Note: Longest chapter! I love the conflict Parker is feeling in this chapter. I know she babbles about it for a long time, but that's just the way she is. She's being eaten alive by the guilt, and she can't stop thinking about it, examining every angle. Sorry if you think it goes on too long, but I think, for Parker, it's about right.

Also, more cute Parker/Optimus bonding. Yay! Also, Parker has a little breakthrough. Yay again!

(I own only Parker/Carmen and the story idea)

Chapter 7

Have you ever done something so bad that you're afraid you'll never be able to make up for it? The sort of thing that keeps you up at night, squirming with guilt and uncertainty, those two terrible words, what if, torturing you into sleeplessness?

I try to reason with myself, to justify it; Megs hurt me, the last time I'd seen him; a slow, oozing emotional wound, the kind that festers and creates doubt. He'd left me more confused than anything else thus far. On the same day, Optimus Prime had treated me with kindness, while Megs had snapped at me. I had asked them both the same question, and I had gotten two very different results, results that I hadn't expected.

I know it's stupid, and I know Megatron had probably just been annoyed with me, worried that I was losing sight of my mission. He worries about me, naturally. He's my family, and he doesn't want me to get too comfortable with the enemy. That's normal, right?

Besides, when I thought about it, it had been stupid of me to ask him where his planet had been. It had been completely irrelevant, and Megatron doesn't like his time to be wasted. His reaction was natural, nothing against me. So why had it hurt so much? It's stupid of me to still linger over it; that one moment, that one, tiny moment, won't stop replaying in my head. Optimus Prime's kindness, his patience, against Megatron's anger.

That's why it hurt, I realize. The enemy had been kinder than Megatron had. I hadn't been expecting it.

So when I lied to him, when I told Megatron that nothing of interest had happened, that was okay, wasn't it? I was just hurt. People do stupid things when they're hurt. And besides, if he never found out, no one would be the worse for it. I would make it up to him. I would find a way to tell him later. He would never know that I had lied to him.

I'm petty, and I am selfish, and I am a coward in every sense of the words. I shouldn't have lied. That was so, so wrong. What am I doing here, if I am lying to him, feeding him false information? What is wrong with me? I make myself sick.

But then, on the other hand, every moment I spend with Mudflap and Skids is torture. It's been a few weeks since the mall, since I've met with Megatron, and the two and I have grown very close. There's an unbreakable bond between them, a bond that I am familiar with, and I feel more comfortable with them and their humor than anyone else on base.

They're just soldiers. They're innocent in all of this, and I don't want them hurt. I'm here for Optimus Prime, I keep telling myself. Mudflap, Skids… they don't have to get hurt. Not if I play my cards right. They aren't really the enemy here.

I tug on my hair, sitting on my crate outside. I've gotten better at washing the cars and cleaning the hangar, so I've had more time to hang out with the twins and watch the other bots. And I just don't know what to do anymore. I've never been so conflicted.

On the one hand, I know that they're the enemy.

On the other hand, they aren't cruel. I'm certain of it. But my family, Megatron and Starscream and Barricade… they're mean, but they're not evil. I'm sure that there's just been some sort of misunderstanding. I want to make Megatron see that, but I'm not sure how. I just don't want anyone to get hurt.

So when Optimus Prime, Ironhide, and Ratchet had gone out on a secret mission, and when Megatron has asked me that same day, as he did every day, if I had anything to report, I had said no. I had lied. And it had been killing me ever since.

I had no doubt that Megatron would have loved the information, taken it as an opportunity to strike back, to finally devise a plan to kill the leader; how often did he leave base without a majority of his soldiers?

It was the moment I had been waiting for…

And I had lied.

They had been gone for three days, and every day I had lied. They're back now, safe, unharmed. Apparently there had been a rogue "Decepticon" who had needed to be handled, but I was sure that it wasn't anyone that I knew. At the same time, I had never felt more treacherous. Because I had lied, someone on our side had been killed.

