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Lines	By : CGH Category: S through Z > Transformers (Movie Only) > Transformers (Movie Only) Views: 3802 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the Transformers. I am not making money off writing this.

Chapter List
- 1-Lines
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16 (FINALE)
- 9
- 10
- 11
"...been detecting transmissions from above the atmosphere." Ultra Magnus' smooth voice woke Mikaela from a light sleep. He shifted towards her bedroom window and went on, "It was Soundwave. He scrambled my navigation when I landed. Having a vehicle available to a mech my size was fool's luck."

Optimus walked with him, his voice right behind Mikaela's head. "Have you picked up any relevant chatter since oh two hundred?"

She opened her eyes. It wasn't quite four o'clock in the morning--so still dark out and the curtains were closed. The wall creaked when Ultra Magnus leaned slightly against it.

"Not as of now, no. Bumblebee hasn't been detected either, but his progress here is slowed by the boy's repeated need for fuel and voiding waste."

Optimus said, "Keep monitoring them. Only communicate on the encrypted gamma channel."

"Right. E.T.A. is approximately ten hours. Possibly more if he remains at home for the first night."

Mikaela yawned and staggered into the bathroom to empty her bladder. Since she didn't bother turning on the light, she could see clearly out the sliding glass door. Ultra Magnus emerged from beside the cabin and touched the sides of his head with his fingertips. The tips of his antennae extended another foot and fanned out into glistening dishes that turned every which-way.

"Prime," Ratchet's voice was at the bedroom window by the time Mikaela settled back down in bed again. "I need to take Ironhide offline temporarily for surgery. A gear in his leg is about to fail and needs immediate replacement."

"Take care of it." Optimus answered. He didn't sigh or sound dismayed, but the way he clipped the words indicated he wasn't too pleased at having a man down right now. "How long until he's functional?"

"Three hours if there aren't any complications." Ratchet's footsteps thumped away from the cabin.

Mikaela finished her business and return to bed. The cold air seeped into her skin and she shivered, pulling the warm comforter and sheets up to her neck while she curled up on her side. She was almost asleep again when Elita decided four o'clock in the morning was the most perfect time in the world to start kicking.

This is practice for all the nights she'll wake me up to eat or change her diaper. Hm...eating...

Elita showed no signs of letting up. Mikaela's ribs already felt a little sore from the beatings.

Sighing, Mikaela shrugged into a plush white bathrobe she found in the linen closet and pulled on her old Wolverine slipper socks. She padded slowly downstairs. The kitchen lights had a dial that let her control the brightness, so she turned them on dim and promptly dug in the refrigerator for the piece of leftover meatloaf she didn't finish at dinner time. Saving leftovers wasn't really necessary now--Mikaela just did by habit as a throwback from her days when leftover dinner might have been tomorrow morning's breakfast.

Mikaela cut a slice of meatloaf and transferred it to a plate that she covered in plastic wrap. Into the microwave it went, and she proceeded to down half a carton of orange juice while waiting for the meatloaf to warm up. The cucumber sitting in the produce drawer looked good. She cut a few slices of that to nibble on while waiting for the meatloaf.

I remember when I'd be puking if I even thought about eating this stuff...wow, time flies. At least I'm mostly over morning sickness. I don't miss it at all.

Minutes later, Mikaela took the orange juice carton and used an oven mitt to carry the hot meatloaf plate into the living room. She sat on the floor by the huge south facing windows.

The crystal clear winter horizon was a black veil doused in tiny diamonds. Optimus appeared as a moving spire against the backdrop of the sky. He gracefully eased to sit next to the house, one knee pulled against his chest and the other straight out in front of him--the same way he sat by the doors of the warehouse. His head hung chin to chest; he didn't seem to care that his tiny little(in proportion to him, anyway) butt just flattened a snowdrift. Frost clung to the edges of the windows on his chest armor. Actually, a very light coating of frost covered his whole body, so he glistened.

Optimus hugged his other knee to his chest, folded his arms on top of them and used them to cradle his head. He'd be looking right at Mikaela if the windows weren't mirrored on the outside. His bottom lip plate pouted outwards. Clearly she'd slept through the most important parts of whatever conversation he had with Ultra Magnus earlier.

