Wily-Mind: It's officially three o'clock in the morning where I'm from! Huzzah for the god that is coffee and its gift of insomnia!

Solar-cycle: one Earth day

Shantix: Cybertronian money system

Denny Clay fiddled with polishing his new stock of ornamental animal figurines he had bought off his rival, Arnold Kowalski. He would make sure that the Autobots wouldn't accidentally harm his collection this time starting with the ornaments. It was a mind-blowing event this past summer for Denny and his son Russell. They met alien cyber-organisms called Autobots who were hunting Decepticon fugitives. One of the 'Bot teams was led by the yellow one called Bumblebee. His team consisted of two youths, Strongarm and Sideswipe, a rowdy Dinobot named Grimlock, a former bounty hunter named Drift and his two minicons, Slipstream and Jetstorm. Out of all the Autobots, Denny find himself most familiar with the small minicon-part-caretaker named Fixit. It was like an action-packed sci-fi movie Denny and Russell had fallen into.

Speaking of Fixit, the minicon came from behind with wash rags and a bucket. Danny shifted his focus to the small 'Bot and smiled warmly as he greeted the orange minicon. "Thanks, Fixit," he said as he received a rag.

Fixit laid his optics upon the ornaments and tilted his head to the side with fascination. "Denny Clay," he spoke, "What is the point of having sculptures of animals that represent our Decepticon convicts?"

"Well, um," Denny started and cut his sentence short. He always had trouble explaining the human fascination with sculptures to the minicon whether the figures be animals, people, modern art, etc. "You see Fixit—" the man began and then paused. Quickly, he found his lead and began to explain the process of a merry-go-round meant for human entertainment.

"Okay," Fixit replied, "seems reasonable enough." When Denny mentioned the word "kids," Fixit instantly thought of Denny's biological offspring. "By the way, where are the whereabouts of Russell?"

"Aw, he went off with his friends to go sledding," Denny answered as he gladly finished polishing down the last ornament. He picked himself up and turned toward the smoky-gray sky, "It's already getting dark. I should call him to get his butt back here before it gets too dangerous for him to walk back to the scrapyard."

Before Denny reached for his smartphone, the thing began to vibrate within his pant pocket. Denny pulled the phone out and slid his finger across the main screen. "'Ello," he answered in a casual uplifting voice.

"Hi…is this Russell's dad? Denny Clay?" came the voice on the other end.

Denny immediately recognized it as his son's friend, Hank. He answered back, "Hank! What a surprise. How are you? Is Russell there?"

"Um…good Mr. Clay, well, not really good. It's…really bad."

"Is everything okay? Do you kids need a ride home?"

"Mr. Clay…Russell's in the children's hospital in Crown City. We were outside playing and he…fell into a lake and…Oh god, Mr. Clay! I'm so sorry!"

"I-It's okay, Hank." Denny tried his best to console the girl and yet not to lose his mind himself. "You did good. Are you home? Okay, stay there while I hurry to go see Russell."

And it was hurrying to his truck that Denny did. The man trembled nervously as he hurried past Fixit while accidentally kicking over the wash bucket in his path. He walked to his RV and swung open the door. He cursed under his breath as he tried to find where his hidden keys to his pickup truck were. After tossing over a stack of messy papers from his desk, Denny heard a loud clanging sound that aroused from his metal garbage pail. He cursed again as he reached into the pail and pulled out his car keys.

Denny emerged from the RV not even bothering to close the door behind him. Fixit had followed him through this entire strenuous process. Denny jogged south toward the exit of the junkyard. He passed Bumblebee and the other Cybertronians, not even glancing up to acknowledge them. Bumblebee saw this odd behavior and lightly paced himself to be next to the racing man. The Cybertronian didn't need to scan the human's body temperature to know that something urgent had happened to cause Denny to go into this frantic state.

"Denny, what's wrong?" the lieutenant asked.

"Russell," Denny finally got to his truck and slammed the door behind him. He rolled his window down and poked his head through to meet Bumblebee eye-to-optic. "He fell into a freezing lake and is recovering in the hospital."