I need to stop thinking about this. I pull myself out of my head and stare out at the bots. Most of them have been cramped in the hangar for too long, and are using tonight to move around outside, stretching themselves, running, making the ground beneath me rumble. I watch with a soft smile as Skids and Mudflap roll around together on the ground, as Sideswipe and Ironhide engage each other in a mock-battle, calling out teases to each other, mocking each other.

Sideswipe is so fast, and he transforms with a speed and elegance that I've never seen before. One second he's a car; the next, a towering robot. Ironhide, for his size, is quick as well, but not quick enough. Sideswipe is skating around him in circles, laughing and teasing, and Ironhide is growing furious. I should be observing this differently, I should have every intention of reporting this to Megatron. But I don't. Sometimes I'm sure he doesn't tune in to me anymore. I'm not sure how much I can hide.

I find myself focusing on Sideswipe and Ironhide, fascinated by them. Every time one seems to have the upper hand, the other manages to turn the tables. They're so unpredictable. Finally, due to his superior strength, Ironhide manages to pin Sideswipe down. When they've established the win, Ironhide lets him up, laughing at his friend.

"Nice try," he says, clapping his friend on the shoulder. Sideswipe shrugs him off good-naturedly.

"One day, Ironhide," he says, "one day."

Ironhide just laughs, then turns to Prime. "Come on, old friend," he says, motioning with his fingers.

Prime actually grins and walks to meet his friend. Mudflap and Skids have stopped their struggle to watch curiously as the two gigantic bots begin to spar. Bumblebee comes up beside me and rests his hand on the crate, leaning casually against it, staring off at his leader and his friend.

I watch their mock-battle, and I can't help but notice how different it is compared to the fights I've seen between Starscream and Barricade and the others. These bots are hard on each other, yes, but their fight lacks the bloodlust that Barricade and Starscream have when they fight.

I understand immediately why Prime is the leader; Ironhide can't seem to gain the upper hand, and Prime is actually laughing; it's a loud, rich sound, comfortable, genuine, not like the hisses and malicious chuckles I'm used to.

"Careful!" Ratches calls, then starts muttering to himself, shaking his head.

It doesn't take long for Prime to pin Ironhide to the ground, face down, with one hand twisted behind his back. It was a good fight; they're more evenly matched than Sideswipe and Ironhide, but Prime is just… better. He laughs again as Ironhide grumpily gets to his feet. Prime elbows his chest gently with a laugh.

There's an air of respect with these bots; they all respect each other, they all respect Prime, and they all genuinely care about each other. It's nothing like how Starscream is always muttering behind Megatron's back, or how Barricade is constantly feigning respect and obedience. This is something real, something true.

There's a general round of appreciative applause from the bots for Prime, and Ironhide looks sulky. I laugh softly at his expression and turn back down to my sketchpad. I've spent the last few weeks drawing like crazy, and I'm pleased to see that I haven't lost what little talent I had. Drawing has helped take my mind off my lies, off the confusion.

"What d'you have there?" I turn and see that Lennox has hoisted himself up on the crate and is sitting beside me, looking at the drawing. I shrug and close the book; I hate it when people try and look at my drawings. They're personal. He seems to sense this and lets the subject drop.

The ground rumbles, and when I look up I catch Bumblebee sprinting across the concrete, Sideswipe hard on his tail. An instant later, Sideswipe lunges forward and tackles him to the ground; sparks light up the light instantaneously.

"They're incredible, aren't they?" Lennox asks, nudging my shoulder with his playfully.

"They are," I agree.

"I see you're friendlier toward them," he observes slyly.

"Yeah," I reply. "They aren't as scary as they were at first. They're just… they're like people. Just bigger and more metallic and more alien."

Lennox cracks a grin. "So," he says, "Roadkill, eh?"

"Ugh," I groan. "Yeah, that's what Mudflap and Skids are calling me."

Lennox just starts laughing, and I glare at him. "They really like you," he finally says. "I can't imagine why, but they like you. Roadkill is all they ever talk about. At first it was a little weird, but once I found out who Roadkill was, it made a little more sense."

I laugh, imagining the twins speaking fondly of roadkill, and I shake my head.

