Getting to Know You 2 part 1
Getting to Know You
Chapter Two
Series: Transformers (2007 movie)
Rating/Warnings: T/PG-13, to be on the safe side. Really, the worst there is is mild swearing.
Characters/Pairings: Bec (OC) and Sunstreaker are probably the main characters; beyond that, this story features Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Ironhide, Jazz, Sideswipe, Sam, Mikaela, Judy, Ron, Capt. Lennox and the rest of his team, Trent, Miles, Maggie, Glen, Defense Secretary Keller and probably others. Non-pairing except for canon mentions of Sam/Mikaela.
Summary: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have arrived on earth. That means that all they need to do is track down Optimus Prime, get rid of the pack of Decepticons after them and not scare the local wildlife. That should be easy, right?
Thank you very much to my beta, mmouse15!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
And at FFnet
oOoOoOo
Judy Witwicky had learned to expect surprises from her son, even before he’d made them drive out to the middle-of-nowhere with him when she (and Ron, of course) had demanded an explanation for what had happened with Sector Seven, and his car had turned into a 20-something-foot-tall robot. And that had been before she’d been introduced to the other Autobots.
They still made her a bit skittish, really, but she was learning to adjust. She went up to the lookout with Sam, every once in a while, now, and every so often some sort of vehicle would turn up in her driveway and ask to talk to her son. And, of course, there was Bumblebee. Really, she was adapting remarkably well, she thought.
But it was still unusual to have her son come home, looking distinctly bedraggled, with a shell-shocked Miles and a stranger, probably about the age of the other two boys, still oozing a slow trickle of blood from his head, with a probably-concerned Bumblebee with them. (She assumed concern, at least, but it was awfully hard to read emotions, when it came to the Transformers. Especially when they weren’t transformed-having faces, of sorts, helped with that sort of thing.)
“Oh, my God,” she said, horrified. “Sam? What happened?”
“Barricade,” said Sam with a wince. “And, uh, this is Trent. He needs someplace safe to stay for a while. Miles, too-is that okay?”
“Do you know him?” Judy said doubtfully-being attacked by giant robots was one thing, but having a total stranger in his late teens stay with them for an unspecified period of time was entirely another.
“We’re in school together,” said Sam, slightly resentfully. “And he’s Mikaela’s ex-boyfriend.”
Bumblebee made a slight chirping noise she couldn’t interpret. Sam apparently could, though-he looked over with one eyebrow raised expressively. “Yeah, whatever, it’s hilarious,” he muttered. The two other boys looked shell-shocked, and Judy’s mothering instincts took over.
“Come in, you two,” she said, guiding Miles through the door with a firm, if caring, grip.
“Thanks, Judy,” said Miles, sounding incredibly relieved. Judy smiled. Miles had always been such a nice, polite boy. She looked considerably less indulgently at the other-she had her suspicions about how he’d treated Sam at school, and anyone who would break up with a nice young lady like Mikaela-or be dumped by her-well. She was going to reserve judgment for now.
“Thank you, Mrs. Wickity,” echoed Trent. She glared at him, just slightly.
“Witwicky,” she said, voice frosty.
He blushed bright red and muttered an apology, and she was somewhat mollified. “Come in,” she said at last, softening slightly. “I want to look at that cut. Don’t you boys ever think? What one earth were you doing, not dealing with that?”
oOo
She’d double-checked the cut and assured herself that everything was fine (including doing a check for signs of a concussion; she’d known that first-aid class had been a good idea!) and then forced mugs of hot cocoa on all the boys, and left them at the kitchen table along with a plate of muffins to talk things over, while she went and forced details-accurate details, not ones that had been softened for her sake-out of her son’s car.
Bumblebee remained inert and unresponsive as she approached, so she rapped forcefully on his hood with two knuckles, stance firm.
“What happened?” she demanded. She also didn’t miss how the car shifted, just slightly, on his wheels.
“Barricade attacked,” he said at last, voice still with that faint rasp.
“Yes, I heard,” she said, tone making it clear that she expected more of an answer and that it had better be damn convincing.
“…Which means that other Decepticons are probably on their way,” he finished reluctantly. “He has no reason to make such an obvious offensive move without backup.”
Judy’s lips thinned. “I see,” she said. “Nice of you to tell me.”
He didn’t respond.
“And I suppose that’s part of the reason why I have two more teenage boys staying at my house right now? So you can watch over them? What about Mikaela?”
“With Ratchet,” Bumblebee said. “Along with two others connected to the Autobots. Ironhide is with the Lennoxes.”
“And you’re with us. I see. Still, this my son’s life you’re dealing with-and mine, too. I have a right to know.”
There was another long minute of silence, this time guilty.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Judy said at last, and turned to go.
oOo
Sunstreaker had quickly discovered that his human timed her day by the solar cycles. More so than other humans. She got up with the sun, and watered her garden first thing in the morning. After that she ate breakfast-which was kind of nasty, to put it bluntly, and that wasn’t even touching on how inefficient it was as an energy-producing process-and then she moved outside into the first puddle of sunshine on the lawn. She moved with that patch of light until about noon, lying sprawled with her school books on the ground in front of her. She ate again, then worked in her garden, mostly weeding. She took a short walk-he assumed; she was beyond his immediate sensor range, and he didn’t care enough to be curious-then prepared and ate another meal. After dinner she did heavier work in the garden, or read.
Noticeably absent from her daily routine was anything involving driving or cars in any way, shape or form-including washing, waxing or in any way caring for Sunstreaker.
On occasion, though, something would disrupt the otherwise-identical days. Sadly, it was never cleaning him.
oOo
Bec woke up with a heavy heart, and felt guilty about it, which only made things worse.
“Mother’s coming,” she told her tree peony as she watered it, feeling a little silly while she did it. Oh well. Most people talked to their pets, after all, and some people talked to their cars. Now there was something she didn’t understand.
“At least the clothes she brings me are always beautiful,” she told the tomatoes, tucked in-between the house and the driveway, where they got the most consistent sun and good heat-not that that meant much. Tomatoes were something of a long shot in her yard.
Sunstreaker was torn between being simply baffled and being bemused. The crazy organic appeared to be talking to her plants. It was disturbingly nice to hear a voice again, though, he had to admit that, even if it wasn’t Cybertronian. Bec seemed content to pass her days in silence, except for the occasional moment of music-usually played quietly, and faint enough that he had to strain his sensors to pick it up. And the local information network just wasn’t holding his interest. Big surprise there.
“Not that I wear them,” continued the girl, after a long moment. Sunstreaker twitched slightly-thankfully, the organic had her back turned to him. Was she still on about that? And there was no point to talking to something that wasn’t going to talk back.
There was the sound of a car coming up the driveway. Bec sighed, seeming to deflate even as she steeled herself.
“Mother!” she said, voice torn between happiness, relief and hidden misery.
“Rebecca!” her mother called back, sweeping forward to wrap her daughter up in her long arms. The smell of her perfume-jasmine, and very expensive-wrapped around her daughter, the memories of her childhood it brought visceral enough to make Bec’s eyes prickle with tears.
“How are you doing?” said her mother, pushing her back for a minute to look her over with a critical eye. “Still dressing like you always do, it looks.”
“I don’t dress that badly, really, Mom,” said Bec.
“Yes, you do,” her mother said firmly. “I don’t know where you get it from-certainly not from me, but your father always takes the time to look his best as well. It’s a mystery.”
“How was Italy?”
“Oh, you know how it is-I was too busy to really see anything. I did have dinner at the most fabulous little restaurant, though. Truly incredible. I’ll be having the annual divorce dinner in Venice-all the usual crew’s coming, of course, except for Maria, she can’t make it-as a change of pace, and I’ll be sure to get everyone there at some point. It’ll be quite the feather in my cap-it hasn’t been discovered yet. You should come, you know-the trip would be worth the bother of the flight by itself. I know we’re all old, but you’re even more single than the rest of us, and we have a pretty good time despite our age.”
“Mom, I can’t afford to fly out to Italy for dinner,” said Bec with a soft smile, one that had wanted to be outraged but was too used to it for that, anymore.
“Oh, I’d pay, of course! What were you thinking? Don’t let that stop you! Even if I wouldn’t, some of the other women would, of course-you’re another child to half of them, you know, and there’s been some talk about getting some new blood in, to liven things up.”
“I’m sure you’ve already gotten me a very nice present,” said Bec. “And really, I’m happiest here. My classes take up a lot of time; it’s a very important point, and I really can’t afford to miss anything.”
“If you’re sure,” said her mother doubtfully. “But you don’t need to make excuses, you know. If you don’t want to go, just say so. I’ll listen.”
Of course you would, thought Bec, just like you always do, but she didn’t say anything aloud.
“Do you want anything to drink or eat?” she said instead.
“Oh, no, thank you,” her mother said immediately. “I had something on the drive here. Almost spilled soda on the inside of my new car while I was at it… I really shouldn’t eat and drive, I know, but I’m always in such a hurry. Oh! The car’s not brand new, anymore, but I forget that you haven’t seen it yet! Really, things would be so much easier if you lived a little closer. Are you sure you’re happy here?”
“Yes, Mom, it’s perfect for me out here. I love it.” Bec stopped herself before she continued on to say ‘I’m happier than I’ve been since my twelfth birthday.’
“Well, then, I suppose I can’t convince you otherwise. You’ve always kept your own council, really-you were a very difficult child, when it came to some things. Much better than your siblings in other ways, of course-I remember the five years I spent struggling to get Alise to do her homework, and that was with the tutor, the nanny and her teachers. But the car! I had it done custom-they don’t make anything this nice normally without making it far too flashy or unfeminine. The white’s terrible to keep clean, of course, especially the interior-I’m going to have to switch to entirely clear drinks, really-but I really like how the gold detailing came out.”
“It’s beautiful,” said Bec, honestly. It really was pretty.
“And this is the birthday present from your father?” her mother said, turning to investigate the yellow monstrosity still parked in her driveway. “I’m not sure it suits you. Yellow’s a little-obvious. You know. And the build’s a little masculine-I wouldn’t have chosen it for a young lady, certainly. Something between what I’ve got and this, really-a little flirty, a little fun, a college car.”
Bec bit back a slightly bitter laugh. It took a special sort of person to think that a car with a price tag equivalent to the price of a modest house or higher was suitable for college students. “You know Dada,” she said. “It was very generous of him.”
“Lord knows I know your father, yes,” said her mother, face expressive. “There’s a reason we divorced.”
“Please, though, come inside,” said Bec. “Or around the back-there’s a little patio, shady and out of the sun. You’re dressed for cooler weather than this, I think. I’ll get us some lemonade.”
“Sugar-free, please,” her mother said automatically.
Bec shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice so soft and faint it was hard to hear. “I made it myself, this morning…”
“It’s fine,” her mother said. “I’ll just have some water.”
“Alright,” said Bec, voice a little stronger but still quiet. “Go around here, just follow the path-there’s a little table set up.”
She walked out of the back door of the house a few minutes later, carrying two glasses of water, her mother’s with ice and a little bit of lemon, her own plain. “Oh, thank you,” her mother said. “I’m exhausted, really-the past few weeks have been hell at work, and I don’t do anything but even at the best of the times.” Bec made a wordless noise of agreement, sipping at her own glass. It was silent for a while, with only the drone of cicadas off in the distance and the rustle of the slight breeze through the tree leaves.
“Oh, your presents!” her mother said at last. “I’ve forgotten them out in the car. Would you be a dear and go get it for me? I’d do it myself, but I’m a wreck-still jet-lagged and without enough sleep for other reasons on top of that, and over-worked, like I was telling you-”
“Of course,” said Bec, rising hurriedly. “I’d love to. I’ll be right back, okay?”