"Recovering?" Bumblebee's optics lit up and his shoulder plates rose.

"Let's hope," Denny responded. He started the truck's engine and drove back out of his scrapyard. He steered the vehicle onto the street and toward Crown City.

.o.

"What are we looking at?" asked a paramedic.

Two paramedics helped rush the gurney carrying the patient into the medical unit. An IV was attached and bandaged to the patient's right wrist. It was a package that compressed warming salt water into the boy's veins to counteract his freezing temperature.

"Twelve. Male. White," the second paramedic answered. "The patient had fallen into a lake at High Rise Golf Course. His body temperature is at 35 Celsius. We've managed to cut him free from his wet clothes."

If Russell Clay were conscious to be aware of his environment, he'd be the most embarrassed boy in the world. Right as he had gotten to the hospital, paramedics had removed all his clothes and was swaddled in new warmed blankets to keep his temperature from decreasing any further. He groggily watched the medical professionals at work once he was rolled into the operating room. They padded him with extra heated blankets and covered his face with a mask. He felt warm humidifying air enter his lungs as he breathed in.

"How's the airway-rewarming process working?" asked Sofia Rokos who was the leading physician. Sofia stopped to take a quick glance at the machine that surveyed the boy's current body temperature. The line that read 35 Celsius was slowly rising on the screen. Good. Next, she examined the electrocardiogram that monitored Russell's heartrate which surveyed his body temperature. Sofia was relieved that both statuses were the same.

Rokos turned to her staff and yelled, "Okay people! The patient's heartrate and temperature are rising equally. But we've got a long way to increase his warmth until it's equal to or above 37 Celsius, stat!"

Everyone rushed to work as they increased the heat in the airway-rewarming mask. Russell felt some sensation coming back to his fingers as the tips of them started to twitch. As Sofia and the nurses shuffled around him, he started to think of a memory of his younger-self and his parents. It was when they were still together and the day the arguments began. (continue)

.o.

A sharp beeping sound broke Sofia from her work. She looked at the electrocardiogram and her eyes grew when she saw the line escalating up the screen faster than the temperature line. She removed her mask and screamed, "He's entering into post cardiac arrest! This isn't normal rewarming hypothermia anymore! We have to cool this kid down to slow his heartrate before any permanent damage happens. We're switching to therapeutic hypothermia! Someone get me cooling blankets and the cooling catheter. I repeat everyone, we're reversing the patient's body temperature!"

Two nurses wheeled in a machine that had the monitor system at the base, just above the machine, and a tee-shaped neck where the heart and temperature monitor was. Removing the mask, and replacing the warming blankets with the chilled ones, Rokos and two senior nurses guided the other team members through the process. To prevent Russell from shivering (thus cause his heart impulses to surge, which in return would worsen his state) Russell had been heavily sedated and pharmacologically paralyzed. Sofia prayed the procedure would begin asap for the prevention of any sensory feeling and reflexes the boy may have during the targeted temperature management.

From all of Sofia's studies and practices, she knew that once the heart shut down, its respiratory system would fail to provide any oxygen to a person's internal organs which would create high mortality issues for the patient. However, no oxygen to the brain was the biggest factor to worry about. Deprivation of oxygen to the brain would cause severe neurological issues. Rokos knew that to avert the possibility of cardiac arrest, therapeutic hypothermic was the best option.

The senior nurses prepared the catheter as they unraveled the IV that would transport iced fluids from the catheter and into Russell's body. The injection needle at the tip of the IV had been carefully placed inside Russell's femoral vein which was located on the middle section of his left hip. His temperature was monitored through a probe and a young male nurse was stationed at the machine to keep constant vigilance.

"Don't leave that monitor," Rokos ordered the young trainee, "His temperature will let us know if the treatment is working."

An hour of anticipation succumbed the staff as they kept watch of Russell's body temperature and heartbeat statures. The EEG machine revealed no signs of Russell awakening out of his sedated state, or any signs of seizures that could possibly occur from the hypoxia. Eventually, Rokos pulled her mask down, and with a sigh of relief, she said, "Good job crew. Signs reveal that he's currently stable. I'll get a second unit in here to monitor the patient and his signs. The first phase of the treatment will take another 23 hours. We can rest now for the moment."

