Author's Notes:

This is a continuation of "The Poet and the Pendulum." If you haven't read it, I'll try not to make too many references, but there will be some. I won't spend a serious amount of time explaining things but there will be nods here and there. If you did read it, in February of this year (2011) I went back and made some major changes. Nothing plot altering, but I'd made a lot of messy mistakes and went in some bad directions, so I wanted to try and rectify what I could.

Basic universe stuff: Sort of a mix of G1, Animated and Transformers Prime. This includes an OC, and there will be fluff. Lots of it. I do not do slash, and never will, so please respect that. There is no romance, but I will refer to "Sparkbonds" which are simply meant to be strong paternal relationships, so they aren't pairings. Although, I might make little jokes about flirting and kissing here and there, but they're only jokes. If you did not read "The Poet and the Pendulum" Wheeljack is bonded to my OC Allison. If you're really adverse to relationships with OCs, that's totally cool, but this may not be the story for you then. Part of the edits I had made was I tried to do Allison better justice, because I'd done a lot of silly things with her behavior and put her in idiotic situations that I shouldn't have, so hopefully I've learned from those mistakes. No time to dwell on the past.

Comments are certainly welcome, but this is just something I do for fun. I'll keep author's notes to a minimum.

Wheeljack: G1 and sort of my own take on him

Ratchet: Mix of Prime and Animated

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe: G1 but heavily inspired by fan interpretation and a mixture of my own input

Just an intro chapter, which takes place immediately after "The Poet and the Pendulum Ends." I'm not exactly an English composition major, but I do my best. :3 Enjoy!

Allison opened her eyes. Immediately a bright white light flooded in, blinding her and forcing her to close them again. She threw up her arms, her hands trying to protect her face from the invasive glare. When her hands didn't connect with anything, she slowly allowed her eyelids to open, gradually getting used to seeing again. Her vision was blurred at first, general shapes gradually coming into focus. Above her she could make out two square beams of light filtering through two small windows. The absence of dust and the stark white interior quickly reminded her of where she was, and she closed her eyes in relief, taking comfort in the fact that she was still alive.

Even in her current state, however, she couldn't help but feel frustrated at the fact she was once again receiving medical attention inside the back of Ratchet. She was aware of the hollow sound her breathing made, and as her senses slowly returned she took note of the clear breathing apparatus placed over her mouth. She fumbled at it with her fingers, feeling the curved shape of it. It felt smooth and was clear, like plastic. She didn't feel alarmed, remembering how sterile Ratchet's interior always looked. While it gave her slight concern for her current condition, opening her eyes was at the very least a good indicator of still being alive. She was grateful for that.

Looking down at her body, she tried to take stock of her limbs. All four seemed to be intact; her fingers clenched when she tried to make a fist, and she could bend her legs, though they felt a little stiff. The skin on her hands felt dry, as did her mouth. Her head swam for a moment but passed quickly.

After she waited to make sure her breathing was fine, she pulled the oxygen mask from her face slowly, letting it dangle to the side. She took a deep breath of air, making sure she was OK without the aid of the mask, then tried to lift her body. An experiment of will, she wanted to see how far she could muster before crashing back down onto one of the wide medical benches.

How long have I been asleep? Her first thought as she looked at the makeshift bed seemed to cause her more worry than the concerns for her physical condition. Had it been mere hours? Or several days? Perhaps longer? She dreaded the thought. Allison couldn't quite remember how long ago she'd fallen asleep, having been in too much of a hazy fog of pain and fatigue before lapsing into unconsciousness to remember. Her internal clock felt like it was all over the place, the only truthful evidence that some time had passed being the horrible sunlight beating down on her from outside the back windows of Ratchet's medical cabin. But the fact that she was still inside Ratchet told her it couldn't have been that long at all. Unless something had happened.

The light from the windows started to cause her eyes to water. Blinking the tears from her hazel eyes, she managed to get her body up to a partial sitting position, testing the stiffness of her back with a subtle twist at her waist. Sharp but bearable lances of pain sliced up and around her back, resonating from between her shoulder blades and from the very depths of her body. It hurt, but was surprisingly manageable. Considering that her back had been blasted by a Seeker's Null Ray, she was grateful to have any use of it at all.

Curious, and wondering how far she could push herself, Allison brought her body to a full sitting position, holding her breath as she moved in anticipation of a burst of searing, mind-numbing pain. It didn't happen… and while her back still felt sore, with the occasional pulse of pain that she could somewhat ignore, she felt more awake and healthy then she had in a long time. Looking back at the oxygen mask now hanging from the bench behind her, she frowned, wondering what exactly Ratchet had her breathing this entire time.