Mikaela swallowed the last bite of the rich meatloaf and finished off the orange juice. The sky was cloudy the next time she looked up.

Optimus seemed to gaze deep at his own reflection as if asking himself a question he couldn't answer. What went through his mind at such an hour? Doubts? Fears? Choices? Mikaela saw Optimus' optics flicker. Then his eyelids fluttered--keeping them open obviously took more effort than one so burdened could muster. They finally closed after a five minute battle, and stayed that way.

A white puff drifted from the sky. Another followed. Then more...the snow fell gently while Optimus, unaware of it, recharged in silence.

.o

Relentless snow blustered around the window as Mikaela held up outfit after outfit and studied her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. Her mind reeled, torn between wearing something baggy that hid her belly or pulling on something tight to show it off.

She finally decided on her favorite "skinny" maternity jeans that brought out the color in her eyes, a tight white turtleneck and, for extra warmth, a red and white plaid flannel shirt left unbuttoned. After a quick shower, she dressed and blow-dried her dripping hair. Even with the heater on, wet hair made her feel icy cold. Another twenty minutes were spent deciding what to do with her hair. Being pregnant made it grow thicker, shinier and glossier than it had ever been. She left it down, but gave the ends a little wave via her curling iron before using a light foundation to cover up the hormone-inflicted zits and blotches on her face. A little mascara, some cocoa-colored eyeliner, a pinch of blush and a few passes of coral pink lip-gloss later, she was done.

This is going to be awkward no matter what we do or say, Mikaela bit her lip.

The wall thumped. She hurried to the bedroom window. Optimus nodded his head towards the front of the cabin.

Sam had arrived.

Mikaela waved in thanks and pulled in a deep breath to calm the nervous butterflies in her stomach. God, just don't let us end up fighting...

She took the stairs carefully because of her changing center of gravity. The front door had an oval shaped frosted glass window, and through it she could see a faint human outline shifting to and fro. This couldn't be any easier for him either.

Sam knocked.

Mikaela jumped with the sudden electricity injected into her pulse. She breathed again and opened the door with a shaky hand, wishing for all the world to be somewhere else. A wall of icy air greeted her. "Hey, Sam."

"Hi, Mikaela." Sam flashed a shy little grin. He appeared just as uncomfortable as she felt--his smile seemed slightly too tight to be fully natural.

Mikaela sidestepped and gestured for him to enter, closing the door once he did. Sam was loaded underneath a heavy winter jacket, snow boots and two plastic Target bags that rustled upon being set down. Mikaela helped him get the jacket and boots off. He wore just a plain gray sweatshirt under a black Green Day T-shirt and faded jeans with scuffed knees. His clothes looked rumpled as if he'd slept in them. She opened the closet right next to the front door and hung the jacket on a hook inside the door, then unrolled a towel underneath to set the boots on so the melting snow wouldn't form puddles all over the wooden floor.

Sam looked exhausted--there were circles under his eyes and his chin was prickly when he reached over to embrace her. So much time around Optimus made Sam's touch feel soft and foreign.

"How's it going?" he asked, pulling back to glance down at her belly.

"Pretty good, considering." Mikaela said. She suddenly felt like closing the flannel shirt around her changing body. "It's pretty weird being surrounded by Autobots twenty-four-seven...but I'm dealing. How's college?"

"Fine." Sam reached back for the bags he brought in. One had two wrapped gifts. The other had a canned honey-baked ham and a large stainless steel thermos. Sam set the presents down under the tree. Reaching for the second bag, he went on, "Figured I'd bring some Christmas cheer. Here's the ham...and some of my mom's homemade hot chocolate."

His smile still seemed a little forced. Not in the sense of his not wanting to be there, but the unsaid truth gleamed in his hazel eyes.

Mikaela gazed at him while he explained his mother's secret ingredient being skim milk and a marshmallow. She tried to search for what first attracted her to him in the first place, and something in the back of her heart ached when she realized she couldn't find it anymore. They'd grown apart like a tree trunk split down the middle by lightning. Between them stood a wound neither could mend, and they both knew it.