"They're something else," I say. "And they have this bond, Lennox. It's incredible! They say human twins are close, you know? But they're exactly the same…" I trail off with a sigh. I'm comfortable around them because they remind me of my brother and me. They're familiar.

Lennox nudges me again.

"It pains me to say it," he says, "but I'm kind of glad we decided to keep you. It's done the twins good, too, having someone they think they're protecting."

"Happy to be of service," I say, and then the guilt settles in and I look away. The twins don't have to be hurt, I remind myself.

"Yo, Roadkill!" Mudflap is calling to me. "Quit bein' so borin' and get yo ass out here!"

"And do what?" I holler back.

"Show us what'choo got," Skids calls, hunching his shoulders and making his hands into fists, hopping up and down like a boxer.

I start laughing, look at Lennox, who just nods, and hop down off my crate.

"I'll see you tomorrow, kid," Lennox says. "I'm not nocturnal, like you seem to be. Night."

"Night," I say over my shoulder, rushing out to meet the twins. Lately I've been sparring with them, much like I used to with Barricade, except that the twins have never hurt me.

They're still a distance away as I'm walking toward them when Mudflap suddenly transforms into the Beat and starts rushing toward me.

"What are you—"

I cut myself off and scream, half-laughing, and turn and run the opposite direction. I can feel him hard on my heels, his headlights illuminating my running shadow. And then he transforms, tackling me and seizing me up in one hand, holding me in the air as he rolls on the ground before landing on his feet, laughing. I'm screaming and laughing like a maniac, yelling "Nononononono!"

Holding me in his hand, he zooms me around like a child would an airplane. I'm wriggling and screaming, but there's no real fear behind it. I manage to kick him in the eye and he drops me.

"Ow!" he says, "What was dat fo'?"

This time, though, my scream is genuine. It's a quick drop, and he barely manages to catch me; my hand skims the ground.

"You moron!" Skids calls, tackling him, sending us both flying as Mudflap releases me. I'm soaring through the air, and this time Bumblebee catches me.

"Good catch, Bee!" Skids calls.

Bumblebee holds me more gently, giving the twins a glare. They both glare back at him.

"Yo, giv 'er back!" Mudflap whines, "She's my human!"

"Hey!" Skids protests, "she's mine!"

And then the bickering starts. Bumblebee shakes his head, looking me over, and all I can do is laugh a breathless laugh. Suddenly the twins have teamed together, and they attack Bumblebee from both sides. He starts running and they give chase. One goes for his legs and as he trips, the other snatches me from his hand.

Before I know it, Skids has transformed around me, and I'm inside the beat. However, the seats are all folded down, creating a flat surface. I'm on my hands and knees inside the car as he weaves around Prime's legs, then Ironhide's, making hard turns and throwing me around the car. Finally he skids to a halt, throwing me forward, before he starts to rock the car maniacally, tossing and bumping me around.

I'm not angry. I'm actually laughing so hard I'm breathless, because every time I steady myself, he knocks me down again.

"Stop!" I cry, tears streaking down my face from the laughter. I'm gasping for air. "Skids—stop! No, no, no!"

He just sniggers, continuing to toss me around, and I finally just succumb.

Everyone is in an exceptionally good mood tonight, I realize. Maybe because Prime's mission was a success, because they're home safe, and in the three days since they've been back, it's their first time to just relax together. But there's a giddiness in the air, and no one seems immune to it.

Bumblebee is laughing as I'm getting tossed around the Beat. Even Ironhide seems amused; can hear his low chuckle. Prime warns Skids to be careful with me, but I'm not worried. I'm sure they won't hurt me.

Finally Skids opens the passenger door and tosses me out onto the pavement, where I sprawl, laughing. He transforms and leans over me with a goofy grin. He's close enough that I hit him in the chest with both of my feet, and then I just lay there, trying to catch my breath.

Mudflap comes up behind me and lifts me, setting me on my feet. We're a ways from the others by now, just the three of us, and I lean against Mudflap's leg. This is something I've never been able to do to Barricade or Starscream; the only one who ever let me close was Megatron, but it's not the same as what I'm doing now. We don't need to hide it now.