Sunstreaker was fuming. The nerve of the squishy little organic-yellow was a fine color. A great color, even, and his own shade was particularly nice. There was nothing obvious about it. He didn’t care about the masculinity comments-that didn’t matter, really, stupid human issues-but the nerve of the woman! And her own car was hardly any better-plain white, and those ridiculous bits of gold. Some sort of reddish wood on the dashboard-and she had the nerve to insult his color.
The other one-the younger one, the child, not the thing that had insulted him-came hurrying past, wiping at roughly at tears with the back of one of her hands. “It’s stupid to cry,” she muttered fiercely to herself. “It’s not you. It’s her. She just doesn’t mean to.”
…She was kind of weird, was Sunstreaker’s firm opinion. She certainly didn’t match normal human behaviors most of the time, from what he could tell, and she was incredibly solitary for a supposedly communal species. She certainly had a non-traditional (and abnormal) relationship with her progenitors, but even that was atypical in how she went about it-there were very few similarities to typically bad familial relationships, from what his research had shown. Not that he’d done much-it was kind of boring, and he really didn’t care all that much. He was only here for a while-for longer than he’d hoped for, by now, but still-and then he would leave the organic. She’d probably assume ‘her’ car had been stolen, collect the insurance and move on. It wasn’t like she cared a lot, certainly.
“Mom was right about this thing, at least,” muttered the still-slightly-choked-up Bec as she roughly brushed past the car on her way back inside. Sunstreaker resisted the urge to atomize her.
He was going to kill Sideswipe when he caught back up with him, for making him go through this.
Bec walked back inside with the unnervingly large stack of boxes hesitantly. “This is them?” she asked hesitantly as she walked towards her mother, depositing her load on the small table.
“Yes, that’s them-Oh! Oh no-no, wait, never mind. I’d thought I’d lost one, but it’s here, in my purse. It’s last, though-start with this one, here, the one with the green bow.”
Carefully, Bec unwrapped the box, setting aside the paper, which was heavy and cream-colored with small gilt roses scattered over the surface, and the heavy green ribbon that had been wrapped around it. Her mother shook her head at the paper, but the ribbon, Bec knew, was always silk on her mother’s presents, and really an extra gift-one she actually used, every now and then. She probably had thirty of the things, in a whole rainbow of colors, all stuffed into a box next to her dresser. They made wonderful bookmarks.
“This is hardly a gift, really,” said her mother as she held up the dress the box had contained, a gorgeous thing in pale rose pink and with green, gold and pink jewelry to match. “It’s for Susan’s wedding this fall, you know-you have to attend, really, and I know you probably don’t have a thing to wear. There’s tickets in the purse, so you can’t complain about cost-I’ve got a hotel in Maui booked for you to go along with it, and I’ve double-checked with your school, so I know you don’t have classes.
“Thank you, Mom,” said Bec.
“And I’ve given you a week before the wedding, so you can have a nice little vacation! You work too hard, you know-always studying. Studiousness has its place, certainly you don’t want to end up like your sister, but it can’t be good for you. You need to relax more! I won’t be able to make your vacation or the wedding, sadly-Susan’s heartbroken, and I am as well, you know how long we’ve known each other-or it would have been a real present, some mother-daughter time.”
“It’s too bad I won’t be able to spend it with you,” said Bec quietly, smiling at her mother just slightly.
“I know-I really am going to have to retire soon. This schedule’s killing me, and my doctor backs me up when I say that. Open the pale blue one next, then the dark blue, then the violet.”
The box with the pale-blue ribbon was another dress, this one light and summery, and the same color as the ribbon. “I thought about white,” said her mother, “since it’s more the current fashion, and would look very cute on you, but I know what a disaster you are in white clothing.” The dark blue one was a pair of pants, dark blue to almost black jeans, with flowers embroidered on them, a garden running riot over almost all the exposed fabric.
“Oh,” breathed Bec, enchanted. “They’re beautiful!” She bent to look more closely at a few details-a lily, two irises, a spray of orchids. It was even accurate, the flowers matching their real-life counterparts almost perfectly.
Her mother smiled, a real smile, slow and deep. “I’m glad you like them,” she said. “They’d look wonderful with a plain white shirt, something breezy and thin, and a pair of white sandals. You still have that pair I gave you for Christmas a year ago, right?”
“Yes,” said Bec, and she did-she kept everything her mother gave her, even if she usually kept it in the attic. The clothes were always beautiful, but nothing she could wear, like these jeans-they didn’t suit her, and she had nowhere to wear them to. It wasn’t like she even really cared what she looked like. With these she might just end up hanging them on the wall, just for their sheer decorative value.
The third box was, in her mother’s words, “Party clothes-something suitable for a girl your age. You’re 21, now, Rebecca! You should be going out clubbing, or at least to parties. Small ones, even. Something. It’s just not healthy to stay home so much, you should go out, find some friends, be a little wild while you still have the chance!”
Bec doubted that she’d have an urgent need for tight black leather pants and a dark plum purple silk shirt that showed as much as it concealed-and implied a lot more-in the next year or so, but she wasn’t going to argue with her mother. It wasn’t something that good girls did.
oOo
The end of the visit had finally come-her mother had gotten a call she “absolutely couldn’t ignore, I’m so sorry, Rebecca,” and said her good-byes. Bec had accompanied her to her car door.
She sat down on the grass with a heavy sigh, once her mother’s car had passed out of sight, flipping the small box her mother had slipped her as she’d gotten into her car through her fingers. It was covered seamlessly with pale blue silk and not even big enough to cover her palm, with a delicate silver clasp.
With a sigh she slipped it open, wincing at the stark comparison between her own hands (calloused and heavy, indelicate, the skin slightly chapped and one palm with a quarter-sized scab of dirt ground into sap she’d been unable to get off; usually there was dirt under the nails, from weeding with her hands and without gloves, although she’d cleaned them, for her mother) and the box.
She looked at the delicate silver-and-pearl pendant it contained with incomprehension for a long second.
“Oh,” she said, and she started crying.
It was her mother’s, but it had been her grandmother’s before that, and her great-grandmother’s first. She’d been given it by her husband, who’d been moderately wealthy, before the Great Depression. It had been passed on through the women in her family since he’d given it to her-Bec had assumed that her older sister, Alise, had been given it, either for some birthday or for her wedding a year ago.
She had never imagined that it would end up being hers. She didn’t think that she’d ever been particularly close to her mother. Hell, she hadn’t imagined that her mother would ever give her a present that meant something to both of them.
oOo
Oh, Primus. The crazy organic was at it again. Now she was crying again-and why did they (the humans) choose such a fragging weird-if reasonably useful-physical response to irritated eyes as a way to express emotion?
oOo
Mikaela had had the vague, paranoid sense that she was being followed all day. It was starting to irk her. Not to mention make her really, really jumpy-especially considering that she had reason to be worried. More so than ordinary people, at least.
“Is something wrong?” her friend, Malissa, asked at last, looking slightly worried. “You’ve been really preoccupied all day. Boy trouble? I know I’d be looking around, considering what you’ve got, but it can be hard to dump the puppy-dogs, I know. Still, don’t feel obligated just because you were a little desperate after that whole thing with Trent-”
“No, it’s not that!” said Mikaela quickly, more than a little annoyed by the jabs at Sam. “Everything’s great. I’m just a little tired-should have gone to bed earlier last night. You know how it is. But Sam’s incredible. Everything except the beefy arms, I’m serious, and he’s not worthless when it comes to muscle.” Especially considering the extra work he’d started putting in-after saving the world, working out had gained some importance. “But he’s wonderful. A romantic, sensitive, pays attention to me, utterly devoted-it’s the first time I’ve really never been worried that he’ll cheat around on me. Great car, too.” Hah-that was the least of it. “Brave. He’s got an incredible personality.”
“He sounds like a real knight in shining armor,” Malissa said doubtfully.
Yes, something like that, thought Mikaela, although she didn’t say anything aloud. Although knights usually only save the maiden, and not the world.
Still. She didn’t like this, at all. And after everything that had happened, she had the right to be a little paranoid.
“But you look kind of cold, Malissa. Do you want my jacket? I’m wearing long sleeves, at least, and it’s pretty breezy out-that always cools things down, even with the sun.”
“Oh, thank you! I need to get my fall shopping done-or started, really. It’s horrible, especially now the weather’s cooling down.”
“Me, too, really-I’m wearing what I have left over from last winter. This is all I can still wear, really. Want to go with me some time? You know how I feel about shopping alone.”
“Oh, I know. It’s funny, especially with how great your taste is, even without someone else’s input.”
“Still, I like it more-Oh, hey, there’s that little park! I’m going to pop over for a quick second to grab a soda, okay? I’m absolutely parched. I’ll catch up with you in just a sec, okay?”
“Oh, um-sure!”
“Okay! If I don’t find you, we’ll meet at the café, okay? It’s really not all that far, now.
Mikaela turned right and sped up as soon as Malissa was out of sight. Smiling grimly, she swiftly walked the two blocks that led her to the far edge of the postage-stamp of a park. From there she cut through it, following the most heavily garden- and tree-lined path for the near-invisibility it gave her from other paths, the sidewalks and the roads.
She headed back for the main street after she came back out on the other side, keeping an eye out as she walked swiftly back towards the road for anything that looked suspicious. As she turned back off the side road she’d taken back, stopping to wait for the street light to change, she nervously followed the flow of cars and people with searching eyes.
Mikaela relaxed as her eye caught on the familiar form of a green emergency vehicle a little ways ahead of her on the road, stalled in traffic. She’d known she was being followed. Quickly glancing at the traffic backed up past the small side street she was on, she took her chances and jogged quickly across, continuing up the road. She waved slightly as she passed Ratchet, then turned down a small alley to wait.
She didn’t wait long, the vehicle pulling in shortly after she did.
“What do you want?” she hissed.
“Optimus has ordered that all the humans closely involved with the Autobots be put under guard,” he replied. “Bumblebee’s with Miles, Trent and Sam, and the Lennoxes are with Ironhide. The president and Secretary Keller are already well-protected. That leaves you, Maggie and Glen. I’ve been assigned to you three, for now.”
“Gee, thanks for telling me,” Mikaela said grumpily. “Especially considering that you were following me. Now, if you don’t mind too much, I’m heading back to meet up with Malissa. She’s waiting for me.” She paused for a brief second, forehead crinkled with thought and a slight frown. “…and where are Glen and Maggie, if you’re watching them, too?”
“They’ll meet you at the café,” said Ratchet, sounding amused. “I believe Glen’s already waiting for you there.” Mikaela groaned.
“I am far too predictable, aren’t I,” she said, mostly to herself. She needed to find new places to hang out with friends.
“Yes,” said Ratchet helpfully.
“…And I suppose you’re going to want to pick me up after I’m done,” she finished.
“Yes.”
“Despite the fact that I will be going with Glen and Maggie, presumably.”
“Yes.”
“And the fact that it will look totally suspicious to have the three of us-all decidedly civilian-get into an emergency vehicle.”
“Yes.”
“…Right. You know, that whole ‘in disguise’ thing would work better if you actually had us act like things were normal. I’m going to go find Malissa and explain to her why I suddenly need to leave, why two people I’m presumably friends with suddenly showed up and why I’m going with them, why I don’t have a soda and why I’m going to be going in an emergency hummer.”
Ratchet snickered.
oOo
“Where’s your soda?” Malissa asked, looking confused, as Mikaela jogged back up to meet her.