"I noticed Ironhide on the ground out there. Is he okay?"

"Oh." Mikaela paused while setting the thermos on the kitchen counter. "Just a leg problem. Ratchet ordered him to rest for a few more hours."

"That's cool." Sam said. They moved into the living room and plopped down on the couch. The muted TV played a commercial for baby formula. Sam glanced at it, cleared his throat and hung his head, examining a smudge on heel of his sock.

Shadows briefly blotted out the light coming through the windows. Ultra Magnus had appeared to greet Bumblebee. Optimus emerged from further off, his hands cupping firewood that he neatly piled up on the deck to dry.

Sam's eyes hardened at the sight of the Autobot leader. It passed in a second, but the look lasted long enough to be obvious.

Unaware, Optimus straightened and joined Bumblebee and Ultra Magnus. Their discussion looked pretty serious.

Mikaela saw Sam fidget with a thread on the hem of his T-shirt.

"So, who's the white bot?"

"That's Ultra Magnus, and no, he and Optimus aren't related."

"Ah."

Dammit, Mikaela cursed mentally, It's more awkward than I thought it'd be!

Her mind raced for something to say that'd fill in the silence. She settled on: "Um...let's drink some of that hot chocolate while it's still hot."

"Huh? Oh! Sure, why not?" Sam chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mikaela realized he wasn't getting up, so she rolled her eyes and did it herself. Mugs were kept in the cupboard above the sink. She got two, poured the still-warm hot chocolate and brought him a mug. Then she sat down again and sipped from hers.

At least the hot chocolate tasted good. Very rich and creamy without the grit of pre-made mixes. "Mm, what's your mom's trick again?"

"She puts a marshmallow in the blender. Just one, but it's one of those big ones you put on s'mores. That's why it's kind of thick. She says otherwise the hot chocolate is just too watery and gross."

Mikaela caught herself wishing Optimus could taste it. She shut it out to let the heat of the warm drink pool in her stomach. "Aren't your parents mad that you're driving twelve hours total just to come see me?"

"I um..." He scratched at his stubble, "...yeah." Then he stared into his mug, which he held tightly enough to turn his fingernails pale. Here it comes. Mikaela thought when he looked up at her again. "I met somebody on campus."

"Really?" Mikaela pretended to be more surprised than she felt. Would this have happened if she weren't pregnant right now? She sat back on the couch, wiped off the bottom of her mug and rested it lightly against her belly. The brown fluid inside rippled as Elita kicked. "Tell me about her."

Sam blinked. He'd been put on the spot and realized it a second too late. "Uhh...heh, she looks kinda like you, 'xcept her eyes are brown and her hair's curly and she's--" he cleared his throat-- "kinda thin. She models for catalogues and stuff to pay for college."

"Does she have a name?" Mikaela kept her tone neutral so it wouldn't sound like a grilling. Still, a model...probably one of those dumb, prissy women who threw a fit if they broke a nail.

"Charlotte. But she goes by Charley most of the time." Sam gulped from his hot chocolate mug. "She knows as much about cars as I do."

Ha! Guess I was too smart for you, Sam. Mikaela rubbed her belly in a subtle attempt to have Sam at least ask about it. How strange that a pregnant stomach didn't feel like a flabby one. It was more like the surface of a hard-boiled egg with the yolk removed. Firm, yet able to be compressed if something applied enough force

Her ministrations worked.

"How far along are you now?"

"Five and a half months." Mikaela smiled inwardly--at least he could acknowledge the elephant in the room. "Finally past the puking...now I just have a lot of weird food cravings. She's kicking me right now. Want to feel it?"

Sam scooted away an inch. "Uh...thanks...but my hands are all grubby from digging Bumblebee out of a snow bank. Don't wanna mess up your shirt."

Or you just don't want to touch me any more than you have to. Mikaela sighed inwardly. She should have seen this coming. How could a baby--one only she knew didn't really belong to him--cause such a rift between them? Why did they become strangers in the span of a few months?

"The presents!" Sam jumped up and grabbed them from under the tree. Clearly he wanted an excuse to stall their conversation. He seized the parcels and jogged back to the couch. "Here."