Determined to get some answers, and realizing how incredibly hungry she was as her stomach growled miserably, she slid off the bench and tested her balance. The cabin shook, a reminder that she wasn't actually in a real ambulance but a sentient robot merely masquerading as one. A rumbling voice finally spoke, its words seeming to come from all around her.

"It's about time you woke up."

Ratchet sounded mildly annoyed, which meant that everything was perfectly fine. She could tell from the lack of urgency in his voice and his overwhelming need to make it known just how much of his time they were wasting, that they were out of any immediate danger, at least for now. There was a sense of familiarity to his tone though, an absence of its usual edge that caused her to pause and smile lightly to herself, a tiring endeavor in of itself.

"Good morning to you too," Allison grumbled.

"Afternoon," Ratchet corrected, gruffly. "Can't you tell?"

"I've been asleep, if you haven't noticed." Allison rubbed the back of her neck, turning her head to the side to rid herself of an annoying kink in her muscles. Sometimes she wished she could get rid of Ratchet just as easily, though right now she had to admit she did kind of owe him her life. "By the way, just what exactly was I breathing out of that?" Allison pointed towards the oxygen mask dangling behind her, even though she knew he would know what she was talking about. "And how long was I out exactly?"

"Air and days," Ratchet said shortly.

"Air and days," Allison repeated softly. "Wait... Did you just say..."

"Days, yes. Three, to be exact." Ratchet paused as Allison choked a startled gasp from her throat at that revelation. "Are you done?" He continued, perturbed.

"I feel much better now that I know I've missed out on valuable days of living," she said in wonderment, managing to stand with little effort. She was definitely sore, and her entire body felt like it could easily snap into pieces at any moment. She tried stretching, but that activity proved to be far more exerting than she was prepared for at that moment. If she had been out for days, then she had to have been more critically injured than she'd previously thought.

"If you really must know, you were inhaling a variety of chemicals to ensure that you didn't die on the way to Detroit." Ratchet said with a rough cycling of his internal systems like he was bothered. "Fortunately I had the foresight not long after meeting you to develop such a system in case we needed it. It's crude, untested and I wasn't entirely sure it wouldn't kill you. Unfortunately the circumstances didn't provide more of an option. Had I the luxury of chasing live rats through the city sewers, maybe."

Allison's face tightened, her jaw clenched as she thought of what was possibly running through her veins right that very moment.

"You asked," Ratchet grumbled. "It's only a temporary precaution. I'll need to do a proper diagnosis-"

"That's fine, I get it…" Allison said. She sighed. "Look, thank you," she said finally, not wanting to appear ungrateful. Whatever Ratchet had done, it was damn near a miracle. "I guess I owe you one then."

"More than one, but who's counting?" Was the grumbled reply, but there was the hint of laughter in his voice. Allison stifled her own laugh as she stood up slowly, teetering lightly on her feet as her circulation reached some measure of stability. She noticed then her poor, beaten bag sitting on the bench opposite her. Ratchet had even made sure to grab her bag before leaving. Or perhaps Wheeljack had, she couldn't be sure. She hefted it up, wincing slightly as her shoulders ached when she slipped her arms painfully through the straps. She wanted to go outside and investigate where they had ended up, so she limped to the back double doors, where they swung open for her as if on a sensor.

Giving the roof a grateful little pat, she awkwardly climbed out onto the ground below her. The drop jarred her back, sending tingling bursts of pain across her chest and shoulders, but didn't cause nearly as much distress as turning to find oneself nearly devoured by two gigantic, glowing orbs of blue eyes. The owner of said eyes was crouched near the back of Ratchet's cabin, staring at her.

"Wheeljack!" Allison gasped, leaning towards him with her own relief at seeing a familiar face waiting for her. She wrapped her arms around his massive head awkwardly, an impulsive reaction to seeing him after her previous brush with death. He vibrated softly under her fingers, a sign that she had come to interpret as meaning that he was pleased. His face was nearly at her level as he crouched the lowest limit his large, bulky legs would allow, eyes glowing at her like two giant fiery rings of blue. There was an expression of pure exhilaration on his face as his eyes squinted with unhinged joy, completely unapologetic that he'd just nearly toppled her over. She'd had plenty of that already. "You scared me. Why are you hovering around Ratchet like this?"

Allison motioned to the red and white ambulance which took that moment to slide away, exploding into transformation as the vehicle was replaced by a bulky, bipedal Autobot who turned to glower down at them with obviously restrained impatience. Wheeljack glanced at him and his eyes went unfocused and blank for a brief second, signaling the fact that he was talking to Ratchet privately over their internal communication system. It always bugged Allison because it usually meant they were talking about her.

