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Between Mind and Heart	By : CGH Category: S through Z > Transformers (Movie Only) > Transformers (Movie Only) Views: 4656 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers movie, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Screeching tires filled the night air. Mikaela's reality swirled around her. She thought of her mom, her dad, Sam and--

Optimus barely banked away from skidding off the hill. In doing so, he tilted until he lost his balance and rolled. Sparks flew and screeching metal tore into Mikaela's ears as Optimus flipped twice and slid the rest of the way on his side. His passenger side mirror snapped off with a sickening crunch. An eternity went by before the grinding sounds gave way to stillness and the patter of rain.

"Are you all right?"

She gulped air into her lungs. Gravity pushed her neck painfully against the seatbelt straps. "Y-yeah...are you?"

"Nothing Ratchet can't repair," came his cool reply. "Barricade is gone."

"He didn't follow us?"

"No, he didn't." Optimus' engine rumbled, idling. "The train likely injured him enough to hide and repair himself."

"I'm just glad that ugly bastard isn't here to kick you while you're down."

"You have a point," he chuckled bemusedly, "And I've learned a lesson in road dynamics that may prove an advantage in the rain. The train hit Barricade because his brakes failed on the wet road."

"Hydroplaning. Yeah, it's nasty." Mikaela waited for her heart to slow down. "Can you get up?"

"Not unless I transform."

Which would crush her if she stayed in his cab--she'd seen him transform enough times to know he had no room to house a person in his true form.

I'm glad I wore old clothes today.

She pushed the door open, unbuckled her seat belt and vaulted up into the stinging rain. Then she swung her legs over his underside and slid down, gripping the doorstep to break her fall before hopping to the ground. His wet chrome soaked the butt of her jeans. She landed in a puddle that splashed her front half. Water squelched over the sides of her shoes, soaking her socks. The rain continued its assault, drenching her hair and jean jacket.

Ugh, just great. Thanks a lot, Barricade! Mikaela thought miserably. She focused her despair into her making her voice loud enough to hear over the rain. "I'm clear."

The overturned red and blue Peterbilt broke into pieces as its shape slowly transfigured itself into a twenty-eight foot tall bipedal robot with gentle, glowing blue eyes. Mikaela glimpsed the glimmer of his Spark when his engine block flipped over to make room for his torso. The crash left silver scratches and dents all down his side.

Optimus stood still a moment, staring off in the general direction they came from. The rain ran off his body in sheets and washed the mud off his tires. He frowned and glanced at his hands. Without a word he shifted back into vehicle mode. Every motion of his body was slow, deliberate, as if he didn't want to aggravate an injury.

Soaked, Mikaela scrambled back into his cab and scooted over into the passenger seat. The heater came on before she had a chance to complain about being cold.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

"My sensors are experiencing a five nanosecond lag. It isn't--serious. Think of it as your equivalent to a mild concussion."

"Optimus, I swear, if you're really hurt you had better tell me."

"Mikaela, I'm fine." For once, he sounded a little irritated, his voice taking on a prickly edge that normally wasn't there. She remembered him using the same tone towards Agent Simmons.

"Don't get pissy, okay? Please?" Mikaela wasn't in the mood to fight--not even with a billions-of-years-old mechanical life form. She still hadn't recovered from how close they came to flipping into the gorge. She gritted her teeth and covered her eyes with one hand, fighting back tears.

"Mikaela..." Cool metal fingertips brushed her wrist. She grasped the hand as if her life depended on it. Another hand cupped her knuckles in an envelope of safety. "I apologize for getting short with you."

If what she saw earlier was him getting testy, she'd knew she'd hate to see him enraged.

"It's okay. I'm just...I'm just freaked out right now. Barricade chasing us--it's just like my nightmares. I'm not over those yet."

"I won't let him hurt you." Optimus' hologram reached over and lifted her hand off her eyes. His metallic face and shining blue optics offered the sincerest reassurance of his oath, "I promise."

Lightning illuminated his angled visage. His hologram did not reflect the damage to his real body.

Aesthetically, he was pleasing to look at. But it wasn't his appearance that captured her. Part of her attraction to him came from his voice...in fact his voice intrigued her from the beginning. Then there was his optics. What made his eyes--those robotic, alien, yet beautiful eyes--so deep and alluring? They weren't just cameras that read movement like Honda's ASIMO robot...they penetrated her. He gazed at her like she held the world. Like she meant something. And there was the fact that he wasn't hanging around with her to gain status amongst his peers. He liked to be with her, not be seen with her.

Mikaela sucked in a breath. She had a million things she wanted to say, but didn't know how. Words seemed too cumbersome. Defining her feelings proved impossible. A million unspoken things hung on the water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. She squeezed his metal hand and pushed her emotions out in a single, whispered word.

"Thanks."

Optimus' mouth and eyes softened into a smile. He patted her hand, "You're welcome."

The rain lightened from a downpour to soft patters against the windows.

Then his engine rumbled to life and amusement trickled into his smile. He slowly winked one eye shut, "Watch this...I'm going to drive myself."

"You can do that?"

Moving back, Optimus did exactly what he said. He pressed the gas pedal with his foot, grasped bottom of the steering wheel and eased the truck--himself--into motion.

The radio popped on. Haunting piano and guitar chords rippled from the speakers. Old music--seventies--and Optimus tapped his fingers on the wheel in time to the lazy, relaxed beat.

Waves of nostalgia washed over Mikaela. She knew this song because her dad always played it when he worked on cars.

The lyrics emerged like smoke. Optimus opened his mouth and sang along when the song reached the chorus, his deep voice finding perfect harmony with the lead singer of Lynyrd Skynyrd.

"...'cause I'm as free as a bird now...and this bird you cannot change... Sing it with me, Mikaela... and this bird you cannot change..."

Mikaela jumped in with him and turned the song into the strangest three-part harmony she'd ever heard. Optimus revved his engines and...looked utterly ridiculous trying to play an air guitar. He met her eyes and his mouth plates quirked into something she could only describe as a smirk.