I reach up and hold on to one of Skids's fingers; he's standing on my other side. He looks down at me, almost startled, but then gives me a goofy grin.

"I always wanted a human," he says after a minute.

"I always wanted two robot best friends," I say in return. Both of them stare at each other, looking excited, than down at me.

"You really mean dat?" Mudflap asks. "Best friends?"

I just smile. I remember when they had told me that they were my family, and I want it to be true. I've never been this happy, at least not since the accident. My spine prickles as I remember the cause of the accident, standing behind us, 32-feet-tall and mighty. I close my eyes.

"Hey," Skids says, "you ok?"

"Yeah," I say, still holding his hand and leaning against Mudflap. I suddenly have a question for them. I need the reassurance. I need to know that what I'm doing is right, I need to know if they would do for each other what I'm doing for my brother.

"Hey," I say softly after a moment, and Skids sits down beside me. Mudflap follows suit. "You two love each other, right?"

They both seem to shudder at the phrase, but I know it's true.

"You'd do anything for each other?"

"'Course," Mudflap says, "nobody gonna be hurtin's Skids while I'm around, ain't dat right, bro?"

"Dat's right," Skids replies. "Ain't no one gon' mess wit' us."

"Ay," Mudflap pipes, "remember Egypt? We was so kickass."

They reminisce for a while, talking about how they had thought they had lost each other for a moment, about how they'd stepped up the fight then. I nod to myself.

"So if someone hurt one of you," I venture, "you'd do anything to make it right?"

"Someone hurts Mudflap," Skids says, "they gon' be wishin' them was never born."

"Yeah," Mudflap agrees.

We are all silent for a moment, then Skids pokes me in the shoulder with a huge finger. "Dat goes fo' you, too, Roadkill," he says. "No one be messin' wit' our Roadkill, or them's gonna get hell fo' it."

"Dat's right," Mudflap says. "You ain't got to be scared. We look out fo' who we love."

I swallow thickly and nod, taking both of their huge hands and drawing them into my lap. I want to tell them that I'm so sorry that I'm betraying them, that somehow I'll make it right, that I won't let either of them be hurt. I don't say any of this. Instead, I just kiss each one on a thumb. Again, they look startled, but then they look at me with affection.

We don't say much after that. After a few minutes, Ironhide calls them back inside to get some rest. They offer to take me in, but I want to stay out for a little longer, maybe draw. They stand, each one patting my head gently before running off to the hangar, racing each other. I laugh softly to myself.

I finally stand and look back at my crate, where my drawing things are. I'm startled to see that Optimus is there, my sketchpad held between two fingers, looking tiny in comparison to his hand. And it's a large sketchpad.

"Hey!" I call. "No—that's mine! Don't look!"

He glances up at me and within a few strides, he's at my side. He hands my pad and pencils out to me and I take them carefully. For the first time all night, I'm actually, genuinely tense.

Optimus Prime.

He's probably the most confusing one of all. Ever since that first night, when I'd asked him that one question, Where is your planet, I'd talked with him a little bit every night. He's never shown any hostility, no cruelty, nothing to suggest that he's as cruel and evil as Megatron says. He has never been anything but kind and patient with me. And, while he does seem to get frustrated with my stubborn streak, he has never snapped at me.

I spend too much time, I think, trying to get him to confess to my brother's death, and he never has. And while I know he caused my brother's death, I can't get him to mention it at all. It's like it never happened. I've considered everything at this point—that he suffered memory loss from the accident, or maybe it was even a different semi—but the fact that I'm making excuses for him makes me sick.

The worst part is that I don't want it to be true. I don't want him to have killed my brother, because it would ruin everything. Much to my frustration, it is difficult to see him as anything but a kind, noble leader; so different from how I had felt toward him the first time I had met him. I wish it was that simple again. I wish I had never gotten to know him.

It would be easier to hate him that way.

But now… I just can't make the pieces fit. Cold, cruel murderer does not fit in with the Optimus Prime that is standing before me, watching me curiously as I take my things from his huge hand. I want so badly to hate him, but he makes it so difficult. I feel like I'm betraying my brother. I feel like this is all part of some plan; maybe Prime does remember me, and he's trying to mess with my head.

