Hello readers!

This chapter has been updated as of 12/13/2015. I hope to get another batch of chapters out soon, but I don't know. It's slow going because I have a lot to do with the holidays and other stuff I'm writing. . . . It's hard. XP

~Crayola

Chapter Six

Are we There Yet?

Jazz was still waiting for me in the same parking spot I'd left him in, forty minutes later. Guilt filled me at the thought of making him wait, but what was the hurry? I had loose ends to tie and things to do, and Nevada wasn't going anywhere. He was lucky I hadn't decided to call the National Guard to come and save me.

The way I figured it, though, he didn't seem to mean me any harm. He'd been nothing but nice to me, and patient while I came to terms with my situation.

Why throw all of that back into his face?

"Hey, you back. Was beginnin' ta think you'd try to run again," he teased as I settled into the car and tossed my bags into the back.

His door closed once I was settled, my purse on the seat next to me. "Run where? We've already gone like a hundred miles. There's nowhere for me to go." Not that I hadn't thought about it. Marie was only a phone call away, if not the authorities.

"S'pose that's true." He pulled out of the parking space and headed for the freeway again. "You get ev'rything ya needed?"

Nodding, I motioned to the back seat. "Yeah, I think so. Everything on your list and a change of clothes. I ate while I was in there, too." A Wal-Mart brand sub sandwich and a soda from the register fridge, nice and cold—unlike the cans sitting in the back.

"Could'a ate while we drove."

Something about eating inside an alien entity gave me the creeps. It was already weird thinking about the fact that I was sitting in one at all, even if it was as if I was sitting inside a regular car. Thinking about it made my head spin, so I shrugged and brushed it off. "I needed some quiet time by myself to think, anyway. Needed to make some calls."

"I gotcha. I'm'a find a place ta stop so we c'n patch ya up."

"Okay." I wasn't sure how he planned to help me with any of that with those claw fingers, but I figured we'd cross that bridge when we came to it.

I reached back and fished through the bags until I found the charger I'd bought, one that fit inside the lighter fuse, and plugged my dying phone into it. I had a bag of fresh clothes to wear once we stopped the bleeding, and I'd bought a travel size toothbrush along with travel size toothpaste. My bladder was empty, stomach full, and I was feeling loads better about the whole situation. I had almost forgotten a crazy, killer alien robot had tried to squish me. Almost.

The sun had begun to set long before I'd made it out of the Wal-Mart, and with everything winding down I was beginning to feel exhausted. The painkillers I'd taken that afternoon were wearing off, so the aches and pains were coming back. I sighed and removed the half-empty bottle of Aspirin from my purse and popped a couple pills, washing them down with one of the cans of soda.

Miles later, Jazz pulled off the main freeway and down a bumpy country road. He pulled off in an empty field, far enough away that I couldn't see any cars or houses. As far as the eye could see, it was open plains and dark sky.

"We're gonna do this here?" I asked skeptically, stepping into the open with the bag of bandages and peroxide.

Next me to, Jazz transformed in a whirl of twisting limbs and metal. His torso turned 180 degrees, and he was facing me. The headlights on his chest illuminated the area and I squinted against the glare. "Ye'h, why not? Ain't no one gonna see us out here. We'll see any vehicle squarin' up 'fore they see us."

I glanced around, unconvinced, but nodded. It would be easy to spot headlights, I guessed. "Alright, sure. So. . .how're we gonna, like, do this?"

He fell into a sitting position with a thud, knees bent, and motioned to the space between his legs. "Have a seat and take off ya shirt. I jus' downloaded a bunch'a files on human first aid, so I should be able t'handle this."

Take off my shirt?

The simple request had my body temperature rising, but I quickly reminded myself that this was an alien robot. He was trying to dress my wounds, not gawk at my flesh. Still, I couldn't help but to hesitate for several seconds before taking up a spot on the ground in front of him.