The staff rose in a cheer as they clapped for Rokos and the two senior nurses that had guided them through the medical procedure. Soon, they peeled off their rubber gloves and decontaminated themselves in the wash room next door. Rokos watched as her crew of paramedics left the operating room one at a time with despair. Her eyes slowly scanned the operating room's white walls, beaming lights, and soiled tools.

One of the superior nurses, a rugged male who had helped guide the therapeutic hypothermia, noticed Rokos' behavior. He gently asked, "What is it, Sofia?" The kid's alright now. His signs are good and he's still in his comatose. What else is bothering you?"

Sofia let out a heavy sigh as she rested her forehead onto the tips of her fingers. "These trainee paramedics are so young and naïve to the idea that they could fail in this room," she answered dryly. Deep in nightmarish thoughts, she blinked her eyes slowly, and looked to her friend and smiled, "Simi, have you ever felt that you were "God?"

"What are you talking about?" Simi turned his head to her and asked.

"I mean in the fact if you had a choice on who to revive and not to in this cold room?"

Simi gave the woman a sympathetic gaze, "Oh, Sofia, it's about Gracie, isn't it?"

"That's not what I was thinking of when I asked my question."

"Last I heard, she's doing better. Her latest kid will be born around March. It's a girl. Did you know that? Have you been calling her?"

Silence.

"Why? Why don't you keep in touch? For God sake, that baby will be your niece! You should be happy that Gracie has managed to get along with this pregnancy. And to answer your question, no I don't believe this room is a salvation for guaranteed living. We can only save so many. Now, If I had been the one to save that drunk driver, would I have gleefully jumped up to do it? No. But when I see a patient in critical need, I do what any doctor would do, I perform my job."

Sofia perked a small smile and dramatically rolled her eyes. "I would've loved to have seen him burn in Hell. But he lived. Gracie, not so lucky."

Simi shook his head and repeated, "It's our job to revive people in this room, Sofia, not to discriminate and judge." He looked to Russell, removed his glove, and gently brushed the side of the sleeping boy's face. The gesture was an empathetic and pitying at the same time. "Look at this kid who had managed to help. You are still able to change lives, Sofia. Like in this situation. With you guiding the treatment, you're able to bring this boy back to his parents." Shifting his eyes to his colleague he began again, "Truth is Sofia, from my point of view and not a religious one, it's modern day medicine and technology that bring back the life back into those who are dying. Who gets to live and die is up to whoever is upstairs. Not ours."

Sofia looked to Russell. She knew this poor boy was going to face discrimination after he left this room. Normal people will either ignore or look upon him as a leper needing to be shipped out somewhere to a deserted island. Abandoned. Alone. Just like her "loved ones" now treated her sister, Gracie. Sofia wanted to hug herself, but remembered her professionalism, and instead, dug her hands into her pockets. Russell Clay was her first child patient when she transferred from the adult unit to the children's ward. As a leading physician, she had treated many adults with respiratory failure incidents. She had seen patients live, comatose for years, and die on her table. She had seen miracles for those who went braindead, revived, and went on to live partially independent lives again although their physical and mental states would be permanently out of whack. These were the lucky ones. It beat "ending up dead" as some would say.

Eventually, Sofia realized she had been making Simi wait while she was in her wondering thoughts. Sweeping the horrible memories out of her head, Sofia smiled to her associate and close friend, "Where the hell is that second batch of staff members? I have an hour-long break and I'm actually in the mood for the crappy food they sell downstairs in the courtyard."

Jared laughed quietly as the strong woman lopped outside the operating room and turned to snap at the first passing person to come and get Russell Clay moved to a recovery/observation room. Within two minutes of Sofia reigning down on the other staff crew, Russell and the machine supporting him were moved to a quiet sector. Sofia and Simi washed themselves up and headed out to eat.

.o.

