Minga: The rating will inevitably go up before we reach the ending; Ina was saying that she had a few very good visions of action scenes, and of course with her, 'very good visions of action scenes' means 'lots of blood and gore'. I'll put up warnings when it comes to that. Personally, I can't wait to see how much gore she actually puts in.

Ina: (grins)

Minga: Okay, that's creepy. Just a tad, ya know? And we're not sure yet, but there may be some slash in here.

Ina: (slaps hand over Minga's mouth) Shaddup and let them read the story and not your monologues.


"Whinny?" The elder woman looked up from her painting and smiled kindly at them.

"Do you two need something?" she asked, standing. At three inches taller than six feet, she was a rather large woman, with a strong athletic build. Her sepia-toned skin had a slight hint of gold, and her long brownish-black hair was braided nearly behind her, falling to her waist. Her dark red bangs and the silver-gray hair that framed her face hung loose, flapping in front of her face, hiding partially her strange golden eyes. Whinny picked up her special pair of glasses and slipped them on over her light-sensitive slit-pupil eyes which Prowl could never tell was real or not. Glasses firmly on, she flicked the light on so they could see.

"We need help, actually," Jazz told her. In looks alone, he could be her only blood-child, something that deep in his heart Prowl envied. He had similar-colored skin as her, sans the golden tinge, with bright gold eyes and round pupils, unlike Whinny. He stood three inches shorter than her, but height had never really mattered when it came to Whinny. His hair was dark, nearly black, and kept in neat, tiny braids with black, white, and frosty blue beads braided into them – a style which Whinny helped Jazz to keep, seeing as he liked it.

A dark brow lifted but Whinny smiled in amusement. "Don't tell me you've gotten Jazz pregnant, Prowl." She teased, winking at Jazz who grinned back. "Or maybe it's the other way around?"

Prowl was used to such gentle jibes from his adopted mother, but nonetheless he flushed in embarrassment. "Nothing of the sort," he promised her so solemnly that she laughed. "It's about one of our cases." He looked nothing like Whinny, having pale skin and frosty blue eyes. His hair was a vibrant red, though he topped Jazz by two inches.

The dark brows lifted further as Whinny cleaned up the table and fetched them something to drink. "You need my help?"

"We have questions about mothering," Jazz explained. "We just had a woman attack a group of officers who was taking her child away."

Gold cat-like eyes went flat behind the odd blue lenses as Whinny sipped her tea. Both men were nervous; this was a taboo conversation they were having with her, and judging by the look she was giving them, she was disinclined to answer at all. At last, she sighed and closed her amazing eyes. "You are both men, young ones at that. I don't necessarily expect you to comprehend. A mother…" she hesitated, eyes seeing a past pain that only she could see at the present moment. "A mother, especially a young one, feels particularly attached to their child. Even mothers who have lost their children in some way are particularly sensitive to other children, and are usually very willing to do anything for a child they're fond of if they knew the child was in trouble."

Prowl and Jazz glanced at each other then around Whinny's studio, looking for something to talk about that was less painful. Whinny's current painting caught Prowl's eye, and curious, he peered closer at it. It looked like an enormous wedding picture. It seemed hazy, as if the camera was out of focused with the bride in the foreground, walking out of the chapel, veil fluttering. Golden slit-pupil eyes stared ahead, hard like bits of amber, over-bright with unshed tears. The altar behind her was empty – no bride and groom about to be married; the pastor and others were there, save for the bride and the groom who was nowhere to be seen. In the bride's arms was a little boy no older than three and no younger than two years, dressed smartly in a tuxedo and holding a stuffed dinosaur in his chubby hands.

"It's hard to think of sometimes." Prowl winced at the mild tone that Whinny had adopted as she was apt to do when she spoke of something uncomfortable.

"Is Narzenim home yet?" Jazz asked, trying to rescue Whinny's plummeting mood.

The woman blinked. "She's at soccer practice." She said. Standing, she collected herself. "I'll make you guys some lunch."

-

"So how old are you anyway?" Jazz asked Whinny who shrugged.

"Old," when both men rolled their eyes, she smiled slightly. "I stopped counting after thirty, but if my math is right, I'm somewhere in my fifties."

Both nearly choked on their food. "You're kidding."

Whinny smiled. "I told you I'm old."

"Well, you certainly don't look a day older than twenty, much less fifty." Jazz told her around a mouthful of his favorite triple-layer grilled cheese sandwich. "And you make wonderful grilled cheese sandwiches. Better than my mother used to make."

