Disclaimer: I own nothing. Wish I did, but I don't.
Rating: M - Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, possible smut.
Beta read by the astounding I-love-me-some-leggypoo. She can work miracles.
XxxX.
First Interlude
The traveler wiped the steam off the mirror. She looked bad. Her skin was paler than normal. The bones of her cheeks stood out, making her brilliant green eyes seem sunken. All this combined with her bright copper hair to produce a ghastly effect.
She looked like a banshee. A premonition of death, following an unfortunate soul, wailing of future disaster. Damn, that was a depressing thought.
The mirror fogged over again. She wiped another arch clear. She still looked bad. The past few months had been hard on her. Losing her home and sanctuary had almost undone her. Everything she and her father had worked so hard for was nothing but ashes now, and most of those scattered in the lonesome wind.
Now what? The alien robots had brought her home like some stray kitten and patched her up, complete with new "bones"…structural supports in her left arm. She looked down and flexed her left hand, turning the wrist. The pain was intense, but it subsided quickly. She tried to straighten the elbow. No movement, just more pain. This was also acceptable, pushing her body beyond its considerable limits was not smart. The cost rarely out weighted the benefits.
But now what? Would they want to keep her? Was she a pet? Could she live with that? Could she live with giant robots? Too many questions. Too many "what ifs". Best to wait and see. Maybe she could bail if things got "too weird".
Like Dad always said, "No matter how bad it gets, at least they can't eat you."
She hoped he was right. The mechs were definitely big enough to eat her.
The traveler gathered the clean clothes Ratchet had given her. Yup, Ratchet, she finally remembered her manners and asked if the medic had a name. He did, and Ratchet was an overprotective-worry-wart.
He actually followed her into the showers. She never had much of a sense of modesty. Hell, she had to remember to put on clothes in the summer months, but in the shower. That was private.
"You are still unstable standing and the floor is slippery. I will accompany you in case you need assistance."
Had he not been so serious and practical, she would have balked. But at one point, she did call out for him. Her vision began clouding and dizziness overcame her. She went from sliding down the tiled wall to sitting protected in Ratchet's metal hand. Soap bubbles dripping off her and pooling in his palm.
They stayed this way until the dizziness passed and she could stand on her own. She thanked the mech, but he only scoffed at her. Now she had to go ask if he could help her with her shirt.
XxxX.
Cleaned, newly bandaged and dressed in a too large set of sweats, the traveler was reclining in a normal hospital bed. Apparently, the metal tables of the Medical Bay were on hydraulics, and could sink into the floor. Her little bed was on one of these metal slabs, dropped as low as it would go.
A human sized door sat in the larger mech sized door. This little door opened and a soldier in fatigues walked through, he carried a covered tray. Crossing the expanse of open floor and coming toward her, the man stopped only to tap Ratchet on the foot. The mech looked down and grunted. When the dark skinned man came close, the traveler pulled her knees up in front of her and wrapped the good arm around them.
A toothy grin lit up his dark face. "Oh, now don't be like that. I won't bite."
He held out the tray like a peace offering. "Hope you like meatloaf. We're on a skeleton crew and it was the Captain's turn to cook. I'm Bobby Epps."
The traveler uncurled her legs so Epps could place the tray in her lap. Then he sat on the foot of her bed.
She smiled a little smile of thanks and inspected her food. In the center of the tray was a grey lump sitting in a puddle of gelatinous something. Off to the side was a white paste. She wondered if spackle camesin boxes resembling instant potatoes.
"May the Zagats weep," she said
"You need the sustenance. The protein will give your body the fuel it needs to heal. You are underweight and anemic. Eat it," the CMO snapped over his shoulder.
Epps yelled up to the robot, " Ratch' back off. She's scared shitless. Your bed side manner truly sucks."
The offended mech turned towards the soldier. "My bedside manner has never been an issue until I started treating fragile humans." He stressed fragile.
The traveler tucked into her meal, watching the floor show with keen interest.
"Fragile!? We helped you take out the Decepticons. Hell, even Optimus is nervous when you get into one of your alien cussin', tool throwin' hissy fits. Has it ever occurred to you, you're going to blow a gasket or a hose or something?"
"What the frag is that suppose to mean?"
Back and forth the two traded insults, even congratulating each other on rather inventive obscenities, until the human sized door opened again.
A man walked through. He was of average height and of average build, wearing an off the rack average suit. He had boring hair, boring shoes and intense eyes that noticed everything. Blending into the background and always alert. To the traveler he had a neon sign over his head, blinking "HUNTER". She was familiar with the type. She saw one every time she looked into the mirror. Sitting up straighter she squared her shoulders; this was no time to look weak for another predator had entered the room.
When the man reached the foot of her bed the robot door (as she began referring to it mentally) hissed open. In came the red and blue mech from before. He was followed by an all black 'bot with beyond formidable cannons attached to his arms. This one was back up. Muscle was muscle, no matter what species.
Epps leaned forward to remove her empty tray. He whispered a soft "good luck" in her ear and left.
The boring man with intense eyes informed her that everything said in this room was being recorded.
"So, before we get started is there anything you would like to say?" he asked. She could see he was observing her every movement, trying to read her.
She sat as still as death, gathering her thoughts, knowing that her next words could decide her fate.
"Do you know you just went through a doggie-door?"
The three Autobots quickly accessed the World Wide Web.
XxxX.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who is reading. Special thanks to Punk Autobot for reviewing.
And yes Punk Autobot, the traveler is more than meets the eye. Now take that and run 180 degrees in the other direction. You may figure out where this is headed.
In case anyone is wondering. Yes- there is a destination. It's just a long trip. Yes- there will be pairing. Yes- the twins will return, they demand it. Yes- I am open to comments and suggestions.
Please review.