Author's Notes (December 2009): Ah, the indignities our favorite kick-butt alien robot warriors will suffer this holiday season! As I write this, my children are playing with their toys. My daughter has Chromia and Sweetie Belle (the white unicorn of My Little Pony fame) teaming up to defeat my son's Optimus Prime, with the pony declaring in the dulcet tones of a five-year-old, "Only a Prime can defeat me." My son has Demolisher and Megatron coming to Optimus' assistance, with only so-so results. Megatron keeps saying (with Skids' inflection), "You shot me in the face!" Not sure if that was Demolisher or Optimus who shot him, but my money's on the Autobot.
Oh, and now they're playing Candyland with the 15" Leader-Class Optimus Prime and Dora the Explorer as the figurines. This should be interesting… Yes, mechs and femmes, I live in a crossover crackfic.
PS – I have the blade mentioned in this fic, courtesy of my fellow collaborator Kateydidnt. I am loved! :) And yes, there is an allusion to hummergrey's lauded fic, "If an Autobot, do NOT do the following." Specifically, Rule #50 (found in Chapter 11)
Christmas on Diego Garcia was nothing like what Sarah Lennox grew up with. Sure, growing up in the mountains east of Bakersfield, California, she hadn't seen many white Christmases, but at least she'd seen a few. On the military installation she'd called home for the last seven years, however, even the memory of snow had long ago melted. The island base lay in the Indian Ocean just a little south of the equator and was swelteringly humid year round.
Back when Sarah was little, family would come from across the West Coast and Mountain West to gather at Grandma and Grandpa Olsen's place – a ranch that she would one day inherit. They'd all squeeze into the old house, and the grandkids would stay up together all night listening for Santa to come. The rule was no one could leave the bedrooms until 5:30AM, at which point they'd have a cold-cereal buffet to tide everyone over. Once the kids had a good sugar buzz from Fruit Loops and Cocoa Puffs, the adults would unleash them on the living room where there would be a veritable blizzard of wrapping paper as the kids tore open their presents. Mid-morning they all gathered in grandma's dining room for brunch – muffins and eggs and bacon and flapjacks and juice and coffee and piles of fruit. Even now, decades later, Sarah's heart warmed at the memories.
Every year, Sarah ached to give her only child something as wonderful to carry in her own heart. No biological family could come visit them in Diego Garcia, of course, and they'd only once been able to take a leave of absence over the holidays. She made do with what she could, hoping it would be enough. On the rare occasions that Sarah mentioned her worry to her daughter, Annabelle just gave her a curious look and told her that she was a great mom and to not worry.
In Sarah's mind, Annabelle didn't know what she was missing; in Annabelle's six-year-old mind, she wasn't missing a thing.
For the girl, her mother's antique little snow-globe was like a window into an alien world. This year, her favorite Christmas song was "Mele Kalikimaka," partly because it was fun to say but mostly because she'd learned to hula to it in school and she danced around the house humming it for the whole month of December. There weren't any kids her age that could stay up all night with her waiting for Santa Claus, but she happily kept watch with her dad, listening for the jingle bells and the sound of reindeer hooves on the roof. In keeping with her mother's tradition, Annabelle had a cereal buffet with her parents, usually eating at least three bowls of good-for-nothing sugar cereal before she was ready to open presents. And always, before she finished breakfast, her dad's friends from the base would arrive. They drove their own cars, filling the driveway and even parking on the lawn.
Then they'd pack the house to the brim – a motley bunch of boisterous warriors, hardened veterans, and military wives – and exchange presents. Annabelle was the only child in the group, and she reaped the benefits on Christmas morning, even if the adults tended to be a bit predictable. Her dad's best friend, Aaron Hyde, always gave her the biggest and flashiest presents – things like a motorized ride-on Jeep or a Dora the Explorer TV/Blu-ray combo. Ron Hatchett, who went by the nickname Ratchet, always gave her scientific stuff – animal picture-books, a magnifying glass, and then last year, a chemistry set. River Christiansen, who always went by the nickname R.C., had a thing for clothes and shipped in pretty outfits for her from overseas. Prime gave her presents that were suited to Annabelle but, at the same time, very grown up – a set of twelve colored fairy tale books last year and a locket with a picture of her family in it the year before. She'd been on a fairy-princess kick ever since.