After all the tension, the fright and the stress, Mikaela guffawed. She decided she liked this side of Optimus. He seemed so approachable and friendly, nothing like the unimpeachable, emotionally distant being he was when they first met. And she doubted he'd ever act this way around anyone besides her. She...freed him...somehow.

Optimus tipped his head back and laughed as the song ended. "I don't know what it is about that particular song...I often play it when I'm alone. Does it have any significance to you?"

"Yeah," Mikaela gazed out the window. Laughing so hard left her relaxed, "It reminds me of my dad. And sometimes..." She looked at him. It was dark inside his truck cab, so all she could see was the glow of his optics and the street lights playing off his chrome body. "...so do you."

"I'm honored," he said gently, meeting her gaze. "How long is his sentence?"

"Ten years. He has five more to go."

"Why did he break the law?"

She bit her lip, "We needed money. When you're desperate, Optimus, you do crazy things." And he nodded in complete understanding. She went on, "The three of us were living in his camper so my mom could pay for medical school. I remember...one time...I sat in Pizza Hut all day so I could collect the pizza crusts people left behind and eat them for dinner. Then I used a garden hose to brush my teeth and wash my hair. When the cops came and demanded I identify my dad in a lineup, I refused to do it. Didn't keep him out of jail, but I know I'm not the one who turned him in. And I know you know more than anybody how hard it is to see someone you love in trouble."

Optimus' optics blinked twice in rapid succession.

"And Sam...he's sweet and I like him a lot...but he doesn't know what it's like to have a hard life. He complains about how his parents suffocate him when he doesn't realize how lucky he is to have two parents to smother him."

"Sam is a smart young man," said Optimus. He eased the steering wheel to the left and merged onto the freeway overpass. It was a roundabout way to reach the warehouse, but Mikaela figured he took the long way so they had more time to talk. "You both seem to have what the other wants--him, more freedom and you, more shelter."

Yeah, but you have the understanding, Optimus, she thought. You know what it means to sacrifice, suffer and wonder whether or not you'll wake up alive tomorrow.

"I'm always afraid I'll wake up to find everything I care about gone," Mikaela sighed. "Does anything like that scare you?"

"It's...a similar fear," Optimus replied softly, and she tried not to look at his hands when they slid apart to grip the wheel at five and seven o'clock. "Helplessness."

"That's how I feel most of the time. I make up for it by acting tougher than I am. Sometimes I--just want to scream and hit something."

"I understand." He glanced at her, his expression easing into a smile, "Just don't hit me. I heard you have a rather mean left hook."

"Don't worry, I'll hit Ratchet instead." She smiled back before growing serious again. "I've gotta admit--I didn't see why you had to hold back until I saw how Ironhide reacted to you talking in your sleep. You really are the glue that holds them together."

Optimus frowned, "It isn't an easy position. I'm so mired in decisions--some of which may put my men at risk." His frown melted into casual bemusement. "Which is why I take great enjoyment in excursions like this...minus a few hiccups here and there, of course."

Mikaela eyed the scrapes on his hood and silently agreed. She ran a hand through her damp hair, "Same here."

Another song started on the radio. The music filtered gently from the speakers. Mikaela recognized the singer as Richard Marx. She loved this song--secretly, of course.

"Hey, Optimus, could you turn that up?"

"Certainly."

Clearer now, the lyrics went on.

"...I saw you smile...

And my mind could not erase

the beauty of your face...

Just for a while,

won't you let me shelter you..."

Tears welled in Mikaela's eyes. Optimus' heater had almost dried her off, but she couldn't fight the sudden chill in her bones. She cast out her thoughts and silently scooted over, coming to rest in Optimus' lap. Optimus didn't say a word--he slipped his arms around her like armor and cupped the back of her head, a move that cemented her belief in his understanding her feelings. He didn't ask her to explain, he didn't question her, he simply accepted and offered the comfort she sought.

"Hold on to the nights...

hold on to the memories.

I wish that I could give you something more--

that I could be yours..."

"Hey, Optimus?"

His powerful voice rumbled in her ear, "Yes, Mikaela?"

She smiled against his throat, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

And the radio played on.

"How do we explain

something that took us by surprise?

Promises in vain,

love that is real but in disguise..."

But the rest faded as exhaustion pulled Mikaela towards sleep. She didn't know how long she slept. She woke up to the sensation of Optimus carrying her bridal style through her front door. He laid her gently on the living room couch, slipped her key back into her coat pocket and pulled the crocheted afghan off the back of the couch. His strong metal fingers were a hard contrast to the soft yarn being drawn up around her shoulders. She felt him tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Then she heard the door close and the sound of a diesel engine rumbling down the street.

.o

Sam was absent from school the next day. Food poisoning, his mother had said when Mikaela called to check up on him. Probably for the best--she spent much of the day completely distracted by what happened the night before. Remembering it spawned more memories--most of which involved Optimus and her rescued prom night.

After school, Mikaela flipped open her cell phone and tried Sam again.

"Hello?" he croaked, his voice obviously raw from throwing up.

"Hey. It's Mikaela. How are you?"

"Shitty. Don't come over today...I'm afraid I'll pass this on."

"Oh, I'm sorry you're sick, Sam." She sympathized with him. "I guess I'm hugging you in spirit, how's that?"

The smile was evident in his voice, "That helps. Um...need me to send 'Bee?"

Mikaela's blue eyes flickered to the silver grill catching the sunlight as it came over the hill. Bumblebee must've radioed Optimus when Sam made it clear he wasn't coming to school. "No...I have a ride. I'll be okay."

"Trent isn't botherin' you?"

"Nope. I can handle him. He's just a pest." She climbed into the driver's side of the Peterbilt, glanced around to make sure no one paid any attention to her and settled a hand on the steering wheel. "When do you think you'll be back in school?"

"One...maybe two days unless....uh oh--Mikaela, I gotta go. I'm gonna puke again."

"Ew. Feel better, Sam."

"Bye."

