This chapter was fun to write!

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Disclaimer: I don't own transformers*

~ o ~

When I awoke the next morning at four o'clock, I lay there unmoving on my berth for a while, unable to fall back asleep. As the time passed, a familiar restlessness bloomed in my chest, nipping at me, wanting me to get up—the same feeling that pushed me to rise and ride out to watch the rising of the sun like I did every morning. I ignored it. Instead I remained on my side staring unseeingly at the far, colourless wall until seven o'clock.

The halls were surprisingly empty of any bots, minusing the dozens of human soldiers I still came across. I didn't care. Too tired to be hungry, I skipped breakfast, thus saving myself the trip to the rec room I'd have taken to grab a cube of energon, and made my way in bipedal mode to the main hanger. It too was nearly empty. And I guessed that most were off on a mission of some sort.

With nothing else to do, I decided I might as well take this golden opportunity to venture outside. Figuring if nothing else, the fresh air would do me some good. I also wanted to be alone.

As I started walking in my uneven, unbalanced way, I didn't miss how some of some of the soldiers were giving me quite a few odd looks. Some of which were even borderline hostile. My cheeks burned, but I tried not to let their stares, or the fact that with my newly advanced hearing I could hear their every half-whispered word, get to me. I wasn't naïve enough to assume that the all the soldiers here would just up and accept me simply because I used to be human. If anything, I understood how my sudden, unexplained transition and consequent arrival on base could be viewed as suspicious. Sure, I had the AllSpark inside of me. But aside from that, what use was of I to them? Me, who could barely work, let alone wield a weapon or fight?

I was a pebble. I was a leaf. I was a ripple in a pond. I was nothing to them and they were everything to me.

There was no denying or escaping it. As I stumbled across the hanger, heading toward the open front entrance of the hanger, trying to brush off the stares and the words of the soldiers around me, I considered my options. There were only two and they were more or less the same. I could retrace my steps back to my room and hide there for the rest of the day, or I could go forward to where I intended. The truth of my situation, I acknowledged grimly, would follow me wherever I went. I could only choose between facing it head on, like a hammer on a nail, or caving into my urge to crawl back into the hole where I had come.

And so I walked on.

The path that led to the beach was surprisingly green in places, and dry and rocky in others. I walked in a state of wonder at the beauty and the silence, while the sight of the ocean lifted my spirits enormously, not only because it was shimmering and beautiful, but also because the beach itself was barren of any people.

For the next hour I did nothing but pace back and forth along the shoreline, leaving deep footprints in the sand, enjoying my privacy to walk as I pleased and the quiet all around me. I had every intention of practising well into the rest of the day, but instead I transformed down and sat a little ways from the shore. It was warm out, the sun shining down on me. I took off my sweater, rolled up my pants, and lay with my eyes closed, feeling pleasantly warm but not hot. When I opened my eyes, I saw a seagull perched on a nearby rock. He seemed to be studying me.

"Hello, seagull," I said, and he tilted his head and eyed me before lifting off into the sky.

I studied the ocean waves. My grandmother had loved water. She wasn't much of a swimmer, but for hours she could sit and stare at the rippling, sparkling surface. In truth, open water had always frightened me. The thought of not being able to see what was beneath me, or touch in the instance I got tired had always kept me from enjoying myself in deep water, be it on a boat or swimming. I'd always been afraid I'd drown. Taking in the vast blueness in front of me now, I was no less afraid, but I understood just what it was she'd seen.

When at last I stood and adjusted my clothing, I transformed up and I decided that it was probably time to head back. I was getting hungry. With one last look at the ocean, I turned and started back up the way I had come. Step by step, my optics were on the sandy and pebbly trail, my feet sometimes slipping beneath me as I climbed up the bank.

I walked to the main hanger and wandered down the halls until I reached the rec room. Thankfully, no bots were inside the room. I went to the energon dispenser, grabbed an empty cube and poured myself some energon. I sipped it experimentally. It tasted the same as yesterday, if not a little better. I stared at the machine a long moment, before shrugging and filling a second cube. Picking up both cubes carefully between my hands, I staggered my way out of the room and down the hall, intending to bring them back to my room. Before I could reach it, however, I turned the corner and walked smack into the hard chassis of another bot, spilling both cubes in the process.

I let out a stunned gasp, realizing that not only was my chest and neck covered in pink energon, but so was the white-chest-armouring of the bot I'd rammed into. I clutched the cubes to my chest like a baby, though of course it was futile, they had already spilt. All over us, and the floor.

I opened my mouth to apologize, but froze when I looked up and met the bright blue optics of Prowl. Of course, it had to be him. The one bot who I'd already made an idiot of myself in front of more times than I could count, now had a pink, sticky chest, all thanks to me. All at once, the chicken-shit thought I'd had of running and locking myself away in my quarters was all too appealing.

He blinked, looking just as shocked as I was, and my optics shot to the floor. It was then I noticed the pink-stained data pad he must've dropped, and I quickly bent to retrieve it.

At the same time he did.

Our heads collided sharply, with a metal clang. I reeled backwards, the force of the movement sending me tottering back as my already questionable balance gave out. Without thinking, I flung out a hand at the last second and grabbed him in an attempt to stop my falling, but succeeded only in pulling him ass over teakettle with me. Together, we landed in an ungraceful heap on the floor.

Ow, ow, double ow, triple—wow, he's heavy. Lifting my head, I tried to sit up, but found that I couldn't. A great weight on my chest stopped me. Tilting my chin down as far as it would go, I grimaced at the feeling of the energon coating my neck cables, before tensing when I realized that not only was Prowl deadweight on top of me, but that he was sprawled facedown on my chest with smoke coming from his head. My chest tightened.

