Thanks to all that favorited/alerted this story. Sorry this update has been so long in the making. Um, special thanks to Lovely Rain Dancer, AntiPrimax, Grizzmon, and Dawn Racer for the reviews.

Anywho, here's chapter seven of Project Mockingbird, I hope you enjoy. *smiles and waves*


Project Mockingbird: v2.0

Chapter 7: Of Reunited Friends and Official Debuts.


Lyre let out a bored sigh, she had not left the medbay, but she was taking a break, as per Ratchet's orders. She was tired, her hands hurt, and she really wanted to see Abigail, or at least talk to her. Instead, she was stuck sitting there with nothing to do as Ratchet worked on Sunstreaker's repairs at the far side of the medbay.

The golden mech was out cold.

His twin, however, was not, and the pacing of said silent silver mech- silent only because Ratchet had threatened to toss him out if he didn't shut it, was really starting to get to her. She couldn't hold herself back any longer. "Sideswipe!" He jumped, surprised by the human femme addressing him. "Have you ever known Ratchet to do less than exemplary work? Ever?" After an unsure moment the normally laid back (Not calm, never calm. Way too much energy to ever be calm.) mech shook his head. "Then you have nothing to worry about. Ratchet's handling it; it's a matter of time only. So chill out a little bit- your darling obsessive-compulsive narcissistic grump of a twin will be fixing his paintjob before you know it."

Before he could respond to that, possibly to rebuff her assessment of Sunstreaker's personality, -Out of loyalty, not because he disagreed with it in any way what-so-ever, he knew his twin quite well.- the human-sized doors to the medbay flew open and Lyre was assaulted by a death-grip hug that had her gasping for air.

"Lyre! Thank goodness you're alright! I was so worried when you disappeared- no one could figure out what had happened to you. I was afraid you'd been killed!" The figure clinging to her was babbling almost incoherently, tears of fear and relief falling from her frantic eyes.

"Well," Lyre's tone was falsely cheerful, a mask to everything broiling within her mind, "good to know you have such unfaltering confidence in me, Abigail." She was silent for a moment, then her tone softened- turning heartbreakingly wistful. "I missed you."

This quiet confession set off another round of sobs from the woman clutching her, so she pressed her lips together tightly and simply stroked her friend's hair soothingly. Neither of them noticed the silver mech watching them with quiet curiosity, nor the brief pause from the medic before he returned to his work.

"Please don't do that again. Don't ever do that to me again!" She was shouting now, her fingers clutching the fabric of Lyre's shirt so tightly- afraid she would disappear at any moment. "Please, Lyre. Please. Please. Please!"

"Alright." Her voice was soft, a mother soothing her child's fears after a terrible nightmare. "Never again. You have my word."

That such a promise was unrealistic at best…

Lyre was silent for a long time after that- merely soothing her friend and holding her close, waiting it out until she was calm again. The silver mech felt an ache in his spark at the sight- something in it calling to mind the strong bond he had with his other half. It was not the same- not exactly, but he could still feel a certain level of understanding for the emotional display occurring before him.

At long last, Lyre pulled back from the embrace and took Abigail by the shoulders- making sure she had her attention. "Now then," she smiled widely, "why don't you go clean yourself up in the restroom, and then grab us both a bite to eat in the mess hall. I can't leave yet, doctor's orders, but I'm really hungry. Could you do that for me Abigail? Could you go get me something to eat?"

She wanted to say no. She didn't want to move, to let her out of sight for even a second, but Lyre needed something. After another long moment- her need to take care of her best friend outweighed her fear of said friend disappearing, so, with a deep breath, she did as asked.

It was silent for only a fraction of a second after she left before Lyre turned to Ratchet with a distressed expression. "She-" She paused, her voice cracking with emotion. "She was this bad the whole time?" The medic didn't say anything- although, truthfully, she didn't need him to.

She knew the answer already.

"To think," she laughed bitterly, "that our rolls would one day be so completely flipped… I never saw it coming. Shame." Of the three conscious Mechs in the room, only Ein understood the tone in her voice and was able to comfort her- though a pained expression flashed across the medic's face at her words.