That, at least, fits in with the Optimus Prime that Megatron had told me about.

I can't believe I lied to protect him, when he killed my brother.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?" He asks. It's the same question every night. I don't know why he keeps asking. Does he expect me to say I want him to leave?"

"No, go ahead," I say, folding my legs beneath me and sketching away. He stands beside me, staring out into the darkness. His eyes cast a soft blue glow in the air.

He does this every night, and I can't figure out why. I've looked around; there's nothing to see, just darkness and the sky. After a few minutes I close my sketchpad and glance up at him.

"Why do you do that?" I ask. "There's nothing to see."

He looks down at me. "From down there, maybe," he says. "But from here, the view is incredible."

I blink, then sigh. "I wish I was thirty-something feet tall," I say with a grin and he chuckles softly.

"I can show you," he offers. I blink at him as he lowers his hand, palm out, fingers stretched flat. When I don't move he just nods. "Perhaps another time, then."

"No, wait," I say suddenly as he begins to withdraw his hand. "Wait."

He lowers his hand again and waits patiently. I move my things aside and just stare for a moment, debating with myself. It must be minutes later, and he still hasn't moved. Finally I step forward and climb carefully onto his hand.

Very gently he lifts me up so that I'm eye level. I turn and look out into the distance, following his gaze, and gasp slightly. He's right. It's amazing the difference thirty feet can make. I can see everything from here; the city lights are beautiful.

"You're right," I breathe. "It's beautiful from here."

He doesn't say anything, and I lower myself to sit in his hand so that I feel more balanced. He doesn't once curl his fingers around me.

"You know," I say out of nowhere. "When I was a little girl, I wanted to be an astronaut. Crazy, right?"

"That makes sense," he says.

"What do you mean?"

"It's in you; there's a curiosity about you, an intelligence, a need to know more. You're always staring at the stars, dreaming away."

I blink and stare at him, and he gives me a grin comparable to a smirk. I grin back. Then, like he said, I stare up at the stars.

"I always wanted to discover aliens," I say, and then the babbling starts. I don't think I've ever been so honest with anyone. "I always thought they were out there. I just never imagined they'd look like… like you." At this he chuckles, raising his hand a little above his head, urging me closer to the stars. "I never thought it was possible, you know? That humans were the only ones out there. I mean, we're just so small compared to everything else. Just a speck of dust floating in space. Don't you think it's a little egotistical of us, thinking we're alone? It's such a lonely thought."

I sigh softly, but I'm not done talking. I turn to him suddenly, a huge, ridiculous smile on my face, a wild laugh building in my chest, and I don't know why. "You're an alien," I say pointedly. "So, you know how to us, to humans, we imagine aliens as little green men? Well, did you ever imagine aliens as squishy, tiny pink people? Did you tell stories about them on your planet? Did people think you were crazy for believing in them? Did you ever think, maybe, that we were out here somewhere?"

He laughs, a low, rumbling, sound of amusement. I've still got that stupid grin on my face, my legs curled underneath me, watching him intently. I bite down on my lower lip, trying to control my smile as he laughs—a real, genuine laugh.

"Do you always babble so much?" he asks, and then I start to laugh. I'm not sure what's wrong with me, but I'm feeling a rush—something like adrenaline, and it's making me giddy. Maybe it's the fact that I'm being help up high above his head, that the only thing keeping me from plummeting over 30 feet to the ground is my trust in Optimus Prime.

"Only when I'm nervous or excited." I tell him breathlessly.

"Which are you now?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out."

I get to my feet then, shakily, the wind whipping my hair and my clothes; it's far windier up here than it is down below. I stumble and he immediately curls his fingers up, and I grab on to one for support, my heart fluttering in my chest.

"Careful up there," he says, tilting his face up to look at me.

"That's no fun," I tell him, but I sit down again. Slowly he lowers his hand so that we're at eye level again, my skin turned blue from his eyes. I remember when Megatron's eyes had turned my skin red, and the difference is jarring.

He makes me feel out of control. He's looking at the sky, and I rap my fingernails against his metal palm.