"Prowl?" I carefully shook him with my arm that wasn't pinned, before shaking him harder. "Prowl?"

No response.

For a moment, all I could do was stare. Then Ratchet came racing around the corner; his buzz saw whirring as his optics darted around wildly. When no intruders manifested out of the shadows, Ratchet stared down at us a long moment, before tilting his head to the side a little. A couple of scans later, he vented and his buzz saw disappeared.

"Ratchet?" I said, still in shock, as he knelt down with a hiss of hydraulics to one knee. I looked down at Prowl. He still wasn't moving. "I . . ." My optics snapped back to Ratchet, filling with tears, as suddenly the stress of everything that had happened since I'd found that damn cube caught up to me. "I think I killed Prowl!"

~ o ~

I hadn't killed him. I mean, I could literally feel the pulsing of his spark overtop of mine, so how could I have?

Turns out that Prowl just has a fault in his logic center that causes him to crash whenever he is confronted with the unexpected. And so, I guess my stumbling into him and spilling energon over him and clashing heads with him and then pulling him onto me as I fell was just too much for his logic center to handle, and his system crashed on top of me.

Ratchet, bless his spark, at least had the decency to not crack up laughing after I'd explained to him what had happened. The most likely reason being because I was crying hysterically during my explanation. I'm sure I would laugh about the situation later, but for now I just felt pretty shitty about the whole thing. Sure, Ratchet might not blame me for had happened, but whose to say that Prowl wouldn't once he woke up?

I should've just stayed at the beach. Or, better yet, I should've just stayed in my room.

"You need to drink your energon." Ratchet held the cube out me after it had sat untouched next to me for fifteen minutes. I'd been too busy contemplating my life's choices.

"I think I've lost my appetite," I said, but I took it anyway. Then I returned my gaze to Prowl who was lying listlessly on his stomach on the berth across from mine. "Is he ever going to wake up?"

"He will," Ratchet said, then paused as he waited for me to take a sip before he continued. "However, I administered a mild sedative into his system before I carried him in here—"

I nearly choked on my energon.

"—so it won't be for a while," said Ratchet, his hands reaching for me as I bent over coughing, but I only waved him off. "He doesn't get nearly enough recharge," he continued. "So when the opportunity presents itself I occasionally bring him in here to rest." He spoke in a tone that suggested this was a regular thing.

"And you have to drug him to do it?" I asked in disbelief, massaging my throat as I took another small sip of energon.

"Well, yes." He shot me a dry look. "He wouldn't come in otherwise."

I opened my mouth to say something, but then stopped. Better to say nothing. I looked over at Prowl, watching with semi-amusement how his wings twitched in his sleep. I had to supress the urge to reach over and stroke them like you would a cat's ear. Something in my body language must have communicated my desire; because when I glanced back up I saw Ratchet's lip plates twitch.

"You would never get away with it if he were awake."

I ducked my head. "Why not?" Then again, why was I even asking?

"He is not particularly fond of his wings being touched."

I snorted, draining the rest of my energon and handing him back the cube. "I think you mean that he just doesn't like being touched at all by anyone. He doesn't exactly come across as the touchy-feely kind."

"And yet, he never used to be that way."

My optics shot up to Ratchet, but he was already moving away. It was then that another question I'd had stewing in the back of mind resurfaced, and I remembered my desire to speak to Optimus.

"Would it be possible for me to speak to Optimus?" I asked, staring at Prowl.

Ratchet looked at me oddly a moment, before he simply nodded. "Prime will be back within the earth hour. If you wish to speak with him, you may wish to clean the energon off your body."

I blinked. Then I glanced down, taking in the bright pink energon stains on my torso and arms. It was then I realized with horror that Prowl's torso was also still energon covered, and that I probably didn't want to hang around and wait for him to wake up. I got up, intending to walk over to the shower area, when it occurred to me that there weren't any. Not for the Autobots anyway.

"Um, Ratchet?" He raised his head, and I reached for my locket before realising that it wasn't there. "What do I use to clean myself off?"

He blinked, before stepping over to one of the sinks. "Here." He walked towards me with what looked like a damp cloth. "Use this for now." Then he shook his head. "Usually we depend on the soldiers for washing us in our alternate modes, however, I can see why you may not be comfortable with that yet."

Yeah, a major part of me doubted I would ever be comfortable with a bunch of soldier boys scrubbing me down. Alternate mode or not. I suddenly imagined myself in my car form being rubbed down by a bunch of soldiers in thongs, and nearly lost my lunch. I quickly shook my head, trying to dispel the image.

Ratchet gave me another odd look, and I realized that he was still holding out the cloth. I took it, thanking him, and then walked back over to my berth and began wiping my armour. The energon wasn't as easy as I'd thought it would to get off, and I especially struggled when it came to cleaning it off my neck cables. Getting in between the cables and wires was a foreign feeling to me. It felt strange to me, not bad, just strange.

After a minute or two of watching me struggle, Ratchet came over to give me a hand. I tried not to think about how weird it was to be scrubbed down by another bot, but considering he was a medic it probably wasn't all that unique a situation to him. I was honestly shocked by just how sensitive my armour really was. My neck cables especially tingled as he ran the cloth over them. Thankfully though, his touch was careful as he wiped beneath my chin.

After he finished my neck, he gave the now pink-stained cloth back to me and I set to work scrubbing the remaining energon off my chest and arms, taking care to rinse the cloth multiple times in the sink whenever it became too grubby. When I was satisfied that I'd gotten most of the sticky-substance off, I walked to my room, transformed, and took a shower.

It wasn't perfect, I was still going to need a new coat of wax when this was all over, but at least I was finally clean.