Some sorrows transcend time and race; Ratchet felt her pain.

Lyre cooed soft words of affection at the sparkling in her lap, playing and tickling, until she regained some semblance of calm. Then she turned to Ratchet with a grin on her lips and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "Sooo… talk to me McGrumpy- how's my patient?"

CLANG

She did little more than twitch at the sound of wrench hitting wall, though she did eye the point of contact. "Not bad, but you were slightly out of the bull's-eye on that one."

"What have I told you about that idiotic nickname?"

"Well, I believe it was something along the lines of 'Golly gee, Lyre, that is the single-most creative, spectacular, stupendous nickname in the great history of nicknames. Where ever did you come up with such a brilliant name? No- Never mind, it matters not. I shall cherish it always.' I think that was your exact wording too, but I can't be positive- it happened a while ago." That the whole spiel was said in monotone and with a completely straight face was somewhat astonishing.

It was the responding expression on Ratchet's face, however, which pulled the laugh out of the uncharacteristically somber Sideswipe.

Lyre grinned up at him- pleased to have broken him from his worry, if only for a moment. Antics to create happy feelings, happy feelings to distract from her current despair. And she needed the distraction.

She wasn't the only one.

"Ah, got it." The CMO's words caught Lyre's attention, but in the same moment, Sideswipe's seemed to fade away.

"Got what?"

"What was blocking the twin-bond."

Surprise flickered across Lyre's face. "Blocking- He didn't mention anything about it… Just as well I guess, not like I could really have done anything about it with what-all I had anyways, nor do I have the training for something so delicate and fine-tuned."

"Yes, matters of the spark are rather complex, and the split-spark bond makes the twins a rather… unique case. I shall have to teach you about it sometime."

"Can I use Skids and Mudflap as my guinea pigs?" she asked the question eagerly, almost childishly. Ratchet gave her a dry, blank look, but she could see the amusement hiding in his gaze. "What's he doing anyways?" She gestured to the silver mech in question- who was now completely still.

"They're transferring data packets- an info dump."

"Trading the latest gossip, huh? Oh, does that mean Sunshine is awake now?"

"Yes, that's basically-" And then her words fully registered and Ratchet's optics went wide; he choked mid-vent. "Sun-what?"

When she realized what had been said, Lyre shot straight up in her seat- throwing an alarmed glance in the golden mech's direction. She only allowed herself to relax when the temperamental warrior showed no sign of movement. "Sunstreaker. I said Sunstreaker. What else would I call him?"

The medic was opening his mouth to speak, but Lyre was saved from hearing his response by the return of the much calmed Abigail.

"I didn't know what you wanted… so I grabbed a couple different things."

Lyre smiled soothingly. "That's fine, thanks Abigail. Why don't we move into the back room, okay? I think you could probably stand to take a nap." Ratchet shot her a significant look as they slipped away, one that clearly stated 'This isn't over'. She grimaced in response, then pretended not to have seen him at all.

Abigail was quick to agree- handing over the food and pushing her into the large, private backroom, to which- only a select few had access.

There were two large berths, both occupied, and paralleling them- two human sized beds surrounded by an assortment of medical equipment. Set farther back was a computer station and a long workbench covered in numerous tools and bits of machinery. The far wall was unadorned excepting the set of Cybertronian sized doors which opened up into an otherwise empty corridor- undetectable from the outside except by those already privy to their existence.

That number resting firmly in the single digits.

To the right, behind the human beds, was something that could only really be called a docking station- it had been specially constructed for Ein, and had a direct link-up with the computers in the far corner for monitoring and diagnostics purposes. The sparkling was three times the size he had been at the time of his 'birth'- he did not grow in the traditional sense, but they had recently discovered that he could incorporate other pieces of machinery into his biotechnical make-up. They were taking advantage of that- making him bigger, stronger, and more complex in his processing capabilities- though they had to take it slowly, as his body was substantially weakened until the process was completed. It was unusual, but the sparkling still radiated low levels of Allspark energy, so the unusual somehow made sense.

