A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! You all are awesome! :D They have really encouraged me to finish this story. I might have made some spelling errors. For that, I apologize. Also, all the bad grammar is done on purpose. I'm trying to write from the point of view of Syrie, and she isn't the most tactful person on the planet.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

I have to admit, Optimus Prime broke it down for me in ways that I could actually understand. He was even kind enough not to take offense to the many times I interrupted him. Though I think once or twice he raised an eyebrow—if, indeed, he had eyebrows and that metal plate around his ummm…eye?... wasn't some kind of alien advanced targeting system lining up on me in annoyance—at the very colorful and explicit words I used to express my shock and surprise. Somehow I got the feeling that no one routinely asked him the question: "You've got to be shitting me, right?"

I may have blurted that out a time or fifteen. Possibly. Maybe.

Hey, don't judge me. You try getting nearly beat to death, electrocuted, tortured and then find out your savior is alien robot from a destroyed planet called Cybertron, who also happens to think your cousin is the neatest thing since sliced bread. You wouldn't have handled it any better. Trust me.

All things considered, I think I handled it very well.

"So, to recap," I said wearily, scrubbing a hand over my eyes for the millionth time. "The black stone is a piece of the All-Spark, the device that you—" I pointed at Sam. "—destroyed in order to keep Negatron—"

"Megatron," Optimus corrected gently.

"Megatron," I repeated. "Sorry, it's going to take me a bit to get used to the names. Megatron wanted in order to transform human technology in a bid to take over the universe. Now these pieces are floating around the world somewhere and the Decepticons want to collect them all like some strange alien game of Pokémon."

Sam turned his head, politely coughing into his hand, trying to cover up yet another fit of laughter. This time Optimus and I sent him a rather unfriendly look in unison. His vast amusement at my attempts to understand the situation wasn't helping any. At least Big Red and I agreed on that part. Sam, being Sam, cheerfully ignored the look and flashed us both a winning smile.

"You might want to get that cough checked out," I told him dryly. "That sounds like it could develop into something serious. Like into my-foot-up-your-ass-itis."

That earned a chuckle from Ironhide, the black-armored behemoth of a mech that had moved up to join us. "I like this human," he said with a grin that would have scared the hell out of me if I hadn't just spent about two hours getting to know him. I don't think there was anything about him that wasn't fierce. "She has a unique way of looking at the current situation. It may come in handy in battle."

"Sugar, if you only knew the half of it," I muttered, closing my eyes a moment. "Okay, so to finish the recap: you need the pieces before this Starscream character, who has taken over the Decepticons in the wake of Megatron's death, gathers them all. And you have no idea what he wants with them, but whatever it is, it can't be good. He tapped me for the job because of my ties to Sam, and made me believe he was holding Sam hostage until I gave him all the pieces. Am I right?"

Optimus nodded. "That is correct. By now he has heard of the altercation in the Nevada desert and of you being brought here. He will know that his plan has failed."

"Partly failed," I frowned, opening my eyes. "If this guy is as old and as evil as you've said, then he's isn't going to be stupid enough to tap just one thief for the job. He's probably got more operatives out there."

"That is a possibility we are considering," Optimus agreed, peering down at me again with those amazing blue eyes.

I had to stop myself from trying to get lost in that color. For some reason, I couldn't stop staring at them. Maybe it was a throw-back to my concussion. His eyes had been the only things that kept me sane and focused during my rescue. Otherwise, I think I would have started screaming and never stopped.

It took more effort than I would have liked to wrench my eyes from his. "It sounds like there is an unspoken 'but' after that sentence."

Again, he inclined his head and I heard Ironhide chuckle. "Very perceptive," Optimus said. "We are having difficulty tracking the activities of these thieves."

I chuckled this time. "We in the thieving field will take that as a high complement. The whole point is to not be caught or detected."

"Which is why we need your help, cuz," Sam interjected. "We've got to find out how many teams are out there working for the Decepicons. You're our best link at the moment."

That made me wince. "You do realize you are asking me to sign my own death warrant."

It was Ratchet's turn to blink once or twice in surprise. "How so?"

I shook my head, and then winced again at the pain that caused. Maybe the Doctor was right. I was in no shape to do anything more than sleep. And yet I was about to cut the deal of a lifetime. If I hadn't been in so much pain, I think I would have laughed. Aprile was going to be absolutely furious when he learned just what I was about to do.

