I only own Marianne! Everything else belongs to Hasbro!

Ideas based off Protectobot Beginnings by Playswithworms! Their stories are amazing!

~Bonds, Hot Spot~

~Bonds, Blades~

~Bonds, First Aid~

~Bonds, Groove~

~Bonds, Streetwise~

~Bonds, Marianne/Mariposa~

"Normal"

'Thoughts'

"Comms or phone, other side"

"Bumblebee, Tones"

"Bumblebee, Comms"

"Bumblebee, Radio"

Settling In

I've been living in this rather awkward new life for a week now, officially and legally Marianne Anderson as of two days ago. It's surprising how different we act and live, and yet how similar at the same time. Most of the time, I have to sit around and watch them, or sneak around to do something, because they're too willing to help. It makes me feel kind of pampered, and even though I plan to make sure they don't keep treating me like a porcelain doll, I kinda like it.

The usual day starts—ironically—with my waking up even though they're trying not to wake me up. Always, someone either drops something or trips over something, and today…

I groan as I'm woken up by an angry outburst behind me. "We can't just wait around for them to attack!"

"Blades, we're not going out looking for a fight—not after what happened at KSI."

Right… I'd almost forgotten about that… They still have Ratchet's frame, too—even though it's still damaged from Cemetery Wind, and they caused even more. I sit up. "Why not?"

First Aid gives me a startled look. "What?"

"I didn't mean to start a fight." I sigh softly. "But if there's even a chance in heaven to bring Ratchet back…" I sigh. "They may still have his frame. I doubt there's anything we can do, but I have to try." I look down at my hands. "For Aid's sake."

"But—"

"I don't mean a brawl, I mean a rescue." I glance down at the couch. "Besides, I still need a few things…"

"First Aid can take you. I'm sorry if we haven't—"

"No, no. You're all great. Trust me." I stick my head up over the back of the couch. "I'm not mad at any of you. I know you've been busy. I have been too—trying to find an EMS class near here—and I have, by the way—and trying to come up with a way to save the Autobots. With Ratchet gone…" I sigh softly. "Aid's hurting, Spot—maybe not physically, but emotionally, and I can't—I can't watch him suffer anymore. As I said before, it's one thing if it's me, because I can take a lot of slag, but it's another completely to see another person…so broken. Especially if they won't let anyone in." I wave a hand in the air. "Been there, done that."

Hot Spot steps over to me. "What?"

I shrug. "I…didn't have the best childhood, after my tenth birthday…" I look down. "And I've been punished for caring before, so I have to hide it. They'd act like I was faking when I was hurt or not feeling well, so I'd hide it. It's… Not easy to tell people, now. I'd just as soon handle it myself, than have someone else do it for me." I sigh softly. "That's why I went into EMS to begin with—to help people."

"Great. Another Aid."

I glare in the helicopter's general direction. "Take. That. Back." I scoff. "Just because I may hate to fight, doesn't mean I won't. If I hear one more bad thing about him, I'll…" I look around, my eyes landing on a discarded wrench. 'Must've fallen out of Aid's tool kit…' I pick it up. It's pretty big to me, but still small enough to handle. Must've been made for a minicon… "I'll throw this at you."

I feel someone take it from me. "This isn't a weapon."

"But Ratchet—"

I giggle beside myself. "I know about that. Where did you think I got it from?" I shrug before looking up to the medic. "Sorry, about that. I kinda…inherited his temper…" After a fair amount of prodding, I poured the whole story out to the gestalt about the abuse I'd suffered, and the people who dished it out.

"Don't worry about it." He looks me over before moving back to the kitchen area. "You need to get dressed."

I look down before nodding. "Right. I'll—"

"You said you had a plan to get Ratchet's frame?"