Abigail made to go to the back workbench, but a tug from Lyre had her stopping short. "Come here 'Gail. Let me see you." The older woman did as requested, allowing smaller hands to bring them face to face.

The ice queen had regained her cool and expressionless demeanor, but her companion had known her for a long time. To Lyre, she was an open book. And the book said that she was completely exhausted- no amount of make-up could completely conceal the darkness under her eyes and her gaze itself was dull, not the sharp, miss-nothing stare Lyre was accustomed to seeing.

"Go lay down." It was an order- sharp, punctuated by a finger jabbing in the direction of the human sized beds, a warning glare rising in her dark brown eyes. Still, Abigail hesitated- Lyre's gaze softened somewhat. "You are completely exhausted, if you don't take a nap, then I will be forced to report you to Medical- and then you'll have no choice in the matter… I promise to still be here when you wake up."

"…Very well." Lyre watched carefully until she was sure that Abigail would not be waking up anytime soon before moving quietly to the other bed.

She pulled herself awkwardly into her designated cot, all the while ignoring the sparkling watching her actions with his disapproval quite clear. However, it was not until she began reaching for the breather that he actually voiced his objections. She smiled reassuringly and lifted the little one onto the bed beside her. "I know you don't want me to Sweetheart, but I can't let those 'cons get away with what they've done, and it's dangerous to leave that hideout full of processer-less scrapheaps so close to a NEST base." Ein did not look impressed. "I promise to be extra careful, alright?"

He was not enthusiastic with his human Carrier's decision, but he would let it be for the time being.


Back in the medbay, a certain silver mech was locked in silent conversation with his other half.

His golden counterpart was agitated- angry about his state and the fact that he would not be up to full fighting form for quite some time. He wanted vengeance. Sideswipe was inclined to get it in his stead.

-:Send those slaggers to the pit.:-

The silver mech smirked in silent agreement, sharing in his twin's battlelust over their bond, enraged in his own right about Sunstreaker's treatment- before slipping silently away.

The medic paused at the sound of the medbay doors sliding shut, but in the end he let it be- he knew a lost cause when he saw one. Better to do what he was best at, he left the rest to Ironhide, though he did send a quick heads-up to the black mech.

:Acknowledged.:

Ratchet went back to work.


We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. - Plato


They were quite accustomed to the Hatchet calling them several variations of stupid, but that was usually only after a prank or when they came in with injuries that were due to their own… well, stupidity.

This was a bit different.

For one thing… they were almost willing to agree with him- not out loud of course, but still…

Were they?

Were they just being idiots?

Part of them even hoped so.

Because that would be an easy fix.

But they weren't quite ready to admit they were wrong- not yet.

:Access Next File?:

:Yes.:

:File Accessed.:

:File Opened.:


It had been almost six weeks since the agreement between the Autobot leader and the director of Project Mockingbird- so far, the faux-Cybertronians had yet to make their debut. Abigail was working closely with the Autobots in her human form as an outside consultant- helping them deal with the government with the same efficiency she used when dealing with her own people. She had impressed more than one individual.

Lyre, on the other hand, had not left her lab since their phone chat unless specifically called. She was currently working to make the artificial bodies even more realistic with the aid of Ratchet, with whom, she was in almost constant contact with via Ein.

Ratchet, when not in some argument or another with her, -They both enjoyed it thoroughly, not that they would willingly admit to it.- helped her to create a phantom Spark-signal, one that would register as a dampened signal- able to pass most scrutiny. They also worked on other, secret, projects, and he put in a special room back at the Transformers' base that opened directly into his Medical bay- it would house their dormant Cybertronian bodies away from prying eyes when they finally arrived.

Ein had been given several upgrades to incorporate into his still developing processor, the latest of which enabled him to perform scans almost as good as a med-bot. It made information transfer much easier- and he had been secretly using it, by request of Abigail, on Lyre. This allowed Ratchet to keep tabs on the woman's health, as she was prone to overworking herself and neglecting her needs when she had something that she felt was important to work on. Ein also had an assortment of hand tools scanned into his memory banks, and could act like a sentient pocketknife if he so chose. Most of the time though, he simply played Lyre's favorite music for her, and tried to keep her from falling asleep at her desk.