One was a small, slightly heavy rectangular box wrapped in blue paper decorated by glittery snowflakes and curly white ribbon. The other was larger rectangle exactly the size and shape for clothes. Red and white striped paper with a silver bow had been used to wrap this one.

Mikaela unwrapped the bigger present first. It was a pretty blue and white plaid flannel nightgown that buttoned up the front. "Oh! Neat!" She tried to sound enthused, but in reality wasn't sure it'd even fit her changing body. "I won't be massive yet, so this'll probably feel great when it's nastily cold out."

Sam smiled and handed her the smaller box. She worked the paper ribbon off and carefully used her thumbnail to tear into the paper.

It was a little white music box with a twirling ballerina under the lid. The tune of Memory from Cats played when she wound the key.

The bitterness she felt towards Sam lessened a half-degree. He had no money, but he spared some for a nightgown and a cheap music box. A man who could spare something for a child couldn't be a total clod, right?

"It's really cute, Sam. Thanks." Mikaela reached over to give him a one-armed hug. She felt like a jerk for not getting him anything, and hoped he'd just assume the situation didn't allow her time to go out shopping. "How about I cook up that ham and we have a feast?"

"Sure!"

"Should I make it with green eggs?"

He eyed her and snickered. "Shut up."

Mikaela grinned and turned the dial on the oven to start pre-heating it. She was just about to dig the ham out of the can when Optimus' bot-holo knocked gently on the back door, which was right between the stove and the stainless steel fridge. The sudden sound startled her. She opened the door to let him in, "Hey, why didn't you just pop up inside?"

"I didn't want to startle Sam." Optimus said. The acoustics in the kitchen made his deep voice boom even when he spoke in a normal conversational tone. "I happened to overhear you mention the food, and I thought I would prepare it so you can vis--"

"You cook?" Sam was in the doorway, looking so incredulous it made Mikaela bite back a rude snicker.

"Why is that so strange? I learned to prepare food when the early stages of Mikaela's pregnancy made doing so too tiring for her." Optimus already had the ham in his hands, along with an oven bag, a pan and a number of ingredients necessary for flavor.

The look Sam gave Optimus wasn't the kindest one. Either Optimus didn't notice or proved excellent at pretending not to. Not once did he pause while gathering up everything he'd need.

"The weight of this meat will require five hours in the oven."

"And how does a robot who can't smell or taste know when food is ready?" Sam hedged. His eyes were heating up like a volcano about to erupt. Mikaela never knew him to be so jealous.

Optimus turned to him and smiled, though his optics had a bit of shock hidden in their glow. "I have chemical receptors that inform me when something I'm preparing has changed properties--or as you put it--is 'done.'"

"That's so--"

"I think I'm gonna go freshen up." Mikaela interrupted, walking between them and towards the stairs. It was going to get ugly no matter what she did or said, but she didn't want to get in the crossfire and turn it into a screaming match. She hurried up to the loft with the pool table and peered over the railing. There, she had a clear view of their reflections in the black oven door.

Not a moment too soon.

Sam washed his hands in the kitchen sink, dried them and stuffed them into his jeans pockets. "I don't get it, Optimus. I just don't. I went to school with her most of my life, and you pop up and...I don't get it! What do you have that I don't?"

Most guys Mikaela knew would explode at this point. Optimus just stood there, calm as ever, and answered smoothly, "I do not see how asking such a question is relevant to the answers you want."

"What do you see in her?"

A long pause. The slosh of a knife pre-slicing the ham. Rattling from the oven bag. The baking pan touching the countertop with a soft clank.

"I see someone who has been through the same struggles I've gone through." Optimus placed the ham in the oven without bothering to set the timer. "Someone who has become stronger for it. Her life has not been an easy or a kind one. You come from a vastly different upbringing."

"So?"

"Sam, there are some situations you simply cannot understand unless you have experienced them yourself." Optimus kept himself maddeningly calm. "That does not mean your own problems have less value than hers...they are simply issues of a different caliber."

"I kinda guessed that by her old house."

"Yes, but have you ever sat down and listened to her, Sam? Have you ever just let her talk and not judge?" Optimus' voice remained level.