I turn to a notebook. "Sort of… I'm not sure it'll work. You'll need a major distraction just to get inside, if I remember right from AOE." I flip to the page with several small diagrams around what looks like a floor plan of the building—I'd requested a tour the day after I got here. "It'll help you get Sides, Dino, Leadfoot, and anyone else they have. We'll need as much metal as you can grab, too. Aid and I don't have the seeds, and I couldn't bear the idea of hurting anyone if we did." I point out one. "We'd need someone back here with a big trailer, to collect the frames…" I point to the front. "And Aid commed Bee. They're coming out later today with the Yeager's. They'll help with espionage from here. Cade's got a job with Joyce—on my request—and he's got his own ID card. Joyce helped with the plan, but with the government still not really on-board…"

"We'll have to be careful."

"Right." I give him one more minute with the plan before putting the book away. "Because of the crappy human relations, I'd recommend not using a lot of force. I won't be there, mainly because I hate carnage, but I'll be a call away if you need backup." I look at my hands. The main part of my plans—this one, and the Revival one on the next page—hinges on getting all their sparks back, and that currently requires Optimus. He's got the All Spark in the Matrix.

"Wait…" I turn to the cruiser. "He tried to melt them."

"Right. I didn't forget." I look down. "Trust me, I wish I could get the pictures out of my head, Street." I sigh heavily. "Joyce may be a jerk, but he'll help, after Hong Kong. All I had to do to get a tour was mention Optimus Prime. He's been funding the Yeager's since they all got back, and they'll move into an apartment funded by him when they get here. Told me all about it when I went in to get the floor plans. He's paying for Tessa's college, too."

"How did you get insider information before—"

I shrug. "When you've got all day with nothing to do, you find a way." I smile. "I went for a walk a couple days ago, while you were all out doing God-knows-what as Defensor. I recognized the building and some damage outside from that heart-wrenching movie, and decided to see if there was any way to save Ratch. I've been thinking about it since I saw the movie, and seeing Aid's reaction…" I sigh. "I had to do something." I shrug. "That something only took a little thought, and some help from Joyce and his team."

"So why…"

I turn to the motorcycle. "Security cameras. After Optimus showed up here, they've been on high alert against Autobots and Decepticons alike. Some of the people working there are terrified of you, let alone the others." I blink. "I meant Groove alone, not Defensor as a whole." I sigh before sliding off the couch. "Anyway, I'm not here for tactics, and I need to get changed. Aid and I need to get to the store before it gets too crowded."

With me and First aid

Once First Aid and I pull out, behind the others, he sighs. "What was that about?"

"Remember what I told you?"

"About Aaron?"

I shake my head. "Not exactly. The parts where he'd read what I had on my computer." I sigh. "Extreme breach of privacy beside the point, do you know what I have on that thing?"

"Not really. You never let us see."

"Sorry. Force of habit." I sigh heavily. "Aid, I write stories, about Autobots and Decepticons, and the Chipmunks, and a few other series I like." I shrug. "It got me through a life of hell and an EMS course, what can I say?" I smile slightly. "Anyway, I make several things clear in all my stories." I lean back against the passenger seat. "First off, while I hate to fight, I will fight for the weak. I'm a lover, not a fighter, but I'll fight for what I love." I sigh when I feel him tense slightly. "That doesn't always mean with a gun, either." I smile. "I have enough compassion to look at that guy on the street and wonder why he's there, and wish I had something to give—enough to go into EMS without caring about the money Culver gave me. I wasn't an EMT for the traumas, or for the money—which wasn't a lot. I was there to make sure people wouldn't suffer. One call almost made me pass out, but I clung to my compassion like a lifeline." I smile. "And I have enough determination to make sure whatever I set my mind to will happen. If it's for me, there's a chance it won't happen, but if it's for someone else, I won't stop until I reach my goal." I open a story—one of my crossovers—before turning the computer to the now—and recently—parked ambulance. It's from the Pacific Rim crossover I'd been working on.

He's silent for a few minutes as he reads what I'd highlighted. "Blades? Timid?"