Still, I had other concerns. "You know, your fingers are kinda big."

"Don' worry 'bout that," he said, leaning forward and showing me his hand. The tip of one finger opened and a much smaller set manifested. It was a pencil-thin set of tweezers. "Gotta lotta small parts that need fixin' sometimes. Can't always wait for ol' Ratchet to help when you on th' battlefield."

Taking a deep breath, I nodded and turned my back to him before removing my pair of shirts. The chilly night air made me shudder, and I hoped he'd hurry.

"So you guys have a medical officer? You don't know how to do your own repairs?" I asked, trying to make conversation. It had been a mere few moments, but I was already shuddering so much it hurt my chest.

He grunted, "Y'eh. I mean, we c'n do small repairs, but Ratchet knows best on how t'reattach limbs or which parts fit in which 'bot."

"You can't just, like, look it up?"

"Naw," he chuckled. "Ain't got an 'internet'. We got databases, but still a lotta work to learn it all. Ya c'n look up how t'set a broken arm, right?"

"Yeah, probably."

"But could ya do it?"

Stupid logical robot. I worried the edge of an open package of bandages. "No, I guess not."

"Same thing here. Gotta have th'programming. Hand me a butterfly bandage."

I obliged and he plucked the tiny piece from my fingers. The skin on my back tugged and I winced, but went to work pulling one over a deep, seeping gouge under my ribs. It was the only one I could see that needed it, the rest only needed regular Bandaids.

"Put that wrap there around this big bruise," he said after a moment, gently brushing a finger across the ungainly miscoloration. I twitched away and pushed on his hand. "Hey, that tickles."

Jazz snickered and I expected a zinger or more tickling, but he did neither.

"Do it now?" I asked, holding up the compression wrap.

"Naw, got a few more Bandaids here and—car!"

Panic paralyzed me for a moment, but Jazz wasn't as stricken. He transformed in a whirl of parts and landed in front of me, blocking me from view. The heat from his idling engine chased away some of the shivers, but it only lasted until the car passed, then he was back in robot mode.

"Good eye," I said, rubbing my arms. "Can we hurry?"

"Y'eh, gimme a couple more Bandaids, then ya can wrap up."

Once I was all wrapped up like a mummy, I put on the old clothes after deciding to change in the morning. Some of the dressings would need to be replaced then, Jazz said, but he'd been able to patch up the worst of them with the butterfly stitches.

The good news was, I could change the wraps on my own.

Another car rolled up, but we were already heading back to the freeway. I was warming up in the seat, the heater blasting at full.

"My bad, forgot the cold affects ya differently'n me."

"I'm fine. The heat feels good." Never mind my fingers were a little numb. They'd defrost, and I already had them pressed against the vents.

We sat in silence for a little while, the radio playing faint songs in the background. We'd long since passed the signal of my favorite station, so Jazz synced with my phone and was playing my personal playlist.

I wasn't listening, though. I was a million miles away, lost in thought. Now that my stomach was full and the pain killers had subdued the pain, I could think straight and wasn't feeling so overwhelmed.

Of one thing I was certain: I wasn't afraid of Jazz anymore. He'd made it clear he was a kind of interstellar bodyguard—or maybe a babysitter. Whichever.

It didn't keep me from worrying. What if the realtor tried to call me sometime? I could maybe put off her call for a few days, but I needed to sell that house. Even if I did, though, would I be able to return to a normal life after all of this?

What about the government? Did they know about the aliens? I was certain they probably did, so how long until they tracked me down?

"You a'ight little miss?"

His voice interrupted the music and made me jump. I turned to stare at my dashboard, dodging his question with one of my own. "Why do you talk like that?" I asked, careful to keep my voice curious.

"Like wha'?"

"Y'know—like you do. Your, uh, choice of vernacular and. . . ," I struggled to pull the correct vocabulary from the depths of my brain. I didn't want to be rude. "style of, um. . .articulation."