The line went dead. Mikaela wrinkled her nose as she snapped her phone shut and slipped it into her pocket. "Sam's sick."

"I heard. What made him ill?"

"His digestive system is...malfunctioning...you could say. He'll be okay in a few days."

"I'm sorry he isn't feeling well."

"So am I..." she gripped the steering wheel, pretending to steer while it was really Optimus who had control.

They were quiet as they rolled through the next few blocks. Here and there, city crew scuttled to clear branches from the main street. Traffic bottlenecked. Optimus barely squeezed through. He pulled onto a side street, clearly deciding he didn't want to deal with slow traffic all the way to the warehouse.

As they pulled onto an empty back road, he spoke up, "What are you thinking about right now?"

"Last night," she managed to maintain a casual tone. I'm not supposed to be attracted to you anymore...

He replied smoothly at the very bottom of his voice, "So was I."

...but it's fucking impossible not to be.

Mikaela sat back in the seat that seemed to always adjust itself to her shape. Everything she felt last night rushed up like a fist wrapping warmly around her heart. The reaction was sudden, carnal and visceral, a tickle in her innards that heated her blood. It happened too fast for her to swallow or control it.

Optimus went on, "You--make me feel things I never thought I'd feel again..."

His brakes hissed and he drove onto a dirt road that crackled under his tires. He rolled forward a few yards, turned so the sun wasn't shining into his cab and stopped. Before them, the city of Tranquility flowed under the late afternoon sun.

"...and I think, right now, we both desire the same thing," he whispered, his tone heading down a dark, steamy path with only one exit.

"Yeah?" she played coy.

The radio clicked on. She heard the zap of his hologram materializing behind the driver's seat.

"Mikaela." Optimus commanded, "Dance with me."

Mikaela forgot all about the world outside the truck cabin. She took the hand Optimus lowered, letting him pull her up to his chest. There was no room to move unless they stood body to body, flesh and metal pressed together by the walls.

Her hands were under his chest plates, gently touching his porcelain-like components. Achingly hot metal vibrated against her palms. She was wearing a black long-sleeved crop top and faded low-rise jeans--attire technically not allowed at school, but she wore a sweater over it...a sweater she forgot in her locker, she realized with brief dismay. Having a bare midsection let her feel his fingertips paint iridescent fire against her spinal column while his smooth undercarriage warmed her stomach. Once he touched her the rest of reality stopped mattering. She didn't care that he wasn't human anymore--she needed him, now.

Whitesnake began a hypnotic rhythm over the radio. Synthesizers, electric guitars and drums brushed her ears the way the Autobot leader's gentle hands touched her skin. Then the lyrics began, making her remember how Optimus sounded singing along with Lynyrd Skynyrd the night before. He could imitate every aspect of the human voice, even singing, his tone always a dark, mysterious baritone that tasted like smoke and thunder. He didn't sing along with the radio this time, but he didn't need to. The song laced itself into every movement they made together.

"I should have known better

than to let you go alone.

It's times like these I can't make it on my own..."

Mikaela slipped her arms around Optimus' neck. His optics were like eclipses--dark, but still glowing in rings of endless need around his dilated pupils. Those depths pulled her in, stole her breath and called her name in languages she'd never heard before. She felt every inch of his hard, metal body almost molding itself to her soft skin. No space existed between them as their hips and feet moved in tandem to the music's rhythm.

"...I find I spend my time waiting on your call.

How can I tell you babe,

my back's against the wall..."

He lifted her up with one hand. She threw her legs around his waist while he held her against the wall. Their faces were inches apart, so close she felt the air from his intakes exiting the spaces in his face plates. His eyelids barely blinked--like he thought blinking would extinguish the flames building between their twined bodies.

"...I need you by my side to tell me it's all right.

'Cause I don't think I can take anymore..."

She slipped the bit of armor covering his Spark chamber down and touched the burning doors. Static tickled her fingertips. His eyes and hands trembled.

"Yes," he whispered, "Please..."

Mikaela leaned into him, heart to Spark, her fingers gripping the transparent wires barely visible through his neck joints. Optimus revved his engine hard and ground her against his own inner wall. Every inch of him vibrated, sending tingles across her skin. She bent over his neck like a vampire and bit one of those cables.

"Ahh! Oh!" His palm slapped into the wall above her head.

"Am I hurting you?"

His hand slid down to cup her cheek. "No," he growled in her ear. A hungry, needy sound drowning her even deeper in desire.

"Is this love that I'm feeling?

Is this the love that I've been searching for?

Is this love or am I dreaming?"

Their movements grew more frenzied. They knew what they were doing this time. Hands grabbed. Metal fingertips pressed against flesh and flesh fingertips glided over metal. Reddening human lips brushed burning Cybertronian mouth plates. Hissing intakes synched with gasping lungs. Spark and soul touched in a shower of swirling emotion.

His hands were so good...so good...she hung on the edge, wishing for all the world she didn't have to slip over the side and end this fantastic moment. But nothing could stop her body--or his--from plummeting off the electric peak their actions sent skyward.

Mikaela saw Optimus' face plates scrunch together. His engine roared, the pistons inside spinning and cranking out incredible horsepower. She embraced him while her own response spiraled out of control.

"Unh! Mikaela..." Optimus started to lose himself, "Ohhh!" He threw his head back and his horn blasted, scaring away the birds sitting on his real body's hood.

Her hands clawed for purchase on his armor and somehow ended up gripping his ear finials. They held so much static energy that she felt tingling spread up her arms. Optimus made a weird, digitized noise, his body pressing closer to her heartbeat. Every inch of him was completely electrified.

"Mmh...oh, God!" Whimpering, her face rapidly turning red, Mikaela gave in to the inevitable. She moaned and let her head drop back against the wall. Sweat gleamed on her flushed skin. She didn't care how she looked or sounded anymore, she just felt.

"...this must be love,

'cause it's really got a hold on me..."

Optimus looked down again, holding her in his fierce gaze. Their faces clenched as they cried out against each other's mouths. Optimus' overload lasted just slightly longer than Mikaela's orgasm. The swirl of him she felt the first time reappeared--all his love, longing, fears and dreams rushing through her in rainbow waves.

