hey! so i decided to make this into a two-shot :) thanks to everyone who reviewed.

i might've done this a little sooner, but i was working on another chapter to a different fic, which was taking forever for some reason.

this is a lot shorter than the first, i know, i did that on purpose. i'm pretty sure this is about over, and just so you know, that ending seriously snuck up on me, too.

enjoy!

Bumblebee

Ratchet vents loudly. "I'm beginning to think this is pointless."

Will glances up, eyes narrowed. "We have missing soldiers, Ratch. Even if they're dead, I'd like to be able to tell all the families that I can that we found the damn body."

Ratchet nods slightly. "Fine. Is there any...vague location that we should be looking at?"

He nods. "Yeah, right..." He points a little ways ahead. "...there."

Ratchet activates his scanners, walking ahead of us. Jolt catches my optic. "Have you seen Mikaela? She'd usually come with on things like this."

I shrug. "Probably back with everyone else." I vaguely doubt my words even as I say them. Mikaela isn't comfortable around Sam and Carly. She'd prefer to stay away from them, and they're back with the others.

Jolt shrugs. "Probably. I just haven't seen her anywhere is all."

Will sighs. "I actually haven't either. She was supposed to report afterwards, warm body count kind of thing."

My optics narrow. "What?" It comes out a little too loudly, sending me into a coughing fit.

Ratchet reappears. "Distinguishable corpses are there, there, and there. Possible living there, there, there, and there. I'll look on that side now." He walks over to a collapsed building, continuing to scan.

Will glances at me. "That's why we're out here, remember? She might be one of the 'possible living'. Worst case scenario..." He swallows. "Worst case, she's dead."

"No, worst case is the 'Cons grabbed her. Do you know what they do to their prisoners?", Jolt snaps.

"Let's...not jump to any conclusions. Let's just hope that she's among the wounded.", I say calmly, a slight tremor betraying inner panic.

Jolt pushes a pile of debris aside. "Know 'im?"

Will sighs, lifting the body and placing the former comrade flat on his back, closing his eyes as if by reflex. We work through the area in this way, recovering six dead, and one badly wounded that the team of human medics set into immediately.

We finish up, half the medical team leaving with the dead and soon-to-be on stretchers, and we continue on to Ratchet's position.

"Dead, dead, dead, dead, and I'm not sure about that one."

We start with the...undetermined one, digging through a section of debris that came from a section of an overhang collapsing.

Jolt vents softly. "I'm definitely getting a heartbeat. It's...hardly there. Slowing... Bee, hurry the frag up."

I obey, ignoring the sharpness of his tone. Jolt gets like that under stress.

Taking a step back, I don't really catch more than a glimpse of the soldier before the remainder of the medics swarm around them. It was definitely a woman, black haired, and there was a lot of blood. A lot of blood.

The human's CMO approaches Will, moving quickly as her colleagues bring the woman to their truck. "Patient name?"

His eyebrows are drawn together; he looks distressed. "Private Mikaela Banes."

"Thanks." She scribbles something down on a pad and runs off, yelling orders to her team.

I look up at Ratchet. "Did you see her? Was it bad?"

He doesn't reply for a moment. When he does, he hasn't really done anything to set my processor at ease.

"I hope that they realize...that leg won't make it."

Mikaela

Nothing is making much sense. I slide into consciousness for seconds at a time. Bright lights, loud voices. And pain. It hurts, a lot.

Light. Hurts my eyes. Voices, to close to me. Too loud. "Charge to 300." A shock of more hurt, I'm not awake. "Charge to 400." Again. A stab in the side of my neck. I don't feel anything. Light, dark, light, dark, light, dark, light. Another stab. Dark.

Nothing. Dark. Nothing. Light? Large figures, voices shouting, it hurts again. Loud voice. Bright colors? Lights, dark silver, is it metal? Dark blue, a swirl of electricity. Flash of neon color, chartreuse? It's safe, but what is it? A whispered apology, another stab at my neck. Dark.

My eyes open slowly. There's a light above me, but it's off. I'm lying on hard, flat metal. My injured leg...I can't feel it, from the hip down, there might as well be nothing there.

A door slides open, and I turn my head, which gives me a throbbing headache for a few moments. Ratchet smiles slightly.

"It's about time you woke up."

I shrug. "I guess." My voice is hoarse.

He leans against the table. "Don't ever do that again. I'll kill you myself."

I scoff. "No, you won't."

"Maybe not." He vents quietly. "You really scared a lot of people, 'Kaela."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." He hesitates. "Now, about that leg..."

I watch him apprehensively. "Did you have to..."

He thinks for a moment. "Yes and no. You still have the leg...kind of."

"Specify, please."

"Well, unlike your species, we have robotic parts that can still feel. Now, it wasn't easy...at all...but..."

I purse my lips and sit up slowly, with a little help from Ratchet, and drag the blanket away to see the appendage. It looks...normal.

I look back up at Ratchet, raising an eyebrow. "I don't understand..."

"Mikaela, we created an artificial covering for it. I designed it myself. It mimics skin, perhaps a little less delicate, but..." He shrugs. "You basically just have your leg back. You'll kind of have to learn to use it, though. That shouldn't be too difficult, though. Just basic movements and how to control your pain receptors, stuff like that."

I start to smile. "Ratchet... That's amazing. I thought..."

He shrugs, replying gruffly,"That's my job."

I'm back on my feet within the next two weeks. My fake leg doesn't seem to give me much more of an advantage, or a disadvantage, than my old leg did.

Until a day that rapidly boosted my confidence in the battlefield. It was a Tuesday, I think, which is awesome, because it made Tuesdays special. I used to hate Tuesdays.

We were going through regular training drills. It was shortly after I'd been made a Sergeant, about six months after Chicago.

I was sparring with Ironhide. You may find it unlikely, but there actually are certain defense (and offense) tactics that a human can take against a Decepticon that can save their life. Some of the more effective ones actually can result in the death of a 'Con.

I don't really know what happened all that well. I slipped up, and I found myself on the ground, Ironhide pointing a cannon in my face with that sadistic little grin that always comes to his face at the very thought of his cannons. Just as he started to shift to allow me to get up, I darted forward, performing this epic-ninja roundhouse kick, using my fake leg, that literally took Ironhide off his feet. He face-planted, which was absolutely hilarious.

To say the least, he was displeased.

After a shocked silence, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker started cheering, telling everyone to 'get him while he's down' and that 'they'll bring the spray paint'.

And I stood there, watching as Ironhide stood up, and pretty much just thought, Yeah. That just happened.

And thinking of this, walking back to my quarters on NEST, laughing with Bee's holoform, that sentence could practically be my life motto.

Because really, so much weird shit has happened in my life, and I've gotten used to expecting the unexpected. Because the unexpected happens.

So when Bee says goodbye, but turns around, and his lips crash onto mine, I kiss him back, and I think, Yeah. That just happened.