[Location: Outskirts of a small town in north-central Colorado]
A quiet drive was just the thing Special Agent William Fowler needed after the hectic time with the Autobots. Between their increasingly frequent battles with the Decepticons and the disappearance and return of Elita-One, the human liaison was left wondering exactly how the Autobots were able to handle things like this for so long before they had arrived on Earth.
Then again, being a battle-seasoned warrior himself, Agent Fowler knew that in a war there was usually little downtime to focus on what was going on around you overall. If your head wasn't focused on your current mission and your surroundings, then the chances of mistakes increased in spades. And when you did have the downtime to think the last thing any battlefield soldier wanted to do was think about the insanity around them. It was best to reflect on what you had at home, to bring family and friends to mind and use that to hold you together when all you wanted to do was scream and or cry. And yes, grown men do cry. Others may not see them do it, but it happens.
When Agent Fowler was first assigned to work with the Autobots he was less than thrilled to have been assigned a "babysitting job". After all of his training, cross-training, and battlefield experience, it felt like an insult to everything he had poured into his life and military career. Naturally this left him in a sour mood and he limited his visits and direct contact with the Cybertronian beings to when he absolutely had to. Usually it was when their cover was almost blown and the government higher-ups got antsy, and because it got his superiors breathing down his neck he returned the feeling to the Autobots. There was no love lost between himself and the Autobots, but there was no love gained either. Then the Decepticons began their push again, and Jack, Miko, and Rafael were thrown into this little world.
At first it was just more work for him to do, making more frequent visits as skirmishes happened and to check on the kids, because at the time he didn't trust the bots to really care for the humans one way or another. Other elements, most of them named M.E.C.H., began to throw themselves into play. And then the kids had started to grow on him, constantly putting themselves in danger in their efforts to help the team, and a few times himself. Naturally he returned the favor a time or two.
Agent Fowler had to chuckle as he recalled the time he had to bail Miko out of trouble at the museum. She did pretty well covering for everyone for as long as she had, but when he felt that she was actually starting to lose ground with the security guard he stepped in to save the day. He just wouldn't let her know that he had been listening for so long.
As he spent more time with the Autobots at their base, the more he had gotten to know them. Optimus Prime reminded him of his commanding officer when Fowler was running missions during his Army Ranger days, a man that was always willing to lay his own life down for any of the men under his command. Seeing Prime in action, especially with how he handled those under his command, gave Fowler a deep respect for the Autobot.
The bot that had the second most amount of respect from Fowler now had to be Bulkhead. In some odd way they shared a similar history, the dirty work that had to be done. There was no doubt left in Fowler's mind about exactly what Bulkhead would do for any of the others, especially Miko. Lord help the Con that threatened Miko, and from what Fowler found out after he had gotten back from his meeting with the Mayor of New York City, Lord help the 'Con that hurt Bulkhead.
It frustrated him that the youngest of their group could understand Bumblebee, but the rest needed a translator. Miko and Jack were doing better about understanding him, but that really was only for when he was in his bot form and could do motions and reactions as he "spoke". Privately the liaison asked Prime what had happened and he was only given the short story of "Megatron ripped out his vocal emitter." That was all Fowler really needed, and wanted, to hear.
Arcee's attitude towards the human hadn't really changed, the Autobot fem still quiet, brooding, and ever silent in her thoughts around him. She was keeping Agent Fowler at a distance, a protective move made by those who lost too many close to themselves that he had seen in many soldiers.
Ratchet was an enigma. The once constantly brooding Autobot medic was quieter than usual. Though quite normal for the "Doc" to be working on something, Fowler had caught glimpses of human medical journals on his workstation screens. There was also something slightly amusing at watching him try to read a human book. Fortunately, Elita seemed happy to read to Ratchet when they had the quiet time at the base for her to do so.
Now thinking on the newest of their group, Elita had also been quieter since her return. When she wasn't reading to Ratchet, or helping the kids out with their homework, she was either working on the computer systems or in her kitchen. Agent Fowler was as puzzled as the rest of them as to exactly how Elita-One was able to make energon, but much like a lot of things that had to deal with Cybertronians he learned to just accept it. But there is one aspect of the Autobot-Human hybrid that he could understand and that was the human part, and that part was the reason he was driving where he was.
He had driven out this way once before when he felt that he personally had to deliver the news to Ellan Greer's mother that her daughter had passed away. Even Fowler struggled against the tightness in his throat as he watched Jessica Greer hug the urn tightly to herself as she struggled through the shock of the bad news, the chain to her daughter's locket draped around her right hand. That was a feeling that Agent Fowler never wanted to go through again and it seeded a fear in his heart that one day he might have to do the same thing to Jack's mother or Rafael's or Miko's parents. That was one of the hardest battles he had ever waged to not tell her that her daughter was still alive, but that would just put the woman in a danger.