"I hate it when you do that," she mumbled.

"I was waiting for you," Wheeljack said, glancing back at her and clasping his hands together absently. Despite his physical distress, his expression bore nothing but relief, as if a trap-door had been opened with her emergence allowing him to finally relax. Allison had gotten admittedly very good at recognizing his emotions from just his eyes. He was always covered by the wide, silver battle-mask covering his lower face and mouth, hiding the damage of his real face underneath. She'd come to know Wheeljack as a very modest Autobot, and after finally having seen his face after his battle-mask had been ripped off by Starscream, she was disheartened to find his face covered again. She frowned at him.

"So you repaired it," she said solemnly. She'd been so anxious for the chance of seeing his face before that seeing his normal countenance, or what had come to be normal, was actually quite disappointing. It wasn't a secret that he was very shy about the damage on his face, so how it had come to be was a rather sore subject for him. There had been something somewhat sweet and endearing about the shyness of a giant autonomous robot, and she had been careful to be sensitive about it. Now however, his face was covered again, as he'd obviously repaired his mask while she'd been out. After secretly nursing a childish fantasy of seeing his face for the short few months that she'd known him, it was hard to not feel just a little bit sad that he felt the need to cover himself again.

Wheeljack had appeared out of nowhere in her life-Well, nowhere wasn't the best term considering the fact that he'd been following her for quite some time before a completely unrelated car accident had necessitated the Autobot to reveal himself. Little had Allison known that for nearly an entire month a giant robotic alien scientist disguised as a car had been following her. She'd thought some overzealous stalker in a flashy vehicle had been the culprit. She couldn't have been further from the truth.

Fast forward to the now, and after many cuts, bruises, dents and cracked plating, they had a cryptic, but very broken device called the Pendulum that supposedly held the coordinates to their home planet, Cybertron. The exact location and a means of contacting Cybertron had been lost to the Autobots when they crashed on planet Earth millions of years prior. Allison's former boss, a fellow scientist and inventor named Herbert Arkeville, had gone missing around the same time Wheeljack had appeared. He had apparently stumbled upon a way to contact Cybertron without realizing it. Having several conversations with some mystery person claiming to be an Autobot, he'd called it the "Voice" then promptly disappeared after things had gotten creepy. This lead Allison to believe that the voice had been more than it seemed to be.

All she had were impressions written in his journal; notes of a man she had cared for like the father she never had. In turn, she unwittingly became a part of the events which saw Arkeville begin a slow descent into madness. They had found the Pendulum-the transmitter-now broken, but regardless of how crazy the person had been on the other end, it was still a means to contact their home planet and potentially call down the help they desperately needed: Reinforcements to end the silent war that had been raging on planet Earth for centuries without anyone realizing it. Thankfully they had gotten to it before Soundwave and Starscream had, otherwise the resulting reinforcements would have had entirely different motives.

The planet Cybertron was ravaged by centuries of war, and was now all but uninhabitable. They didn't even know if there was anyone left, but it was all they had.

Unfortunately for all of them, the device was broken. Wheeljack thought he could fix it, but he needed his proper laboratory at the Autobot base in Detroit, which was where they were heading now. As it had been very important to Wheeljack for Allison to accompany him, she had left the only life she had ever known in Sealth City, along with the remains of their destruction behind.

It had been explained to her as a Sparkbond, completely harmless and platonic in nature, but as strong as the most powerful and loving of human relationships. It could happen between any of Wheeljack's own kind, and was the strongest of their own personal bonds on what was a very deep spiritual level for them. It wasn't romance, as their kind did not form those types of connections, having no need for physical intimacy. They simply weren't wired that way, but their physiology was still a vastly foreign concept to Allison.

Somehow, Wheeljack had bonded to her during what had been a very inopportune time; on the run and racing against the Decepticons to find the Pendulum and get out of town as quickly, and in as much of one piece as possible. Perhaps those events were what had caused the bond to form. Allison still wasn't quite sure how to feel about it, but as she had grown to love Wheeljack in a powerful familial sense, she had been compelled to follow her instincts, and heart, and stay with him. It had been hard not to, because admittedly she'd grown rather fond of his company. Excitement seemed to follow him, and by extension, she had gotten caught up in it, but he had cared for her with no fear for his own personal safety. He made her laugh, made her happy, and simply made her feel good about being alive. If that didn't instigate love, on any kind of level, then love just didn't exist.

Besides, her apartment had been destroyed by Starscream. And with her boss missing, the building leveled to the ground and ties connecting her to the incident that would inevitably be picked up by law enforcement, she was essentially unemployed. It wasn't like there had been many other tempting options to consider.