He...loved her...and she swore she sensed him feeling that she loved him back. There was no denying it anymore--she did love him in a way no words could ever hope to explain.

Then it was gone, retreating back behind his guarded Spark chamber doors.

Mikaela cupped Optimus' face, her breath fogging his mouth plates while the after effects left him quivering and precious in her hands. He didn't offline this time, but he came close enough that she slipped off his waist so they wouldn't both fall. She let her forehead rest on his chin and closed her eyes. The music continued on the very edge of her consciousness--she heard it, but hardly registered its presence as it slowly faded out to silence. Bumblebee had to be rubbing off on him.

"What does 'I love you' sound like in your language?"

Optimus blinked slowly and made the same noise she heard when she grabbed his antennae. It was almost musical.

"It almost sounds like singing...our language must be so boring and simple compared to yours..."

"No," Optimus raised her chin so their eyes met. He spoke against her lips, "My language structure is nothing like yours. We have no equivalent for wonderful turns of phrase like..." He caressed her lips and recited Shakespeare, "But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she..."

It would've been corny had anyone else tried that. Did Optimus realize he was actually a very convincing Romeo?

"I didn't know you liked Shakespeare." Recovered now, she cracked a half-smile. "You're full of surprises."

"So are you," he said, his voice as close to breathless as someone who didn't have lungs could sound. "So are you."

Mikaela's heart simultaneously soared and crashed.

.o

Five uneventful days drifted by. Mikaela had two papers and a presentation at school, all three of which kept her too busy to socialize much with her rather odd group of friends. In all honesty she welcomed the distraction. Anything to avoid thinking about Sam or Optimus.

Of course, it was hard to completely forget when her boyfriend's Camaro was of the same race as the Autobot leader.

"Hey, Mikaela!"

Mikaela wiped her dark hair off her face. The guilt she'd been struggling to bury battered against her mental walls. It always went this way--she found a guy she liked, then another equally wonderful fellow came along and she ended up sleeping with one while dating the other.

Except, this time, she had true feelings for both...and one wasn't exactly ordinary.

She couldn't keep doing this, but breaking it off with one or the other would be almost impossible. Normally, she could dump someone and lose them in the school throng. Ignoring their phone calls and emails, pretending not to hear them call her name and making up elaborate excuses about why when confronted were all part of the pattern. This situation was different. She saw these people practically every day.

Optimus certainly made no attempts to discuss their behavior with anyone. That made things a bit easier. She didn't need to worry about strange questions greeting her while Sam stood in earshot. She was sure Optimus would understand and respect the change in their relationship--the real problem was her feelings about him. They'd be there like a super volcano itching for an eruption every time they were in the same area.

And if she broke up with Sam, he'd be in her shoes...and maybe hurt even more because he got dumped for someone who wasn't even human.

Catch twenty-two, regardless, and thinking about it made her brain hurt. Why were sex and love so complicated?

"Mikaela?"

"Sorry?" Mikaela jammed her thoughts under her mental bed and greeted Sam with a smile. "Sorry...just had a lot on my mind. I have a test next period." The lie tasted bitter, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. "How's your stomach? And how'd your Algebra test go?"

"My stomach's fine. The Algebra..." Sam made a pleading gesture at the sky. His boyish features were slightly drawn because of the sickness he only recently recovered from. "I think I did okay...how'd your science presentation go?"

"It was great," she grinned with pride at the way her teacher admired the model of a water molecule she made out of spare parts from the warehouse. "I was nervous, but it went great. Don't you hate those things, though?"

He chuckled, nodded and bit into his hamburger. "I still can't believe our friends..." He looked around before continuing in a whisper, "...have sex. Okay, Doctor R and Trigger Happy I can sort of imagine. But the Boss? Or even...Bee?"

Chomp. It was like ketchup on a canker sore. Mikaela scrunched her lips while nibbling on a French fry.

They had code words for each Autobot. Optimus was 'the Boss', Ratchet was 'Doctor R', Ironhide was 'Trigger Happy', Bumblebee was just 'Bee' and, on the rare occasions they mentioned Jazz, they called him 'the Dancing Machine'. The word combinations sounded enough like screen names that prying ears wouldn't suspect who they were really talking about.

"The Boss has done it before." Mikaela said. "I think 'Bee is still their equivalent of a virgin."

Sam's expression grew less serious. Joking around was one of the many ways he dealt with a difficult situation. "Yeah, but can you picture it? He's like...I dunno...it's like trying to think about my dad doing it...or, in Bee's case, a brother."

Flashes of Optimus' face clenching in release swirled through Mikaela's mind. She pushed them away and wished Sam would drop the subject.

"Speaking of the Boss..." Sam bumped his shoulder against hers and the heaviness inside her shifted like sand bags. "You two look like you're getting pretty tight."

Sam hadn't mastered the art of reading Optimus' more subtle facial expressions. Smiles and frowns were pretty obvious from the get-go, but things like lust, worry and sadness took slightly longer. If Sam knew how to read Optimus as well as she did, he'd see the painfully clear truth. Mikaela didn't know whether to feel grateful or lament his ignorance.

"Mm." She forced herself to swallow through the lump in her throat. "Well, the Boss has been through a lot since he land--" someone walked by and she quickly switched to more coded words, "--moved here. We chat a lot...sometimes I do all the talking and sometimes he has a lot to say. He's really just a regular guy if you look past his being so tall."

"Yeah? Huh...he doesn't seem all that talkative with me. If he isn't on duty when I get there, I'll usually spot him sitting in the doorway. We say hi, he exchanges info with 'Bee and I try not to get flattened."

Her mind drifted to the night the Autobots accidentally trashed Sam's back yard. She replayed the same scene in the warehouse--complete with his eyes growing huge--and had to stifle a giggle. Sam's goofiness was just one of the reasons she liked him so much.

"Has Doctor R polished away the scratches yet?"

