the steering wheel, hearing him buzz in response. “There’s a game store in town.”

The drive to town was uneventful. It was the drive back that stirred up a little chaos.  Dust billowed behind the yellow sports car as you leaned against the comfortable seat. The sun was bright, almost blinding, and you had to squint your eyes as you stared out the window.

A plastic bag with a few old video games rested on the passenger seat. You spent a little more than you probably should’ve, especially given your circumstances, but it wasn’t like you were getting your own place any time soon, anyway.

You shook your head with a sigh, eyes mindlessly following the distant horizon.

Everything was always so. . . brown. Different shades of brown, sure, but brown, nonetheless. It spread out as far as you could see, sand and rock and the occasional cactus scorched from the blistering heat. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to the environment of Jasper, Nevada. It was such a departure from Tokyo. You didn’t understand how Miko seemed to cope so well. You supposed having giant alien robots as friends might keep her entertained, however.

You thought back to your first night here, riding back from the airport close to midnight. You remembered the desolate environment. Not a single sign of life. It was pitch black that night, save for the light of the moon.

You laughed softly at the memory. You were so worried, so convinced you’d be bored to death in a little town like this. A tiny pinprick on the map with nothing to its name but a few old stores. How you were wrong. You’d been through so much since arriving here, and you still hadn’t processed it. Not fully.

You glanced over, your gaze meeting the screen built into the dashboard. You still couldn’t believe you were in a giant alien robot. And yet it all felt so. . . mundane. You were driving like it was any other day, although you supposed you weren’t driving. You watched as the steering wheel moved, shifting slightly left or right any time a turn came up in the winding desert road.

Your gaze shifted to look out the windshield, only for a gasp of shock to leave your lips. Before you could speak, you could feel Bumblebee skidding to a halt, rubber gnashing against dry concrete. Your seat belt tightened around you, knocking the wind out of you.

A dust devil had kicked up. It looked small and relatively harmless, but you’d prefer not to drive through it. And it seemed Bumblebee had the same idea. He let out a few chirps, but you couldn’t interpret them.

The dust devil whirled across the pavement, loose rocks and sand kicking up and swirling around. It was a cool sight. You’d never seen one in person before. It was like a miniature tornado.

You heard sand start to hit the front windshield, and Bumblebee kicked on his wipers to clear some of the excess. It only lasted for a few moments before the tiny cyclone dissipated, leaving a messy trail of small rocks and various bits of loose concrete.

“You alright?” You asked, hand resting against the dashboard. You heard him chirp out what sounded like a positive response. You nodded. “Good.”

You noticed that, while Bumblebee was certainly okay, there was quite a bit of sand now stuck to his windshield and hood. “Sorry, Bumblebee,” you said. You felt a little bad. If you hadn’t dragged him with you to get video games for the kids, he wouldn’t be all sandy. You hummed to yourself.

“Hey,” you spoke up, gaining an idea. Maybe you could somehow pay him back for his troubles. “Does the silo have a hose?”

You heard Bulkhead stifle a laugh as Bumblebee pulled back into the silo, his entire exterior sprinkled in a fine layer of sand and grit. As you stepped out, video games in hand, Bumblebee transformed, a small dust cloud forming as he did so.

“What gives?” Bulkhead said, clapping Bumblebee on the shoulder. “You two go off-roading  or somethin’?”

“Without me?” Miko piped up, looking over the railing. “No fair!”

“No, Miko,” you reassured her. “There was a dust devil that kicked up, is all. We’re fine, but Bumblebee got an impromptu dust bath.”

“Pfft, like a Chinchilla?” Miko quipped before breaking into a small fit of laughter. You could see her pigtails move as she giggled to herself.

Bumblebee chirped out something in response, sounding mildly offended at being compared to a small fuzzy creature, though given his name, what did he expect? His doors, though you couldn’t help but call them wings, lowered in annoyance.

“Anyway,” you chimed in, holding up the bag of video games in your hand. “Here. Got you all some new games to try.”

Miko lit up, hurrying down to snatch the bag from your grasp. “Thanks, you’re the best!” she replied, wrapping you in a quick hug before scurrying back up to where the other children smiled in thanks.

You waved at them. “No problem,” you replied. “Now, anybody know where I can find a hose around here?”

Ratchet looked away from his screens for a moment. “A hose?” he questioned, looking down at you. “We have one, but for what reason?”

You gestured to Bumblebee, who was currently trying to dust off his chassis, to no avail. “Car wash?” you said with a shrug.

“Pfft,” Ratchet murmured, waving you off as he got back to work. Did he ever do anything else? No. Probably not. “There’s a hose up top. Just don’t make a mess.”

You rolled your eyes. Make a mess? You weren’t a child. Though you supposed Ratchet had a point. Bumblebee had already tracked quite a bit of sand into the base. He was right to be a little cautious of further messes.

“Alright,” you spoke up. “What about. . . soap? Or a rag?”

“You goin’ the whole nine yards, huh?” Bulkhead said with a laugh. “I might have something. Wait here, I’ll grab it.”

You nodded. You had never been up top before, and were a little excited to see the view. Sure, it was nothing like standing on the highest floor of a skyscraper in Tokyo, but it might still be pretty.

A few minutes later, you and Bumblebee were up at the top, and you had a bucket with some basic supplies in your hands. You were lucky that Bulkhead had stuff laying around. He mentioned that ever since knowing Miko, he’s had to frequently clear his exterior of debris. That made sense, given Miko’s excitement at the idea of off-roading.