This year there was a new addition to the crowd, and Annabelle curiously watched him through the living room window as he walked up to the house. His name was Prowl, and he and Prime were best friends. Or at least, they talked a lot in a secretive way that seemed like a best-friends thing to her. The little girl couldn't wait to see what this stranger might have brought for her. The fact that she never doubted the newcomer had a present for her only showed just how thoroughly spoiled Annabelle was.
"I think we should make Spitlet wait," R.C. said, using their pet name for her as she scooped Annabelle up in her arms and squeezed her in a bear-hug. "She went first last year. Only makes sense that she should be last this year."
"Noooo!" Annabelle wailed, so buzzed from sleep deprivation and sugar cereal that she actually started crying, despite being the grown-up age of six and a half.
"Ouch," Sides said. "That was brutal, R.C. Way to break the kid's heart." His brother Sunny silently stalked past them both to sulk by the Christmas tree.
Hyde snatched the crying girl away from the female soldier, drying Annabelle's eyes with his rough thumb. "Don't listen to her, beautiful. You'll go first, of course. Youth before wisdom."
"That makes you second?" Ratchet said to Hyde as he passed by him into the kitchen to say hi to Sarah.
Hyde narrowed his eyes at Ratchet and, handing off Annabelle to Joel Tapp, stalked after his friend. Prowl watched curiously as Jolt (as Joel was nicknamed) quickly but carefully set her on her feet and nudged her toward the twins, Skids and Mudflap. They were the youngest of the group and always treated the girl like she was a co-conspirator in whatever hijinks they were plotting. And they were always plotting.
"Mele Kalikimaka," she cheerfully greeted them, plopping onto the middle cushion between them.
"Back atcha, cutie," Mudflap answered, tweaking her nose.
"So whaddya get us this year?" Skids whispered to her.
"She ain't telling," Mudflap answered, punching his brother in the shoulder. "It's bad luck."
"No it ain't," was Skids' brilliant comeback and he punched his brother back. "That's birthday wishes."
Coming up behind the couch, Prime laid a hand on each of the twins' shoulders. "Hello Annabelle," he greeted. "Boys, why don't you spread a little of the holiday spirit and go get the presents out of my cab?"
Glowering but not daring to grumble, the twins retreated out the front door toward Prime's semi.
Annabelle looked up into the commanding officer's bright blue eyes and he winked before straightening. "What's your status in there, Hyde?" he called toward the kitchen.
"Ready when Spitlet is," he answered, dragging Ratchet into the living room in a headlock.
Prime rolled his eyes. "You'd think you two were twins. Knock it off and go help Skids and Mudflap with the presents."
Sunny snorted in derision.
Once the gifts were all brought in, Annabelle held court in front of the Christmas tree that was now buried in drifts of presents.
Prime handed her one long present and one small box. "I teamed up with 'Bee this year. Open his first." Annabelle shook the present once before opening it. Inside was a glass sphere the size of a softball that was flattened on one side. A paperweight. Suspended inside it was a rough, grey stone. "Do you want me to read the card for you?" Prime prompted.
"I can do it myself." Very proud of her literacy, Annabelle picked up the little note and haltingly read it out loud for everyone. "Merry Christmas, Spitlet! This is a real, actual rock from outer space. From the moon. This way, when some boy comes along when you're older and promises you the moon, you can say, 'I've already got one!' Wishing we were there! 'Bee, Wheelie, Sam, and Mikaela."
Sarah chuckled. "Well that's thinking ahead."
"Never too young to start teaching her to be wary of the boys," Hyde rumbled approvingly.
Annabelle handed the ball off to her daddy and began with Prime's present. Will eyed the sphere in his hand curiously. "Being a moon-rock…"
"Yes," Prime answered under his breath. "It's a souvenir. We got Ratchet's repair team to set it in a clear polymer for her."
"A telescope!" Annabelle exclaimed, pulling the last of the wrapping paper away from the box.
"It includes a map of the moon," Prime added, smiling affectionately at her. "Tonight, we'll set it up and I'll show you how to work it."
"What do you say, Annabelle?" Sarah prompted.
The girl threw her arms around Prime's neck. "Thank you!"
He chuckled and gave her a gentle squeeze. "You're welcome, Spitlet."