“I forgot my wallet was in my jacket pocket,” she said sheepishly.
“Oh! I’m so sorry! I should have thought of it-”
“No, no, it’s not your fault! It’s mine, if anyone’s. I should have remembered that you need money if you want to use a vending machine.” Well, unless it was the vending-machine Transformer still running around. Then you might get a soda, but you might not, and it would be free if you did. If it really didn’t like you, it ate your money, but there had been words exchanged, and it didn’t go after people’s hands anymore.
“Well, you can order a soda here, at least.”
“Yeah,” Mikaela agreed. Even though she really wasn’t all that thirsty.
She ordered a drink anyways, though, and pushed the other looming issues away-what to do with who she was meeting and what was going on-in favor of some girl talk. Sometimes it was nice to just pretend she was a perfectly ordinary teenage girl. She was glad she’d talked Ratchet into giving her a little more time.
oOo
Fortunately, Mikaela had had the luck to be seated facing in the direction Maggie had come from. It gave her a little time to switch gears-prepare herself, so to speak.
“Hey, Mikaela!” Maggie called out as she got a bit closer.
“Maggie!” Mikaela said, her happiness genuine as she rose to greet her, the two women hugging each other. The humans tied to the Autobots tended to be close to each other. “Maggie, this is Malissa-we got to school with each other. We’ve probably been best friends since, oh, the sixth grade, right?” Best friend barring Sam (who was probably in his own category, being her boyfriend) and Bumblebee. Malissa nodded her agreement the statement-it had, indeed, been the sixth grade. “Malissa, this is Maggie-I’m not entirely sure how we met. It was one of those things were we just ran into each other…”
Well, something like that.
“Nice to meet you,” said Malissa politely.
“Nice to meet you, too! And I love that skirt you’re wearing. A little cold for it, though…”
Malissa nodded ruefully. “I had to borrow Mikaela’s jacket, earlier,” she said, blushing just slightly.
“Well, I’m actually here to meet another friend of mine-that’s him over there, the one with the laptop-so I’ll talk to you later, okay, Mikaela? And it was nice to meet you, Malissa-maybe the three of us could go shopping sometime? I know how you feel about shopping alone, Mikaela, and it’s been a while since I’ve had a good girl-friends day. You know how it is, with work and everything, and it’s harder-I’m still making friends here, and learning to fit in.”
“That sounds nice,” said Malissa, with a slightly shy smile. “I know how hard it can be to be new to a place-and that was just moving here from the East Coast, let alone another country! -you are Australian, right? Your accent is, but you just can’t tell, sometimes…”
“No, I am. And I’ll get in touch with Mikaela some time soon! Looks like you could use some warmer clothes, certainly-I know how it is, I moved from Australia to New York and then to here, and I thought I would freeze that first winter. Bye! Bye, Mikaela!”
“I’ll see you later, Maggie,” said Mikaela with a bright smile, relieved. At least things had been somewhat arranged subtly.
Almost immediately after Maggie left, Malissa got a text message that made her frown deeply at the screen. “I’ve got to go,” she said to Mikaela, voice clearly upset. “Boyfriend troubles.” Mikaela sighed. Malissa was always having boyfriend troubles of one sort or another.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you later, okay? And I’d walk back to the bus station with you, but I want to finish my drink… I’m sorry.”
“No, no, I understand! It’s something I should probably do on my own, anyways. I’ll call, okay?”
“Okay! Bye!”
Mikaela sat for a few minutes longer, watching her friend walk off. Finally, with a sigh, she stood and walked over to the two hackers currently arguing heatedly-if quietly-over something on Glen’s laptop screen, leaving her now-empty cup behind.
It was time to face reality again.
“Hey,” she said by way of greeting, slipping into a seat across from the two computer experts. “How are you doing?”
“A little spooked,” said Maggie honestly, “but I’ll live. More about that later, okay?”
“I’d be a lot better if this stupid little section of code would just work right…” muttered Glen. Maggie rolled her eyes. Mikaela sensed that there was a history here, and wisely held her tongue. Not that she had the expertise to add anything to the conversation.
She waited for a few more minutes while Glen continued to tap furiously at his laptop, making continually more frustrated comments and sounds as he continued, Maggie watching him over his shoulder.
“…Can’t you do this just as well with-somewhere else?” said Mikaela finally. Glen looked up, half-startled, as if he’d forgotten she was there at all.
“Okay,” said Maggie with a sigh, standing up and stretching out her stiff shoulders-she’d been twisted into an awkward position to see the screen.
“Thanks,” said Mikaela. Watching the two of them really wasn’t all that interesting. “Where’re we meeting up?”
“That little park a few blocks away. R-He said he had something he needed to check up on over there anyways.” It was hard to remember to take Ratchet’s name-or the names of any of the Autobots, really-out of the conversation when they were talking in public. It was another one of those little paranoid practices they all indulged in-probably useless, but it made them all feel much better.
Together, the three of them stood up and headed out of the restaurant, back the way Mikaela had come. They were quiet as they walked-it wasn’t that they didn’t have anything to say, but that they didn’t want to risk the wrong thing being overheard. Some things were difficult to explain, and the Autobots were one of them. God knew that the government had had trouble shushing up the Mission City incident.
Ratchet was waiting for them, parked along the fringes of the small square of trees, grass and benches. Mikaela tried not to think about how odd it looked as she hauled herself into him, scooting over so Glen could sit besides her. Maggie took shotgun. Ratchet drove, hologram in place.
“Are you really worried enough that you’re putting a full watch on everybody connected to the Autobots?” said Mikaela immediately.
“Yes,” said Ratchet. “Barricade’s not a real believer in the Decepticon cause so much as he’s brutal, cold and calculating, and being a ’Con lets him revel in that. He’s not going to initiate an attack when he knows it’s a hopeless situation-above all, the little rat’s going to try to save his own sorry hide. No, if he’s going after Bumblebee and Sam, out of revenge or for some other purpose, he knows he has a good chance of succeeding. And that means that he knows something we don’t.”
oOo
Sunstreaker was close to screaming. Bec was mere feet away from him, oblivious.
He was covered in dried, caked-on mud. Covered. The roads weren’t necessarily good ones, here, and there’d been a lot of rain this summer. There was dust from the drier gravel road that served as Bec’s driveway, dulling his paint and spreading in a thin film over his windshield. There were bits of organic detritus caught in little crooks and crannies, picked up from driving tiny, overgrown backcountry roads in yet another obsessive search for some muddy, undergrown bit of greenery indistinguishable from seventy other little bits of dirty, dripping foliage, yet somehow of great importance to Rebecca. There were bits of chopped grass covering one side of him, from where the wind had caught Bec’s lawn trimmings as she emptied them out over a new garden bed. Underneath the grass was sawdust, the bottom layer in the same patch of new garden. (1)
He was filthy. This was disgusting. No sentient being should have to live like this. He was positively half-crazed with the need to feel clean again. Didn’t normal humans wash their cars? The girl’s mother certainly did-her own car, ugly as it had been, had had only the slightest layer of dust from the road. Other cars he’d seen had been properly washed. Research seemed to indicate that it was a normal thing to do-a nice, long summer Sunday washing the car, and all that.
But no. Rebecca was spending the day working in the garden. Right now she was feet away from Sunstreaker-feet, not even his full body length, even untransformed-with her hose, a stream of clear water pouring out of it, catching the light. She was showing no signs of turning it on him.
Earlier in the day she’d taken a potted plant out of her house and dusted it. Dusted it. She cleaned her plants-by hand-but she wouldn’t even bother to take the time to get her car to a carwash. The smug plant was still sitting outside, leaves shining in the sunlight. Sunstreaker was fuming.
A planet full of billions of the things, and he got this human.
oOo
Sam awoke muzzily and wondered why his bathroom shower was running.
Oh yeah, he thought. Miles and Trent. Lord, that could be Trent. In my shower. In my shower
He felt unclean, all of a sudden. Although he didn’t think his mother would take kindly to a request that she sanitize his bathroom because Trent had been using it. Not that she had seemed particularly fond of the other teen, really.
Sam rolled back over and started drifting back to sleep. Wake up early and seize the day and that whole thing, but a day where he was babysitting Trent was not a day he wanted, particularly. Maybe if he was lucky Trent would do something obnoxious and Bumblebee would step on him.
He was awakened by a car horn. Sam groaned loudly. Damn Bee for getting it in his head that Sam needed an alarm clock-one he couldn’t hit the snooze button on, or turn off, or set for a time he chose himself.
“Mmmph,” said Miles’ voice next to him, and up. He’d gotten the bed-his mother had raised him right, according to her; according to Sam, it meant that he felt guilty sleeping in his own bed when he had a friend over, even when it was Miles, as it almost always was, and Trent certainly wasn’t going to get his bed-and the other two teens had been set up with air mattresses on the floor of Sam’s room. He hadn’t liked having Trent in his room at all, but sticking him in the living room wouldn’t have been feasible, considering how early he’d gone to bed, and the other boy had almost looked unhappy about spending the night alone-Sam chalked it up to not being used to seeing actual expressions on his face and, because of that, misreading him. His mom had said it was the shock wearing off that was making him so tired. He was tempted to think that it was all some sort of devious plot on Trent’s part.
Sam stumbled to his feet and got to his window. “Shut up, Bee!” he hissed out of it as he opened it enough to stick out his head. The neighbors didn’t appreciate car horns at nine o’clock in the morning-although it was a Monday, which helped. Most of them had probably left for work already, or were at least awake.
He turned around to find Miles staring at him. “This is so weird,” his friend said, the sheer oddness of the situation clearing the sleepiness from his voice.
There was a brief pause. Trent materialized out of the bathroom, still slightly damp and wearing a towel. “Uh, good morning,” he said. Sam nearly choked on his surprise.
“Morning,” said Miles in return, automatically. As the word left his lips a look of utter shock and incomprehension crossed his face. He covered his eyes with one expressive hand. “It’s too early for this.” Sam was inclined to agree.
“-I need clothes,” said Trent, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Sam sighed.
“Both of you should probably tell your parents where you are,” he said. “And get some clothes and stuff, yeah.”
Neither of the teens really reacted to the reminder that neither of their guardians knew where they were. “My dad doesn’t really care much what I do,” said Trent, shrugging a little. “I’ll just say I was at a party with some friends and it got late so I crashed there, and he’ll think I got drunk and passed out, or just didn’t want to come home to him and my mom, or I got lucky, and he’ll ignore it, maybe wink at me a few times and smirk. I’ll make up some other stupid excuse about why I’m not coming home later.”
“Mom’s been pulling long shifts, and crashing at a friend’s house,” Miles said. “And Dad’s still in China, won’t be back until the end of the month or later. She probably won’t even notice until she gets home on Thursday, and she’s fine if I’m with you. Of course, she doesn’t know about your car. That probably helps with her thinking you’re a good, responsible kid.”
“Hey,” said Sam. “I can be a good, responsible kid even with Bumblebee around.”
“Bumblebee’s a weird name for a giant transforming robot who’s also a car,” said Miles vaguely.
“I wouldn’t tell him that,” said Sam. “But he’s great, really. I wanted to introduce you to him, but I never knew how to do it. You should spend some time with him, get to know him-you probably didn’t get a chance to get a real opinion, yesterday.”
The other two looked at him, a little dumbfounded. Trent shifted awkwardly, still holding up his towel with one hand.
“You can wear yesterday’s clothes again, can’t you?” demanded Sam, a little annoyed.
“I think your mom took them to wash,” he said, sounding uncomfortably honest, his voice slightly anxious and his words blurted. It wasn’t a side of him Sam saw at school. “They were covered in blood.”
