Road Under The Tires
Location: US Interstate 10, Eastbound.
The day after Valentine's.
“Hey Recon, what's wrong?” Hayden's voice was soft, cautious as he slid into the driver's seat.
The reply was badly veneered in strength and indifference. “Nosing is wrong.”
Ah, so it was going to be like that. Time to be stern then. “Uh-uh, don't try that. I had to drive you home last night. Spill.” Usually he only used this tone when arguing about correct car maintenance. The seriousness sank in, and they drove in silence for many moments. Good! In the 2 whole years he'd known her, Recon had never acted like this. Not even after arguing with those Decepticons in the Nexus. She seemed completely oblivious, like her mind was stuck on something. And this was Recon, who, on a normal day, would watch CNN, Wonder Woman, and the History Channel at the same time! Whatever happened to make her like this, it scared him.
The red Porsche turned slowly off the highway onto a dirt road, breaking Hayden's train of thought. “Where are we going?”
The bot's response was indignant; this had been the way they'd gotten here in the first place. Driving from Phoenix to LA on a Monday night, while still keeping Hayden at school and working around his horrible timing? “Somevere remote, so ve can PINpoint home.”
“No.” Hayden felt bad stomping the brakes, but it was for her own good. “We won't have time to talk if we do that. Besides, you need road under your tires right now.”
“Who says you know vat I need?”
Hayden frowned and crossed his arms. Then, after a few moments' thinking, he rattled off a list of specs from cam shaft length to oil preference that would've made Ratchet pause. “I know you, Recon. Something's wrong. And you know I can't stand by when my friends - ANY of them - are in trouble.”
No, he never could. It was one of the traits Recon admired, actually. With a sigh of venting intakes she settled on her axles and turned control over to him. She felt him rub the steering wheel gently before turning them back towards the highway. He glanced several times at her radio, which was the place he had selected as her face when talking to her in alt mode. The scout could see anything happening in- or outside of herself, so there weren't any eyes to look into per say. (In fact her plethora of eyes in general had made him wary of doing anything secretly around a Transformer. There was always that worry in the back of his mind that some other sensor would kick in, even if they only had 2 optics.) But whenever she talked it came out of the radio, so that seemed the logical place.
Managing awkward silences was one of the keys of pep talks, and one of the best tools in a social butterfly's arsenal. But Hayden found as he glanced at the radio again that he wasn't really sure what to say. For all his experience Recon simply wasn't like any human kid he'd ever tried to help before. Who knew if this wasn't just some type of robot menopause or something? He decided it was best to be blunt. “So... Wanna tell me what happened last night?”
She found it hard to answer when she didn't even want to acknowledge the memories in question. The processor ache from the wine wasn't helping either.
Ok... maybe try something more roundabout? “And where did that cat come from?” That got a staticy noise he'd learned to interpret as a snort.
“Jazz...”
“Oh.” He smiled; he'd heard stories of the random stunts Jazz would pull, and the spectacular ways they'd gone right or wrong. But then the significance of the day before collided with his last memory of the bot: snogging his guardian in one of the family warehouses. “OH.”
Recon watched his optics widen, and felt his grip on the wheel tighten ever so slightly. Cautiously he glanced at the radio. “Are you two...?”
“NO.”
“Ok! Ok, just a question!”
The Porsche wanted nothing more than to turn off her sensors and stare at the asphalt whirring by the rest of the day. But she couldn't, not when there was still a war going on. Not when there were bots, and people, to protect. But Hayden didn't seem to think it was that serious. He began to chuckle, then laugh, doubling over to touch his forehead to the wheel in mirth. She couldn't believe it, why was he laughing?!
“Oh man, that makes me feel so much better!”
“Vat in se name of Primus are you talking about?”
After a few aborted attempts to stop giggling he sat back again, tears shining in his eyes. “It's a love problem! Just like people!” And she was handling it like a human too! Pfft, robot menopause! This proved they weren't that mysterious. All the intimidation vanished at that moment, and the social butterfly was back in his element.
“You know, if you wanted to see him more, I don't need you all the-”
“No, I vant nosing to do vith him!”
Now that was genuinely surprising. Jazz, her best friend? Dance tutor? The one she beat herself up for not being there to protect? Weren't they just laughing about some nonsense the other day? Looking like a wounded puppy, he quietly spoke up again. “What did he do?”
What did he do? What didn't he do? It was impossible to answer. “He is an idiot.”
“Ah, that settles it.” Recon baffled at his smug grin, but he soon explained: “He didn't do anything, or you'dve said so right off the bat.” Generally when someone responded that vaguely (to an outside party; women were often as vague as possible with their significant other, intent on them “figuring out” what they'd done) the issue was entirely internal.
If she had a face at this point it would be positioned in an indignant scowl. “And sat means...?”
“Nothing's changed. You still love 'im.”
She tensed at the word. (Which confirmed that he'd used it correctly.) Her voice became venomous in reply. “You have no idea-”
Hayden cut her off with a speed and confidence that surprised even himself. “No, I think I do. You're angry 'cause you're happy with him.”
A pause.
“I'm right, aren't I?”
Her intakes cycled shakily. All her previous energy gone, she could only summon up the measured and practiced, “Ve are in a var. If vone of us got hurt...”
“You'd be miserable, yes. But look at yourself, Recon. You're miserable now.”
He was certainly right about that, at least.
“Do you know how many humans get married, even though one of 'em ships off to war? But they do it anyway. I say let the Decepticons make you miserable. You should go be happy.” Again he squeezed the wheel reassuringly. “If you don't, you'll just keep being miserable. Trust me.” From the way his eyes went straight through the dashboard she could tell he spoke from experience.
Jazz's words from the night before drifted up through her processor: 'We can't let it kill us before our sparks even go out, Conny.' Maybe they were right.
Hayden let her mull those thoughts all the way back to Phoenix. For now he would do the driving. He would keep them safe.