The waiting room was packed. Denny had to apologize to a woman for almost plowing her over as he entered through the sliding doors. At the reception desk, Denny signed his name in, flashed his identification card to the female secretary, and demanded to see his son right away. Of course, she told him he had to wait for the doctor before seeing his son's condition. Damnit to hell, Denny mentally cursed to himself. So, Denny sat for every dreadful minute that past. It was 9:46 at night when Denny leapt from his plastic chair as soon as a female doctor approached and addressed him. Adrenaline coursing through his blood, Denny barely could hear the doctor introduce herself as "Doctor Sofia Rokos."

"Where's my son?" Denny apprehensively asked.

"He's stable, Mr. Clay. He's in recovery now until he needs to go back in for the second part of his treatment."

Sofia raised her right hand to calm the father while her left hand laid lazily inside her white coat pocket. The woman was mentally and emotionally drained.

"What does "stable" mean? I want to see Russell. I have every right as a parent and legal guardian!"

"I understand Mr. Clay. If you would please follow me to the observation room, that'd be best. Also, did your wife step out? She's here with you, right?"

"…I just want to see my son."

.o.

Shepard Fowler, or "Shep," intently stared at the unconscious boy through the observation window. Earlier, at six o'clock that night, Shep and his partner, Bear, had saved a twelve-year-old's life from being devoured by an icy lake. The man looked down at his canine partner and pet her on the head. The stiff dog obediently laid at her owner's feet with just a hint of her moving her right ear to acknowledge him petting her. Bear was assigned to Shep two years ago, and up until now, most of all their cases of searches, rescues, and arrests had been successful. The two trusted each other and Shep did pull his weight when on the force. However, he believed that Bear pulled hers a longer distance.

Suddenly, the dog lifted her head to sound of approaching footsteps. Shep looked to his left and down the hospital hallway to see Dr. Rokos escorting a maple-brunette haired man to the same area the officer stood. Urgent, the strange man picked up his pace when Dr. Rokos pointed to the observation window.

"Easy girl," Shep whispered a command to Bear. The dog growled softly at the other man nearing but silenced when hearing the reassurance in her partner's voice.

Shep stood aside for the man for him to peer into the window. Making an easy guess, Shep assumed this stranger was most likely the father of the boy. The father's heavy breathing shortened to a heavy sigh. The father covered his gaping mouth with his hand to ease whatever chaotic thoughts were overwhelming him. When Shep saw the grown-man's blue eyes were starting to mist, Shep decided to move toward Dr. Rokos to give the man a moment.

"Mr. Clay," Dr. Rokos spoke, "Your son had been under freezing water for more than ten minutes. The lake he was playing on was located…" The doctor stopped mid-sentence to look at the state trooper who had brought Russell in.

Shep straightened the collar of his shirt and stepped forward. "At High Rise Golf Course in Crown City, Mr. Clay," he finished.

"And who are you exactly?" Clay flashed him a suspicious glare.

"Shepard Fowler," Shep saluted the other man. The gesture was in no means a mocking one. "I work for the Crown City Police Department. Your son was lucky that I was walking by with my dog, Bear, here. His friends alerted me of his former position. Bear pulled him out of the lake which saved his life." "Thank you. For everything."

Shep nodded in response.

"He will live, if that's what you're worried about," Dr. Rokos' spoke up. The men's attention was set back on her. "However, in the operating room, Russell's vitals entered abnormal ratings. He suffered a cardiac arrest and his heart stopped beating for at least forty-five seconds."

"Oh, God...Is there…any side effects?"

"There may be chances of brain damage. We're hoping for the best outcome. But to be honest, the chances of Russell's mind and body escaping unscathed from his near-drowning and cardiac arrest are slim," Dr. Rokos finished her report to Mr. Clay on a solemn note. She hated doing this part to the patient's family. It made her insides want to twist and eventually collapse upon themselves.

"…Isn't there anything you can do to prevent any possible brain damage?"

"Unfortunately, there is no cure. We can only provide physical and Out-Of-Patient CPR therapy and psychological support. I'm sorry I can't sugarcoat this for you. I've seen these cases so many times that I figured it's best to tell a patient's family up front."