I shrug. "Different series. Semi-based off you guys, but not fighters at all. I kinda miss watching it, but they're on hiatus right now, so it's moot. I'm watching for the new season, though." I smack the dash in frustration at the tears in my eyes, momentarily forgetting that I'm in an Autobot. "DAMN IT, HEATWAVE!"

"Hey, what's—"

I slide out of the ambulance. "Don' wanna talk about it." I sigh as a holoform follows me. "I'm serious, Aid. I'm not gonna talk about it."

"You still don't need to be alone. You—"

"I hit you, and I didn't mean to. Punching a pillow is okay, but punching you or anyone else isn't."

"You kind of reminded me of Ratchet, for a moment…" I shrug before stepping through the doors. "You know, you don't have to keep everything to yourself here. We're not going to get upset at you over it."

"Fine." I sigh heavily. "He killed himself—they all did. Rat—Ratch saved them, but…" I look down. "Aid, they drained their energon. They bled out, just to save the town they were serving. I-I handled it bad enough when it was just an episode. Think of how I'd handle it in reality, if I almost passed out over a TV show?"

"You're scared."

I nod. "Yeah… I can't lose you guys, Aid. Finding out the movies were real…" I shake my head when a thought about the series in question comes to mind and makes me smile for a moment. "God, that 'copter… fraggin' hotshot half the time, timid as a mouse the other half…" I shrug at the look I get. "Anyway, when I learned that the movies had actually happened, I was crushed, but one thought kept me moving."

"Saving him."

I nod. "Not for me, though. I've handled this and worse over my life, and I'll keep surviving." I sigh. "It was… how you sounded, both telling your brothers I had to go with you, and when you told me he was gone." I rub the back of my neck. "Aid, I made the plan they're using—and the subsequent plans I've got—to bring him—and everyone else I can—back, so we can win this war and have a life after it." I look down at my hands. "I may only be one person, Aid, but I'm not going to let that get me down. I won't let that stop me. One person—or one bot—I will bring your race back—even if it means giving up my own life."

"You mean—"

"Yes. I'd die for you…for your brothers…any Autobot around… for Optimus… or for any human. I'd take the bullet for them, because I want them to have a chance to shine. My life is a small price to pay, after all…" I take a deep breath. "For any living creature."

How high does the sycamore grow

If we cut it down, then you'll never know

And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon

For whether we are white of copper skinned

We need to sing with all the voices of the mountains

We need to paint with all the colors of the wind

He gives me a look. "What? That's really how I feel. I'll only fight when it's my last option, now that it's an actual choice. I'd been forced to, with him, and…" I sigh sadly. "It's sad, when you have to leave your own family, just to live the way you want, instead of having them live through you. I wanted to be a beauty queen; Mom never let me go into a pageant. I wanted to be in ballet; Mom put me in basketball after a year. I wanted to be on-stage; I was kept hidden. My one "day of fame", I had to be in a wheelchair because I'd tripped over a step!" I rub one arm with my hand. "I want to be a doctor, he said I'd never make it. Even the CUTEMS director said that, when he let me go. That I "wasn't good enough"…"

"You wanted to be like us, from the start…"

I nod. The gestalt team knows about my love of cuddling, and I've tried to slip in where I could, but I'd never risk getting smooshed just to cuddle. "They say lesser beings are afraid of intimacy—"

"Where?"

"Young Justice. Organic version of a gestalt. Other planet in the show." I shrug. "Doesn't matter. They fear it, I crave it." I step over to pick out a bed, leaving the now-confused medic to figure out what I meant. I hate being cryptic, but I'm not out-right asking for him to reformat me into a bot.

"What?"

I glance back to him. "I crave that closeness I see in you and your brothers. I want that, so bad I can taste it." I turn back to the beds before continuing. "I've had to distance myself from my family to survive, when I'm the kind of girl that loves to cuddle, and craves touch—not the bad kind, just to be touched. To be able to reach out, no matter where I am, and know I'm safe, because I can feel someone out there…" I sigh before glancing back to him, wondering if my words confused or upset him. "I just don't think I was supposed to be human, Aid. I'm too different to them. I couldn't even hold a job in a facility based around caring for people!"