He had spent the rest of that day with Jessica, listening to the proud mother tell him about everything her daughter had done for her over the years, from doing her best in school, to taking on whatever job she could while her mother was battling the breast cancer so she could focus on recovering while her daughter covered the bills, to even how Ellan took care of her up until she disappeared.
Even back then the little home was warm, welcoming. Jessica had always left a light on in the front of the house as if it was there to guide her daughter home from wherever she had disappeared to and there was always a happy memory in the woman's heart despite the battles she fought over the years. As Agent Fowler turned off the road onto the gravel drive that was shaded by a few trees, the simple home with its worn white paint looked cold despite the bright sunlight. The last time he saw the place was in his rear view mirror. As he was slowly pulled away late in the night, he watched in the mirror as the guiding light the mother had kept lit in hope darkened as she accepted the truth that her daughter would not be returning home.
With a steadying breath, William Fowler got out of his car and willed himself to walk towards it. After what had happened to Ellan, learning that M.E.C.H. was involved, he had stationed men to watch the house. At first, their job was to keep an eye towards the home and make sure that the no-good M.E.C.H. agents stayed away. After Jessica passed they were to make sure no one entered the home.
The jingle of the keys in his hands surprised Fowler as he realized he didn't notice that he had dug his hand into his pocket to fetch the house keys. It took a few moments to find the right keys for the two locks on the door, but eventually he gained access to the home. Looking to the left of the inside of the door, he reached for the switches. Once again the guiding light was on, giving the cold house a bit more of the warmth it once had.
There was a fine layer of dust over the belongings in the home, and there was a faint stale smell to the air, but it had only been a few month since Jessica's passing. Opening a few windows would help freshen up the air, but with how hard he had to struggle to get them to open he could tell that the house was slowly neglected. Recalling his previous visit to the house, he remembered Jessica not looking like she felt well. Succeeding in getting a healthy cross wind through the house, Fowler took a moment to look around.
In the simply furnished living room, that had two well loved plush chairs with a matching couch that outlined the basic part of the room, the walls were filled top to bottom with pictures and certificates. Walking over to one of the walls Fowler slowly looked at the pictures. Many of them were of Jessica and her husband, Stephen, in the early years of their marriage. There were also several photos of the happy family as Ellan had joined the loving couple. There was a whole line of school pictures of Ellan, the young lady not smiling as much in them. School pictures gave way to one that seemed odd, but he remembered it still filled her mother with joy. It was a picture of Ellan in her military uniform right after she graduated from basic training. Jessica has shared with him how proud Ellan had felt at the time; that she would be able to serve and protect her country, a feeling that Fowler had shared when he, too, joined the military.
Near the pictures was a sizeable grouping of diplomas and certificates. Pausing as he read over the one that appeared to be from when Ellan graduated from high school. The name made him frown a bit as he read it out loud. "Ariel Ellan Greer. That's a pretty name."
Looking through the house, Fowler found what appeared to be the master bedroom, the bed having been stripped and the mattress removed, and a young woman's bedroom. It was easily recognizable as Elita's, one whole wall being a bookshelf and overfilled with books. Another wall was a computer desk, whatever organization only the woman knew in the mass piles of papers and books stacked around. There was almost a half hearted attempt made to organize it, most likely done by Jessica either while she was waiting for her daughter to return or after she received the heart breaking news and tried to put her daughter's things away.
The only organized area of the room was the bed, made in a military style which one could bounce a quarter off of it. Fowler was very tempted to just to see if after almost a year it would still bounce, it looked as if it still could.
To the right hand side of the room there were two doors. Opening the first one revealed a rather organized closet. Uniforms to the jobs she had been working at the time hanging or folded on the left hand side, possibly organized by what day she worked her shifts, while on the right hand side rested what little civilian clothing she owned. Her military dress uniform was hanging in a protective bag in the back of the closet over a set of two drawer high filing cabinets. Try as he might, he couldn't get the drawers to budge. Not only were they locked tight, but they had an electronic keypad to them. Whatever Ellan kept in there, she made sure that it was secure.
The second doorway opened into another room, this one easily as large as the master bedroom had been. Inside was a sizeable computer set up in one corner with at least six flat-panel screens over it, all slightly curved in and angled towards the seat, with four different keyboards and mice. A microphone headset hung on a hook off of the bottom right monitor. The back wall of it all looked like a wooden workshop bench with tools and another video monitor hanging on the wall above it while there were several containers that, when Fowler looked in them, contained just about every imaginable computer part all tucked into dark silver bags. The woman certainly knew her way around a computer system…
Before he left the house, Agent Fowler checked the kitchen and the back yard, seeing what was left of a garden that had become overgrown with weeds, before securing the house again. It might take some convincing, and a lot of prep work on his end, but Fowler was sure that Optimus might agree with him that it would be best for Elita to handle this personally, especially when it comes to the computer stuff. Just seeing how she had her things set up, and the care her mother had put into the home, the human liaison to the Autobots felt that this would help her adjust more completely into her new life.
Author's Note: I don't own the show. Thanks for reading.