Hyde handed her his present next – a box that was easily two and a half feet tall and deep and over three feet long. Annabelle was literally bouncing up and down in her chair with excitement. "What did you get me, Hyde?"
"You've got to open it to find out."
"Read the card first," Sarah said as Annabelle ripped open the paper on one end of the box.
"Oh." Annabelle blushed as she opened the envelope to find both a card and a key. Again she read the card aloud. "For the prettiest fairy warrior princess in the land. Dragons and goblins beware! Merry Christmas, Hyde."
The girl tore into the paper to reveal a wooden chest with a real, silver lock. Turning the key, she opened it to find a silver-and-jewel tiara sitting on top of dress-up fairy wings and a green satiny gown.
"Hyde," Sarah scolded.
"I did not spend too much," he cut her off with a huff.
Annabelle had already put the tiara and wings on and was pulling out the dress when she squealed in delight. Under the gown (and on top of a silvery-grey velvet cloak and yet more dresses) were a wooden bow and arrow set and a sword-belt complete with a sheathed blade.
"Good grief," Theresa Epps muttered. (This was her first Christmas with the Lennox's, but they'd known her for two years, so she didn't count as a newcomer in Annabelle's mind.) "What were you thinking, Hyde?"
"It's a letter opener," he answered. "It's too dull for her to hurt herself with it."
"Never underestimate the capacity of a femme to inflict damage," Ratchet said, "even if she is only a youngling."
Annabelle pulled the blade out of the sheath, staring in wide-eyed delight at the runes running up the middle of the blade.
"Anduril?" Will guessed.
"Sting," Hyde corrected. "A hobbit's sword for my little half-pint."
"We'll have a fashion show later," Sarah told Annabelle, helping her put the green gown back in the box. "You have other presents to open."
"But I have to wear my sword, Mom!"
"Alright, fine. And what do you say?"
Annabelle threw her arms around Hyde's neck, bouncing on her toes again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
He laughed in delight, closing his eyes as he squeezed her tightly. "My pleasure, little one."
"You have more presents to open," Sarah gently reminded her. "Why don't we do Prowl's next?"
"Yes!" Annabelle eagerly took the thick envelope from her mother.
"Use your sword on it," Hyde suggested, grinning widely.
Annabelle happily whipped it out and, with her mother's help, used it to open the package. Inside were a bright red-and-green Christmas card and some smaller, plain white envelopes. The girl's brow furrowed in confusion. Sarah, having been kindly warned in advance by Prime, read the card to Annabelle. "For the cherished child, a gift that keeps on giving. Merry Christmas, Prowl." Leaning closer to her daughter, she explained, "They're savings bonds, Annabelle. They'll be lots and lots of money when they grow up."
"Money grows up?" the girl asked, wide-eyed.
"It's called interest," Prowl said, unhelpfully.
"Yes," Sarah answered her. "But it takes a long time – as long as it takes you to grow up. It's very thoughtful of Prowl to give them to you now so that the money will be grown up when you are. Don't forget to say thank you."
Still a little baffled, Annabelle walked over to the newcomer and rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."
He gave Prime a terrified look and then awkwardly patted her on the head. "You're welcome."
Her duty done, Annabelle skipped over to her little throne and sat down again.
"Do mine next," R.C. eagerly suggested.
"Yeah! R.C.'s! I want R.C.'s presents!" Even though R.C. was predictable, Annabelle loved opening her gifts. The woman always gave her clothes, but it wasn't socks and t-shirts.
Will Lennox helped his wife excavate for the presents, eventually stacking five clothing boxes, four shoeboxes, and a hatbox in front of the little girl.
Annabelle tore through the wrapping paper, squealing with delight as she found a lavender swimsuit with a silk wrap-around cover-up, matching leather flip-flops with cream-and-lavender seashell accents, a Dora the Explorer pajama set with a terrycloth robe, designer jeans with a ruffled tank-top and sunglasses, Sketchers to match the jeans, a cotton sundress with matching strappy white sandals, and in the hatbox, a white sunhat with three different accent scarves. But it was the last two boxes that had Annabelle oohing and aahing. The shoebox had black patent-leather dress shoes while the clothing box had a black satin sundress with gold and rhinestone accents on the empire waist. Underneath the beautiful little gown was a gold headband set with white jewels.