Which she did quite often.

As for the problem involving the information leak… well, that was never resolved, the government refusing to see it as anything more than Lyre and Abigail trying to get rid of the mandatory government involvement in their project with petty accusations.

They were told to drop the matter.

Not that they did, this is Nightingale and Drake we're talking about here, they just stopped trying to get the government to do something about it. Instead, they set up a careful monitoring system, designed to, hopefully, catch anomalies- such as information being sent to people who shouldn't get it. Unfortunately, they had to do this in such a way that they wouldn't be caught by the government, so it wasn't nearly as precise as it should have been.

Sector Seven was in the process of being disbanded- and a special unit called N.E.S.T. was taking its place. There were already plans in the works for a base on an island called Diego Garcia- it would be largely underground and only special personnel would have access to it. It would serve for the most part as a military unit- though some scientists whose work was based on the study of the Cybertronians would also be housed there.

As for the Decepticon front… Megatron was killed during the Mission City incident, but it was well know that Starscream had escaped- and his relocation and elimination was one of the main priorities of the newly forming NEST. They have had little luck in it, as all remaining Decepticons seemed to be laying low for the time being, Starscream especially.

For the most part, it all seemed to be moving forward; slowly, but surely, they were moving forward.


Tony stood at the doorway to Lyre's workroom, struggling with himself. He wanted to get her to talk to him again- needed her to talk to him. They passed in the hall and she would not even look at him; this was different from their other arguments- she wasn't glaring at him, wasn't yelling at him, she just…acted like he wasn't there at all. He couldn't stand it.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Lyre was sitting at her desk, back to the door, bent over something tiny and muttering incoherent curses as she worked. She didn't even look away from what she was doing at the sound of his footsteps- simply waved a hand over her shoulder in the general direction of her living area: fold up cot, bathroom (with shower), a holding chest for storage, and table for one. "Just leave the food over there please; I'll eat it in a little while."

"I'm afraid I didn't think to bring anything. Sorry."

She stiffened, frozen in place, before slowly setting her tools down and straightening into a standing position, hands on her desk. "What do you want, Tony? Come to yell at me again?"

He stared at her back, as she had yet to turn around. "Maybe I did."

The muscles in her shoulders seemed to tighten imperceptibly at his words, and her voice, when she spoke, was ice cold. "Well, try again some other time. I'm busy right now."

"Yes, I'm quite aware of that." Despite the fact that he had come to make peace with her- he couldn't help the sneer that crept into his voice, nor the words bitterly spoken. "Having fun are you?"

She turned around so fast she seemed to be nothing but a blur, and glared at him with eyes that blazed. "I made the right decisions! I did what had to be done! Be mad at me all you want, but keep it to yourself- leave me out of it! It's tiresome always fighting with you anyways, I have better things I could be doing." She spoke with such heated conviction, a finger pointed almost accusingly at his chest.

He would never know of the doubt and the guilt she felt for her choices.

"Oh?" His fire had climbed to a blaze in response to her anger- as it always seemed to do. "What had to be done? Tell that to the people of Mission City, the ones who lost their lives when we could have been there protecting them. When we should have been there!" He had moved forward without realizing, and was now toe to toe with her, looking down into her eyes.

"We should have, but we couldn't. Had we gone- it quite possibly would have escalated matters even further. I made a calculated decision, and in the end I chose the best course of action."

There was a harsh sneer on his face, and he knew the words he was about to speak were a lie- would hurt her. He couldn't seem to stop them. "No wonder you like these robots so damn much. You're a cold, heartless bitch- just like them." And he left, but not before he saw the stricken expression on her face and the tears built up in her eyes.