Miles sighed. “I’d believe that Judy did that. Probably took mine, too, while she was at it. Do you still have that spare set I left here?”
“Yeah. But I dunno about you, Trent-my clothes aren’t going to fit.” Because Trent was built like, well, a football player, and Sam wasn’t. Painfully so.
Trent fidgeted. There was a knock on the door.
“Are you up?” asked Judy through the door. “I heard the shower, and Bumblebee. Trent, I have some sweats for you that should fit-your own clothes are still in the wash, I had to soak them overnight to get the blood out. I’ll leave them outside the door. Breakfast will be on the table in ten or fifteen minutes-don’t let it get cold!”
There was the sound of footsteps walking away from the door. Slowly, Trent opened it and picked up the small pile of neatly-folded clothes that had been left.
“Your mom’s great,” he said, and he sounded like he honestly meant it.
“Huh?” said Sam. He hadn’t really thought about it…
“Yeah,” said Miles fervently. “You’re so lucky. I can’t believe I just agreed with Trent.”
Sam waited for a threat, or at least a belligerent comment, but there wasn’t one.
“I’m going to go help my mom with breakfast,” he said, after a long, awkward pause, and beat a hasty retreat for the door.
He was setting the table when Trent came downstairs, still as cowed and silent as he’d been before.
“Can I help, Mrs. Witwicky?” he said, fidgeting. He looked half-dressed in the ill-fitting sweatsuit she’d found him.
“There’s no need for you to do anything,” she said instantly, shooing him in the direction of the table. “And please, call me Judy. It’s what Miles has always called me, certainly, and most of Sam’s other friends have called me ‘Sam’s Mom’ or just avoided talking to me at all. I hope you boys are hungry.”
“You always cook too much,” said Sam.
“Well, you’re growing boys,” said Judy, as if that explained everything. “And there’s three of you-that’s a good, number, considering how you can eat. I’ve also put together a picnic for you so you can head out to the lookout later. I know you and Miles will probably have all sorts of questions, Trent.”
“We don’t all fit into Bee,” said Sam. “I mean, we can, but it leaves someone crouching in the back.”
“That’s okay,” said Judy brightly. “Today’s Jazz’s day off, and he said he was planning on stopping by. You can all go then.”
“-how do you even end up knowing these things?” said Sam, utterly befuddled, looking at his mother with amazement and confusion.
“A mother has her secrets, dear. You look a little confused, Trent; is everything okay?”
“More of them…?” said Trent.
“Well, yes,” said Judy.
“I told you about it yesterday, remember?” said Sam, considerably less charitably.
“But-” began Trent, voice sounding almost helpless.
“It’s kind of overwhelming,” said Miles, slipping into his usual seat at the table. “Although I also can’t get over how unbelievably cool this all is.”
Trent stared with confusion and disbelief at Miles. He wasn’t over the shock enough yet to move onto amazement.
“You’ll like Jazz,” continued Judy, as if nobody had spoken. “He’s nice. Very personable, very friendly.”
“Where did you even get the time to meet him?” said Sam, still lost. “He’s been dead!”
“What?” said Miles.
“He got ripped in half by Megatron-that’s the leader of the Decepticons, who’re the bad guys-and then reanimated using this leftover bit of the Allspark.”
Miles’ eyes went wide. “Your life is so weird. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this!”
“Well, how would you’ve reacted if I just told you?”
Miles had to concede the point.
“Here’s breakfast,” said Judy cheerfully, sliding two full plates onto the table, one in front of each of the two guests, and then Sam’s last. She took her own breakfast, much smaller than the others’, to her own spot in the breakfast nook along with the newspaper, leaving the main table for the boys. She liked to read the news in the morning, keep up on world events, and that just wasn’t something you could do with guests at the table, and she figured they’d like a little privacy, while they figured out what they were doing for the day.
Especially considering how she tended to make Sam’s friends nervous.
“So, would you be okay with meeting Jazz and Bumblebee today? For better or for worse, you’re in on the secret now, and Barricade, at least, knows who you are. It would be good for you to get to know the Autobots, or at least get to the point where you stop freaking out around them, even when they’ve transformed.”
Trent swallowed hard, and looked like he desperately wanted to say no.
“He’s your other best friend?” said Miles slowly. “…um. Okay. I’d go.”
“…really?” said Sam and Trent, more or less simultaneously.
“Thank you,” said Sam, honestly meaning it.
“God,” muttered Trent, still looking horrified. Sam wasn’t sure if he was even meaning to speak out loud. “I wouldn’t. Damn.” Louder he said “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Good. Actually, you’ll be safer with those two then just about anywhere else.”
There was a slight pause as the three boys all hesitated. It slowly slid into a more comfortable state as they all started eating again.
After a few more minutes Judy came back out of the breakfast. “Any more to eat?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes, please,” said all three boys immediately. She smiled.
“I told you I wasn’t making too much breakfast, Sam,” she said.
oOo
“So, who are the Autobots?” asked Miles at last. He’d moved on to the asking-questions stage.
“There’s five Autobots on earth right now,” said Sam. “Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Jazz, Ratchet and Ironhide. I’ve already told you that much. But I guess I haven’t told you much else…
“Optimus Prime’s their leader. Very-heroic, I guess. If I had to say who I respected most, in all the world, I’d say it was him. He’s-I don’t know.
“Bumblebee’s the one I know best. He’s incredible. A lot of fun, and really funny, probably the youngest of the group-not that that means much, in human years. They’re all ancient. He’s a spy, but a pretty wicked fighter too.
“Jazz-I don’t know him very well. From the sounds of things, my mom knows him better than I do. I have no idea how she does that. But he’s Optimus’ second-in-command. He’s got… A lot of personality. He’s pretty friendly. Brave-to the point of foolhardy, if you ask Ratchet.
“Ratchet’s the medic. He’s usually pretty calm and even-tempered, but he’s kind of scary-and by that I mean incredibly horrifying-when he’s angry, usually because someone’s done something stupid. Mikaela and two others are with him right now, I don’t know where, exactly. We’ll probably end up meeting up with them at the lookout later.
“Ironhide’s… Well, he’s something of a gun-happy maniac. Totally crazy. He threatened to shoot me when we first met. Technically he’s the ‘weapons specialist’ of the team, meaning that he blows shit up.”
“Language, Sam,” his mother called mildly from the kitchen, where she was eavesdropping as she finished packing the boys’ picnic.
“Sorry, Mom. Anyways, Ironhide’s also kind of attached himself to another human family-the Lennoxes. There’s three of them, Will, Sarah and the baby, Annie. Well, Annabelle, really. There being watched over by him right now, and I think the rest of the members of his team are going to end up camping out with them as well. Nobody wants to leave possible targets alone in this situation.”
“That’s crazy,” Miles said. Sam wasn’t sure which bit of it he was referring to.
It was half past noon, and the three boys were hanging out in Sam’s living room, waiting for Jazz. Trent was being incredibly quiet; Miles was more talkative. Sam was doing his best to make the situation easier for Miles, at least, but the slightly pathetic air Trent had to him was making him act a little nicer than he otherwise would have. Not that that meant much, really.
“And the Decepticons?”
“Mostly dead, at least the ones we knew of. But there’s more arriving, we’re afraid. Starscream survived the final battle, and Barricade-he’s the one who went after us. Scorponok-a giant metal scorpion-is rotting somewhere out in a desert in Iraq, but he’s probably been shut down because his host, Blackout, was killed.”
“How many are out there?”
“How many what? Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter, we don’t know, when it comes to any of them-Autobots, Decepticons, whatever. The war took so long, and things were so scattered-nobody new has arrived, even though Optimus sent out a message.”
There was a long silence, and then Miles screamed, making Sam and Trent jump and, in Trent’s case, flail slightly frantically.
“What?” Sam yelled back.
“What’s going on?” Judy called from the kitchen, bustling out to have a concerned look.
“Ohhh. It’s Jazz.” Sam waved at the Autobot, who was peeking in the window. Judy blanched. “What?” asked her son.
Instead of responding, she hurried for the door. Sam drifted after her, but the other two boys stayed firmly where they were, watching the Autobot who was cheerfully watching them right back.
“Hello, Judy,” he said as she made her way up to him. “Hey, Sam. How’re you doing?”
“My garden,” breathed Judy. “You’re on my roses.”
“What?” said the mech, thrown for a loop. Sam groaned. Right-Jazz had been dead. He’d missed Judy reading Optimus the riot act her second time at the lookout. She didn’t like it when people walked in her garden, especially when they could cause the sort of damage the Autobots could. Over her shoulder, he slid a hand across his throat, miming slitting it, all the warning he could give.
“You’re on my roses. My mother’s roses. What are you doing? Don’t you ever think? Be more careful! I dote over those roses-fertilizer and weeding like clockwork, water when it’s dry, I prune them all, even the one with the thorns like knives, take care of them even in this damned California weather, and you… You! I’ve put decades of work into those, me and my mother!”
“I’m sorry,” said Jazz, trying to edge off of the square of garden without breaking anything else.
“And you got the lilies!” Judy breathed, horrified.
“Um, I’d be more concerned about how likely it is you’re going to end up seen by the neighbors. Seeing as it’s broad daylight,” Sam said. Over from the driveway, Bumblebee chirped. Judy glared at him, and he shut up.
“Don’t worry so much!” Jazz said breezily, but he complied and transformed.
“That is so fucking cool,” Miles breathed from the doorway, which he was standing in. Trent was standing further away, although they were both keeping a healthy distance from both of the Autobots.
“Damn straight!” said Jazz, making Miles jump and Trent stifle a scream of his own. “Hey there, I’m Jazz.”
“I’m Miles Gillon,” he said automatically.
There was a brief pause. “You?” said Jazz finally. Trent jumped, this time. “Trent,” he managed to get out through his surprise and fear.
“Miles is my other best friend-I’ve known him since forever-and Trent’s Mikaela’s ex-girlfriend. He was vandalizing Miles’ mailbox when Barricade attacked, and I was giving Miles a ride home, so they both ended up caught in the crossfire.”
Judy shook her head. “It’s reprehensible, involving innocent children like that.”
“They’re Decepticons,” Bumblebee pointed out.
“Yes, but still. I don’t think that they could all be like that.” Bee made a mild noise of disagreement.
“It’s true, though, that they’re not all as bad as Barricade,” said Jazz.
Judy shook her head. “Anyways, I’m holding you all up. Sam, here’s the picnic basket-I packed some extra, in case other people showed up, I heard that they might. It all depends. Now get going, okay? I’ll see you all later. Call if you’re not going to be home tonight, Sam, and don’t forget to stop by Trent and Miles’ houses. You two will need clothes eventually. Bye!”
There was a brief pause. “So, who’s going with who?” said Sam at last.
Judy poked her head back out of the doorway. “Probably Sam and Trent with Jazz, and Miles with Bumblebee,” she said, tone indicating a firm suggestion. “That way, Sam can spend some more time with Jazz-you really haven’t had much-and Miles can spend some time with Bumblebee. It will be good for Sam’s two best friends to have some time to talk, get to know each other. Don’t you think so, Sam?”
Trent looked hugely relieved. Again, Sam had the feeling that he hadn’t wanted to end up alone-well, for a given extent of ‘alone.’ He would have been with one of the Autobots, no matter what. Actually, that might be the problem-it would make more sense, certainly.
“…okay?” said Miles.
“You two are okay with whatever?” Sam asked the two Autobots.