Mikaela watched Sam bite the tip of his own thumb and pace along the kitchen floor. No, he hadn't...Mikaela never felt comfortable telling him all the little details of her growing up almost homeless for much of her life. She'd warned him that she wasn't a 'good' girl...

"But--just--no offense, Optimus, but you're not even human! I don't get it! I just don't!"

"What I don't understand," Optimus leaned forward, and this time Mikaela recognized the slight edge creeping into his voice, "is why love on this planet is bound by so many unwritten stipulations. Frankly, most humans would probably call the relationship I had with Megatron a homosexual one simply because, according to your gender standards, we are both considered male."

"I-isn't it?"

"There are no genders on Cybertron."

"But Arcee..."

"Your people placed the female gender role upon her. She simply didn't take offense to it, and chose to embrace it."

Sam shook his head. He crossed his arms, grumbling. "You can't kiss Mikaela--you don't even have a..." he gesticulated vaguely at his own crotch.

Optimus' expression went from dark to mildly amused. "Not necessary. Ask Mikaela for details if you wish--I have no desire to discuss it without her consent."

It went quiet for a moment. Mikaela could hear Optimus chopping. Sam folded one arm across his stomach, rested his elbow on his palm and rubbed his mouth with his other hand.

"I had a normal life," Sam muttered just loud enough to be heard. "I went to school, I had a car--"

"A car that led you to us because our fates were destined to intertwine. Like it or not, we were linked the moment your ancestor stumbled upon Megatron." Optimus went from chopping carrots to cutting up a head of lettuce.

Sam hung his head and Mikaela couldn't see his face. "I should've let dad get me the Mustang."

The rustling of knife through lettuce paused for a beat. "Yet you didn't."

"I didn't know."

Optimus chuckled, but Mikaela knew him well enough to know it was a bitter laugh. "Destiny is like birth, Sam. It is inevitable, and no matter how far or fast you run, the child will eventually be born. Right now, you are part of something far larger than yourself." He finished with the lettuce, added it to the bowl and reached for the tomatoes. "You can choose to fight it, or you can learn to accept and live with it."

"What about being a Prime? Didn't you have a choice in that?"

The Autobot leader shook his head. "Primes are born, not made. My fate was decided the moment my ancestors opened their optics to a very young universe. I lived a sheltered life for most of my...you could call it a childhood. I was happy with nothing to worry about other than keeping my servos out of trouble. Then one day I awoke to Megatron leading an army and a sea of people who needed a leader to stand up against him. Then the mech I called 'father' pulled me aside and began to talk to me about the Dynasty of Primes, the Matrix of Leadership, the Cube...what do you think I said to all of that?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders.

Optimus went on, "I told him he had the wrong bot. I didn't want any part of the war. I didn't want to fight against someone I still loved." He mixed the tomatoes into the salad. "Sixty seconds after I uttered those words, our home was bombed. My father died instantly in the blast. Everything around me was in burning ruins. My life had changed in the time it takes to blink an eye. The last thing my father remembered was me scoffing at him. Now, I would give anything to tell him he was right."

"But that's different," Sam said, frowning. He fidgeted with the dishtowel. "You weren't trying to live a normal life at the same time you had to fight a war."

Mikaela gripped the railing as a violent urge to strangle Sam leapt into her hands.

Suddenly, Optimus slapped the knife down on the countertop. He whirled on Sam and stepped into his personal space. The look on his face was so poisonous it made Sam back up against the sink.

"I sacrificed my life to fight this war. I died saving your life." Despite his anguish, his voice remained cool and even. "I am trying to keep this world from becoming like my own, but it is already halfway there because your species is just as violent as my ancestors."

"Why me?" Sam exploded. He threw his arms up in the air, "Out of all the people in the world you mix up with, it's me. Why? I did my part with the Cube. I did my part bringing you back. And I get paid back by you stealing my girlfriend! I don't get it!"

"She was there when we both needed the same thing, and it escalated." Optimus' servos whirred, and to his credit his voice lowered to an apologetic rumble. "We tried more than once to end our relationship. Then the pregnancy popped up, and you weren't there for her."

His tone wasn't accusing, but his statement stilled the verbal battlefield for a few heartbeats.