Denny, joyful that his son would live but horrified of his son's future, looked back to where his son slept. He asked, "What's the best treatment that I can give him?"

"Support and love. There's no greater therapy than that; believe me Mr. Clay. I would know."

.o.

Drift watched as his minicons, Slipstream and Jetstorm, chewed on their energon goodies. The two mechlings were growing stronger and stealthier each day. He smiled down at them. He remembered when he first took Slipstream and Jetstorm with him after he fled from Shadow Raker. Drift continued eyeing his students until they finished their treats and wiped away the energon from their faceplates. Drift's former, greedy sensei had beaten the minicons the day before for not stealing enough Shantix to meet his daily demand. Jetstorm and Slipstream began to speak to one another which caught Drift's attention and he leaned in to hear.

"I wonder how Russell is doing," Jetstorm was the first to speak up.

"When he makes his arrival back here, we can play Galactic Starships again!" Slipstream's optics shined happily. "He is to come back today is what his Creator, Denny, informed us."

Drift's face transformed into a glum expression. His students had no idea of the full story on Russell's current processor. He decided to set his students straight on Russell's condition. The warrior recomposed his stoic poise and cleared his vocal cords to get Slipstream's and Jetstorm's attention. When two sets of small cerulean optics shined on their tutor, Drift grew hesitant. He did not want to frighten his students as he was about to shed light on the situation, yet didn't want to sugarcoat too much either.

He decided he would put it in gentler terms. "I'm afraid Russell may need some time readjusting to all of us after his entire time away," Drift finally spoke.

Jetstorm and Slipstream luminously smiled up at the mech. Jetstorm chimed, "Yes, Master Drift. We know. We know Russell will be a little off-balanced, but once he sees us, I'm sure his memory will instantly come back to him."

Drift smiled warmly at Jetstorm who seemed to have seen and felt only life's pessimistic and unjustified-side only up until recently. Russell Clay had changed that in Jetstorm when the human taught him to just plainly "chill out." This helped the bondage between Jetstorm's and Slipstream's sparks to grow stronger and more entwined. Both brothers or "Spark Twins" began to walk, train, and battle in unison with one another. Drift couldn't bear to tell them that Russell's neurological and behavioral impairments were going to take more time to recover than what the minicons had presumably predicted. The tutor scooped up his prodigies and held them close to his chassis where his warm spark laid.

"My good mechlings," he whispered in their native Cybertronian tongue, "Never forget to protect those who are weaker than yourselves. Be brave for those who can't be and never succumb to life's miseries even when reality seems bleak."

Before Jetstorm and Slipstream had time to try and evaluate their teacher's personal advice, the sound of an engine drawing close to the scrapyard's entrance alerted all threes' sensors. Drift raised his head in caution as he contemplated who or what the newcomer was. In Denny's absence, the Autobots had taken great vigilance in their surveillance in case of any approaching humans. Bumblebee's number one rule was always "robots in disguise" and Drift knew this rule from the start. After all, he used his alternate mode to sneak upon the Decepticons he would take in for trial. Disguise also included Denny's customers and Russell's friends who stopped by regularly to see if the father and son had returned.

The ex-bounty hunter moved to the tall fence barrier that shielded the alien robots from the peering eyes of any Earthlings. Drift peeked over the top and saw that a blue pickup truck was rolling up Denny Clay's dirt-covered driveway. When the truck maneuvered around a pothole, Drift saw from an angle that the driver was none other than the adult male, himself. Bizarrely, he was not alone or with his offspring. In the passenger's seat, sat a woman with dark brunette hair that matched the shade of Russell's.

Drift's metal plating rose like cat's fur on the back of its neck when startled. Slipstream and Jetstorm wondered about their teacher's odd behavior since they could not see over the wall. When the large mech quickly shifted away from the gate, the minicons clung to his digits as not to fall out of their sensei's servos.

Drift couldn't make any sense of this current matter, almost just like all his adventures on Team Bee. Were there loose wires in Denny's processor! Frag it all, what compelled that human to take an Autobot-oblivious outsider into the scrapyard? He went to report this to Bumblebee immediately.