“Sure,” Jazz said. Bumblebee beeped in agreement. “But let’s go.”
oOo
On to Part 2
Chapter Two
Series: Transformers (2007 movie)
Rating/Warnings: T/PG-13, to be on the safe side. Really, the worst there is is mild swearing.
Characters/Pairings: Bec (OC) and Sunstreaker are probably the main characters; beyond that, this story features Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Ironhide, Jazz, Sideswipe, Sam, Mikaela, Judy, Ron, Capt. Lennox and the rest of his team, Trent, Miles, Maggie, Glen, Defense Secretary Keller and probably others. Non-pairing except for canon mentions of Sam/Mikaela.
Summary: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have arrived on earth. That means that all they need to do is track down Optimus Prime, get rid of the pack of Decepticons after them and not scare the local wildlife. That should be easy, right?
Thank you very much to my beta, mmouse15!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
And at FFnet
oOoOoOo
Judy Witwicky had learned to expect surprises from her son, even before he’d made them drive out to the middle-of-nowhere with him when she (and Ron, of course) had demanded an explanation for what had happened with Sector Seven, and his car had turned into a 20-something-foot-tall robot. And that had been before she’d been introduced to the other Autobots.
They still made her a bit skittish, really, but she was learning to adjust. She went up to the lookout with Sam, every once in a while, now, and every so often some sort of vehicle would turn up in her driveway and ask to talk to her son. And, of course, there was Bumblebee. Really, she was adapting remarkably well, she thought.
But it was still unusual to have her son come home, looking distinctly bedraggled, with a shell-shocked Miles and a stranger, probably about the age of the other two boys, still oozing a slow trickle of blood from his head, with a probably-concerned Bumblebee with them. (She assumed concern, at least, but it was awfully hard to read emotions, when it came to the Transformers. Especially when they weren’t transformed-having faces, of sorts, helped with that sort of thing.)
“Oh, my God,” she said, horrified. “Sam? What happened?”
“Barricade,” said Sam with a wince. “And, uh, this is Trent. He needs someplace safe to stay for a while. Miles, too-is that okay?”
“Do you know him?” Judy said doubtfully-being attacked by giant robots was one thing, but having a total stranger in his late teens stay with them for an unspecified period of time was entirely another.
“We’re in school together,” said Sam, slightly resentfully. “And he’s Mikaela’s ex-boyfriend.”
Bumblebee made a slight chirping noise she couldn’t interpret. Sam apparently could, though-he looked over with one eyebrow raised expressively. “Yeah, whatever, it’s hilarious,” he muttered. The two other boys looked shell-shocked, and Judy’s mothering instincts took over.
“Come in, you two,” she said, guiding Miles through the door with a firm, if caring, grip.
“Thanks, Judy,” said Miles, sounding incredibly relieved. Judy smiled. Miles had always been such a nice, polite boy. She looked considerably less indulgently at the other-she had her suspicions about how he’d treated Sam at school, and anyone who would break up with a nice young lady like Mikaela-or be dumped by her-well. She was going to reserve judgment for now.
“Thank you, Mrs. Wickity,” echoed Trent. She glared at him, just slightly.
“Witwicky,” she said, voice frosty.
He blushed bright red and muttered an apology, and she was somewhat mollified. “Come in,” she said at last, softening slightly. “I want to look at that cut. Don’t you boys ever think? What one earth were you doing, not dealing with that?”
oOo
She’d double-checked the cut and assured herself that everything was fine (including doing a check for signs of a concussion; she’d known that first-aid class had been a good idea!) and then forced mugs of hot cocoa on all the boys, and left them at the kitchen table along with a plate of muffins to talk things over, while she went and forced details-accurate details, not ones that had been softened for her sake-out of her son’s car.
Bumblebee remained inert and unresponsive as she approached, so she rapped forcefully on his hood with two knuckles, stance firm.
“What happened?” she demanded. She also didn’t miss how the car shifted, just slightly, on his wheels.
“Barricade attacked,” he said at last, voice still with that faint rasp.
“Yes, I heard,” she said, tone making it clear that she expected more of an answer and that it had better be damn convincing.
“…Which means that other Decepticons are probably on their way,” he finished reluctantly. “He has no reason to make such an obvious offensive move without backup.”
Judy’s lips thinned. “I see,” she said. “Nice of you to tell me.”
He didn’t respond.
“And I suppose that’s part of the reason why I have two more teenage boys staying at my house right now? So you can watch over them? What about Mikaela?”
“With Ratchet,” Bumblebee said. “Along with two others connected to the Autobots. Ironhide is with the Lennoxes.”
“And you’re with us. I see. Still, this my son’s life you’re dealing with-and mine, too. I have a right to know.”
There was another long minute of silence, this time guilty.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Judy said at last, and turned to go.
oOo
Sunstreaker had quickly discovered that his human timed her day by the solar cycles. More so than other humans. She got up with the sun, and watered her garden first thing in the morning. After that she ate breakfast-which was kind of nasty, to put it bluntly, and that wasn’t even touching on how inefficient it was as an energy-producing process-and then she moved outside into the first puddle of sunshine on the lawn. She moved with that patch of light until about noon, lying sprawled with her school books on the ground in front of her. She ate again, then worked in her garden, mostly weeding. She took a short walk-he assumed; she was beyond his immediate sensor range, and he didn’t care enough to be curious-then prepared and ate another meal. After dinner she did heavier work in the garden, or read.
Noticeably absent from her daily routine was anything involving driving or cars in any way, shape or form-including washing, waxing or in any way caring for Sunstreaker.
On occasion, though, something would disrupt the otherwise-identical days. Sadly, it was never cleaning him.
oOo
Bec woke up with a heavy heart, and felt guilty about it, which only made things worse.
“Mother’s coming,” she told her tree peony as she watered it, feeling a little silly while she did it. Oh well. Most people talked to their pets, after all, and some people talked to their cars. Now there was something she didn’t understand.
“At least the clothes she brings me are always beautiful,” she told the tomatoes, tucked in-between the house and the driveway, where they got the most consistent sun and good heat-not that that meant much. Tomatoes were something of a long shot in her yard.
Sunstreaker was torn between being simply baffled and being bemused. The crazy organic appeared to be talking to her plants. It was disturbingly nice to hear a voice again, though, he had to admit that, even if it wasn’t Cybertronian. Bec seemed content to pass her days in silence, except for the occasional moment of music-usually played quietly, and faint enough that he had to strain his sensors to pick it up. And the local information network just wasn’t holding his interest. Big surprise there.
“Not that I wear them,” continued the girl, after a long moment. Sunstreaker twitched slightly-thankfully, the organic had her back turned to him. Was she still on about that? And there was no point to talking to something that wasn’t going to talk back.
There was the sound of a car coming up the driveway. Bec sighed, seeming to deflate even as she steeled herself.
“Mother!” she said, voice torn between happiness, relief and hidden misery.
“Rebecca!” her mother called back, sweeping forward to wrap her daughter up in her long arms. The smell of her perfume-jasmine, and very expensive-wrapped around her daughter, the memories of her childhood it brought visceral enough to make Bec’s eyes prickle with tears.
“How are you doing?” said her mother, pushing her back for a minute to look her over with a critical eye. “Still dressing like you always do, it looks.”
“I don’t dress that badly, really, Mom,” said Bec.
“Yes, you do,” her mother said firmly. “I don’t know where you get it from-certainly not from me, but your father always takes the time to look his best as well. It’s a mystery.”
“How was Italy?”
“Oh, you know how it is-I was too busy to really see anything. I did have dinner at the most fabulous little restaurant, though. Truly incredible. I’ll be having the annual divorce dinner in Venice-all the usual crew’s coming, of course, except for Maria, she can’t make it-as a change of pace, and I’ll be sure to get everyone there at some point. It’ll be quite the feather in my cap-it hasn’t been discovered yet. You should come, you know-the trip would be worth the bother of the flight by itself. I know we’re all old, but you’re even more single than the rest of us, and we have a pretty good time despite our age.”
“Mom, I can’t afford to fly out to Italy for dinner,” said Bec with a soft smile, one that had wanted to be outraged but was too used to it for that, anymore.
“Oh, I’d pay, of course! What were you thinking? Don’t let that stop you! Even if I wouldn’t, some of the other women would, of course-you’re another child to half of them, you know, and there’s been some talk about getting some new blood in, to liven things up.”
“I’m sure you’ve already gotten me a very nice present,” said Bec. “And really, I’m happiest here. My classes take up a lot of time; it’s a very important point, and I really can’t afford to miss anything.”
“If you’re sure,” said her mother doubtfully. “But you don’t need to make excuses, you know. If you don’t want to go, just say so. I’ll listen.”
Of course you would, thought Bec, just like you always do, but she didn’t say anything aloud.
“Do you want anything to drink or eat?” she said instead.
“Oh, no, thank you,” her mother said immediately. “I had something on the drive here. Almost spilled soda on the inside of my new car while I was at it… I really shouldn’t eat and drive, I know, but I’m always in such a hurry. Oh! The car’s not brand new, anymore, but I forget that you haven’t seen it yet! Really, things would be so much easier if you lived a little closer. Are you sure you’re happy here?”
“Yes, Mom, it’s perfect for me out here. I love it.” Bec stopped herself before she continued on to say ‘I’m happier than I’ve been since my twelfth birthday.’
“Well, then, I suppose I can’t convince you otherwise. You’ve always kept your own council, really-you were a very difficult child, when it came to some things. Much better than your siblings in other ways, of course-I remember the five years I spent struggling to get Alise to do her homework, and that was with the tutor, the nanny and her teachers. But the car! I had it done custom-they don’t make anything this nice normally without making it far too flashy or unfeminine. The white’s terrible to keep clean, of course, especially the interior-I’m going to have to switch to entirely clear drinks, really-but I really like how the gold detailing came out.”
“It’s beautiful,” said Bec, honestly. It really was pretty.
“And this is the birthday present from your father?” her mother said, turning to investigate the yellow monstrosity still parked in her driveway. “I’m not sure it suits you. Yellow’s a little-obvious. You know. And the build’s a little masculine-I wouldn’t have chosen it for a young lady, certainly. Something between what I’ve got and this, really-a little flirty, a little fun, a college car.”
Bec bit back a slightly bitter laugh. It took a special sort of person to think that a car with a price tag equivalent to the price of a modest house or higher was suitable for college students. “You know Dada,” she said. “It was very generous of him.”
“Lord knows I know your father, yes,” said her mother, face expressive. “There’s a reason we divorced.”
“Please, though, come inside,” said Bec. “Or around the back-there’s a little patio, shady and out of the sun. You’re dressed for cooler weather than this, I think. I’ll get us some lemonade.”
“Sugar-free, please,” her mother said automatically.
Bec shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice so soft and faint it was hard to hear. “I made it myself, this morning…”
“It’s fine,” her mother said. “I’ll just have some water.”
“Alright,” said Bec, voice a little stronger but still quiet. “Go around here, just follow the path-there’s a little table set up.”
She walked out of the back door of the house a few minutes later, carrying two glasses of water, her mother’s with ice and a little bit of lemon, her own plain. “Oh, thank you,” her mother said. “I’m exhausted, really-the past few weeks have been hell at work, and I don’t do anything but even at the best of the times.” Bec made a wordless noise of agreement, sipping at her own glass. It was silent for a while, with only the drone of cicadas off in the distance and the rustle of the slight breeze through the tree leaves.
“Oh, your presents!” her mother said at last. “I’ve forgotten them out in the car. Would you be a dear and go get it for me? I’d do it myself, but I’m a wreck-still jet-lagged and without enough sleep for other reasons on top of that, and over-worked, like I was telling you-”
“Of course,” said Bec, rising hurriedly. “I’d love to. I’ll be right back, okay?”