"I have a life. I can't just give it up because of a baby with bad timing." Now Sam was irate, his voice rising to fill the kitchen. "Then I find out you're boning Mikaela behind my back! What the hell do I say to that? Huh?" He squared his shoulders and glared, his teeth gleaming. "You're supposed to be the leader with all the answers and integrity, so explain it to me! Or should I have paid attention to all those rumors I heard about her being a sl--"

Optimus grabbed the front of Sam's shirt, yanking him so close they were nose to nose. When he spoke, it was almost too softly to hear, "That's enough, Sam."

"You--"

"Insult my honor all you like, but do not insult hers."

Sam's face was suitably pale once Optimus let go. Nothing about Optimus' words were threatening, yet even Mikaela couldn't resist the chill in her spine. Sam backed off and smoothed his shirt, all the while avoiding Optimus' eyes.

Mikaela didn't want to watch or listen to any more of this. She did the freshening up she came upstairs for in the first place and headed back downstairs. Grabbing her winter coat off the rack in the closet, she pulled it on. By then, Optimus and Sam had separated and moved to opposite ends of the kitchen.

"I forgot the um...the toilet paper is running low. I should go get more before I forget again." She pretended she hadn't heard the exchange. "Shouldn't take too long."

"Go with her, Sam." Optimus said pointedly. "You two have a lot to discuss. No one should spend their holidays mired in animosity."

That made Mikaela groan mentally. She was planning to sit on the front steps and cry for a few minutes before leaving, and now she didn't even have that luxury. Biting back tears made her head ache.

"Easy for you to say." Sam muttered, but he grabbed his coat and boots. "Bumblebee can take us."

Sure. Bumblebee. The friend Sam would have traded in for his perfect little life. Mikaela's anguish stuck to her tongue like a foul taste. Whether or not me meant it, Sam talked about the Autobots like they were giant toys without feelings.

Mikaela got outside before Sam could shrug into his jacket. The biting cold stung her nostrils when she inhaled the crisp, clean air.

And she was just in time to catch Bumblebee dancing next to a very confused Ultra Magnus, his radio blaring.

"You said you had important information!" Ultra Magnus barked.

Bumblebee kept on dancing.

"Never gonna give you up.

Never gonna let you down.

Never gonna run around and desert you.

Never gonna make you cry.

Never gonna say goodbye.

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you..."

"What in the world are you doing?" Mikaela couldn't stay sour with a hysterical display like that.

Bumblebee's radio cut out. He looked down and his optics twinkled in a mischievous smile. "Rickrolling, of course."

"Mikaela," Ultra Magnus calmly knelt to be more on her level. The way his eyebrow tabs tilted made the seam in his forehead look exactly like a wrinkle of confusion. "Could you please explain to me what a 'Rickroll' is and why it is so amusing?"

Sam closed the door behind her with a thumb and his boots crunched on the snowy front steps.

"It's a joke we play." Mikaela suppressed a giggle. "Um...it's funny because you get set up to expect one thing, and get the song instead."

Ultra Magnus, Mikaela realized, made some of the funniest faces out of all the Autobots. His facial plating scrunched like he'd eaten something sour as he stood up and lightly smacked Bumblebee upside the head. "Clearly you have taken a liking to this world's culture. Hopefully I will learn to understand it. Now, if you will excuse me, I should go back to listening for Decepticon chatter."

Sam sighed, his breath visible in the chilly afternoon air. He kept his head bowed.

Mikaela zipped up her gray jacket. "Hey, 'Bee, could you take us to Stater's real quick?"

Nodding, Bumblebee happily folded himself into a Camaro. Sam immediately took the driver's seat, leaving Mikaela to get into the passenger's side herself. As she sat down, she felt a foot jab her ribs.

"Don't kick me right now," she grumbled.

"I didn't kick you." Sam said.

"I wasn't talking to you." Mikaela replied. She pressed a fist against her side where the outlines of feet moved against her knuckles. Sometimes a few moments of pressure made Elita kick somewhere less painful.

"Does she move around a lot now?"

Mikaela grasped the edge of her seat when Bumblebee pulled out onto the dirt road. She glanced at Sam, who gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead.