Golden eyes seemed to smile knowingly. "Thank you, Jazz."

"Whinny, do you think you can come with us and help with that woman?" Prowl asked shyly. After sixteen years of living with her, he still wasn't used to asking for favors from the woman.

Whinny looked thoughtfully at him. "If you want me to," she said at last. "Though I don't think I'll be much help; likely make everything worse." She didn't mention that she doubted the other officers would allow her to see the woman, much less speak with her, but oh well.

"It would be nice," Jazz said, casting a look at the older woman. She sighed, putting away the dishes. "When do we leave?"

-

"Why are we here?" was the first thing out of Whinny's mouth as they stepped out of the squad car. She had ridden her motorcycle close behind them, and had parked nearby.

Prowl was surprised not only by the odd tone in her voice, but also that she had known about where she was. She remained in her biking gear and carried her helmet under her arm while she adjusted her special blue shades with her other hand. If anything, she seemed apprehensive, Prowl reflected.

"I need to talk to a few friends." Jazz said, also noticing Whinny's abrupt attitude change.

Whinny said nothing more, her face a hard mask. She followed them up despite whatever she felt, and sat with Prowl in the waiting room. After a few moments of awkward silence, the door opened and Jazz walked out, followed by three others.

Prowl stood and shook hands while Whinny stood on the side. Jazz noticed her and moved to introduce her when two of the other three caught sight of her.

"Whin?" the shorter of the two asked, bright green eyes widening. "Is that you?"

Whin gave a small smile. "The one and only." She moved and embraced him. "It's nice to see a friendly face here. It's nice to see you again, Ratchet. You too, Ironhide." She added, nodding to the large man who chuckled and hugged her as well.

The man she identified as Ratchet stood only as tall as her mouth with a slim but athletic build similar to Whinny's though he didn't seem to emanate that peculiar sort of grace that the older woman did. He had short gray-silver hair with streaks of scarlet, most of which framed his pale face.

Ironhide was slightly taller than her and also like Whinny, he had a sort of feeling of strength that oozed off of him but unlike Whinny, he actually looked like he could take on an angry grizzly and win. Whin emanated a sense that she could take on things tougher and meaner than angry grizzlies and still win.

"Whin, this is Bumblebee. 'Bee, this is Whinny." Jazz said, wrapping a familiar arm around the third person, a boy no older than seventeen. He had blond-golden hair and sparkling sapphire eyes that glittered like jewels in his pale face.

"Nice to meet you, Bumblebee." Orange eyes danced merrily over the odd blue glasses. Prowl blinked and stared at Whinny for a while before looking away with a slight shrug. Must've been his imagination.

A fourth person appeared in the doorway and Jazz and Prowl noticed that Whinny went stiff. He matched the woman in height and Ironhide in stature. His eyes were frosty blue with darker tones near his pupil.

"Bee, don't forget you have practice soon." He said in a fatherly tone. Catching sight of Whinny, he froze, merry face disappearing. "You."

Whin's smile had fallen the moment he walked in, and now her face was a mask of internal pain at the vehemence in his voice. "Yes, me."

"What are you doing here?"'

"Could I not visit my brother?" Whin asked rather faintly, and the man ground his teeth. "Come now, Orion. I haven't seen him in twenty-five years."

"Perhaps he was avoiding you. After all, you weren't the best sister to him."

Golden eyes closed at the lash of the words and Whinny sighed. "My debts have been paid to them. Only you remain."

"And he will hold you to your debt."

"Twisting the knife you stabbed into my heart?" Whin asked dejectedly. "Or are you trying to hurt me again?"

"It is what you deserve." Orion snapped back. "You stopped being my sister twenty-five years ago. Now you're only a nightmare to me."

"And would you give such a warm welcome to Streak? After all, she's the one that left us." Her voice was injured and tinged with rancor. Throughout the exchange, Orion had moved closer and closer until they were face-to-face.

Without warning, Orion threw a punch at her chest. Whinny didn't so much as rock back on her heels and pushed him easily backwards. Whinny only twitched when he threw a punch at her shoulder, and ducked when he threw a punch at her face. After that, she didn't move for Ratchet had placed a hand on her shoulder, and Ironhide and Bumblebee had moved to restrain Orion. Prowl and Jazz moved to help Ironhide and Bumblebee, but the older man waved them off and they turned to watch Ratchet talk with Whin.

"Are you injured, Whin?" Ratchet asked, pressing gently on her stomach where the first blow had landed. He probed the patch of coloring skin on her shoulder. "Whin?" he looked up to find that her glasses had been knocked off, revealing her odd red-orange slit-pupil eyes which were half-closed against the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights.