"I want to see a Federal attorney before I say one more word on the topic," I said aloud. "I need some heavy freaking assurances about my personal freedom before I agree to divulge any information."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Two hours later, I was sitting upright in bed, signing documents with a hand that trembled. The first was an agreement to complete and utter immunity from prosecution for all my past crimes in the United States. And when I said all, I freaking meant everything from the day I was born up to the signing of this paper. The Federal prosecutor was practically purple, he was so livid. The free walk he was giving me was such a slap in the face to everything he stood for.

I tried really hard not to gloat in his face. That was harder than it sounded.

The second was an agreement for protection against any other country—regardless of their extradition agreement with the good ol' U.S. of A.—claiming a right to prosecute me for past crimes. If I was going to risk my life to save this world, then I was going to have at least one safe country to hide in. I figured what I was doing with the Autobots more than paid for my past crimes. I honestly didn't care what anyone else thought.

I was about to betray the proverbial den of thieves. When they found out I was giving trusted information about their operations to the American government, they were going to be beyond angry with me. I was expecting many a professional contract to be put out on my head before I could make them see reason. Convincing them that their new "boss" was a psychopathic alien robot that was planning on killing them when they were finished collecting the All-Spark pieces, was going to take time. If I didn't have to kill them first in self-defense, that is.

Man, this was going to so suck.

The third document was the one that pissed me off and caused my hand to tremble. It was also the only reason why the Federal Attorney had agreed to my demands. In exchange for all those pardons and protections, I was being drafted. Literally. The document that sat on the tray before me stated quite plainly that I was now the official property of the NEST branch of the military. I was to follow all rules, protocols, restrictions, yada yada yada… It was the only way the government felt justified in letting me run around free of charges.

It was also their assurance that I wasn't going to cut and run once they turned their back.

The Autobot called Prowl loomed over me, watching very carefully as I begrudgingly signed my name. He didn't like me. At all. The feeling was mutual. While I knew that I got on Prime's nerves with my flippant comments and absolute disrespect of command, he could at least overlook my past. Prowl couldn't. As he'd explained to me, he was programmed to follow the laws. And as I so untactfuly told him, I was born to break them.

We were a match made in hell.

The ink wasn't even close to dry before a thin beam of light extruded from Prowl's left eye, tracing over the document in mere seconds. "Scanning complete," he said aloud, eyeing me like one would eye an annoying yappy dog. "When you are repaired to the satisfaction of Dr. Edgars and Ratchet, you will report to me."

"For what?" I snapped before I could stop myself.

"You will upload the rules and regulations of this base to your processors. This is not negotiable."

"Oh hell," I heard Sam mutter with feeling, dropping his face into his hands. "Prowl, buddy. Now isn't the time—"

"Shove it, bright eyes," I replied to the mech, ignoring my cousin. "This paper says I report to Captain Lennox. Not you."

Prowl tipped his head to the side and gave me a smile every bit as fierce as Ironhide's. "Yes. And Captain Lennox works in conjunction with Optimus Prime. Both have entrusted me with the duty of compiling and enforcing the rules. Unless you wish brig time for disobeying a direct order from your superior, you will report to me at the designated time."

"Syrie, shut it!" Sam snapped, covering my mouth as my eyes narrowed and I started to tell the Autobot what he could do with his 'direct orders.' "Prowl, she'll be there."

Prowl nodded in agreement, and Sam waited until he was out of ear shot. Only then did he remove his hand. "You honestly need to get with the program, Syrie. This isn't a game. This is as serious as it gets. Provoking Prowl isn't going to help anyone."

I glared in the direction of the retreating mech. As much as I hated to admit it, Sam was right. "He hates me."

"No, he hates what you are."

"And that would be?" I prompted.

"A criminal."

"Ex-criminal now," I said sourly.

Sam shook his head. "Former or not, you still represent a threat. Remember, he's all about order and logic. You're like…" he struggled for the right words. "Like the physical representation of chaos. He's going to work with you because Optimus asked it of him. But he's not going to turn his back on you for a very, very long time. He's going to be watching you like a hawk."

"Wonderful," I sighed. "I have a robotic alien babysitter."

"Welcome to the club," Sam chuckled. "When you get well enough, I'll have to introduce you to Bumblebee."