"Huh? Yeah. Cussed up a storm doing it too." Sam shook his head, "Speaking of the Boss--am I going nuts, or is he freezing in the middle of sentences?"

"You noticed it, too?"

"Yeah. I stopped by yesterday to drop off some gasoline and he took forever to change and stand up. I asked him if anything was up and he got stuck right in the middle of answering me. And lately he's had the shakes like those old men with that disease that makes their hands jiggle--"

"Parkinson's disease?"

"--yeah, like that." Sam frowned, "What's wrong with him, Mikaela? Any ideas?"

Mikaela tried not to let Sam see how worried she felt. What if making love with him somehow aggravated an invisible injury he sustained when he rolled? She shrugged, forcing herself to eat the last bite of her cheeseburger. Doing so made her duck her head, which meant she avoided the salad flung across the cafeteria. Sam jumped up as Ranch dressing splattered across his gray hoodie.

"What the hell? Yuck!" He grabbed a napkin, sneered and tried to sop the viscous contents off his clothing.

"Loser!" Trent yelled. His football buddies snickered.

Mikaela's stomach felt suddenly hot. She shot Trent a disgusted look that could melt bricks. "Get a thicker helmet, Trent. The one you're using obviously isn't protecting the three neurons you still have."

The jock snarled, though it didn't scare her. "You dumped me for a fag with a Camaro!"

She smirked at his wry grin. "If only you knew."

"If only I knew what?"

Images of Bumblebee picking Trent up by the shirt and holding him till he wet his pants in fright danced through Mikaela's head.

"If only you knew Sam's car helped save the world," she muttered under her breath.

Sam snickered. Mikaela was grateful he didn't retaliate and get himself in trouble. Trent always backed him into corners that way--and ever since he got bailed out of jail he'd been twice as nasty towards Sam.

Fortunately, the bell rescued them from further altercations.

"Mikaela!"

She faced Sam.

"You coming with me to the hideout?"

"Hideout" was their secret word for the warehouse.

Mikaela waved the affirmative, blew him a kiss and hurried off to her history class.

.o

"I'm right on time to take guard duty," Bumblebee announced upon arriving at the warehouse. Ratchet and Ironhide were nowhere to be seen at the moment.

"You aren't going to chat with Optimus?" Sam asked.

"I will when Ironhide relieves me," Bumblebee replied brightly. "And Sam? Don't forget your father's Preparation H."

Sam's face turned bright red. "Bee! Not in public! And you're supposed to remind me on the way home!"

Mikaela giggled, "Be glad it isn't Ratchet. You'd get a full lesson on how to use it."

"Ugh." He wrinkled his nose.

They climbed out into the warm afternoon sun. Mikaela spotted Optimus' long red and blue legs stretching out across one of the main warehouse doorways. She waved and he lifted a hand in response.

"Hey, Sam, why don't you try talking to Optimus right now? I'll go see if I can find Ratchet and Ironhide."

Sam leaned over and kissed her cheek. His lips were like silk on her skin and spread warmth through her face. "Okay." He jogged towards Optimus' outstretched legs. "Hey, Optimus! 'Sup?"

The Autobot leader's deep voice replied, "What's up? Well, the sky for one..."

The rest of what he said faded with distance as Mikaela made her way around the warehouse. The doors faced east and the area just south of them was a huge field of dry brush and tall grass. A main street ran alongside the warehouse, but low hills, bushes and trees concealed most of the field from view. Someone had to actually pull into the warehouse parking lot to see it. Hence the Autobots choosing this location--it proved a most ideal hideout that worked with their vehicular disguises.

Two sets of tire tracks flattened the thick brush. She spotted Ironhide's black form arching up out of the grass. Ratchet clung to his waist. Their chest armor was wide open and Mikaela clearly saw their joined Sparks sending surges of electricity back and forth like arcing power lines.

"Ooh...we have an audience," Ratchet purred in a tone Mikaela never heard him use before. Then he looked directly at her and winked.

"Let 'em stare," Ironhide growled and roughly shoved the CMO back to the ground. "Let 'em see how much I..."

"How much you what?"

Even rough, battered Ironhide proved himself capable of becoming beautiful. The way he looked down at Ratchet with such need and devotion gave Mikaela goosebumps. Ratchet mirrored his expression, his optics falling half shut and his mouth plates shifting subtly into a smile.

Mikaela remembered how Optimus looked at her exactly the same way right before he overloaded.

Ratchet grabbed a wire under Ironhide's left arm. Ironhide rocked back, mouth agape, and his cannons whirled faster than Mikaela thought possible. His spark appeared to literally swallow Ratchet's--which instantly made Ratchet's sirens howl while his body shivered as if electrocuted. Their mouth plates came into contact and sparks flew...sparks so large they were visible in broad daylight.

"Oof!" Ironhide grunted, clearly satisfied with both himself and the havoc he wreaked on his lover. He looked down at Ratchet with something Mikaela could only describe as a shit-eating grin. "Heh, heh, offlined again."

"Unnnh..." Ratchet rubbed his own cheek. Smoke puffed off his joints. "Ooh, Ironhide, you're good..."

"Damn right I am. Don't act all modest...you know you have my coolant working overtime."

"You were due to have it cycled anyway," Ratchet said, using the lowest register of his voice. He thumbed one of the many scars marring Ironhide's face. "C'mere, you."

Their metal lips met again. Ironhide pawed at Ratchet's chassis and finally poked his thick fingertips into a space just above his codpiece. Ratchet gave a shout and his engine sputtered without catching. Ironhide's fingers were probably fiddling with his ignition switch...and judging by the reaction he got it felt insanely good.

That must be the plugging thing Ironhide brought up. Mikaela thought. Telling herself she'd seen enough, she turned away to give them their privacy. She slowly made her way into the warehouse where Optimus and Sam were discussing, of all things, life after death.

"...we call it Heaven." Sam was saying from his location on the other side of Optimus' legs. "Your turn."

Ratchet's siren went off again. First a wail, then a few yelp cycles and back to the wail before cutting out completely.