Now she was traveling cross-country with a group of alien robots that dwarfed her small human frame in comparison. And the hardest thing was, she couldn't share it with anyone. They were hiding, and when in public spent their time disguised as various mechanical objects, most commonly cars as it allowed them the freedom of mobility. In more private places however, where there were no prying eyes, they were free to remain in their bi-pedal, humanoid form, which was shockingly less disconcerting. There was something about a car that seemed to be able to see, hear and feel you, not to mention talk to you out loud, that was mildly discomforting.

This was apparently one of those times where the Autobots were feeling social, and as they were in the middle of what appeared to be a secluded high-way rest stop Allison started to feel a little nervous that someone would blunder into them at any moment. The fact that Wheeljack and Ratchet were not nervous, didn't help make her less concerned.

"How are you feeling?" Wheeljack finally asked, perhaps sensing Allison's agitation as she couldn't help but look around where they'd ended up. Scrub land was a generous term, as it simply looked like a big grassy field that hadn't been watered in centuries. They were surrounded by low-lying mountains, and one lone tree looked out over the endless waves of yellow grass. The only signs that there had ever been any human presence was the sorely neglected wooden shed and dirt road that presumably lead back to the highway. The shed was obviously some kind of bathroom, its doors hanging widely off its hinges, and she suddenly felt her cheeks flush. How embarrassing.

"Uh, fine," she said absently, wiping her hands on her pants. She looked down at herself and frowned. She was a hot mess of thread-bare, filthy, torn clothing, and was going to need a new wardrobe yesterday. All of her worldly possessions had been incinerated with her entire apartment building. "Fine, considering that I was shot in the back with advanced alien weaponry. I'd say I'm doing remarkably well."

It was obvious to her that Wheeljack was frowning behind his mask by the way his eyes drooped. She could hear a subtle grunt from behind her, which made her pause. She turned to look at Ratchet, who was watching them with a very direct, piercing gaze.

Wheeljack spoke first. "Ratchet has... Well, you see Allison... Ratchet's asked me to ask you if he can... um..." Wheeljack stuttered, his strangely placed east coast-sounding accent making his words hitch in ways that were still a bit odd to Allison.

"Out with it Wheeljack," Ratchet huffed.

"Ratchet wants to look at you," Wheeljack blurted out.

"Needs to," Ratchet corrected. "It's not something I enjoy, you know."

Wheeljack cycled air, like a great, heavy sigh from his entire body all at once. "Ratchet needs to look at you."

"Needs to look at me, why? I'm right here..." Allison felt awkward as she paused, because Wheeljack's taken-aback expression was about as genuinely surprised as a startled kitten getting its milk taken away. She laughed at his sheer childishness, until it dawned on her what he'd actually meant. Her face grew hot, and she could feel her cheeks flush with annoyance.

"I need to look at your back, unless you'd rather let the wound fester," Ratchet added in a manner far more matter-of-factly than she truly cared for. Bedside manner was not one of Ratchet's stronger points.

"Like hell you are..." she gasped, sounding more aggressive than she'd intended, but the idea of having Ratchet pull her shirt up was not an enticing one. Especially in the middle of nowhere where anyone could wander into them, and what a show that would be. Ratchet was undaunted, and had no problem staring her down, as if the weight of his glassy blue stare alone was enough to make her snap. "You're not doing that if I have anything to say about it."

She supposed she should have known that she'd set herself up for that one, but the immediate blank stare Ratchet suddenly gave Wheeljack clued her in far too late that she in fact, would have no say in the matter.

"I'm sorry, Allison," Wheeljack blurted, and on instinct she turned to face him, only to find her arms suddenly pinned to her sides by Wheeljack's index fingers and thumbs. She squirmed against him, but in this matter he was unfortunately going to side with Ratchet. "Ratchet just needs to see your back. That's all." Wheeljack offered, but all he got from Allison was a saddened huff as she proceeded to stare unseeing at Wheeljack's chest, pretending to appear indifferent. In reality, she was feeling cornered.

Thankfully Ratchet was not going to keep her waiting like that forever. She hissed, from multiple sources of discomfort as he proceeded to lift the back of her shirt up. Humiliation couldn't even begin to describe how she was feeling.

Completely unchallenged, Ratchet prodded the tender flesh just under her shoulder blades where Starscream's scaled down Null Ray had hit her. It felt strangely numb, and it was only the cold winter air against her back that bit her senses back into the present, reminding her that she was standing in the middle of a field with two robots and her shirt up. Despite the angry warmth in her face, and the tightness of just about every muscle in her body, Ratchet's movements were brusque and completely devoid of feeling. It was as if this was no different then someone examining a piece of fruit for damage before buying. Somehow she found that even more uncomfortable, forced to stare forward at Wheeljack's green and white chest plating pretending she didn't care.