Sunstreaker was fuming. The nerve of the squishy little organic-yellow was a fine color. A great color, even, and his own shade was particularly nice. There was nothing obvious about it. He didn’t care about the masculinity comments-that didn’t matter, really, stupid human issues-but the nerve of the woman! And her own car was hardly any better-plain white, and those ridiculous bits of gold. Some sort of reddish wood on the dashboard-and she had the nerve to insult his color.
The other one-the younger one, the child, not the thing that had insulted him-came hurrying past, wiping at roughly at tears with the back of one of her hands. “It’s stupid to cry,” she muttered fiercely to herself. “It’s not you. It’s her. She just doesn’t mean to.”
…She was kind of weird, was Sunstreaker’s firm opinion. She certainly didn’t match normal human behaviors most of the time, from what he could tell, and she was incredibly solitary for a supposedly communal species. She certainly had a non-traditional (and abnormal) relationship with her progenitors, but even that was atypical in how she went about it-there were very few similarities to typically bad familial relationships, from what his research had shown. Not that he’d done much-it was kind of boring, and he really didn’t care all that much. He was only here for a while-for longer than he’d hoped for, by now, but still-and then he would leave the organic. She’d probably assume ‘her’ car had been stolen, collect the insurance and move on. It wasn’t like she cared a lot, certainly.
“Mom was right about this thing, at least,” muttered the still-slightly-choked-up Bec as she roughly brushed past the car on her way back inside. Sunstreaker resisted the urge to atomize her.
He was going to kill Sideswipe when he caught back up with him, for making him go through this.
Bec walked back inside with the unnervingly large stack of boxes hesitantly. “This is them?” she asked hesitantly as she walked towards her mother, depositing her load on the small table.
“Yes, that’s them-Oh! Oh no-no, wait, never mind. I’d thought I’d lost one, but it’s here, in my purse. It’s last, though-start with this one, here, the one with the green bow.”
Carefully, Bec unwrapped the box, setting aside the paper, which was heavy and cream-colored with small gilt roses scattered over the surface, and the heavy green ribbon that had been wrapped around it. Her mother shook her head at the paper, but the ribbon, Bec knew, was always silk on her mother’s presents, and really an extra gift-one she actually used, every now and then. She probably had thirty of the things, in a whole rainbow of colors, all stuffed into a box next to her dresser. They made wonderful bookmarks.
“This is hardly a gift, really,” said her mother as she held up the dress the box had contained, a gorgeous thing in pale rose pink and with green, gold and pink jewelry to match. “It’s for Susan’s wedding this fall, you know-you have to attend, really, and I know you probably don’t have a thing to wear. There’s tickets in the purse, so you can’t complain about cost-I’ve got a hotel in Maui booked for you to go along with it, and I’ve double-checked with your school, so I know you don’t have classes.
“Thank you, Mom,” said Bec.
“And I’ve given you a week before the wedding, so you can have a nice little vacation! You work too hard, you know-always studying. Studiousness has its place, certainly you don’t want to end up like your sister, but it can’t be good for you. You need to relax more! I won’t be able to make your vacation or the wedding, sadly-Susan’s heartbroken, and I am as well, you know how long we’ve known each other-or it would have been a real present, some mother-daughter time.”
“It’s too bad I won’t be able to spend it with you,” said Bec quietly, smiling at her mother just slightly.
“I know-I really am going to have to retire soon. This schedule’s killing me, and my doctor backs me up when I say that. Open the pale blue one next, then the dark blue, then the violet.”
The box with the pale-blue ribbon was another dress, this one light and summery, and the same color as the ribbon. “I thought about white,” said her mother, “since it’s more the current fashion, and would look very cute on you, but I know what a disaster you are in white clothing.” The dark blue one was a pair of pants, dark blue to almost black jeans, with flowers embroidered on them, a garden running riot over almost all the exposed fabric.
“Oh,” breathed Bec, enchanted. “They’re beautiful!” She bent to look more closely at a few details-a lily, two irises, a spray of orchids. It was even accurate, the flowers matching their real-life counterparts almost perfectly.
Her mother smiled, a real smile, slow and deep. “I’m glad you like them,” she said. “They’d look wonderful with a plain white shirt, something breezy and thin, and a pair of white sandals. You still have that pair I gave you for Christmas a year ago, right?”
“Yes,” said Bec, and she did-she kept everything her mother gave her, even if she usually kept it in the attic. The clothes were always beautiful, but nothing she could wear, like these jeans-they didn’t suit her, and she had nowhere to wear them to. It wasn’t like she even really cared what she looked like. With these she might just end up hanging them on the wall, just for their sheer decorative value.
The third box was, in her mother’s words, “Party clothes-something suitable for a girl your age. You’re 21, now, Rebecca! You should be going out clubbing, or at least to parties. Small ones, even. Something. It’s just not healthy to stay home so much, you should go out, find some friends, be a little wild while you still have the chance!”
Bec doubted that she’d have an urgent need for tight black leather pants and a dark plum purple silk shirt that showed as much as it concealed-and implied a lot more-in the next year or so, but she wasn’t going to argue with her mother. It wasn’t something that good girls did.
oOo
The end of the visit had finally come-her mother had gotten a call she “absolutely couldn’t ignore, I’m so sorry, Rebecca,” and said her good-byes. Bec had accompanied her to her car door.
She sat down on the grass with a heavy sigh, once her mother’s car had passed out of sight, flipping the small box her mother had slipped her as she’d gotten into her car through her fingers. It was covered seamlessly with pale blue silk and not even big enough to cover her palm, with a delicate silver clasp.
With a sigh she slipped it open, wincing at the stark comparison between her own hands (calloused and heavy, indelicate, the skin slightly chapped and one palm with a quarter-sized scab of dirt ground into sap she’d been unable to get off; usually there was dirt under the nails, from weeding with her hands and without gloves, although she’d cleaned them, for her mother) and the box.
She looked at the delicate silver-and-pearl pendant it contained with incomprehension for a long second.
“Oh,” she said, and she started crying.
It was her mother’s, but it had been her grandmother’s before that, and her great-grandmother’s first. She’d been given it by her husband, who’d been moderately wealthy, before the Great Depression. It had been passed on through the women in her family since he’d given it to her-Bec had assumed that her older sister, Alise, had been given it, either for some birthday or for her wedding a year ago.
She had never imagined that it would end up being hers. She didn’t think that she’d ever been particularly close to her mother. Hell, she hadn’t imagined that her mother would ever give her a present that meant something to both of them.
oOo
Oh, Primus. The crazy organic was at it again. Now she was crying again-and why did they (the humans) choose such a fragging weird-if reasonably useful-physical response to irritated eyes as a way to express emotion?
oOo
Mikaela had had the vague, paranoid sense that she was being followed all day. It was starting to irk her. Not to mention make her really, really jumpy-especially considering that she had reason to be worried. More so than ordinary people, at least.
“Is something wrong?” her friend, Malissa, asked at last, looking slightly worried. “You’ve been really preoccupied all day. Boy trouble? I know I’d be looking around, considering what you’ve got, but it can be hard to dump the puppy-dogs, I know. Still, don’t feel obligated just because you were a little desperate after that whole thing with Trent-”
“No, it’s not that!” said Mikaela quickly, more than a little annoyed by the jabs at Sam. “Everything’s great. I’m just a little tired-should have gone to bed earlier last night. You know how it is. But Sam’s incredible. Everything except the beefy arms, I’m serious, and he’s not worthless when it comes to muscle.” Especially considering the extra work he’d started putting in-after saving the world, working out had gained some importance. “But he’s wonderful. A romantic, sensitive, pays attention to me, utterly devoted-it’s the first time I’ve really never been worried that he’ll cheat around on me. Great car, too.” Hah-that was the least of it. “Brave. He’s got an incredible personality.”
“He sounds like a real knight in shining armor,” Malissa said doubtfully.
Yes, something like that, thought Mikaela, although she didn’t say anything aloud. Although knights usually only save the maiden, and not the world.
Still. She didn’t like this, at all. And after everything that had happened, she had the right to be a little paranoid.
“But you look kind of cold, Malissa. Do you want my jacket? I’m wearing long sleeves, at least, and it’s pretty breezy out-that always cools things down, even with the sun.”
“Oh, thank you! I need to get my fall shopping done-or started, really. It’s horrible, especially now the weather’s cooling down.”
“Me, too, really-I’m wearing what I have left over from last winter. This is all I can still wear, really. Want to go with me some time? You know how I feel about shopping alone.”
“Oh, I know. It’s funny, especially with how great your taste is, even without someone else’s input.”
“Still, I like it more-Oh, hey, there’s that little park! I’m going to pop over for a quick second to grab a soda, okay? I’m absolutely parched. I’ll catch up with you in just a sec, okay?”
“Oh, um-sure!”
“Okay! If I don’t find you, we’ll meet at the café, okay? It’s really not all that far, now.
Mikaela turned right and sped up as soon as Malissa was out of sight. Smiling grimly, she swiftly walked the two blocks that led her to the far edge of the postage-stamp of a park. From there she cut through it, following the most heavily garden- and tree-lined path for the near-invisibility it gave her from other paths, the sidewalks and the roads.
She headed back for the main street after she came back out on the other side, keeping an eye out as she walked swiftly back towards the road for anything that looked suspicious. As she turned back off the side road she’d taken back, stopping to wait for the street light to change, she nervously followed the flow of cars and people with searching eyes.
Mikaela relaxed as her eye caught on the familiar form of a green emergency vehicle a little ways ahead of her on the road, stalled in traffic. She’d known she was being followed. Quickly glancing at the traffic backed up past the small side street she was on, she took her chances and jogged quickly across, continuing up the road. She waved slightly as she passed Ratchet, then turned down a small alley to wait.
She didn’t wait long, the vehicle pulling in shortly after she did.
“What do you want?” she hissed.
“Optimus has ordered that all the humans closely involved with the Autobots be put under guard,” he replied. “Bumblebee’s with Miles, Trent and Sam, and the Lennoxes are with Ironhide. The president and Secretary Keller are already well-protected. That leaves you, Maggie and Glen. I’ve been assigned to you three, for now.”
“Gee, thanks for telling me,” Mikaela said grumpily. “Especially considering that you were following me. Now, if you don’t mind too much, I’m heading back to meet up with Malissa. She’s waiting for me.” She paused for a brief second, forehead crinkled with thought and a slight frown. “…and where are Glen and Maggie, if you’re watching them, too?”
“They’ll meet you at the café,” said Ratchet, sounding amused. “I believe Glen’s already waiting for you there.” Mikaela groaned.
“I am far too predictable, aren’t I,” she said, mostly to herself. She needed to find new places to hang out with friends.
“Yes,” said Ratchet helpfully.
“…And I suppose you’re going to want to pick me up after I’m done,” she finished.
“Yes.”
“Despite the fact that I will be going with Glen and Maggie, presumably.”
“Yes.”
“And the fact that it will look totally suspicious to have the three of us-all decidedly civilian-get into an emergency vehicle.”
“Yes.”
“…Right. You know, that whole ‘in disguise’ thing would work better if you actually had us act like things were normal. I’m going to go find Malissa and explain to her why I suddenly need to leave, why two people I’m presumably friends with suddenly showed up and why I’m going with them, why I don’t have a soda and why I’m going to be going in an emergency hummer.”
Ratchet snickered.
oOo
“Where’s your soda?” Malissa asked, looking confused, as Mikaela jogged back up to meet her.
“I forgot my wallet was in my jacket pocket,” she said sheepishly.