"Why do you stay with me every night?" I ask suddenly, softly. He looks at me, his eyes gentle.

"I knew you were nervous around me," he says, "and I never felt… right about it. I was never sure why you seemed to hate me, mind you, but I felt the need to fix it. I've also grown to enjoy your company."

"Oh," I murmur. I want to apologize, but I don't. Instead, I change the subject, looking out toward his planet.

"Do you ever get lonely, Optimus Prime?"

It takes a moment for him to answer, and his voice is heavy when he does. "It was difficult, at first," he confesses, "and while I have the Autobots, I do miss my planet and everything I had there. I miss it when it was peaceful." And then he shrugs. "So, yes, it does get lonely."

"I'm sorry," I tell him, thumping my fist against his hand. I change the subject again. "What's your favorite thing about Earth?"

"The people," he replies earnestly.

"Why?" I'm shocked. "We suck."

He chuckles again. "Your race is young," he says, "and you still have much to learn. But you have so much hope, so much faith. You are much like us."

I just shrug, and we're silent for a while. I shift my weight in his palm, feeling the familiar urge to ask questions I shouldn't ask. I look at his face, calm, serene, gentle. I can't find the killer I've been looking for.

"Optimus," I say, so softly I think I might need to repeat myself. But when he looks at me, I find myself asking him the question that's been tormenting me for days. "Have you ever done something so bad, you don't think you'll ever be able to make up for it?"

His voice is heavy, carrying the weight of the world when he answers. He heaves a sigh. "Yes," he says in a pained voice.

"Tell me," I urge.

He hesitates. "I don't often discuss this," he warns, and I shrug.

"I'm not too good with feelings, either," I say with a soft smile. "So don't worry."

Another sigh. "It was two years ago," he says, and my blood turns to ice. My mind goes blank, buzzing. "There was an accident, and I am to blame. I was driving, and I collided with a car—a car with a young family inside. I don't know how it happened. They were badly injured, and Ratchet came quickly to try to help, but—"

He actually has to stop himself. Optimus Prime has to stop himself, just for a moment, to control his emotions. I'm not feeling anything. I just stare up at him, my eyes huge.

"We got them inside Ratchet—I remember the young girl was badly wounded." His voice takes on a tone of disgust, of self-loathing. "I can't remember their faces," he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable. "Every day I tried to think about them, but I've forgotten their faces. I—I destroyed a family that day."

He's shaking, just slightly, but I can feel it. This isn't at all what I was expecting. I have to stop this. I can't let him finish the rest of the story, not when I know how it ends.

"Stop," I whisper. "Please stop—you don't have to go on. Just—don't." He looks at me. "I'm sorry," I say. "I shouldn't have asked. I'm so sorry."

I don't know how I manage to keep the tears back, but I do. I just know I can't listen to him tell the story about how the girl was kidnapped, about how the boy and his mother died. I've heard it before, from Megatron:

"By the time we went back for them, they were already dead. Ratchet had finished them."

And all of a sudden, I can't believe it. I realize, right then, that there's been a misunderstanding. The pain on Prime's face… there's no faking that sort of pain. It's all so clear—Megatron must have thought Ratchet a specialist in torture, must not have realized he was a doctor, that he was trying to save them. Savannah—he had died because Ratchet couldn't save him, not because Ratchet had killed him.

It was an accident.

Prime seems to realize I'm having some sort of mental meltdown, because he nudges me with a finger.

"Carmen," he says gently, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I whisper. "I—I'm perfect. Are you okay?"

"I am fine," he replies, and then we're staring at each other. I rarely look into his eyes like this, directly, but now I can't look away.

It was an accident.

I need to speak to Megatron, I need to explain that the bots aren't who he thinks they are. Maybe there really is no such thing as Autobots and Decepticons. Maybe they're all the same, with just a difference in point of view, a small twist.

Maybe, if I can convince him, we can call this whole thing off.

I need to get back to my room. I must talk to Megatron—now.

So, that's that! What do you think? How do you feel about Parker's breakthrough? Favorite part?

Love you guys, thanks for reading!