Wheeljack's face looked almost apologetic, but she just pouted back at him, feeling disheartened. She knew that Wheeljack, and even Ratchet despite his gruffness, had only her best interest in mind, but to them her protests were probably a huge mystery.

She yelped as something cold and slightly wet touched her back, and Ratchet drew away a second later with a satisfied huff. Hurriedly putting her shirt back into place, Allison was feeling just slightly overwhelmed and now alarmed at the new tingling wetness on her skin.

"You'll live," Ratchet said bluntly with a dismissive wave of his massive red hand. "And don't touch that salve. It'll keep that wound of yours from causing you anymore grief. Just don't think about running into the Decepticon base anytime soon." His jab at her expense was not lost on her, as Allison seemed to have a peculiar knack for blundering into every Decepticon trap imaginable, and somehow made it out alive on all occasions... with minimal injury. Starscream had not been so fortunate...

"Thank you, Ratchet," Allison offered quietly, not wanting to even think on where Ratchet had stored such a medical salve.

"Ah, speaking of Decepticons... Sideswipe is saying that the area is clear... they're returning now..." Wheeljack offered, to Ratchet obviously, as Allison had been barely conscious when Optimus Prime had arrived with the twins to bail them out. She only barely remembered seeing one of them, red with white legs and arms, but she did remember his name: Sideswipe.

And they had arrived just in time. Starscream would have killed her and left her for dead, and then would have killed Wheeljack, had they not intervened. She'd been categorically dead for some portion of the time before Ratchet had somehow resuscitated her. She'd find time to ask about it later, but somehow being reminded of her own mortality was not an appealing sentiment, and she wasn't sure if it ever would be. She was more worried about her new-found sense of discomfort.

"I'm going to go see what's over here..." Allison said feeling suddenly shy and not entirely sure why. She didn't know the twins; they'd simply just appeared and about the only impression she did get of them as they took turns kicking Starscream while he was down was that they were... well, immature was probably too polite. At the time she'd been too focused on calming Wheeljack down after his witness of her death that it seemed unimportant, but now that suddenly made her feel very weird. It had been overwhelming enough meeting Wheeljack for the first time, standing outside her apartment balcony (which had been in ruins because of him) only to be carted away to his makeshift "home." That home had been nothing more than a gutted out barn that he'd somehow managed to build a workshop of sorts underneath. That inevitably got destroyed by the Decepticons too.

Meeting Ratchet had been tolerable, though her first encounter with him wasn't far removed from her introduction to the twins, as he'd essentially popped up out of nowhere after a sudden fit of panic at her plight had caused Allison to flee from Wheeljack. She still hadn't gotten the hang of trusting him, and at the time, practically running straight into another one of them had been pushing it. Ratchet had taken her back to Wheeljack like she was a puppy that had simply wandered out of the yard, and they'd reconciled easily, and that had been the end of it. Things finally calmed, and she was surprised at how quickly she'd gotten used to Wheeljack's and Ratchet's combined presence, as daunting as they were.

Then Arcee had come along, having just crashed onto the planet causing Ratchet to disappear for some time. Presumably it had been to tend to her and dispose of what remained of her entry ship, but Allison would never know as she hadn't yet been brave enough to ask Ratchet about it. It became quickly evident to Allison that Ratchet and Arcee were bonded, and asking too many questions about the female Autobot had seemed like an intrusion. While Arcee had been gracious and unfeasibly kind, though tough and capable in a no-nonsense way, it had started to shred Allison's sense of normalcy. It was getting hard to stay grounded in reality, cut off from her own species and surrounded by giant robots.

More of them came later, and by that point it had gotten overwhelming. Allison was normally a shy person, and that seemed to only be accentuated by the eventuality of meeting more of an alien species. Their leader, Optimus Prime, had come to help them, bringing twin reinforcements with him. Too much had happened, and she had yet to actually meet them save for passing glances. Now however, there was no immediate medical concern or death hindering her ability to be social, and the only thing stopping her was her own childish insecurities.

Folding her arms around herself, Allison caught Wheeljack's calm eyes, and he was staring at her knowingly as if he could read exactly what was on her mind. On multiple occasions, Allison had wondered if he could do just that. She knew he couldn't, but apparently Soundwave literally could, being the mind reader around these parts and a source of a different kind of horror. Starscream had been openly vicious, and even perverse in a sadistic way, but Allison suspected it was just for the sake of torture; like he enjoyed seeing her reactions. Soundwave on the other hand, had been a silent ghost of malevolence, like a vicious dog waiting to be let off the chain.