Lyre did not speak to Ratchet for two days, nor did she seem to work on anything at all. Even so, she never once stepped out of her workshop, and she refused to let anyone in. Only Ein knew what happened in those two days when she locked herself away, and he knew this was a private thing and was not meant to be shared, not even with the Autobot's CMO. The third day- she was back to work, the door unlocked once more and the smile on her face as though nothing at all had happened. There were rumors of course, but none dared ask her except for Abigail, whom she ignored until the matter was dropped.

Tony stayed away from her- only approaching her when he absolutely had to, although he was often spotted staring after her with an expression of regret, guilt, and longing. There were rumors about that, too, but again, no one asked. Their work continued on in that fashion for almost three more weeks before there was another upset.

It came in the form of a phone call.


"I heard you Abigail; you don't have to grouch at me. Geez." Lyre was stuffing her feet into a pair of black boots, caution-cone orange knee-highs peeking out before she zipped them away into the darkness- she straightened the slate gray slacks she had quickly changed into, and slipped her black leather jacket on over her amethyst colored silk blouse. "Are you certain it's him?"

"Of course we're not certain- that's why we're sending out a group to identify him." She jumped at the new voice, glancing at Ein where he sat on her duffle bag acting as a speaker phone.

"I don't need you grouching at me either you old mech." Among the many things they'd learned about the Autobots, one of the main ones was how terribly rude it was to call them robots, it was a thing now saved solely for the Decepticons. "Is there any particular reason you guys want 'Gail and I to be the ones to make the ID?" She was now at her desk, shifting through the papers scattered about as if thrown- there was a chirp from Ein, his 'Eureka!' sound, and she turned to see him using his targeting laser as though it were a laser pointer, indicating her food table where, low and behold, the file she was searching for was located. "Thanks, Ein. So, how long to fly out there?"

"Not long. It's that second flight that you'll hate." Abigail was the one speaking again.

"Why?"

"Because we'll be in the cargo hold."

"Oh, that's funny." There was a long pause that Lyre decidedly did not like, not one bit. "Wait, you're serious?"

"As death."

"Great. So not only do I have to get dressed up for an annoying meeting, travel to freaking Africa to confirm a possible sighting of Starscream, maybe have to fight said 'Screamer, and play nice with all the little peoples I encounter during that period of time, but I have to fly on top of everything. I hate flying." Despite her complaints- she was already on her way out the door, bag slung over one shoulder, folder tucked under an arm, and Ein now in phone mode held pressed to an ear.

"There shouldn't be any need for you to fight Starscream. If you do confirm his presence then you will report it, and Prime will take the appropriate actions." She walked around to the back of the building, observing as an eighteen-wheeler (no, not Optimus) backed up to the loading bay.

"Shouldn't- a guarantee does not make. There's always a chance, I took the liberty of adding an emergency medical pack to each form." She watched with fondness as first a Mitsubishi i in a lovely shade of Celeste Velato, then a Tangelo with white pinstripes down the sides McLaren MP4-12C were rolled onto the flatbed for transport- each one covered with a nondescript white tarp. "Hopefully my fighting skills haven't gotten too rusty."

"I doubt they even could get rusty, what with how often you use them."

"Abigail, I'm hurt. Truly, you make me sound like some sort of ruffian."

"You are a ruffian; you're just abnormal in that you're dangerous in more ways than one."

"I don't know what you're talking about." After making sure both cars were properly and carefully loaded, she went back around to the front to wait for her cab.

"No, you never do."

"Why Abigail, I could take that as an insult you know." There was a noncommittal hum from Abigail, Lyre grinned and slid into the back of the cab that pulled up, giving brief directions on how to get to the private airport to the driver. "You know, it's kind of exciting. Our first mission, our official debut- it's thrilling." Abigail calmly agreed with her, voicing her approval for Lyre's mature behavior for once. "Well, you know, except for the part where we could die, that part kinda sucks." There was a sound of exasperation and Lyre's grin widened, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

Abigail made it way too easy.


:File End:

They didn't like Tony.

Didn't like the way he talked to her.

Didn't like the way she let his words affect her.

Just… didn't like him.

At all.


Next time: Sideswipe meets Windfury.