"I said no jewelry," Sarah scowled at R.C. "Tell me those aren't real – "
"I did not spend too much," she shot back, echoing Hyde. "It's a crown for you, Spitlet. A real one you can wear to the New Year's Eve Party."
"You and I are going to have a little talk, missy," Sarah said to R.C.
"Open ours next," Sides eagerly said, holding out a thin package that was easily two feet tall and a foot and a half wide. "From me and Sunny."
Savaging the wrapping paper with her little sword, Annabelle uncovered a giant coloring book with a cool-looking car on the front, but the words looked all funny to her. Will Lennox choked, "Is that Italian? Animported coloring book?"
"Hey," Sunny said defensively, "where else are we going to find one with an exotic sports cars theme? Somebody's gotta teach her about the finer things in life."
Will choked again, this time at the thought of Sunny teaching his daughter about the 'finer things.'
"And moving on," Prime diplomatically said. "Ratchet?"
Skids and Mudflap jumped to their feet and, tossing torn wrapping paper aside, eventually retrieved a largish box. "It from all three a' us," Skids said proudly.
"It wa' my idea," Mudflap added.
"And I did all the work," Ratchet huffed.
"We hepped wit' da wheels," Mudflap answered defensively.
Skids hit his brother upside the head. "Shuddup! Ya gonna spoil da surprise."
"Open it," Ratchet encouraged, ignoring the brewing scuffle.
Tearing the paper away, Annabelle uncovered a plain, lidded box. Throwing Ratchet a grin of anticipation, she opened the lid to reveal almost a dozen toy cars. Curiously, she picked one up and realized with a start that she recognized it. It was a red and blue semi. Looking back into the box, she saw Hyde's beloved black pickup and Ratchet's ambulance and RC's motorcycle.
"Wow!" she said, dumping them all out on the coffee table.
"An' watch dis!" Mudflap said, picking up an orange car that, oddly enough, was the same size as Prime's miniature semi. He turned the car on its rear bumper with a light thump, and panels and the hood slid back to reveal a robot. "Cool, huh?"
Most of the faces in the room were looking on in shocked disbelief.
"Ratchet," Prime said eventually. "What were you thinking?"
"He wasn't," Prowl snapped back. "He was following the twins' lead."
"It's an innocent enough gift," Ratchet answered. "And I've cleared it in writing with everyone required in your rules," he added to Prowl. "Both parental units and Hyde."
Hyde reached over and picked up his truck, thumping it lightly against the table. This one had disproportionately large weapons. "Check out the cannons on this baby!"
"I don't remembering approving this," Will muttered.
Sarah smiled up at him sweetly. "You did."
Annabelle picked up the matching silver and gold Corvettes and set them on their bumpers to reveal the robots within. "Cool!"
"And to switch it back, you just lay it flat again," Ratchet showed her, tipping over the silver 'vette and changing it back into a car. "It's purely mechanical," he added, with a look at Prime. "Gravity powered. Nothing to worry about."
Sarah picked up the little blue and silver truck and turned it over in her hands a couple of times. "They look pretty fragile."
Ratchet shrugged. "If they break, bring them to me and I'll fix them." He glared once at the twins. "I do it all the time anyway."
…
Knowing that Annabelle would never sit still long enough for the adults to open their presents, Sarah had Skids and Mudflap help her carry armloads of loot up to her bedroom. About ten minutes later, Ratchet nudged Will and hissed. "Quiet, everyone! Listen!"
From up the stairs, Annabelle could be heard saying, "I am the Cannon Man! You are a very bad dragon, and I'm going to smash you, Dorito-of-Doom!"
"No!" squealed the screechy voice of an adult trying to pretend he's an action figure. "Don' hurt me!"
Another scratchy voice rumbled in falsely-deep tones. "I'm da King a' da Decepticreeps! I'll save ya, Dorito!"
"No you won't!" Annabelle confidently declared. "Here comes Motorcycle Lady. She says you are a bad dragon and a bad troll and that you are both going to jail until you say you're sorry!"
Sideswipe and Jolt doubled over in barely-suppressed laughter. Sarah was giggling and Will was silently laughing so hard tears were rolling down his cheeks.
Prowl looked utterly horrorstruck
"You tell 'em, R.C.," Epps sniggered.
The femme just smirked.