Allison could feel the weight of Wheeljack's gaze as she wandered over to the gnarled tree that she'd observed earlier, wanting to temporarily remove herself from the situation so she could prepare herself mentally. She could hear the approach of two very fast, very powerful engines as she disappeared behind the other side of the tree looking out onto the field.

Nobody would have been able to see it from where she'd been standing near the rest stop, but there was a small pond nestled at the bottom of the field's slope. The water glistened in the sun, the crisp winter air making it appear glassy as it reflected the overcast, grey sky. There were a few mallards gliding along the water's surface, leaving snaking trails behind them as they paddled aimlessly. Allison heard the twins approach the other two Autobots behind her, barely taking a seconds breath as they transformed from their alternate forms without so much as a pause in motion. She could hear them talking. Ratchet sounded unimpressed and annoyed, and this brought a small smile to her face as she watched one of the ducks waddle out onto the shore. She heard Wheeljack's more off-handed tones, colored by the voices of what sounded like two very young, laid-back individuals, almost like teenagers. They sounded very different compared to the grizzled, more experienced older bots.

Allison's attention drifted away from their voices: laughter, and a harsh snarl as Ratchet said something in response to whatever was going on. Allison frowned to herself as her gaze locked onto the water. The cold air hit her skin, and just as soon as she felt the goosebumps rise on her bare skin, did it finally hit home that the very fact that she was sitting there breathing was a miracle. She had been dead, as lifeless as a rock; no pulse and no breath, her life snuffed out in an instant of cruel vengeance. Starscream had wanted to hurt Wheeljack, and to do so he had killed her right in front of him. She'd obviously missed what happened next, but she had a good idea as to what had transpired. Wheeljack had gone into some kind of berserker rage, which was completely out of his normally passive, eccentric character. He'd lost himself in a need to kill Starscream for what he'd done, and he'd nearly succeeded, having blasted Starscream into a forced, but very aware, stasis with what he'd called his Gyro-Inhibitor.

Ratchet and the others had arrived seconds later, and Ratchet had saved her... and she had saved Starscream. She'd shown him mercy, pleading to Wheeljack not to kill him, and he'd listened. Why had she saved him? She didn't know if she'd ever know the answer to that question. It had just seemed... like the right thing to do.

Starscream was a prisoner of the Autobots now. Optimus Prime had forged onward with Arcee to return to Detroit, their prisoner still locked in stasis in Prime's trailer, and secured with a haphazard tarp thrown over him. For now he was gone, but that encounter was going to haunt Allison forever. The way Starscream had looked at her before he'd grabbed her-before killing her-terrified her to think back on it now, and somehow she knew that having him around was not going to make getting over it any easier.

Suddenly sitting by herself had lost all of its novelty, and Allison was feeling very alone and exposed not hearing their voices anymore. She had a compelling need to be near Wheeljack, and in order to do that she'd need to swallow her insecurities. She was going to meet an entire base full of autonomous alien robots soon, so she might as well start with a few of them now.

What Allison didn't expect, was to turn around only to find one of them waiting for her. With a healthy, frightened gasp that nearly sent her poor abused heart back into shock, she jumped back. She had not expected to find one of them literally waiting for her to come out of hiding. The red one, Sideswipe, was kneeling down with his head bowed almost like a cat waiting to pounce, but there was a genuinely curious look on his face.

A moment of silence passed between them where Allison wasn't quite sure how to react. He was mostly red, with white forearms and legs, and mixed pieces of black on his body. He had a surprisingly youthful face, if one would describe it that way, with strong, straight angles on all his human-like features; very masculine. Allison wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to say something, but instead of coming up with something, she gaped.

"Hi," he said finally. The simplicity of his greeting surprised her, but in all honesty Allison didn't really know what she had expected. His softly glowing eyes were curved in such a thoroughly disarming way, that Allison could almost imagine if Sideswipe were human, he'd be dangerously charming. She felt her cheeks get hot with embarrassment at this notion. "I'm Sideswipe." He pointed at his own wide, massive chest that was very clearly the hood of a sports car, complete with the sharply angled headlights at the bottom corners.

"I know," Allison said stupidly. "I remember you... sort of." It didn't seem appropriate for her to point to her own chest; he clearly already knew who she was. He looked like an overly excited puppy as he seemed to bounce on his own legs.

"You're Allison," he answered for her. "Primus, you're tiny," he said with an exuberant shrug. The two car tires at the top of his massive shoulders swayed heavily as he moved, but it didn't appear to be the least bit disabling to him. Wheeljack had two of his alternate form's tires on his own shoulders, but they were more obscured by the plates of his armor. Sideswipe's were very obvious, and they spun slightly when he moved, moving back and forth as if they were a very part of his expressions.