If he was offended though, he didn't show it. "Told ya already. I learned ya language off th' internet. Ya culture's so facinatin', guess I couldn' help but pick up a few things, y'know wha' I mean?"

My lips twisted into a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Do it bother ya?"

"No, no. Not at all. I was just wondering, that's all. Just. . .used to movies portraying aliens as, like, more formal in speech. I didn't expect an alien to sound so. . . ."

"Human?"

When he put it like that, it sounded bad. "Yeah. . .I mean I guess. I thought with you being a robot, too, you'd sound more. . . robotic. Like, 'beep boop, I am a robot'." It was a sad attempt at a robot impersonation, but close enough.

Jazz let out a rolling laugh and I couldn't help but smile, too. "Naw, naw. Nothin' like that, little miss. Th'others might, though."

"Sorry," I murmured. "I hope I'm not being insensitive."

"Naw, you a'ight."

Another comfortable silence settled in around us and the radio turned itself up. Or, I guess, Jazz turned it up to fill the silence. The dark world outside passed by as we cruised. We still had a way to go, but I was glad that Jazz was taking it slow instead of jetting along at break-neck speeds.

It gave me time to prepare for the oncoming meeting.

"How long have you been pretending to be my car?" I asked as the thought occurred to me. Of course, it led to a greater question, but I wasn't sure I wanted that answered first.

"'Bout three days now."

Three whole days? I asked, "So whenever I'd go to my car, and it wasn't quite where I'd left it, that was you leaving?"

"Ye'h."

"Where'd you go all the time?"

"Patrollin'. Y'know, makin' sure there weren't no Decepticons lurking 'bout."

It took another few seconds for me to work up the courage to ask the follow-up. Somehow I kept my voice even, if quiet. "What did you do with my real car?"

He hesitated in answering and my stomach flipped over itself. "Jazz?"

"I'll tell ya but don' get mad, k?"

"I can't make that promise."

Jazz was quiet for another few seconds, then he said, "It in th'river 'bout fifteen miles from where you was livin'."

My eyes closed and I leaned my head back against the seat rest, rubbing my forehead in soothing ciricles. I groaned loudly, but tried not to work myself up over it. After all, the car was old and I'd intended to purchase a different one eventually. "Oh Jazz. . .what am I supposed to do when all of this is over?"

"I'll be ya car! Until this's all over, I'll be ya guardian. Then, if ya want me t'leave after ya safe, I'll stick 'round 'till ya get a new car," he offered.

Sighing, I let my hand fall to my lap. He seemed genuine. "I'll hold you to that."

"Autobot's honor."

The corner of my mouth twitched up into a begrudging smirk. "Is that supposed to be like a scout's honor?"

"'Cept more binding."

I leaned back in my seat and pulled my phone into my lap to play some games. "Why is it so important, anyway? Like, so what if they killed me? Not that I want to die, mind you, just. . .why go through all of the trouble for one human girl?"

Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Kat. . . .

"Well," he started, "'cuz we can't let anything happen t'our potential allies. 'Sides, he promised he'd get ya great-grandpa and his crew back to Earth, but they died, y'know? Then ya parents. . .he told me t'keep ya safe while we here."

I pursed my lips and fought back the wave of emotions and tears with a sniff. "Awful lot of trouble just to clear his conscience," I whispered.

"We protect life. You alive, right?" he said, even though I hadn't meant for him to hear.

"You have the fancy scanners. You tell me."

The car was filled with a light humming sound, though from our previous conversations I didn't think the scanners made a noise—all evidence pointed toward Jazz being one for theatrics. "Yup, scanners say you alive. We gon' keep it that way."

Despite myself, I smiled. "Well, it's appreciated."

*:･ﾟ✧

"Ya can get some sleep, y'know."

His voice was enough to startle me from my dozing and I jerked upright, glancing around. I hadn't realized I'd almost fallen asleep. So he could see me.