"Only in my heart," Whinny told him wearily.

"What heart?" her brother snapped from across the room.

"Are you sure?" Ratchet asked, ignoring Orion's pessimism. Whin nodded meekly. "I've never seem him like this. I'm sorry, Whin."

"It's all right," she said wearily. "He just doesn't seem to like me very much. We've had arguments before. Where are my glasses, Ratchet?"

The medic frowned. "Can you not see?"

"The lights hurt my eyes." Whin explained. "They're too bright, and I use these glasses during the day or whenever I'm in a brightly-lit room. Optimus must've knocked it off."

Prowl picked it up and walked over with it. Hearing him, Whinny turned to look at him. Gently, he pressed the special lenses into her hands while staring into her half-lidded eyes. "Thank you, Prowl." She said softly, putting the glasses on. Over the top of the glasses, Prowl caught a glimpse of blood-red swirling into gold and a hair-fine slit-pupil. "I'm sorry, guys," she said as Ratchet moved to talk to Orion whose eyes were flashing in anger and Jazz came over to his two friends. "I better go home."

"Is it because of Orion?" Jazz asked, and Whin sighed.

"Partially, yes. I could work with him, but he cannot work with me. Too bad blood in our pasts, I suppose you could say." Whinny said at last. "I'd rather not be punched again, or even cause tension in the group. Besides, I work better alone."

"Okay," Jazz said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We understand."

"Thank you," picking up her fallen helmet, she left.

"I've never seen them argue like that." Ironhide murmured. "But then again, I've never seen them together. I guess they haven't seen each other in a while."

"No duh," Ratchet snapped from where he was probing Orion's chest gently to find any injuries. "I don't think anything's wrong besides some slight bruises. You're lucky, you know. I've seen Whin shatter a man's ribs with a single punch."

"I saw the same thing. No exaggeration." Ironhide rumbled with a nod. "She wasn't even trying."

"Just surprised. The guy jumped out of nowhere at her and she just turned and whacked him." Ratchet added, finishing his examination of Optimus who grumbled and pulled on his shirt.

"How do you know her?" Prowl asked, curious.

Ratchet and Ironhide looked at each other for a moment then back at Prowl. "We served with her in battle." Ratchet said at last. "I was the field medic in Ironhide and Whin's group. We first met – really met – when Whin brought Ironhide to me during a skirmish. Carried him over her shoulder, really, and stayed to keep an eye on us."

"You seem to know her very well," Prowl observed.

"So do you," Ironhide answered, looking at him thoughtfully. "Are you her son?"

For a second, his chest went tight with hope – his wish and the very thought – of being her son. But no, he wasn't her son, and he could breathe normally. "No. She adopted me a long time ago."

Ratchet and Ironhide exchanged another glance. "She told us once that she had a son. Her fiancée left her at the altar because he didn't want a child, but that's all she told us. No elaborations."

"That's more than she told me," Prowl told them with a tinge of jealousy.

Ratchet snorted. "She was very drunk."


Ina's Monologue:

Whee! I get a monologue session. XD Ina's Monologue will explain certain things not mentioned (or not explained well) in the story. Today we'll be discussing...uh... brief concepts, I guess. Some of these are obvious, but it doesn't hurt to go over them. They should be rather brief, as they'll be talked about a lot or later in the story.

Whin: Pretty damn old, pretty damn tall, pretty damn strong, pretty damn amused. Her eyes actually have slit pupils, and they do change colours; red when she's angry, gold when she's not, and orange in between. Unfortunately they're very sensitive to light so if she's in an area with bright light, she needs to wear special glasses that help to filter out the bright light and allow her eyes to function normally. She used to be in the military and served with Ratchet and Ironhide, which is how she knows them.

Prowl: Whin's adopted son, police officer. Good friend of Jazz's with icy blue eyes and shockingly bright red hair.

Jazz: Accented, tan-skinned friend of Prowl and Whin's. He boards with his Prowl, his partner, at Whin's large house. Likes grilled cheese sandwiches and the little braids Whin puts his hair in.

Narzenim: Whin's adopted daughter.

Orion: Whin's younger brother who apparently hates her.

Bumblebee: Friend of Jazz, Ironhide, Ratchet, and Orion.

Ironhide: Trigger-happy friend of Whin who she met on a tour of duty.

Ratchet: Grumpy medic friend of Whin and Ironhide, meeting also during a tour of duty. He and Ironhide are the few people who have seen her drunk