Author's Note: Hello, and welcome to Her Guardian - also known as my first shot at writing a multi Chapter story for TF: Prime. This idea has not left me alone ever since watching the preview for the upcoming TF4 movie, so I finally decided to give in and start typing the story out. And, well...this is the beginning. To anyone who was willing to click on this story and give it a chance, my thanks goes to you and I promise to give you a ride you will never forget (and since we're dealing with Transformers, I mean that literally).

Disclaimer: I, sweettea1, do not own the Transformers franchise whatsoever. However, any characters or scenes not seen in the Transformers: Prime TV show are my rightful creations and property.

I sincerely hope you enjoy, and please leave a review to let me know what you think of the story so far. Thank you :)

Chapter I:

This Is Jasper

"If you tell people where to go, but not how to get there, you'll be amazed at the results." –George S. Patton

"Jane?"

The seat beneath her vibrated with the hum of the engine while the car blinker clicked rhythmically in the background. She found herself grasping the crayon box more tightly so they would not fall to the floor during the turn; however, she never lost her focus on the picture she was drawing. She wanted it to be perfect.

"Jane…"

The car rolled forward slowly, the two adults in the front laughing over something she had not heard – not that she had any particular interest in their conversation. She was busy, and she would not be distracted. She plucked a grey crayon from the box, her mind imagining a great sword she had seen on the television once – before her mother promptly turned the power off, telling her she was too young for that violent, gory movie. But, despite that interruption, she still remembered the man who had been wielding said weapon: muscular, scarred, and dressed in equally grey armor, his head poking out of the array of metal that protected him, his helmet lost long ago. To her ten-year-old mind, that had been one of the coolest moments she had ever witnessed – and now, she wanted to recreate that moment.

"Jane, seriously. Snap out of it."

"Is everything alright back there?"

No. Everything was ruined – and the saddest part was that everything moved too fast for her to fully comprehend what happened. The blare of a horn and the screech of tires rang in her ears before abruptly changing to the horrible crunch of metal. She might have screamed, but she was not entirely sure. She still clutched the box of crayons and notepad she had been using as the car spun and landed on its side with the terrifying cracks of shattered glass. Her head was pounding and she could hear the rush of her blood, the rapid pace of her heart, and the laborious breaths she took. Her left shoulder ached and a warm liquid trailed down her arm – though, she was in no position to see what the liquid was.

"Maybe I should just give her a thump on the head."

"Melanie, that's ridiculous. All you need to do is pull her earphones out. She probably can't hear you over her music."

"Or she's ignoring me. Or both."

"Melanie, please."

She blinked away tears and smoke, coughing as she called out uselessly to whoever might hear her and come to her aid. She wanted to be free of this prison – she wanted someone to tell her everything was going to be okay. However, time passed slowly with no response, and she began to become impatient. She kicked her feet and swung her hands every which way, the crayons rattling and spilling out of the box in her right hand. Then…then there was shifting metal outside of her confinement, followed by a deep, rumbling voice, reminding her of the thunder that accompanied lightning in a bad storm. Unfortunately for her, she hated thunder; therefore, the voice only served to make her tears fall faster.

"What? She's done it before."

"Mel…"

"Okay, okay. Fine. I'll try the earphones."

The seat belt tore, but she could not remember how or why. She could only recall collapsing onto a warm, metal surface, the rest of her crayons disappearing into the wreckage. She gasped, watching as the grey one fell into darkness while her body was lifted through the opposite door's broken window. The metal holding her aloft curled around her gently, as if trying to protect her from the jagged shards still attached to the door. Once she was finally removed from her prison, she felt the summer's night air brush against her skin, and she breathed deeply to clear her nose of the smoke that had choked her.

She twisted, hugging the notepad to her chest as she stared up at the face that peered down at her. A pair of deep azure eyes met her bright blue ones, power and compassion shining in the former and giving her a sense of belittlement. He – she could only assume that it was a he, judging from the faint, broad outline of his angular body – opened his mouth, about to say something to her—

"Jane!"

Aforementioned teen jerked away from the sudden yell and rubbed her damaged ear. She blinked, slowly remembering where she was: She, her aunt, and her cousin Melanie were in Aunt Crystal's black SUV, driving toward—

"Thank God you finally heard me! Welcome to the land of the living." Melanie grinned as Jane shot her a heated glare, still rubbing her sensitive ear. "And more importantly, welcome to Jasper, Nevada, cuz."

