When I awoke, sunlight was beating down on my face. I shielded my eyes, slowing coming back into reality. I was still inside Prime's cab, though we were no longer moving.
Prime's holoform flickered into existence as I stretched, rolling my sore shoulders. The emergence of his human form startled me, and I yelped before covering my mouth with my hand.
"Did she visit you again? The woman?" Optimus asked softly, reaching over and grasping my hand. I shook my head, awake enough to now focus more intently on my surroundings.
"I feel better," I absently checked my wound. "Physically. Nothing hurts. Not anymore. I don't think I'll need another painkiller unless it flares up again."
"Strange," Optimus frowned. "You've recovered quicker than expected."
"That's good," I shrugged, removing my hand from my side and sliding across the drivers seat towards Optimus. I could see through the tinted windows that we were at a store — I briefly saw someone that resembled Crosshairs dart past. "What are we doing?"
"Food, for you."
"You didn't need to stop. I'm fine. I don't want you guys to get caught—"
"You need fuel, Rachel, if you wish to make a full recovery. This was my decision. Whatever consequences will be on me," Optimus brushed his fingers over my knuckle. Careful not to jostle my wound, I leaned over and wrapped my arms around his neck in a quick hug. When I pulled away, I was close enough to see the light stubble on his holoform's face.
"Your holoform is a reflection of yourself, right? You look tired," I said. "When was the last time you rested?"
Prime's face fell, and I lightly brushed my palm against his cheek. He rumbled, "I...I suffer from nightmares as well. Different nightmares. Recharging has always been a struggle, but I've grown accustomed to it."
"Once we get to Canada, you're going to rest. I'm going to, like, make you a giant pillow and a soft bed," I tried to sound convincing. If anything, I was partially trying to convince myself that we'd even make it to the border. "I know I'm a human, but I want to take care of you, best as I can. You need it."
"I need you."
I let out a shaky breath. We were close enough now that Prime could lean forward and rest his forehead against mine. After a long moment, I said, "You've got me. We're homies, who, you know, have had sex. Good sex. I'd do it again."
I pressed a kiss against his mouth, savoring it, not wanting to pull away. A sharp knock on the window ripped the moment from my grasp. Crosshairs' holoform stood outside the door, a plastic bag in hand.
"Oi! Lovebirds! Let's go!"
I chuckled as Prime's holoform fizzled out of existence, and his passengers side door popped open. Crosshairs rested the plastic bag, along with some spare change, in the seat, rolling his eyes and disappearing as well.
As Optimus pulled back onto the main road, heading to meet with the rest of our Autobot caravan, I asked, "Where did Crosshairs get money?"
"I believe he stole it. Desperate circumstances call for desperate measures," Optimus didn't sound as if he were too sorry. While I was a bit uneasy, my stomach didn't mind. At the sight of bottled water, chips, and a gas station sandwich that didn't look at all appetizing, it began rumbling.
"What state are we in?"
"Colorado," Optimus said. "We are making decent time."
"Everyone knows the plan, right?"
"They have to."
The plan wasn't as elaborate as it sounded. It was simple — once we hit Wyomings border, the Autobots would scan different alternate modes, split into groups of two, and each head a different direction before meeting up after we crossed the Canadian border. It would ensure that whomever saw us at the border didn't immediately recognize Prime's blue and red flame decal or Bumblebee's bright yellow and phone Cemetery Wind out of curiosity. Splitting into two's would further avoid suspicion, but it was dangerous.
Strength in numbers.
About an hour into the ride, after I'd chugged a whole bottle and we'd subsequently stopped so I could pee on the side of a desolate rode, I said, "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Was, uh...was having sex with me good? Like, how did I do? Was my form okay? I didn't say anything weird, did I, or make a weird face—"
"Rachel," Optimus said calmly. "Interfacing with you was pleasurable, and something I will never erase from my memory bank."
"Oh, okay. Cool, cool. I was just curious. You're my first male partner," my voice instinctively lowered in volume, despite the fact that Prime and I were alone. "I wanted to make sure I did things right. I'm with someone experiences."
"Barely. I only had one partner before and during the war. She was very much like you," Optimus sounded a bit sad. "Unsure of herself, but brave and willing to put herself before others."
"What happened to her?"
"She died."
I didn't ask how. I could hear the agony in his voice, subtle but noticeable enough. I simply nodded, leaning back against the seat and closing my eyes. I attempted to doze off, catch up on some sleep, but of course fate decided that I wasn't allowed to have nice things. Not anymore.
When I opened my eyes, Optimus was swerving across two lanes of traffic and I was shrieking, clutching the armrest as a missile shot past the semi. Prime narrowly avoided colliding with another vehicle before the second flew past, this time, striking its target.
Sideswipe transformed, bellowing and rolling across the asphalt in a shower of dust and sparks.
All traffic stopped. We were amongst a mask of vehicles, trapped on the road.
Optimus skidded to a halt, the jerky motion throwing me forward. I caught myself against the dashboard, letting out my held breath and allowing everything to just…sink in.
"What was that?"
"We've been found," Optimus said gravely. I peered through the windshield and saw, on the other side of the interstate, those dreadful black sedans barreling down the road. What stuck out, however, was the sleek black sports car following behind.
Optimus popped open his doors, careful not to hit any screaming humans as some chose to abandon their cars and run for cover. I hopped out and Optimus transformed, just in in time to take a missile to the shoulder.
The sound was tremendous, but Prime's bellow of pain was the only think that my brain properly responded to. He stumbled back and, in his deep, commanding baritone shouted, "Autobots! Stick to the plan!"