"Sam," Optimus arched a brow without missing a beat, "My people don't really concern ourselves with what happens when our Sparks are extinguished."

"You don't believe in it?" the boy's eyebrows knit together, wrinkling his forehead.

Optimus raised his shoulders in a very human shrug, "I wouldn't say that." But when he spoke, his eyes were dim, sad, something Sam didn't pick up on at all. "I suspect it is oblivion. Or, as you humans sometimes say, 'game over.' There's nothing to fear when there won't be anything to feel afraid. If I'm wrong, I'll be pleasantly surprised."

The subject of death clearly made Optimus uncomfortable. He often toiled secretly over Megatron's fate and the idea that his lover simply ended didn't sit well with him.

Mikaela saw fit to intervene. "But Heaven by Bryan Adams is a pretty nice song."

Those brilliant blue optics fixed on her and immediately lost their sadness, "Mikaela! There you are."

"Here I am," she replied. Okay, this is awkward... "Um...how's it going?"

"Fine," Optimus answered, "Sam and I were just discussing--"

"I heard the tail end of it." She said quickly, stepping aside when Ironhide ducked through the door. He still wore a decidedly smug grin.

The conversation died. Sam and Optimus just didn't have enough in common to talk for hours and hours. They couldn't get personal because they had no similar experiences to discuss. Sam, though smart, had lived a sheltered life. He was like a baby's hand versus the callused hand of a warrior.

Optimus frowned and folded his hands in his lap. Every few seconds, he appeared to shudder like Mojo. Sam wasn't kidding when he said he had the shakes.

"Optimus?"

He refocused on her.

"Has Ratchet checked that out?" She pointed to his juddering hand.

"Uh..."

Ratchet wobbled in like a drunk, noticed Optimus trembling and answered for him, "He rattled his processors when you two rolled over on the road! It's a common symptom. It'll go away. Didn't Sam tell you?"

Mikaela looked over at Sam, whose head sunk into his shoulders, "I-I was about to when Trent mistook me for the trash can."

"This Trent is a major annoyance to you. I can always scare him," Ironhide planted his hands on his hips.

"Um...no thanks..." Sam stammered, backing away in a failed attempt to appear nonchalant. "I-I can handle him."

Shaking her head, Mikaela walked across the floor and climbed onto the pile of crates beside Optimus' shoulder. She badly wanted to discuss what happened between them, but didn't dare breathe a word of it with Sam in earshot.

"Man, what a day."

"Mikaela," Optimus regarded her with his usual, gentle smile. He immediately focused his gaze on her face and tipped his head slightly in her direction. "Good afternoon. How was your science project presentation?"

"Huh? Oh, it was awesome. Thanks for suggesting the bolts." She sat with her legs dangling off the crate and mirrored his expression, "My teacher loved that."

"What did--"

He froze with his mouth still open to form the next word in his sentence. It might have been comical if the freezing wasn't so worrisome.

Mikaela swallowed through her suddenly hot throat. "Ratchet, he froze!"

"Slaggit," the medic grumbled, making his way over. Optimus blinked out of his funk and jerked in surprise at the sight of Ratchet standing over him. Naturally he would...Mikaela suspected that, to him, Ratchet merely zapped into existence. Ratchet narrowed his optics at Optimus, "The fall might have cracked your CPU pins. Retract your helm, I want to test your connections."

"Ratchet--"

"If you don't, I'll make you, and you don't like it when I have to make you do anything."

Leaning forward with a simulated sigh, Optimus retracted his helm and Mikaela saw more of him than she ever thought she'd see. She couldn't avoid wincing when Ratchet lifted a panel and poked around inside.

"Geez, doesn't that hurt?"

Optimus turned his head slightly, "No worse than stubbing your--OW!"

"Hold still!" Ratchet growled. His left optic rotated and clicked like a camera shutter. He studied Optimus' head for several minutes before he let him slide his helm back into place. "Nothing beyond the usual wear and tear. Still, I want to perform a more thorough examination before the day is out. You're off guard duty until I say so--and don't give me any of your 'but I'm the leader' garbage. You're the leader," he pointed to his own chest, "but I'm the medic and I can disable your motor functions. Right, Ironhide?"

"Leave me out of this!" Ironhide replied from across the warehouse. Mikaela noticed Sam trying to explain Halo to him. He leaned over, his scarred face pinched in a curious frown while Sam showed him pictures from a game magazine.

Ratchet backed off. Optimus looked mildly indignant. In fact, for a split second he stuck his bottom mouth plate out in a an annoyed pout. Maybe he considered his medic ordering him around embarrassing. His gaze followed Ratchet when he headed straight for Ironhide. Mikaela heard them whispering about Barricade.

"Um...wow," Mikaela couldn't believe Ratchet talked to Optimus that way. "You let him get away with it?"

"He's been rather--grouchy--since we lost Jazz. Ratchet is the best medic I know. He's talented and I trust him with my Spark," said Optimus. He rested his hand on the crate and Mikaela casually leaned against his index finger. "Ratchet is a lot more empathetic than he lets on. One rule of thumb with him is this--if he's grousing, the situation isn't all that serious. However, when the attitude falls away and he starts giving orders...that is when you worry. And if that ever happens, Mikaela, always do exactly what he tells you. Seconds matter, never waste them with questions."

"Gotcha," she nodded. It wasn't until she finished speaking that she realized she'd been rubbing her fingers back and forth against the edge of his fingertip. His hands were stainless steel, same as her refrigerator door at home, but nowhere near as cold. It seemed like they always ended up touching whenever they talked.

"You're wearing red," he noted, and his pupils flickered as an indication to exactly what the color made him remember.

Mikaela glanced down at the oversized red and black flannel shirt, which she wore unbuttoned over a gray tank top. Then she refocused on Optimus' face, "This old thing? It's my dad's."

"I'm sure he would be honored that you're borrowing one of his parts."

She chuckled, "He has a ton more."