"And you're very big," Allison responded sourly, remembering a similar reaction from Wheeljack when he'd met her. Did they all feel the need to point out how small she was? This elicited a boisterous laugh from Sideswipe that made Allison flinch. His laugh was very human. It was somewhat disconcerting having something of such size, and likely a million years her senior, appear to act so relatively so young.

"I like you. Who knew the Boom Bot could pick 'em?" Allison looked at him questioningly at this, knowing at the same time that was a reference to Wheeljack's reputation. It was still odd hearing it out of someone else's mouth. Admittedly she hadn't yet seen many reasons for Wheeljack's self-proclaimed penchant for destruction except for the fact that he had no qualms about breaking things that didn't belong to him. Her car had been one such poor soul; his sly attempt at keeping her restrained and unable to wander off before they'd properly met.

It was that moment that Allison caught Sideswipe's yellow counterpart stalking up behind him like a tiger, uninterested scowl the polar opposite of the expression on the Autobot's face before her. Sideswipe visibly brightened, clearly sensing his brother's approach, and he smiled goofily at her. His eyes were squinted happily, creating bright streams of lights that bounced off the sharp angles of his face.

"Hey Sunny, I like her, she's sassy..." he said, motioning at her with a broad sweep of his arm. Allison stepped back, watching his brother carefully. He was a bright canary yellow offset with black, and the obvious name recognition clicked in her mind immediately. This was obviously Sunstreaker, but instead of greeting him, she peered at him with hesitation. He did not look friendly. In fact, he looked completely uninterested. He only grunted in response to his brother's attempt at conversation. At least they didn't look the same. Allison had been paranoid that she'd have to learn to tell the difference between two robotic twins, but had she not been told they were somehow "related" she would have never got that impression by looking at them.

Sideswipe shrugged off his brother's lack of commitment, perhaps used to it, and turned back to Allison. He made a motion as if to scratch his ear, or the protrusions on his black, armored head that looked like long pointed ears. They were on both sides of his head, square and angled backwards almost like elven ears. Sunstreaker had similar fixtures, except his jutted outwards from his head and pointed up like the horns of a samurai's crest. It actually made Sunstreaker look rather intimidating, but Sideswipe looked harmless in comparison, if not for the very large cannon on his back. Allison hadn't immediately noticed it, but when he leaned in closer it became obvious. It was pointing upwards at the sky, but that didn't make it look any less large, and explosive. Perhaps she'd simply gotten used to the very large rocket that had adorned Wheeljack's shoulder until he'd gotten it ripped off, so things like that were no longer jumping out at her.

"You're a lot squishier than Sari. What's this for?" Sideswipe reached a finger out as if to touch her, and as soon as she realized where his hand was going on her chest she grabbed it with a yelp.

"What do you think you're doing!" Allison cried, startled. He looked genuinely surprised, eyes widened to large glowing circles on his face.

"They don't like to be touched, 'Sides," Sunstreaker finally said. His voice was deeper and more gravelly than his brother's, but still retained an edge of youthfulness. There was only the smallest hint of amusement on Sunstreaker's grey face, but it disappeared almost immediately. Allison was far too perturbed after being called squishier to really care.

"I don't care if you touch me, except for a few exceptions, and you'll learn what those are very quickly..." Allison let go of Sideswipe's finger and attempted a smile, because the Autobot was pouting. He was even more of a giant baby than Wheeljack was, and about a million times more roguish.

Finally as if on queue Allison spotted Wheeljack emerge from somewhere behind the building and a stand of trees with Ratchet very close behind him. When Wheeljack saw the trio of them his eyes narrowed suspiciously, but there was a hint of amusement within their sparkling blue depths like he knew exactly what was going on. Feeling immensely relieved to be saved from such an awkward situation Allison darted around Sideswipe's bulky frame and ran toward Wheeljack. He paused mid-stride.

"Are they bothering you?" Wheeljack said, looking down at her. Allison had to crane her neck all the way back just to see him properly. Her back twitched annoyingly at this motion, but she ignored it.

"No, they're harmless," she said airily. "Are we leaving now?" She glanced back and saw that Sideswipe had stood. It was only then that some of the physical similarities between Sideswipe and Sunstreaker became apparent. They walked over to them as if to join the conversation, but they simply stood and observed. Allison felt herself naturally gravitate closer to Wheeljack's lower leg, as the Autobot offered her a strong sense of familiarity, a comforting presence to counter the awkwardness that came with meeting new faces. They were tall, and very broad, but in such a way that it exuded an idea of musculature and power that was very warrior-like. They were meant for battle, whereas Wheeljack was a scientist. His bulk, while no less powerful looking, was more brawn then speed, unlike the twins. Although she'd come to learn on more than a few occasions that Wheeljack was much faster than he looked; startlingly so.