“Oh! I’m so sorry! I should have thought of it-”
“No, no, it’s not your fault! It’s mine, if anyone’s. I should have remembered that you need money if you want to use a vending machine.” Well, unless it was the vending-machine Transformer still running around. Then you might get a soda, but you might not, and it would be free if you did. If it really didn’t like you, it ate your money, but there had been words exchanged, and it didn’t go after people’s hands anymore.
“Well, you can order a soda here, at least.”
“Yeah,” Mikaela agreed. Even though she really wasn’t all that thirsty.
She ordered a drink anyways, though, and pushed the other looming issues away-what to do with who she was meeting and what was going on-in favor of some girl talk. Sometimes it was nice to just pretend she was a perfectly ordinary teenage girl. She was glad she’d talked Ratchet into giving her a little more time.
oOo
Fortunately, Mikaela had had the luck to be seated facing in the direction Maggie had come from. It gave her a little time to switch gears-prepare herself, so to speak.
“Hey, Mikaela!” Maggie called out as she got a bit closer.
“Maggie!” Mikaela said, her happiness genuine as she rose to greet her, the two women hugging each other. The humans tied to the Autobots tended to be close to each other. “Maggie, this is Malissa-we got to school with each other. We’ve probably been best friends since, oh, the sixth grade, right?” Best friend barring Sam (who was probably in his own category, being her boyfriend) and Bumblebee. Malissa nodded her agreement the statement-it had, indeed, been the sixth grade. “Malissa, this is Maggie-I’m not entirely sure how we met. It was one of those things were we just ran into each other…”
Well, something like that.
“Nice to meet you,” said Malissa politely.
“Nice to meet you, too! And I love that skirt you’re wearing. A little cold for it, though…”
Malissa nodded ruefully. “I had to borrow Mikaela’s jacket, earlier,” she said, blushing just slightly.
“Well, I’m actually here to meet another friend of mine-that’s him over there, the one with the laptop-so I’ll talk to you later, okay, Mikaela? And it was nice to meet you, Malissa-maybe the three of us could go shopping sometime? I know how you feel about shopping alone, Mikaela, and it’s been a while since I’ve had a good girl-friends day. You know how it is, with work and everything, and it’s harder-I’m still making friends here, and learning to fit in.”
“That sounds nice,” said Malissa, with a slightly shy smile. “I know how hard it can be to be new to a place-and that was just moving here from the East Coast, let alone another country! -you are Australian, right? Your accent is, but you just can’t tell, sometimes…”
“No, I am. And I’ll get in touch with Mikaela some time soon! Looks like you could use some warmer clothes, certainly-I know how it is, I moved from Australia to New York and then to here, and I thought I would freeze that first winter. Bye! Bye, Mikaela!”
“I’ll see you later, Maggie,” said Mikaela with a bright smile, relieved. At least things had been somewhat arranged subtly.
Almost immediately after Maggie left, Malissa got a text message that made her frown deeply at the screen. “I’ve got to go,” she said to Mikaela, voice clearly upset. “Boyfriend troubles.” Mikaela sighed. Malissa was always having boyfriend troubles of one sort or another.
“Okay, then. I’ll see you later, okay? And I’d walk back to the bus station with you, but I want to finish my drink… I’m sorry.”
“No, no, I understand! It’s something I should probably do on my own, anyways. I’ll call, okay?”
“Okay! Bye!”
Mikaela sat for a few minutes longer, watching her friend walk off. Finally, with a sigh, she stood and walked over to the two hackers currently arguing heatedly-if quietly-over something on Glen’s laptop screen, leaving her now-empty cup behind.
It was time to face reality again.
“Hey,” she said by way of greeting, slipping into a seat across from the two computer experts. “How are you doing?”
“A little spooked,” said Maggie honestly, “but I’ll live. More about that later, okay?”
“I’d be a lot better if this stupid little section of code would just work right…” muttered Glen. Maggie rolled her eyes. Mikaela sensed that there was a history here, and wisely held her tongue. Not that she had the expertise to add anything to the conversation.
She waited for a few more minutes while Glen continued to tap furiously at his laptop, making continually more frustrated comments and sounds as he continued, Maggie watching him over his shoulder.
“…Can’t you do this just as well with-somewhere else?” said Mikaela finally. Glen looked up, half-startled, as if he’d forgotten she was there at all.
“Okay,” said Maggie with a sigh, standing up and stretching out her stiff shoulders-she’d been twisted into an awkward position to see the screen.
“Thanks,” said Mikaela. Watching the two of them really wasn’t all that interesting. “Where’re we meeting up?”
“That little park a few blocks away. R-He said he had something he needed to check up on over there anyways.” It was hard to remember to take Ratchet’s name-or the names of any of the Autobots, really-out of the conversation when they were talking in public. It was another one of those little paranoid practices they all indulged in-probably useless, but it made them all feel much better.
Together, the three of them stood up and headed out of the restaurant, back the way Mikaela had come. They were quiet as they walked-it wasn’t that they didn’t have anything to say, but that they didn’t want to risk the wrong thing being overheard. Some things were difficult to explain, and the Autobots were one of them. God knew that the government had had trouble shushing up the Mission City incident.
Ratchet was waiting for them, parked along the fringes of the small square of trees, grass and benches. Mikaela tried not to think about how odd it looked as she hauled herself into him, scooting over so Glen could sit besides her. Maggie took shotgun. Ratchet drove, hologram in place.
“Are you really worried enough that you’re putting a full watch on everybody connected to the Autobots?” said Mikaela immediately.
“Yes,” said Ratchet. “Barricade’s not a real believer in the Decepticon cause so much as he’s brutal, cold and calculating, and being a ’Con lets him revel in that. He’s not going to initiate an attack when he knows it’s a hopeless situation-above all, the little rat’s going to try to save his own sorry hide. No, if he’s going after Bumblebee and Sam, out of revenge or for some other purpose, he knows he has a good chance of succeeding. And that means that he knows something we don’t.”
oOo
Sunstreaker was close to screaming. Bec was mere feet away from him, oblivious.
He was covered in dried, caked-on mud. Covered. The roads weren’t necessarily good ones, here, and there’d been a lot of rain this summer. There was dust from the drier gravel road that served as Bec’s driveway, dulling his paint and spreading in a thin film over his windshield. There were bits of organic detritus caught in little crooks and crannies, picked up from driving tiny, overgrown backcountry roads in yet another obsessive search for some muddy, undergrown bit of greenery indistinguishable from seventy other little bits of dirty, dripping foliage, yet somehow of great importance to Rebecca. There were bits of chopped grass covering one side of him, from where the wind had caught Bec’s lawn trimmings as she emptied them out over a new garden bed. Underneath the grass was sawdust, the bottom layer in the same patch of new garden. (1)
He was filthy. This was disgusting. No sentient being should have to live like this. He was positively half-crazed with the need to feel clean again. Didn’t normal humans wash their cars? The girl’s mother certainly did-her own car, ugly as it had been, had had only the slightest layer of dust from the road. Other cars he’d seen had been properly washed. Research seemed to indicate that it was a normal thing to do-a nice, long summer Sunday washing the car, and all that.
But no. Rebecca was spending the day working in the garden. Right now she was feet away from Sunstreaker-feet, not even his full body length, even untransformed-with her hose, a stream of clear water pouring out of it, catching the light. She was showing no signs of turning it on him.
Earlier in the day she’d taken a potted plant out of her house and dusted it. Dusted it. She cleaned her plants-by hand-but she wouldn’t even bother to take the time to get her car to a carwash. The smug plant was still sitting outside, leaves shining in the sunlight. Sunstreaker was fuming.
A planet full of billions of the things, and he got this human.
oOo
Sam awoke muzzily and wondered why his bathroom shower was running.
Oh yeah, he thought. Miles and Trent. Lord, that could be Trent. In my shower. In my shower
He felt unclean, all of a sudden. Although he didn’t think his mother would take kindly to a request that she sanitize his bathroom because Trent had been using it. Not that she had seemed particularly fond of the other teen, really.
Sam rolled back over and started drifting back to sleep. Wake up early and seize the day and that whole thing, but a day where he was babysitting Trent was not a day he wanted, particularly. Maybe if he was lucky Trent would do something obnoxious and Bumblebee would step on him.
He was awakened by a car horn. Sam groaned loudly. Damn Bee for getting it in his head that Sam needed an alarm clock-one he couldn’t hit the snooze button on, or turn off, or set for a time he chose himself.
“Mmmph,” said Miles’ voice next to him, and up. He’d gotten the bed-his mother had raised him right, according to her; according to Sam, it meant that he felt guilty sleeping in his own bed when he had a friend over, even when it was Miles, as it almost always was, and Trent certainly wasn’t going to get his bed-and the other two teens had been set up with air mattresses on the floor of Sam’s room. He hadn’t liked having Trent in his room at all, but sticking him in the living room wouldn’t have been feasible, considering how early he’d gone to bed, and the other boy had almost looked unhappy about spending the night alone-Sam chalked it up to not being used to seeing actual expressions on his face and, because of that, misreading him. His mom had said it was the shock wearing off that was making him so tired. He was tempted to think that it was all some sort of devious plot on Trent’s part.
Sam stumbled to his feet and got to his window. “Shut up, Bee!” he hissed out of it as he opened it enough to stick out his head. The neighbors didn’t appreciate car horns at nine o’clock in the morning-although it was a Monday, which helped. Most of them had probably left for work already, or were at least awake.
He turned around to find Miles staring at him. “This is so weird,” his friend said, the sheer oddness of the situation clearing the sleepiness from his voice.
There was a brief pause. Trent materialized out of the bathroom, still slightly damp and wearing a towel. “Uh, good morning,” he said. Sam nearly choked on his surprise.
“Morning,” said Miles in return, automatically. As the word left his lips a look of utter shock and incomprehension crossed his face. He covered his eyes with one expressive hand. “It’s too early for this.” Sam was inclined to agree.
“-I need clothes,” said Trent, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Sam sighed.
“Both of you should probably tell your parents where you are,” he said. “And get some clothes and stuff, yeah.”
Neither of the teens really reacted to the reminder that neither of their guardians knew where they were. “My dad doesn’t really care much what I do,” said Trent, shrugging a little. “I’ll just say I was at a party with some friends and it got late so I crashed there, and he’ll think I got drunk and passed out, or just didn’t want to come home to him and my mom, or I got lucky, and he’ll ignore it, maybe wink at me a few times and smirk. I’ll make up some other stupid excuse about why I’m not coming home later.”
“Mom’s been pulling long shifts, and crashing at a friend’s house,” Miles said. “And Dad’s still in China, won’t be back until the end of the month or later. She probably won’t even notice until she gets home on Thursday, and she’s fine if I’m with you. Of course, she doesn’t know about your car. That probably helps with her thinking you’re a good, responsible kid.”
“Hey,” said Sam. “I can be a good, responsible kid even with Bumblebee around.”
“Bumblebee’s a weird name for a giant transforming robot who’s also a car,” said Miles vaguely.
“I wouldn’t tell him that,” said Sam. “But he’s great, really. I wanted to introduce you to him, but I never knew how to do it. You should spend some time with him, get to know him-you probably didn’t get a chance to get a real opinion, yesterday.”
The other two looked at him, a little dumbfounded. Trent shifted awkwardly, still holding up his towel with one hand.
“You can wear yesterday’s clothes again, can’t you?” demanded Sam, a little annoyed.
“I think your mom took them to wash,” he said, sounding uncomfortably honest, his voice slightly anxious and his words blurted. It wasn’t a side of him Sam saw at school. “They were covered in blood.”