Drift navigated himself around the large piles of scrap-metals and rubbish until he hit the heart of the salvage yard. It was a densely-concealed area in which the stasis pods that housed Decepticons, the Alcemore, and the ship's remains were stationed. Bumblebee had two digits to the side of his helm, and Drift figured it was most likely a com-link from the Autobot known as "Prowl." The leading authoritative official and ex-military strategist of the newly restored Cybertronian city, known as "Praxus," wanted to have a full report on Bumblebee's team every three solar-cycles. Drift always had much respect for Prowl and his judgement in gaining as much data and information as he could. The data collection would help find the right means of strategies and supplies to aid the yellow lieutenant and his team. However, Drift didn't care at this point as he felt that it was necessary for him to interrupt the leader.

As Drift opened his dentals to speak, he felt a pang of irritation as Bumblebee beat him to the punch. The yellow lieutenant faced in the direction of his team and urgently called out, "Okay guys." He waited until he had their undivided attention (or whatever attention they were capable of giving) as Strongarm smacked the back of Sideswipe's helm to listen to their leader. "Thank you Strongarm. Denny Clay is back and he's escorting a guest. Her name is Carol. She's Denny's—" The mech tried his best to remember the term for separated human mates. "Ex-wife?" he guessed, hoping that was right word.

The sound of the gate doors opening hit the Autobots' receptors. Instantly, Bumblebee, Strongarm, Sideswipe, and Drift (with his minicons transformed into hubcaps back on his wrists) transformed into their alt modes. Meanwhile, Fixit hid in the remains of the Alcemore shuttle while Grimlock did his usual "giant-dinosaur-sculpture" act. The Dinobot stood in a pose with his mouth gaped open, legs sprawled, and tail curled high in the air.

.o.

Denny's cadet-blue pickup truck rolled into the scrapyard and stopped halfway-point between the gate entrance and his RV. The man turned and pulled his car keys out of the ignition, and the engine slowly died down. A heavy silence spread through both former partners like a gush of Arctic wind. Quietly, Denny drummed the top of the wheel with both his thumbs while his hands rested there in place. Carol narrowed her eyes on his rapping thumbs. Denny's noise-making came to an end and he pulled his hands away to rest them flat on his hips. Someone was going to have to speak first. Would this be a battle of them both unsheathing their weapons or could Denny use his newly built relationship with their son to establish peace with his ex?

"Denny, how could you?" she broke through.

Her sword was drawn first and plunged straight into Denny's chest.

"Carol, it was an accident and you know it," Denny replied softly in his defense.

Carol's face stiffened. She snapped her head toward her ex-husband and bore him with reddened eyes and a bitter frown. "You're never there Denny!" she bellowed.

"Carol, I know you're upset, I am too."

"You never act as the adult! And now our son is where he's at because of it!"

It was now Denny's turn for a blow of his own and he yelled back, "Now wait a damn minute! If you never believed I could watch him, why did you choose to let me watch him while you worked in Denmark? You never called that much while he was here!"

"I thought it would bring Russell and you closer!"

"It did. But Russell and I were here together all this time without you. So why are you playing all protective now?"

There was silence.

"Please don't go down that old road, Denny Clay. Russell was in trouble. He was failing school and hanging out with those bad kids who did God knows what to cause trouble around our neighborhood. I thought—" Carol stopped to find the right choice of words, "I thought if I had given him some time with his father then he wouldn't have felt as lost." She then turned away from Denny. "And now he has brain damage."

"Temporary brain damage, I'm hoping. Dr. Rokos told me that the effects may last for years, but with the right rehab and therapy, Russell may recover fully."

"It is an un-estimated amount of time?"

Denny bit back his tongue as he was annoyed by Carol's tone. He distastefully answered, "We'll get more info from the doctor on Tuesday. Anyways… from what she told me at the moment, we'll have to be extremely patient with him during this time. Reports have shown he gets memory loss, feels chills for no reason at all, and confusion of where he is and what he's doing. Also, his motor skills and sensory system are weakened, and due to respiratory issues from his post cardiac arrest, he'll need to have an EKG monitor on him always. From all these aftereffects, he's been showing signs of irritation which turns into aggression."