How, I had no idea.

For the most part I was accustomed to the whole situation now; the sound of his voice from the radio was no longer strange. It was also relaxing, not driving. It made it easier to think about and observe everything around me.

"It's okay, I can't sleep. What if someone sees?" I rubbed my eye with one hand. "I don't want people to freak out."

"Naw we won' get caught. It dark out an' my windows're tinted. 'Sides there ain't no one on the road," he assured me. I was skeptical, but a glance out the window informed me he was correct—the freeway was basically deserted.

In order to keep me from arguing further, my seat fell back abruptly and I made an embarrassing sound of distress.

"Jazz!"

"Sorry, didn' mean ta startle ya." I could hear the laughter in his voice. Jerk.

I sat up a little bit and frowned. "Whatever. It doesn't matter anyway. I've never been able to sleep in cars. The seats don't go back all the way and the back seat is always too cramped and tilted weird. And now I have all of these bruises. . .I'll never get comfortable."

He considered my complaints and then said, "Don' freak out, k? An' don't move too much."

"About what? Don't move? I don't—"

My seat jerked and the rest of my sentence was replaced with a desperate gasp as I twisted around to see what happened. The seat continued to move and, fearing I'd be injured, I flattened out and drew my knees against my chest to make myself as small as possible. Everything was spinning and twisting, making a horrendous crunching sound of gears. I closed my eyes and waited for it to end.

At last, the seat fell back completely horizontal and everything fell still.

"How's'at?" he asked, sounding entirely too proud of himself.

I opened my eyes, chest heaving, then sat up and stared unabashed with my mouth wide open. The entire interior of the car had turned into a makeshift bed. The front seat and the backseats had been rearranged to lie flat and flush against one another.

Once the awe abated, I rounded on the dashboard and gave it a solid kick. "Jazz! Don't you ever do that again without a proper warning!"

He chortled. "Sorry, sorry."

"I don't think you are at all!" I prepped for another swift kick.

"'Ey 'ey! Now—no need fo' violence. . .I promise I won' do nothin' like that again wit'out sayin' somethin'," he insisted, though I could tell he was trying not to laugh.

I certainly wasn't convinced he meant it, but I decided that was as good as I was going to get. I huffed to myself and tried to settle into the bed he had made me—from the kindness of his heart. Or whatever robots had. Power source? Whatever. I wasn't tech support.

"Sorry I don't got no blankets," he apologized, sounding more sincere this time.

"It's fine. Running the heat will be good enough," I assured him. I was still breathless from the rearranging event, but my heart beat was stabilizing on its own time. "How did you do this, anyway? Can you do it whenever?"

"Pre'y much. Mean, my choices're limited if I want my exterior t'stay th' same," he explained. "It ain't no thang, though. Didn't pinch ya or nothin', did I?"

"No—no I'm fine it's just—it was weird. Really weird," I muttered, lying back down on my side. The Stealth wasn't big enough for me to lay flat and stretch out, but it was better than curling up in a half-sitting position. "You sure it's okay?"

Jazz radiated confidence. "Ye'h. No one'll notice. Autobots honor." I couldn't help but roll my eyes and smile.

"How long until we're there?" I asked, taking it at face value. If he thought that no one would notice that the driver of the car was sleeping but somehow not crashing, then who was I to argue? Above all, I was tired. Who knew when the next time I would be able to sleep was, or what was coming in the future. I would need my rest.

There was a short pause before he answered. I assumed he was calculating or something. "Well, we would'a been there pr'y early morning, but you made me drive at reasonable speeds so. . . pr'y be there late morning 'stead. Nine'r ten'r somethin'."

I set my head down on the two new shirts I'd bought and closed my eyes. "Okay. Well, don't crash while I'm sleeping."

"Impossible."

Smiling, I closed my eyes and settled in, letting the heat from the vents lull me to sleep. "Good night, then."

"Night, little miss."