You spotted the hose, a small spigot sticking out from the ground with a worn black hose attached. Luckily, when you turned the dial, it worked. Water gushed from the hose, turning the nearby sand a deep brown color.

“Alright,” you spoke up. You looked over at Bumblebee as you filled the bucket with water. “It might be easier if you’re in vehicle mode for this.”

Bumblebee replied with his usual method, a few scattered chirps, before he transformed, and a yellow muscle car idled patiently before you.

You started off with a thorough rinse, deciding it would be easiest to rinse off what you could before putting in a little elbow grease. As you hosed him down, you heard the radio kick on, a nearby station filtering through. It was a little bit staticky, but you didn’t mind it. You bobbed your head as you worked, humming absentmindedly to the music that echoed from his speakers. Some 80s rock song you couldn’t remember the name of.

The rinsing went by quick enough, and you dunked a sponge into the soapy water, starting to wipe down his hood. “Just hold still,” you piped up as you worked, leaning forward. You rested a palm against the hood, scrubbing down a particularly stubborn stain. He chirped once in return.

You could almost forget there was another presence here with you. It was a normal experience. Washing a car. But it wasn’t just that, was it? It seemed different. Because it was different. This wasn’t a car. It was a living being. A sentient being who could communicate and think and respond in a way so close to being human. You didn’t know if that made it weird or not. Surely not, right? It wasn’t like you were taking a shower with him. There was no reason to think of it intimately. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

As you worked, you decided to let those thoughts subside, instead focusing on the beat of the music and the sandy yellow paint in front of you. You were certain some of these dirty spots were there before the dust devil. You wondered how often the Autobots cleaned themselves. Were they like humans in that sense? Or did it not matter in the face of war? Sure, they weren’t completely filthy, but there were obvious scratches in their armor. Faded paint. Faded scars, even. The closest paint job you’d seen to perfection belonged to Knock Out, and from the little you’d gained from him, that’s because his ego was too big to sport anything less than the best. You scoffed at the thought.

“Hey,” you spoke up as you wiped down the roof, standing on the tips of your toes and pressing yourself against the windshield to reach the middle of the surface. You probably should’ve brought a stool or something, but oh well. “Do you do this often?”

Bumblebee chirped, and you realized that you wouldn’t be able to get a proper response out of him. At least, not one that you understood. You hummed. “Nevermind,” you said.

He chirped again.

You continued to work, wiping off anything you saw from top to bottom. The sun beat against you, and you started to think about the consequences of staying in this heat and sun for too long. The water was cool, and you’d gotten splashed with it more than a few times during the impromptu car wash, but water wouldn’t protect you from a burn or heat stroke.

By the time you were scrubbing down his tail lights, you were panting softly, sweat gathering against your chest and forehead. Maybe offering a car wash in Nevada weather wasn’t the best idea.

You stood up, arching your back as you felt your joints pop. Your tank top was covered in soap and water, and from the looks of things, you gave yourself a wash, too.

“Alright, Bumblebee,” you said, tossing the sponge into the bucket. “There you are. It’s not perfect, but I cleaned you up as best as I could.”

Bumblebee transformed, staring down at you. He looked over himself, chirping happily as he noted the shininess of his exterior. He met your gaze, and though he didn’t have a mouth, looked to be smiling at you.

“Let’s get back inside,” you replied, grabbing the bucket full of items. “So I can wash myself off.”

You and Bumblebee walked out of the main elevator and back into the silo, only to be met with all eyes on you. Apparently, while you and he were up top, everyone had decided to join the party.

Wheeljack was leaning against the high balcony, watching with mild interest as Miko and Raf played some first-person shooter you’d picked out. Bulkhead was next to him, looking nervous every time Miko’s character turned a corner.

“Hey, I was wondering where you were,” Wheeljack spoke up with a gruff laugh, nodding your way. He stared at your dripping wet clothes. “Get caught in a rainstorm?”

Bumblebee chimed in, and though you didn’t understand, you assumed he was explaining what you two were up to.

“Car wash, huh? I could use one of those.”

You shook your head. “Yeah, maybe later,” you replied. “Right now, I need to wash myself.”

Bumblebee chirped something out again, and given the way Raf paused the video game, and the other ‘bots in the silo all glanced towards him, he must’ve said something curious.

Optimus was the one to finally break the silence. He stopped talking with Ratchet, instead turning to face Bumblebee. “I know you mean well,” he rumbled out, looking at Bumblebee. “But perhaps there’s another way you can pay her back.”

“Huh?” Miko spoke up, nudging Raf. “What’s goin’ on? What’d he say?”

Raf laughed awkwardly. “Bumblebee offered to. . . return the favor. You know. . . help her wash up. . .”

Miko let out a loud laugh, holding her hand up to her mouth. “You’re kidding! Does he even know what he just implied?”

“Probably not, Miko,” Jack cut in. “Or I doubt he would’ve said anything.”

“Hey, you never know,” Wheeljack decided to interrupt. “Maybe he’s got a soft spot for the new human.”

Bumblebee’s door wings shot up, and he quickly held out his hands, shaking his head firmly. You didn’t have to understand him to know he didn’t realize the intimacies of what he had said. He chirped out a response, eyes whirling around as he did so.

“It’s alright,” you said with a small laugh. “Thanks for the offer, Bumblebee. But I can wash up myself. Just pay me back some other time, okay?”

Bumblebee nodded, and hurried off to busy himself with something, though you assumed it was just to get away from the embarrassment of accidentally flirting with you.

__

First posted 5/10/2024

Unedited.