Optimus' hand trembled against the crate. Mikaela reached out in a failed attempt at steadying it. She heard his optics whirr and click. His eyelids blinked out of synch and he squinted as if the lights were suddenly too bright. The hand resting on the crate moved to cup the side of his head. His face plates tensed in a grimace and he looked like someone in the throes of a migraine.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm just--unh--overclocked again." Optimus sat back against the wall. He moved in slow motion, a giant toy whose batteries were almost dead. Shivers raced over his metallic frame. "Mikaela, I think I'm going to--recharge for awhile. My apologies for being such poor company today."

"Oh, no, it's okay." She stood up and smiled to hide her concern, "You could use the rest."

"Wake me if there is any trouble."

Mikaela gave a mock salute. Optimus' eyelids snapped shut and all his systems hummed to silence. His intakes began to hiss and rattle, indicating he was soundly in sleep mode. Mikaela picked her way off the crates, pushing the button to close the giant door beside Optimus on her way down.

"...don't know where Starscream is or even if he's on Earth!"

"Ironhide," Ratchet folded his arms, "Barricade is my main concern. Even if Optimus says he took damage from that train...he is still out there."

Ironhide's mouth plates sharpened into a sneer, "He's the one who blew out my leg. My cannons itch to return the favor."

"You know Prime's orders."

"I'm sure he won't care if I 'accidentally' blew off one of Barricade's limbs."

"He most likely wants me." Bumblebee joined in via his com signal, which Ratchet was kind enough to put on speaker so all could hear. "I'm to blame for this...I didn't finish the job."

"Easy there, Bumblebee. You were following Prime's orders to meet up."

Stony silence from the Camaro outside. Ratchet scrunched his face and shook his head disdainfully.

Mikaela looked between them at Sam. Mention of Barricade made his face blanch. He licked his lips and met her eyes, his own huge and glistening in the harsh warehouse lights.

"Barricade chased you?"

Nodding, Mikaela stepped past Ironhide's legs and patted Sam's shoulder. "Optimus protected me."

"Yes, but Barricade is roaming out there, trying to locate our base of operations." Ratchet added. "Optimus says he may not know Megatron perished in the city."

"And I doubt Starscream told him before he bolted like the coward he is," growled Ironhide. He twirled his cannons and Sam's eyes flicked nervously over the giant barrels.

"Right now," Ratchet shifted his yellow body to glance at Optimus' slumbering form. "My main concern is Optimus."

"He is mourning his bondm--"

"No. I haven't been able to run a thorough enough exam on him. His central processor may be burning out. He has all the classic symptoms. I can give him Jazz's processor if that's the case." Ratchet crossed his arms. "The main issue is time."

"Won't he be mad about that?" asked Sam, "You're saying you're going to mess with his head while he's asleep?"

The medic looked down his nose, "Of course not! I'll ask him when he wakes up. Though, the way he is about medical procedures, dealing with him while he's recharging..."

"I'd love to see him put you in a headlock again," Ironhide snickered, and Ratchet responded with a human hand gesture he either learned off the internet or from other angry drivers.

"Shit!" Sam looked at his watch, "Oh, no, no, no!"

"What?" Mikaela faced him.

"I was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago to clean out the garage. Oh, man! I'm dead if I don't get out of here! I have to get out of here yesterday."

Mikaela made a good-natured face at his panic. At least it wasn't too serious. She kissed him by the ear, leaving a faint lipstick stain, and whispered, "Just tell your dad your girlfriend made you forget the time."

He smiled slowly at her. "You're the best, Mikaela. Want me to run you home real quick?"

"Nah. I don't want to make you later than you are."

"Right...bye!"

She watched Sam scramble outside and climb into Bumblebee.

"Ratchet, Ironhide, I'll be on alert. If I spot Barricade, I'll signal my location."

"Understood. Ratchet, out."

The yellow Camaro sped away in a spray of gravel. Mikaela couldn't avoid snickering at Sam's hasty exit. At the same time she felt a pinch of jealousy--she'd kill to have someone at home when she unlocked her front door. It was the main reason she stayed at the warehouse so late. So she didn't have to spend the afternoon cruising or alone.

"Optimus stopped rattling," Ironhide noted.

"Leave him alone."

Mikaela glanced at the Autobot leader. He leaned slightly to the side like a marionette. She noticed he was the only Autobot who actually closed his eyelids when he recharged. Ironhide somehow kept one optic online and Ratchet tended to stare off into space until his optics darkened.

"Actually," Ratchet focused his optics on Optimus, "Now might be the best time to--"

"Ironhide, Ratchet! This is Bumblebee!"

Ironhide's optics flared, "This is Ironhide."

The panic left Bumblebee's voice. "Barricade ambushed me. Sam is all right. I repeat, Sam is safe. Requesting backup. My location is..." And he rattled off a long list of numbers too fast for Mikaela to decipher.

"Keep him on the move. We're on our way." Ironhide's fingers twitched despite his calm tone. Shadows swirled across his rough, angry face and narrowed eyes. "Prime! We have a situation!"

Everyone looked at Optimus, but he didn't stir. Not a twitch.

"Optimus!" Ironhide called, "Sir!"

"Ironhide! Go help Bumblebee! I'll sort Optimus' aft out. And," Ratchet grabbed Ironhide's arm, leveling their optics, "Be careful..."

Ironhide pressed his hand to Ratchet's cheek. Then he folded himself into vehicle mode and peeled out of the warehouse. Smoke from his tires sent burnt rubber smells wafting in his wake. Mikaela watched his red tail lights shrink out of view.

"Optimus! You blew out your processor, didn't you?" Ratchet snapped, "You should've let me repair you the minute you got back!" He stomped over to his motionless leader and grabbed his shoulder, shaking him, "Get online!"

No response.

Ratchet tapped his index finger against the armor protecting Optimus' Spark chamber. The hinged piece moved easily. The medic's optics widened marginally. He repeated the motion and got the same result--nothing.

Mikaela tip-toed closer, both hands pressed to her chest in a failed attempt at controlling her racing heart. "What's wrong?"