Carol's body began to tremble with an uncontrollable force. Her anger toward Denny dried up like an African plain during a serious drought. In its place, came internal fear and concern. She remembered Russell's behavior back at home with her. The impact of the divorce between her and Denny had caused him so much pain and thus resulted in isolating and impulsive behavior in their home and at school.

Carol feared the symptoms of Russell's accident would now recreate his former anger and resentment toward the world all over again. However, she knew the difference between stresses caused by partial brain damage due to physical shock and a child's negative reaction to a divorce were polar of each other. But they could both equal bad aftereffects for the victim's mentality and behavior. These two reasons were both parallel and complimentary of one another.

"His friends have been coming around endlessly to see when he'll come home," Denny let out a small chuckle. "One day, they snuck over to the children's hospital and tried forcing themselves into the care unit to see Russell in person. None of the kids gave the faculty as much trouble as Hank did."

"Friends?" Carol's broken heart started to rebuild by that unexpecting, joyous news.

"Yeah, you mean Russell didn't tell you he has friends now? He plays football with them two times out of the week. It's helped him become happier and more confident. Why, even that "Hank girl" comes to see him almost every day."

"A girl!" Carol responded with a chuckle and she gave a toothy smile. "And her name really is Hank?"

"Well, it's really "Henrietta," but yeah. I think our son has himself a little girlfriend!"

The uncontrolled enthusiasm in both parents' voices could not be contained. For years, both had secretly wished this for Russell. To have friends and to build relationships that could last for more than a few weeks at a time. Carol covered her gaped-open smile with her hand as she felt an overwhelmed feeling of how much progress her son had made while staying here with Denny. Was that all that she needed to do? Could the classic father-and-son bondage had been all but enough to cure Russell in his first moment of feeling as an outsider?

Throughout years of putting up with Denny's childish and irresponsible behavior as a parent, Carol would at least let him know that he did a job well done for promoting Russell and his social life However, she would not be honest and let her ex-husband know what she had tried to do in five years to help build up Russell's confidence; Denny could do in less than a few months. No, he would have to earn those true feelings from her one day, if he ever could. Then, Denny said something that made her suspicious.

"Carol," he coolly said, "there's something you need to know. It's a secret Rusty and I have been keeping here in the scrapyard for a while now."

Immediately thinking it was a pet dog Denny had gotten for Russell without her consent or a felony he was hiding in his scrapyard, Carol asked, "Well what is it?"

.o.

Wily-Mind: Denny better get his shit together about revealing the Autobots' existence to his ex-wife before she completely loses it. I changed the treatment scene in the operating room to therapeutic hypothermia treatment (aka Targeted Temperature Management), and added in Sophia's and Simi's conversation. There are three phases of TTM that consist of 1) induction (cooling the patient), 2) maintenance, 3) rewarming. TTM is still very new in the medical field practice. It's a clinical enhancement in which it raises mortality-rates in patients with respiratory failure and can improve neurological issues overtime. However, it's not perfect and still in study. TTM must be performed EARLY in surgery for the best results of the patient's well-being. This is why Sofia jumped to TTM after seeing Russell going into post cardiac arrest. (Sorry, a lot of info here).

I overlooked Sophia's character. She generally sees worst-case-scenarios after all the patients she has treated, yet she still manages to not give in and resign from trying to save lives in her medical field that is resuscitation (medical CPR). I grew to like and respect Sophia's character because of that. I developed a past for her so expect her to be seen in future scenes. Also, Russell's parents' and their divorce are based loosely on Robin Williams' character's marriage/divorce in Mrs. Doubtfire.

Finally, (and I promise this is the end), another note is I'm not ignoring the Transformers of TF RID 15. To get the story's plot through, I had to first introduce it with Russell and his family's situation. This story is about Russell's recovery and how and If he overcomes it. I do have plans to make Sideswipe, Drift, and Bumblebee more involved.