*:･ﾟ✧

Somehow, through the bruises and instant replays in my mind, I fell asleep. My dreams were wrought with giant robots, glowing eyes, and spaceships exploding. They were all short of nightmares by a small margin, instead falling into the realm of unsettling. I felt safe with Jazz, and after being emotionally drained by my parent's death, I was too exhausted to stay awake.

I woke as the sun began to rise after a night of fitful tossing and turning in the cramped space. Each dream had pulled my from my slumber, it seemed, and each time Jazz asked if I was okay. He kept the car at a comfy and warm temperature, and it always soothed me back to sleep. The seats had been comfortable enough at least, but when I did wake up to greet the day, I was stiff and sore around my bruises and bandages.

After Jazz made certain I had slept long enough, I was blessed to take that fun ride of twisting seats and whirring, clanking gears. It made me just as uneasy as the last time, but he took it slower instead of throwing everything together like he had before.

"Does that hurt?" I asked after sitting proper in the seat, belt clicked in around my waist. Something that noisy had to hurt, right?

"Naw. I mean—changing yo' clothes don' hurt, do it?"

"That's not even close to the same thing," I retorted. "I think moving my arm to my back and putting my head in my chest might hurt."

Jazz scoffed. "Tha's 'cause yo' body ain't meant to do it. 'Sides, those humans called contortionists c'n do some crazy things."

"Yeah I guess so. But I'm not one," I said, staring at unfamiliar scenery. "Where are we?"

He hummed in thought. "We hit Nevada 'bout twenty miles ago."

"What part of Nevada are we going to?"

"Place called Tranquility. They'll meet us there in the city outskirts. You need me t'stop before we go any further?"

I shook my head. "It's up to you. It'll be rush hour soon. Might be safe to stop and wait 'till it passes. Or, we could try to get ahead of the hordes. I've got chips and soda and some water, I'll be alright for a little bit."

"Chips'n soda ain't no real breakfast."

"Neither is cereal, but I've subsisted off that for years," I countered.

"Y'eh, but it's a breakfast item. Chips're a snack. We can pull off when traffic gets bad'n stop at a IHOP or somethin'. Get you some real food."

The robot could certainly be stubborn, and he was driving. I wouldn't have much choice in the matter. I sighed and shook my head. "You think I'm made out of money? I can't be buying more food than I need. I have the chips—"

He cut me off. "Ya bank account have more'n enough for a stop at a IHOP."

My eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"

"I'm all seein'."

I glared at the dashboard until he gave me a real answer. "My job ain't just lookin' pretty, little miss. Hackin' in t'check ya balance was child's play."

"That makes me feel real confident in my security, Jazz."

"Naw naw," he said, the car vibrating, "Child's play fer me. Ya computer systems're wide open compared t'Cybertronian systems."

Some of the uneasiness left at his assurance, but was replaced when I thought about the Decepticons. If Jazz could hack into my shit, then couldn't they? When I voiced such concerns, though, Jazz told me they wouldn't bother with it when they had bigger fish to fry—like looking for this AllSpark thing he kept mentioning.

And I kept ignoring it.

As I had expected, traffic was terrible once seven o'clock in the morning rolled around. I was tempted to devour some of the chips, but Jazz hid them from me when I tried to take them. As he said he would, he pulled off a the nearest exit and dropped me off at a gas station to change.

Once I was dressed and my bandages replaced, he drove me over to a nearby Denny's—there weren't any IHOPs in the area—and picked a parking spot.

"Go eat."

Part of me wanted to sit stubbornly in the seat, but I was hungry and he was hiding my god damn chips. So, though I glowered the whole time, I climbed out and headed inside. I was seated immediately and ordered some orange juice and some pancakes.

Jazz wasn't there when I glanced out the window, and I wondered if he was on patrol. After his little "hacking" stunt I was still quite sore with him.