"Even the heaviest off liners will jerk their hands up to protect their Spark if you touch anywhere near it. It's a reflex."

Ratchet touched Optimus' Spark chamber doors and Optimus never flinched. He went about tapping other parts of Optimus' body--his eyelids, his antennae and even the sensitive wires in his neck. Optimus never responded. He just sat there, his head thrown far back to expose his wiring and vocal apparatus.

The CMO's face went deadpan. "This is bad, Mikaela." He squatted and spoke to his radio, "Ratchet to Ironhide."

Static, followed by laser fire, "Ironhide here. Status!"

"Optimus is in stasis lock. I don't know what's wrong, but I must attend him immediately. You and Bumblebee are on your own."

Ironhide snorted, "That's just peachy ain't it? Dammit, Barricade is a slippery motherf--" more laser fire. "Can't talk now! Ironhide, out!"

"Optimus," Mikaela whispered. "Ratchet, what's wrong with him?"

"I'll find out." Ratciet said. He hadn't snapped at her--his voice went from grousing to soft, serious. He dragged Optimus' limp frame to the middle of the floor, laid him on his back and spread his arms out to either side. "Mikaela, I need your smaller hands. Check Optimus' electrical system while I scan his motherboards. This is either an electrical failure or a blown chip. Tape any broken wires."

"Gotcha."

She watched Ratchet separate Optimus' chest plates and lift the entire panel underneath up. It was the most up close view of his guts she'd ever seen. The mechanic in her quickly went about identifying his engine parts. It wasn't easy because transforming shifted everything around. Fortunately, the core of his motor was still the same shape--all the pistons, the crankshaft and his intakes were in their proper places. She checked his distributor caps, the carburetor and his intake manifolds. They were clear. She bent close and examined his engine wiring for any breaks or fraying, but found none. His battery, which had been displaced to lie directly underneath his Spark chamber, seemed drained. Other than that she couldn't see anything wrong.

"Ratchet, does his Spark charge the battery?"

"Yes."

"Okay. His engines and wires are fine." Mikaela stood up and used the flaps of her flannel shirt to wipe engine grease off her hands. She gazed worriedly at Optimus' calm face. He still looked just as peaceful as he did when he settled down to rest.

"Then it's bound to be a processor glitch. Let's see if I can zap him awake with my own energy. Here, you don't want to be touching him when I do this." Ratchet offered his hand as a platform. Mikaela climbed on and let him help her to the ground. His dead seriousness worried her more than anything.

Ratchet connected a wire in his arm to the battery in Optimus' chest like jumper cables. Nothing seemed to happen until Mikaela noticed Optimus' optics faintly flickering.

"C'mon, Optimus," the medic whispered, "Why can't I get you online?"

The blood drained from Mikaela's face. Freezing, being unable to boot up...just like her laptop when...

"Ratchet! Check his software!"

"Huh?"

She wrung her hands, "Last week, my laptop caught a virus. Optimus fixed it and went to the same website where I got it. He's--he's been freezing up just like my laptop was. He started having freezes before we rolled...he didn't want me to tell you. But it's been going on for days."

"Virus? Impossible! Our software is too sophisticated for--"

"Check him, Ratchet, please!" Mikaela pressed her hands together so they wouldn't shake, "Is there a way to look at his software?"

Nodding, Ratchet pushed Optimus' chest components shut. He placed two fingers inside Optimus' open helm and the Autobot leader's optics popped open. Like when they first met, lasers issued forth and spread out into a holographic display. Bright purple Cybertronian glyphs formed a huge three dimensional cube. Amidst them, planted like mines, ones and zeroes lit up bright red.

"This is impossible," Ratchet blinked, "it...polymorphed its way through his transformation subroutines. No wonder he can't start up. His processors are jammed with garbage data. The sneaky thing reproduced a hundred times each time Optimus transformed. His processors are frozen."

To Mikaela, Ratchet's words were a hammer falling on her heart. She felt the pieces smash through her stomach. "Anything you can do?"

"First, I'm going to see if he can talk to us. I need to know if his sensory systems are online." Ratchet gazed down at her, "He may be able to hear us."

And he's probably terrified, Mikaela noted. This was Optimus' greatest fear--helplessness.

"Ratchet! Report!" Ironhide's voice broke the silence.

"It's a virus, Ironhide."

"You're full of exhaust!"

"I'm not joking," Ratchet said without snapping. "Optimus is critical. You're on your own. Casualties?"

"...none. We're on Barricade's aft. Bumblebee wants to find out where he's been hiding."

"Okay. I have to get to work. Ratchet, out--Mikaela, please back away. You've done all you can."

Mikaela obediently climbed onto a nearby crate and struggled against the tears stinging the edges of her tear ducts. Crying wouldn't help anybody, but she couldn't bear the idea of fate making the decision of who she should love for her. She watched, helplessly, as Ratchet cleared the holographic field and more Cybertronian glyphs scrolled into view.

"Optimus has no sensory input or output. The garbage data was masquerading as a data stream from the world wide web--he didn't know its true cause until he offlined. And--" Ratchet paused, "He says to tell you it will be okay, that he isn't in pain."

More glyphs appeared. They were random, garbled. Then the "screen" faded away.

Ratchet immediately leaned over Optimus and forced his Spark chamber doors open. Optimus' Spark was half its normal size and so translucent Mikaela could see the circuitry underneath. Its pulses became more and more irregular. Zap-zap...zap-zap-zap...zap...zap-zap-zap-zap...just like a heart arrhythmia.

"He's losing voltage!" Ratchet cried. "I need power!"

"The generator," Mikaela pointed, "We used it during the storm!"

He sprinted across the warehouse and ripped the electric generator off the floor. Wires dangled from it as he carried it back.

Suddenly, Optimus' optics flared and dimmed until his they became two lifeless black holes staring at the ceiling.

"Optimus!" Mikaela launched herself onto Optimus' chest. She peered into his Spark chamber and the coldest horror she ever felt clenched her throat. "Ratchet--his Spark! It's gone!"
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Between Mind and Heart