Jane blinked again, finally letting her hand drop back to her side as she glanced out the tinted windows. The beginning of a town began to show as the SUV passed by the first few buildings. She tried to read the signs that tilted said buildings, but she could only catch a few. Not that she needed to know their names right then and there – she was going to be living here, so she would have plenty of time to recognize such places. Besides, it was hardly a comparison to the clustered streets of Sparks, Nevada.

She caught her breath as she heard her aunt flip on the blinker, releasing it only when they had safely made their turn onto another street. Houses lined either side of the dark asphalt, most of them one-story with the occasional two-story towering over its neighbors. She pursed her lips, noticing the lack of green lawns in front of the homes – and it served as a solid reminder that she was, indeed, living in a desert.

"Sandy," she murmured, removing her other earphone and coiling the cord around her phone.

"No kidding," Melanie remarked beside her, admiring one of the two-story homes painted a stark white. "What were you expecting? A lush forest?"

"Las Vegas would have been great, actually."

"Yeah, well. That's in the desert, too, genius."

"I know that. I was just saying—"

"And here we are, girls!" Aunt Crystal exclaimed, successfully interrupting their mocking argument.

Both teens leaned forward and gazed out the front windshield to stare at the long, one-story house. It mixed well with the surrounding homes, its tan color nearly camouflaging it with Jasper's sandy plain. A stray, characteristic cactus stood tall and proud at one corner of the house, its long needles visible even from their position.

A horn honked behind them and Jane whirled around, relieved to see that it was only her uncle, Rickey, and the moving truck he was driving. She rubbed her forearms, trying desperately to soothe the goose bumps that had risen there.

Her aunt gave them a brief smile, turned off the engine, and stepped out of the SUV, shouting something unintelligible to Rickey – something about disturbing the neighbors, perhaps?

Melanie waited for a moment before snapping her attention to Jane. "Hey, are you okay? You've been jumpy ever since we entered town – not to mention zoned out, too," she said, a hint of worry reflecting in her green irises. "Are you—"

"Having memories? Yeah, I am," Jane mumbled disappointedly, leaning back against the seat and crossing her arms over her chest. "I was hoping that getting away from Sparks would give me a clean slate. I mean...it's been five years. I should be over it already."

Melanie frowned and placed a hand on her cousin's shoulder. "You lost your parents in that crash, cuz," she said quietly. "It's hard to forget something like that, and neither I nor my parents expect you to forget it just because we moved away from Sparks."

"But I want to forget," she retorted. "This is a new place with new people. No more reminders, and no one thinking I'm crazy or a pitiful sight."

"No one thought you were crazy—"

"Come on you two!" Aunt Crystal called to them while Rickey opened the back of the truck and pulled out the ramp. "We have work to do!"

Jane released a sigh and unbuckled her seatbelt. Then, with a sad smile, she glanced up at her cousin. "Listen, I appreciate your concern, but…I guess it's something that I need to figure out for myself first. Let me get a feel for the place and get to know the people around here. Maybe it'll get better over time."

"Well that's a way to look at it." Melanie returned the smile briefly before murmuring seriously, "But if you need someone to talk to, just know I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Mel. Truly."

With a shared nod, they opened their respective doors and stepped out onto the driveway. Jane arched her back and twisted from side to side, her blue eyes observing the desert terrain and the neighboring houses. It was surprisingly quiet – at least, compared to Sparks' atmosphere – and Jane felt as if a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. No city lights, exhaust fumes, emergency sirens, loud music – it was peaceful, and she was thankful for the blatant change.

The rumble of a garage door drew her attention and she stared down the row of houses for the source. One house down, she saw the garage door of a home – similar to the design of her family's new place – roll up slowly, producing a sleek blue motorcycle and an accompanying dark-haired rider. The teenage boy wheeled his bike down the driveway, his helmet tucked under one arm, while his eyes glanced up and down the road. He paused once he spotted her.

She bit her lower lip, embarrassed that she had been caught staring. Therefore, in an act of recovery, she raised a hand and wave, shoulders tensing up suddenly. He blinked, hesitating, before smiling kindly and returning the wave. He then proceeded to pull on his helmet and swing his leg over his motorcycle, the vehicle revving its engine as soon as he sat down.

Jane watched him disappear down the road, the bike humming in her ears the entire way.

"Well, he seemed nice," her aunt remarked next to her, making Jane jump in surprise. She turned to face Aunt Crystal and glanced down at the box labeled 'DISHES' she was carrying.