However, he was there when I was finished eating. I climbed inside, feeling less grumpy with a full stomach. He let me open the door and was off seconds before I closed the door. "That was pretty nice, I guess. Thanks for stopping."

"You nice'n full?"

"Yeah, I guess."

He merged with traffic and fell silent, frame buzzing with content. I rolled my eyes and settled in for the last half of the journey.

The road trip had been going on for a total of thirteen hours. We would have been there already, but between all the stops, being stuck in rush hour traffic outside a big city, it was slow going. It also might have helped if I let Jazz go his pace, but I didn't feel comfortable at that kind of speed.

Both Jazz and I were not pleased with the commute, either.

"Is it always like this?" he asked after we'd been sitting at a stand-still for over an hour. He revved his engine impatiently and the person in front of us just flipped the bird. "Oh did he just—"

I shook my head. "Ignore it. It's only like this early on, and because we're so close to a city. Once we get passed, we'll be fine."

However, he still grumbled irritably to himself.

"Are we going to be late to your meeting?"

"Naw they won' be here 'till later tonight. We just gotta meet wit' my 'sociate and his charge before then," he explained. At least talking seemed to take the edge off for him.

"There's another one of you here? And they have someone to protect?"

"Y'eh. Bumblebee and Sam. I don' think they been introduced yet, so maybe wit' another human to 'sociate with he'll take the news easier," Jazz explained. I could just hear the music from my phone underneath his words.

"Ah," I muttered with a sage nod. "So the game plan is me walking up and introducing myself, then telling him he should meet my new alien robot friend?"

"The game plan's whatever we make up on the fly, little miss."

I couldn't help but sigh and rub my forehead. "I'll come up with something. I never was one for flying by the seat of my pants."

He chuckled at that, then growled when someone blared their horn behind us.

The conversation dwindled and it wasn't long before my boredom grew out of control. At some point I finally asked Jazz to pull off so I could take care of hygiene, especially after the big meal. He was very accommodating, and if he was irritated by my bodily functions, he didn't let it show.

Still, I tried not to take up too much time. I headed into the first gas station we found with my toothbrush and toothpaste I'd bought. I was in and out of the grungy gas station bathroom after ten minutes with clean teeth, and an empty bladder. Then I messed all of that teeth-brushing up by buying an iced coffee.

"All set?" Jazz asked once I was safe inside his interior.

"Yeah," I said with a nod.

We sat in silence for a little while and I played all the games I had to play on my phone by the time we moved out of traffic. At that point we had been delayed another hour and a half on top of the fifteen or so minutes I was at the gas station, and we still had one hour to go before we reached this Tranquility we were driving to.

"Wanna play the alphabet game?" I asked out of the blue. I felt a little bad for kind of ignoring him, so thought I'd find a way to involve him in some fun.

"Wha's'at?" he asked, turning the music back down.

Shrugging, I pointed out a billboard. "See that sign? It has the word 'law' on it. Which has the letter A. All you do in the alphabet game is try to collect all of the letters in the alphabet. You can either do it collaboratively or competitively."

"So—either we work together t'find all the letters, or first one to get them all wins?" he clarified. "And I assume we gotta do it in order?"

"Exactly. If it's competitive, then you can't use the same letter twice. So if I pointed out the letter A on that billboard, then you can't call it out and use it." I smiled fondly as I explained the rules, and was taken way back to old road trips to visit family or go on vacation. There was the road kill game, Eye Spy, Slug Bug. . . .

The alphabet game was a little less obnoxious than I Spy, and the road kill game was a little morbid. He couldn't exactly slug me if we saw a Volkswagen Beetle on the road. I didn't think I'd want him to, either.

Jazz thought it over for a spell, then responded. "Pr'y best t'play together. I pr'y got way better eyesight'n you and it wouldn' even be close t'a fair competition," he pointed out.

"Yeah okay," I agreed, smiling. "You just let me get a few so I can feel like I'm helping out."

"You got it, little miss."