Stick to the plan.
Split up.
The plan seemed shitty, now. There was no "plan," not in my eyes. There was no way in hell I was leaving Optimus—
"Go, go!"
The black sports car transformed. I was frozen in fear, braced behind Optimus as our menacing adversary approached.
"Get back," Optimus snarled, though I was unsure whether he was addressing me or the dark mech before us. Only when he drew his sword and shifted his stance did I realize he was, most likely, talking to both of us.
We both aren't moving.
Gunfire pulled me out of my trance, not Optimus. I spun, watching as Cemetery Wind began to converge upon a fallen Sideswipe, surrounding him like a swarm of flies. Leadfoot, Topspin and Mirage had already peeled away, and I had no clue where Drift and Crosshairs had gone. Hound and Bumblebee and Ratchet were bounding across the road, weapons raised as Sideswipe bellowed in pain.
Optimus and the dark mech clashed, grunting with anger and pain. I could see Savoy amongst the men, walkie in hand as he watched his troops begin to rain bullets down upon Bumblebee, Ratchet, and Hound.
I ran. I have no idea what possessed me to run right towards Savoy and his men, but before I could really contemplate the severity of my decision, my feet were moving and I was sprinting between the row of motionless cars.
I picked one out. He was clad in all black, like his comrades, gun raised towards Sideswipe. I ran, slamming my body as hard as I possibly could and throwing him off balance.
"Throw" was just a bit of an understatement. Cemetery Wind, Bumblebee, everyone, stopped as the man was shot across the road like a javelin, hitting the side of a parked car so hard that the glass shattered and the metal caved in.
To reiterate: I was a much smaller girl running and throwing herself at a much larger man. All in all, there was no way this shit was supposed to happen.
"Rachel!" Optimus shouted. I heard him, but I was to busy staring at the crumpled soldier and, then, at Savoy. He'd dropped the walkie in his hand, brows furrowed as he regarded me with something akin to awe. And it wasn't the good kind of awe.
Bumblebee's cannons whirred and he fired. I fell to the ground as chunks of asphalt and severed limbs and car parts flew over my head. Savoy and his men ducked for cover, pushed back by the approaching Autobots.
Optimus had the smaller mech pinned to the ground. From what I could tell, despite the size difference, they were evenly matched in both skill and determination.
As Cemetery Wind soldiers began picking themselves off the asphalt, I attempted to sprint towards Optimus. Halfway there I was grabbed from behind, metal fingers wrapping around my midsection. I was lifted, arms extended as I yelled for Optimus as his adversary gained the upper hand.
"Let's go, femme!" Rachel bellowed. I fought against his grip, kicking and squeezing his fingers. I could feel the metal dent beneath my palm, but that didn't deter Ratchet and in a split second I found myself in the front seat of his alternate mode.
"Ratchet! Get her someplace safe!" Optimus' voice echoed through the interior of the ambulance. Before I could lunge for the door, the seatbelt slithered around my chest and slammed me back into place.
Give up.
Give up. It's no use.
Bumblebee and Hound were providing us with cover, keeping Cemetery Wind from following. As we sped back onto the main road it occurred to me that I'd probably never see any of them again. Bee, Hound, Crosshairs, Optimus.
I didn't take it well. My shoulders relaxed and I surrendered, letting the tears fall down my face freely.
For a long while, Ratchet remained silent. When he was sure I wouldn't try and escape, the seatbelt slipped from around me. Exhaustion flooded my body and I slouched, wiping away my tears.
"We Autobots are resilient," Ratchet said slowly. "Optimus and the others will make it."
"You should have left me. I could have helped—"
"No, you couldn't have," Ratchet replied calmly. "Optimus made his wishes very clear. You were to be taken away from battle as quickly as possible."
"He didn't tell me that."
"He told us," Ratchet replied. "Because he knew that you never listen to him."
I rubbed my eyes, letting out a breath. Ratchet's lights were flashing as he sped down the road. He blended in perfectly, and for a brief moment I was rather envious of the Autobot's ability to turn practically invisible.
Suddenly, Ratchet said, "Now, are you going to tell me how you sent that soldier sailing like a bullet?"
"If I knew I'd tell you."
I wasn't lying. It had all felt like a crazy hallucination, or some sort of warped reality. There was no way I was strong enough. No way.
"I'll need to do a scan, run diagnostics once more. It's beginning to make sense," Ratchet said, and it sounded as if he were addressing himself.
"What?"
"Your knife wound. I dismissed it's rapid healing rate as coincidence, which was foolish of me. There is an underlying explanation as to why your wound has almost sealed itself shut in a matter of days," Ratchet said quickly. "There is something…different about your biology. Your genetic make-up must be changing."
"I don't like where this is going," I said honestly, shifting in my seat. Ratchet's words, and the way that he said them, made me uncomfortable. I knew enough about science to understand what he was implying, and I didn't like it.
Do you even know what you really are?
The woman had been right. I didn't.
"Fuck," I leaned back and closed my eyes, squeezing out more tears. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"Lower your heart rate," Ratchet instructed. "Rachel, you are distressed."
"No shit I'm distressed!" I yelled, lurching forward. "Good fucking observation, Doc, anything else you want to tell me? Any other important news? No, you know what, fuck this. Fuck," I burrowed my fingers into my hair, gnawing on my lower lip and hissing as I found myself five seconds away from a fucking mental breakdown. "Ratchet," I said as calmly as I possibly could. "I am tired. And angry, and scared."
"You are not alone," Ratchet replied. "And you never will be. Not anymore. We're going to find out what — who — you are."