"You don't even know him yet. Heck, you don't even have a name." She strode to the SUV and opened the back door, hefting a box that had her name scribbled on all sides. "He could be a street racer or something for all we know."

Aunt Crystal rolled her eyes, but Melanie was the one to speak up. "Jane, this is Jasper. He's probably the sweet hometown boy, not the crazy psychopath." She paused, hands hovering over a suitcase. "Uh, who are we talking about again?"

"The neighbor with the blue motorcycle."

Melanie perked up. "Did you say motorcycle?"

"One you're not riding, young lady!" Rickey bellowed from somewhere in the truck, making Melanie pout and Jane burst out in laughter.

It was late afternoon when the moving truck was finally unloaded and everything was in the new house. True, boxes and luggage still needed to be unpacked, furniture needed to be moved, and walls needed to be painted, but the truck was no longer needed.

Jane accompanied Uncle Rickey outside, heading for the SUV while Rickey walked toward the truck.

Rickey suddenly ruffled Jane's short, brown hair. "Your aunt and I will be back soon, kiddo. Gotta get this hunk of metal off our hands."

"Do you have a vendetta against anything with wheels, uncle? Because…you're pretty abusive to them."

He laughed a hearty laugh, clapping her on the shoulder. A lopsided smile lighted her own features, her uncle's jovial mood easily contagious. She could not help but wonder if the neighbors would be irritated with her boisterous uncle, or if they would share his simple joy – much like herself at that moment. "A vendetta seems a bit much, kiddo. But I wouldn't say I have the best relationship with them," he remarked once he quieted down. "Ever since my first car, I have had problems with them. Flat tires, stuttering engines, radios full of static...I even had a side mirror knocked clean off."

"I know. You told Mel and me a hundred times about that…incident. That's also the reason why Aunt Crystal was worried about you driving the truck with all her valuables in it," Jane said, combing her hair back and out of her face. "I just hope I don't end up like you, with cars that have a mind of their own. No offense, Uncle."

He waved and hand, coming to a stop. "None taken. I hope you have better luck, too." He patted the side of the truck. "Your aunt and I will be back before you know it. And you listen to your cousin, because she's going to be in charge while we're gone. Unless, of course, she tries to hop on a motorcycle – then you're in charge."

Jane grinned broadly at that and stood a little straighter. "You can count on me, sir," she said, giving a two-finger salute. Rickey chuckled, reaching forward to ruffle her hair again, but she dodged. "Nope, not happening. I just fixed it after the first time."

She paused for a moment, staring up at her towering uncle, before quickly stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. He made a slight 'oomph' sound, but did not hesitate to return the favor and encircle his lanky arms around her shoulders.

"Be careful, please?" Jane mumbled against his chest, her vision filled with the plaid print of his flannel shirt. She loved her uncle, for he much-too-easily slid into the fatherly position she oftentimes missed. And to be reminded of his rather ludicrous experiences with past vehicles sent shivers down her spine and filled her ears with the sound of crunching metal – horrific crunching metal.

Rickey gently pushed her away to arms length, smiling warmly – yet sadly – down at her. "I always try to be, kiddo. Besides, this hunk of metal hasn't given me any problems yet. I doubt she will now, or she'll face the fury of your aunt."

"'She'?" Jane giggled, the tension she had had since they arrived slowly dissipating. "Giving the 'hunk of metal' a gender now?"

"A man always calls his ride a 'she.' Laws of nature, Jane. Can't change them." He shrugged.

"Whatever you say, uncle," she replied, shaking her head. "Love you."

"Love you, too, kiddo," he said, squeezing her shoulders before releasing her from his grip.

She strode over to her aunt's black SUV, opening the side door and reaching for the backpack she had accidently forgotten – mostly because she had been too interested in the boy and his motorcycle. She grabbed a strap, dragged it across the floor, and slung it over her shoulder, cringing at the rumple of paper, clatter of pencils, and thumps of tubes that emitted from the bag. It was her art supplies, and she knew that the simple action should not have damaged anything; however, she still hated the noises that came from inside, imagining a disorganized mess once she unzipped it.

Shutting the door solidly, she slipped her arm through the other strap and adjusted it on her shoulders. Faintly, she could hear the front door of the house open and close. She looked up just in time to see her aunt come striding down the driveway, rummaging through her purse (undoubtedly in search of her keys). Melanie followed after her, but stopped short of the SUV and stared at the moving truck with a flat expression.