Miles sighed. “I’d believe that Judy did that. Probably took mine, too, while she was at it. Do you still have that spare set I left here?”
“Yeah. But I dunno about you, Trent-my clothes aren’t going to fit.” Because Trent was built like, well, a football player, and Sam wasn’t. Painfully so.
Trent fidgeted. There was a knock on the door.
“Are you up?” asked Judy through the door. “I heard the shower, and Bumblebee. Trent, I have some sweats for you that should fit-your own clothes are still in the wash, I had to soak them overnight to get the blood out. I’ll leave them outside the door. Breakfast will be on the table in ten or fifteen minutes-don’t let it get cold!”
There was the sound of footsteps walking away from the door. Slowly, Trent opened it and picked up the small pile of neatly-folded clothes that had been left.
“Your mom’s great,” he said, and he sounded like he honestly meant it.
“Huh?” said Sam. He hadn’t really thought about it…
“Yeah,” said Miles fervently. “You’re so lucky. I can’t believe I just agreed with Trent.”
Sam waited for a threat, or at least a belligerent comment, but there wasn’t one.
“I’m going to go help my mom with breakfast,” he said, after a long, awkward pause, and beat a hasty retreat for the door.
He was setting the table when Trent came downstairs, still as cowed and silent as he’d been before.
“Can I help, Mrs. Witwicky?” he said, fidgeting. He looked half-dressed in the ill-fitting sweatsuit she’d found him.
“There’s no need for you to do anything,” she said instantly, shooing him in the direction of the table. “And please, call me Judy. It’s what Miles has always called me, certainly, and most of Sam’s other friends have called me ‘Sam’s Mom’ or just avoided talking to me at all. I hope you boys are hungry.”
“You always cook too much,” said Sam.
“Well, you’re growing boys,” said Judy, as if that explained everything. “And there’s three of you-that’s a good, number, considering how you can eat. I’ve also put together a picnic for you so you can head out to the lookout later. I know you and Miles will probably have all sorts of questions, Trent.”
“We don’t all fit into Bee,” said Sam. “I mean, we can, but it leaves someone crouching in the back.”
“That’s okay,” said Judy brightly. “Today’s Jazz’s day off, and he said he was planning on stopping by. You can all go then.”
“-how do you even end up knowing these things?” said Sam, utterly befuddled, looking at his mother with amazement and confusion.
“A mother has her secrets, dear. You look a little confused, Trent; is everything okay?”
“More of them…?” said Trent.
“Well, yes,” said Judy.
“I told you about it yesterday, remember?” said Sam, considerably less charitably.
“But-” began Trent, voice sounding almost helpless.
“It’s kind of overwhelming,” said Miles, slipping into his usual seat at the table. “Although I also can’t get over how unbelievably cool this all is.”
Trent stared with confusion and disbelief at Miles. He wasn’t over the shock enough yet to move onto amazement.
“You’ll like Jazz,” continued Judy, as if nobody had spoken. “He’s nice. Very personable, very friendly.”
“Where did you even get the time to meet him?” said Sam, still lost. “He’s been dead!”
“What?” said Miles.
“He got ripped in half by Megatron-that’s the leader of the Decepticons, who’re the bad guys-and then reanimated using this leftover bit of the Allspark.”
Miles’ eyes went wide. “Your life is so weird. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this!”
“Well, how would you’ve reacted if I just told you?”
Miles had to concede the point.
“Here’s breakfast,” said Judy cheerfully, sliding two full plates onto the table, one in front of each of the two guests, and then Sam’s last. She took her own breakfast, much smaller than the others’, to her own spot in the breakfast nook along with the newspaper, leaving the main table for the boys. She liked to read the news in the morning, keep up on world events, and that just wasn’t something you could do with guests at the table, and she figured they’d like a little privacy, while they figured out what they were doing for the day.
Especially considering how she tended to make Sam’s friends nervous.
“So, would you be okay with meeting Jazz and Bumblebee today? For better or for worse, you’re in on the secret now, and Barricade, at least, knows who you are. It would be good for you to get to know the Autobots, or at least get to the point where you stop freaking out around them, even when they’ve transformed.”
Trent swallowed hard, and looked like he desperately wanted to say no.
“He’s your other best friend?” said Miles slowly. “…um. Okay. I’d go.”
“…really?” said Sam and Trent, more or less simultaneously.
“Thank you,” said Sam, honestly meaning it.
“God,” muttered Trent, still looking horrified. Sam wasn’t sure if he was even meaning to speak out loud. “I wouldn’t. Damn.” Louder he said “Fine. I’ll go.”
“Good. Actually, you’ll be safer with those two then just about anywhere else.”
There was a slight pause as the three boys all hesitated. It slowly slid into a more comfortable state as they all started eating again.
After a few more minutes Judy came back out of the breakfast. “Any more to eat?” she asked hopefully.
“Yes, please,” said all three boys immediately. She smiled.
“I told you I wasn’t making too much breakfast, Sam,” she said.
oOo
“So, who are the Autobots?” asked Miles at last. He’d moved on to the asking-questions stage.
“There’s five Autobots on earth right now,” said Sam. “Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Jazz, Ratchet and Ironhide. I’ve already told you that much. But I guess I haven’t told you much else…
“Optimus Prime’s their leader. Very-heroic, I guess. If I had to say who I respected most, in all the world, I’d say it was him. He’s-I don’t know.
“Bumblebee’s the one I know best. He’s incredible. A lot of fun, and really funny, probably the youngest of the group-not that that means much, in human years. They’re all ancient. He’s a spy, but a pretty wicked fighter too.
“Jazz-I don’t know him very well. From the sounds of things, my mom knows him better than I do. I have no idea how she does that. But he’s Optimus’ second-in-command. He’s got… A lot of personality. He’s pretty friendly. Brave-to the point of foolhardy, if you ask Ratchet.
“Ratchet’s the medic. He’s usually pretty calm and even-tempered, but he’s kind of scary-and by that I mean incredibly horrifying-when he’s angry, usually because someone’s done something stupid. Mikaela and two others are with him right now, I don’t know where, exactly. We’ll probably end up meeting up with them at the lookout later.
“Ironhide’s… Well, he’s something of a gun-happy maniac. Totally crazy. He threatened to shoot me when we first met. Technically he’s the ‘weapons specialist’ of the team, meaning that he blows shit up.”
“Language, Sam,” his mother called mildly from the kitchen, where she was eavesdropping as she finished packing the boys’ picnic.
“Sorry, Mom. Anyways, Ironhide’s also kind of attached himself to another human family-the Lennoxes. There’s three of them, Will, Sarah and the baby, Annie. Well, Annabelle, really. There being watched over by him right now, and I think the rest of the members of his team are going to end up camping out with them as well. Nobody wants to leave possible targets alone in this situation.”
“That’s crazy,” Miles said. Sam wasn’t sure which bit of it he was referring to.
It was half past noon, and the three boys were hanging out in Sam’s living room, waiting for Jazz. Trent was being incredibly quiet; Miles was more talkative. Sam was doing his best to make the situation easier for Miles, at least, but the slightly pathetic air Trent had to him was making him act a little nicer than he otherwise would have. Not that that meant much, really.
“And the Decepticons?”
“Mostly dead, at least the ones we knew of. But there’s more arriving, we’re afraid. Starscream survived the final battle, and Barricade-he’s the one who went after us. Scorponok-a giant metal scorpion-is rotting somewhere out in a desert in Iraq, but he’s probably been shut down because his host, Blackout, was killed.”
“How many are out there?”
“How many what? Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter, we don’t know, when it comes to any of them-Autobots, Decepticons, whatever. The war took so long, and things were so scattered-nobody new has arrived, even though Optimus sent out a message.”
There was a long silence, and then Miles screamed, making Sam and Trent jump and, in Trent’s case, flail slightly frantically.
“What?” Sam yelled back.
“What’s going on?” Judy called from the kitchen, bustling out to have a concerned look.
“Ohhh. It’s Jazz.” Sam waved at the Autobot, who was peeking in the window. Judy blanched. “What?” asked her son.
Instead of responding, she hurried for the door. Sam drifted after her, but the other two boys stayed firmly where they were, watching the Autobot who was cheerfully watching them right back.
“Hello, Judy,” he said as she made her way up to him. “Hey, Sam. How’re you doing?”
“My garden,” breathed Judy. “You’re on my roses.”
“What?” said the mech, thrown for a loop. Sam groaned. Right-Jazz had been dead. He’d missed Judy reading Optimus the riot act her second time at the lookout. She didn’t like it when people walked in her garden, especially when they could cause the sort of damage the Autobots could. Over her shoulder, he slid a hand across his throat, miming slitting it, all the warning he could give.
“You’re on my roses. My mother’s roses. What are you doing? Don’t you ever think? Be more careful! I dote over those roses-fertilizer and weeding like clockwork, water when it’s dry, I prune them all, even the one with the thorns like knives, take care of them even in this damned California weather, and you… You! I’ve put decades of work into those, me and my mother!”
“I’m sorry,” said Jazz, trying to edge off of the square of garden without breaking anything else.
“And you got the lilies!” Judy breathed, horrified.
“Um, I’d be more concerned about how likely it is you’re going to end up seen by the neighbors. Seeing as it’s broad daylight,” Sam said. Over from the driveway, Bumblebee chirped. Judy glared at him, and he shut up.
“Don’t worry so much!” Jazz said breezily, but he complied and transformed.
“That is so fucking cool,” Miles breathed from the doorway, which he was standing in. Trent was standing further away, although they were both keeping a healthy distance from both of the Autobots.
“Damn straight!” said Jazz, making Miles jump and Trent stifle a scream of his own. “Hey there, I’m Jazz.”
“I’m Miles Gillon,” he said automatically.
There was a brief pause. “You?” said Jazz finally. Trent jumped, this time. “Trent,” he managed to get out through his surprise and fear.
“Miles is my other best friend-I’ve known him since forever-and Trent’s Mikaela’s ex-girlfriend. He was vandalizing Miles’ mailbox when Barricade attacked, and I was giving Miles a ride home, so they both ended up caught in the crossfire.”
Judy shook her head. “It’s reprehensible, involving innocent children like that.”
“They’re Decepticons,” Bumblebee pointed out.
“Yes, but still. I don’t think that they could all be like that.” Bee made a mild noise of disagreement.
“It’s true, though, that they’re not all as bad as Barricade,” said Jazz.
Judy shook her head. “Anyways, I’m holding you all up. Sam, here’s the picnic basket-I packed some extra, in case other people showed up, I heard that they might. It all depends. Now get going, okay? I’ll see you all later. Call if you’re not going to be home tonight, Sam, and don’t forget to stop by Trent and Miles’ houses. You two will need clothes eventually. Bye!”
There was a brief pause. “So, who’s going with who?” said Sam at last.
Judy poked her head back out of the doorway. “Probably Sam and Trent with Jazz, and Miles with Bumblebee,” she said, tone indicating a firm suggestion. “That way, Sam can spend some more time with Jazz-you really haven’t had much-and Miles can spend some time with Bumblebee. It will be good for Sam’s two best friends to have some time to talk, get to know each other. Don’t you think so, Sam?”
Trent looked hugely relieved. Again, Sam had the feeling that he hadn’t wanted to end up alone-well, for a given extent of ‘alone.’ He would have been with one of the Autobots, no matter what. Actually, that might be the problem-it would make more sense, certainly.
“…okay?” said Miles.
“You two are okay with whatever?” Sam asked the two Autobots.
“Sure,” Jazz said. Bumblebee beeped in agreement. “But let’s go.”
oOo
On to Part 2