"We're not long outside of Detroit, but we've made the decision to stop for the night so you can have a proper rest, and do whatever it is you might need to do in a real berth..." Wheeljack was holding the back of his head with uncertainty, but Allison knew what he meant. The prospect of a shower and a real bed after weeks on the run was about as enticing as getting handed a million dollars in hard cash. "Ratchet is not concerned for your health at the moment."

"Great. That means I won't drop dead in the middle of the night, right?" Allison said darkly, even though she was aware that Ratchet knew vastly more than any human doctor did. He could somehow read her chemical and physical queues in ways she knew that even the most powerful of human machines couldn't even hope to accomplish. It was strange, but despite all his cantankerous, somewhat outlandish ways Allison had grown quite fond of Ratchet over the past few weeks. He was endearing in that "hate to love them" kind of way. Plus, he had brought her back to life, so he did have that going for him.

"If you really must put it that way..." Wheeljack said, cycling air. He was frowning again, and Allison tried to give him her most charming half-smile to wipe the deeply saddened look off his face. Allison hadn't been conscious to witness the true level of devastation that Starscream had caused, but she could imagine well enough what it had done to Wheeljack. The Autobot was not an inherently angry or violent being, but the level of rage that she had seen when she'd begged him to spare the Decepticon was like a torrential hurricane hovering just over the horizon. It was a painful reminder of her own fragile mortality compared to them, and how closely intertwined to Wheeljack she now was, whether she liked it or not.

"I'm sorry I know I shouldn't talk like that," she said, giving his leg a little pat. It was hard to look enthusiastic when she knew that as soon as she was alone with her eyes closed, her brain would be throwing all sorts of horrific Starscream-induced visions at her. His face brightened visibly, the lit ear panels on the sides of his face glowing a rosy pink with content.

"This is all very lovely, but Prime will be waiting for our full report, so we really should get moving if we hope to be there by the next century..." Ratchet cut in with much disapproval in mid-stride away from them. He transformed in a messy rush of robot-to-ambulance parts as his car form hit the ground with a heavily strained thud.

"Looks like someone needs some upgrades..." Sideswipe muttered, following suit. Instead of a mess, all the pieces of his body seemed to move in flowing harmony as his upper body came together, simultaneously lowering to the ground as the final plates of the car snapped into place. Sunstreaker's transformation was very similar, and she was faced with two identical, but differently colored sports cars. Very expensive, and very fast sports cars. Allison breathed in, not being one to go crazy over cars, but still able to appreciate the sheer novelty of two Lamborghini's sitting before her.

"I may need a few upgrades... but my hearing is still excellent," Ratchet grunted with a roar of the engine. In response, the twins surged forward and peeled out onto the road with only a cloud of dust lingering behind them, as if Ratchet's very retort was some kind of challenge in itself. Just like that, they were gone, the sounds of their engines fading away into the distance. Allison finally exhaled.

Wheeljack shifted from under her hands, causing Allison to look up at him. He was leaning over her at the waist, peering down with questioning interest at her. It was only then that she realized she was clinging to his leg. He was being polite.

"Sorry," she said hurriedly, and she moved away to give him room to transform. There was definitely more strain in his movements, and she suspected that it was going to take more than a few days for him to be completely healed. He'd taken quite the beating... Because of me, she reminded herself, with no shortage of personal bitterness. Having a doting, fatherly robot willing to run out and get himself killed for you at the drop of a hat was a hard pill to swallow.

"You're coming with me," he said finally, sliding up next to her as the driver's door popped open. After Ratchet's insistence that she ride with him should anything happen to her, she wondered if she was going to be forced to be in his company all the way to Detroit. Thankfully that was not to be so. She much preferred to be with Wheeljack.

After a brief, legitimate visit to the facilities at which they had stopped at, she fell into Wheeljack's front seat oddly content. It felt like it had been a long time, but in reality it had only been a few days. The comforting warmth in the air was not forgotten, and Allison touched the surface of the dashboard gently as she sat down in the faux driver's seat. A familiar rumble of approval passed beneath her fingers, the sign that Wheeljack was satisfied. Even though his intellect vastly out measured hers, and she would never fully grasp everything he'd seen and done in his long lifetime, there were still moments where she felt that she truly understood him.

"Wheeljack, who is Sari?" She asked as they started back down the road, the dust from the two Lamborghini long settled back onto the ground. Ratchet was in front of them, the "Medic One" plastered across his back doors a grim reminder as to how she'd spent most of the journey so far.

"You'll find out soon enough."