"Hey, dad! Make sure you don't knock a mirror off this one, too," she warned, her tone serious but a smirk beginning to pull at her lips. Jane laughed inwardly at the irony of the comment.

Rickey saluted – much like Jane did moments before – and trotted to the driver's side door.

"You two behave. We shouldn't be gone more than an hour." Aunt Crystal shook her head, finally producing her keys. "The only downside to this town is that they don't have a place close to return this truck."

Melanie took a couple steps forward and wrapped an arm around Jane's shoulders. "Trust me: we'll have a blast."

"Really? Then why do you sound so sarcastic?" Jane asked, giving her cousin a sidelong glance.

Her reply was an elbow to the ribs.

Aunt Crystal hummed. "Right. Well, I guess we're off then. Love you!"

"Love you, aunty."

"Love you, too, mom."

Both girls watched as the adults started their vehicles and drove down the empty street, dust trailing in their wake. Jane pursed her lips, hooking her thumbs in the straps of her backpack while Melanie removed her arm from her shoulders. She knew, without asking, that they were thinking along the same lines: they had an unfinished house all to themselves.

Jane turned on her heels to face her cousin. "So…should we…I don't know. Paint, or something?"

Melanie huffed. "Mom may have the paint, but I don't know what she wants. You know how she is. She comes, looks at the house, gets an image in her mind, and then keeps it to herself." She frowned, folding her arms. "She's good at keeping a secret. No wonder she's an expert with surprise parties…"

Jane chuckled, shifting her weight. "Well, I know what I want for my room. We could start there."

"Fine. We'll do it together. One room at a time." She smiled mischievously. "Mine first though."

"Wait…what?"

But Melanie was already jogging back into the house, her snickers echoing in Jane's ears.

What a wonderful start to a move-in, Jane grumbled to herself, despite the smile that tugged at her lips. Honestly, it was hard to be mad at her cousin, despite how well she fit the role of an annoying older sister.

She had barely taken a step toward the house when she heard the rumble of an engine behind her. She whirled around, eyebrows shooting up once she saw a familiar blue motorcycle slow to a stop at the end of her driveway. The boy living one house down from her, she easily remembered.

He placed a foot on the ground and pulled his helmet off, revealing bushy black hair and brown eyes.

Jane blinked a few times in surprise before finally regaining control of her wits and giving the boy a half-wave. "Uh…hi?"

"Oh…um…" It was as if he had not expected her to say anything to him. "Hi. I'm Jack. Jack Darby."

Jane smiled at his slight stutter, wondering if he was always this nervous around people. From appearance alone – especially with his sharp and flashy motorcycle – he did not seem to be the shy type. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Jack Darby. I'm Jane Malone – but just Jane would be fine."

"Uh, right. Same here. Just Jack." Her smile broadened at his hastily added comment, but she did not dare laugh. She did not want him more flustered than he already was. "I saw the uh, truck earlier. I'm guessing you're moving in?"

She nodded. "Your guess would be correct. My family and I came from Sparks." She looked up and down the road, scratching the back of her head. "Peaceful place, Jasper is."

He snorted quietly at that. "That's a nice way to put it."

"Hey, I haven't had a chance to explore yet. It might surprise—"

"Jane! Are you coming?" Melanie hollered from the front door, oblivious to the conversation taking place outside. "Don't be a poor sport just because you failed to call dibs first!"

"Right…" Jane mumbled. She turned back to Jack. "And that would be my cousin calling." She started to back up. "I guess I'll see you around, Jack? Or at school? Or something like that?"

"Well I don't plan on leaving Jasper anytime soon," he said. "Plus, I'm one door down from you. I'll be hard to miss."

"You make a good point," she admitted. Then, waving, she retreated toward the door where he cousin stood waiting.

"Who was that?" Melanie asked, peering over Jane's shoulder.

"Jack," Jane answered. And, upon seeing the baffled look on her cousin's face, she supplied, "The guy I was talking about earlier. The one with the motorcycle…"

"Oh!"

"Bet you wish you stayed out there a bit longer now, huh?" She smirked at her cousin's scowl, squeezing past her and moving toward the room to be painted. "Your room first, right?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

Melanie closed the door, but not before Jane caught the hum of Jack's motorcycle rolling down the road to his own house. However, she never heard the feminine voice that emitted from said bike.