"No one would approve of reformatting a human, especially with the bad publicity we've had lately."

"Being a government secret is a bad idea." I shrug. "'m just sayin'. It would've been better for them to just come out from the start, like in TFA or G1. Robots in Disguise is over-rated." I choose a bedframe before moving on to a mattress.

"There may be some way I can help…"

"Aid…" I sigh before using the credit card they'd given me to pay for the bed and mattress, as well as a few other things. They'd been discovered by one of the emergency teams, and have been helping out for some time now, getting a small salary, so I don't have to worry about "breaking the bank" over needing a bed. I've called my Dad on my old phone, and told him a truck would be coming for my things, so I'll have my own clothes still, which is good. I don't want to have to buy a whole new wardrobe—though a few new things would be nice, especially until my stuff gets here.

He waits until we're back in his vehicle mode. "I wouldn't be able to reformat you right now, even if it was allowed. Ratchet… Never got the chance to teach me how." He sighs. "But, there may still be a way to give you the experience." He scoffs lightly, almost reminding me of a cheerful version of the mech I know we both miss terribly. "Though I don't know why you'd want it."

I blink before staring at the steering wheel in shock. "What? Aid—"

He sighs. "Sure, it's comforting, not having to worry about where they are, or what they're doing, but it can be annoying sometimes, too." He sighs heavily. "I took a blast for them—point blank, from a disruptor cannon—back when we first got into the field… I still have some sensory issues and long-term damage to my joints…and my hands…" He sighs. "They—"

I rest a hand on the dash. "Hey. I understand." I—rather rudely, in hindsight—set my foot on the dash, my shoe—a gray and silver flat—on the ground.

"Why is there a bandage on your foot?"

"Nerve disorder. It's all over, according to my doctor, but no one believes it's there. I got berated about having a compression glove on my hand, because I "was faking", according to them. They thought I just wanted sympathy." I scoff. "I wanted to be out of pain, first off, and I knew the only way was the cloth braces, because the hard ones hurt my wrists." I wave to my foot. "Like that one. That's where it started. I don't want any sympathy, I caused the initial injury myself—never cross Fireflight with Hot Spot. You'll wind up with another event like that—but it was fine until he shoved me onto the couch."

"They're kind of over-protective of me at times."

I sigh heavily, almost wishfully. I can't help but be jealous, with the life I've had. "That's not a bad thing, Aid…" I sigh again, the same way. "God, the times I've been hurt or sick, and had to take care of myself because telling someone I didn't feel good meant not being believed, even though I almost never lie. I mean, I know I have allergy issues, and I hurt a lot sometimes because of my nerves, but that doesn't mean I'm faking it for attention! I've told you all before not to pamper me. If I wouldn't do it myself, I wouldn't ask someone else to." I can't hold back the tears. "I cared, so much, but when I couldn't handle it—when my mother was dying, and I couldn't handle watching her fade like I'd had to watch Mam—they said if I ran, I couldn't go back home! As if my compassion for my dying mother was a crime! They—they treated me like I was a criminal, all because I needed things a certain way, and—" I unbuckle, even though we're still driving, and slide down before burying my face into the seat. "A-and a-all I-I wanted w-was to feel that—feel loved and sheltered like that…"

He sighs before looking around. Once he's sure no one's coming, he transforms and cups me in a hand. "It's okay. You're safe now." I can't help but curl into his hand. This is what I've needed when this happens—these meltdowns—and I've been forbidden to run to someone for so long I'd almost forgotten what being comforted was like. "I'll take you back home for now. We can finish your errands once you've had time to calm down."

I sigh before nodding, and curl up in the seat once he transforms back into vehicle mode.