"Yeah," she turned her attention forward. "Optimus thinks it's the most fascinating thing in the world when she kicks. Sometimes I pull my shirt up and we just sit and watch little outlines of feet move across my stomach. It's so weird."

A noticeable tension rippled along Sam's posture. He adjusted himself in the seat. "I don't want to talk about Optimus right now."

That stung. Mikaela took her hand off the seat before her fingernails got a chance to dig into the leather. "You know what? The only reason I really noticed you is because we got mixed up in this mess between the Autobots and Decepticons. I thought maybe I could talk to you about it all, you know, since you saw the same things I did."

"Yeah, sure. And then you go off on prom night and--"

"God, Sam! For somebody who's almost twenty-one, you need to grow the hell up." Mikaela almost couldn't contain the swell of anguish rising into the base of her skull. "I saw Optimus cry, Sam. I couldn't just leave him out there. Things went from there and--"

"Tch. I paid eighty bucks for you to go off with somebody else."

"Take your head out of your ass for one minute and pay attention to somebody besides yourself," Mikaela snapped. "I'm just as confused and messed up as you are, okay?"

"I still don't know what you see in him."

Bumblebee stopped at a red light and Mikaela wondered what he thought of the whole argument.

"You really want to know?"

"Yeah." Sam rapped on the steering wheel. "Might as well know where I failed, right?"

Mikaela rolled her eyes. "He's not interested in me because I'm 'the hot girl.'"

Sam's jaw dropped. He balked at her, "D'you really think that's the only reason I liked you?"

"Then name another one."

"Uhhh..."

Ugh! Mikaela nearly slugged him right there. Not out of spite, but because she couldn't even argue with him and keep it coherent.

The silence stretched on, growing more awkward until Bumblebee's radio suddenly blasted Jordin Sparks:

"Why does love always feel like a battlefield?

A battlefield...

A battlefield...

Why does love always feel like--"

Sam shut the radio back off.

"Optimus can't even kiss you." He dragged their discussion back to its beginning.

"Actually, he can, just in his own way." She was getting so upset that her stomach wound itself in knots. The next words out of her mouth surfaced before her mind could suppress them. "And, in case you're wondering, he does a hell of a job getting me off."

"I still think that's gross." Sam muttered, and Bumblebee suddenly stalled. He blinked and turned the key. Bumblebee shuddered a few times, his engine making a whining noise suspiciously similar to a mechanical sob.

"Hey, Bumblebee? What's the deal?" Sam kept twisting the key until they started moving again.

"The cold irritates my intakes." Bumblebee said by way of reply. He sounded off. "My apologies."

Mikaela knew the Camaro was crying when she felt the seat beneath her twitch. She lowered her hand out of Sam's sight and petted the inside of his door in attempt to bring a little comfort.

Moments later, they drove up to the parking lot of the Stater Brothers supermarket. It was getting late and dusk turned the sky lavender. Bumblebee's tires skidded a little on the slippery, icy driveway.

Sam made a face. "C'mon, Bumblebee, stop clowning around and--"

Mikaela saw headlights coming up fast behind them. The next thing she knew was the crunch of a rear-end impact. She grabbed her belly instinctively as her forehead smashed into the brick wall of a deploying airbag. The collision knocked her head violently backwards and she fell back against the seat. Her world swam. She vaguely noticed Sam draped across Bumblebee's steering wheel like discarded clothing tossed haphazardly aside. Why hadn't the driver's side airbag fired?

Somebody opened the passenger side door. Mikaela couldn't focus on the person's face beyond noticing a mustache and black aviator sunglasses.

"Sam!" Mikaela called out. "Get Sam! Sam! Sam!"

"Don't worry, I'll retrieve him." The cop said. He carried her to his car and laid her in the back seat. "You lay still. I will transport you and your friend to the hospital myself."

"My baby--"

"Is fine. I felt it move."

He walked away and returned with Sam, belting him into the front seat.

Mikaela rolled over and noticed weird stitching in the black upholstery. No, not stitching.

A Decepticon sigil.

Her hold on consciousness failed as Barricade drove away, leaving Bumblebee by the roadside.
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