Author's Notes:(falls out of chair) Last chapter got nineteen reviews in twenty-four hours. Holy Cats! Transformers' reviewers ROCK! Sorry for the delay in the update, but Real Life got in the way again. As always, please enjoy and review.
Thoughts
'Comlink'
A couple of hours she had said and they would be there, he's looked it up and a couple of hours equates to about two. He has been looking forward to getting this whole thing over with, looking forward to being free of being her pack mule and he was really looking forward to no longer having to endure her endless shrieking. But instead of reaching their final destination out in the middle of nowhere, here he is sitting in another parking lot under a blazing sun two hours, forty-six minutes and thirty-nine seconds after leaving the restaurant.
He doesn't understand the draw of these warehouse stores, but right at this moment, he couldn't care less even though his bed is half filled with nonperishable food and sundries from one of these stores. The amusement from chasing those two miscreants dulled a while back, so now he's bored out of his circuits as he just watches the people coming and going. He's so starved for entertainment he's taken to categorizing the other parked cars by size and wondering how mad Optimus would be if he chose another alt mode and snuck away. He knows deep down that he'd never go AWOL, but he's so bored he's tempted and he's too busy scanning a nearby van that he doesn't notice when she returns at first. When his attention does turn to his own personal tormentor, he nearly drops his crankshaft.
How much food does this female need? he silently demands and contemplates contacting Ratchet to find out, but thinks better of it since he's not really in the mood to listen to the CMO gloat.
He watches her come up behind him pushing a shopping cart filled to overflowing with more food than he can possibly imagine a human being able to eat, especially one as scrawny as her. She drops down his tailgate, unties the rope holding the tarp in place and then folds it back. She then opens the empty insulated containers that she stowed in him only this morning and a quick search on the internet tells him that they're ice chests.
He had wondered what they were for and now he knows as she proceeds to unload the cart onto the tailgate and then climbs back up to fill up the ice chests with the perishable foods she's purchased. She works as swiftly as she can to get the food stored and by the time she has everything put away and is closing his tailgate again, she's covered in sweat and breathing heavily. She quickly returns the cart to the front of the store and then comes back to him at a trot; she climbs back behind the wheel and wipes the sweat off of her face with her shirt with a sigh.
He grudgingly has to admit to himself that she's earned some respect from him since she loaded all of that food by herself without asking for help. However, that doesn't give her leave to torment his audio receptors or have that scraggily bear strapped to his passenger seat but he's at least thankful when she only hums along with the music after she turns the key in the ignition. He's a bit confused when she bypasses the onramp to the freeway at first until she pulls into yet another parking lot, this time for a grocery store. Maybe it's time to talk to the one Autobot who knows humans and their eating habits best.
'Ironhide to Bumblebee,' he transmits over the comlink.
When there's no response after a minute, he checks to make sure that the comlink is open.
'Ironhide to Bumblebee,' he calls again.
Again, silence and he runs a quick diagnostic to make sure his comlink is working properly.
'Ironhide to Bumblebee!' he nearly yells.
Once more his summons is met with silence and his patience is pretty much gone by now, so he bites the proverbial bullet and puts in the call he had hoped to avoid.
'Ironhide to Ratchet,' he calls, his circuits filled with dread.
"I feel kind of silly," she states as she comes out of the area Ratchet has set aside for her so she can change in private.
"Why?" Ratchet asks as he turns to look at her, making sure that she's put on her protective gear properly.
"I feel like I should be performing brain surgery or something," Mikaela tells him as she looks down at herself and all of the gear that has her covered from head to foot. "I never wore this much when working on the cars that my dad brought home."
"The cars you worked on did not leak Energon which seems to have a rather detrimental effect on your skin," he points out. "You humans are extremely fragile and your skin is your first line of defense against the hazards that you face every day. It is only wise to protect yourself as best you can."
"When you talk like that I feel like I should be going around in a full set of armor like a knight," she jokes and he quickly looks up what she means on the internet.
"Full plate armor would not be practical," he states a moment later. "Not only would your mobility be hampered, but you would have very little finger dexterity and then there is the matter that it is bulky, heavy and hot. I cannot recommend wearing such a thing. Why are you laughing?"
"I was joking," she snickers a few moments later.
"Oh, sorry," he says and she just smiles at him.
"Come on, let's get started on Jazz," she suggests and he places his hand on the ground for her climb up on.
"That sounds like a very good idea," he agrees as she sits on the palm of his hand.
He easily lifts her up and walks over to a large table that's covered with a stained sheet. She easily recognizes the stains made by oil and gasoline, but the strange blue-green spots she's guessing is the Energon. He pulls off the sheet with his free hand and she lets out an involuntary gasp when she sees Jazz's mangled body lying there.
"I don't remember him looking this bad back in Mission City," she says as he gently sets her on the table. "I can't tell if he's face up or face down."
"He's face down," he tells her. "I have removed his armor to get to his internals, but I am afraid that even with the armor off, I am having a difficult time of it. Jazz did not go down without a fight, but it looks like Megatron stood on him or squeezed him with his hands or something as some of his components are crushed. He is a mess."
"Ok, what should we start on first then?" she asks as she moves closer to the fallen Autobot.
He brings up a holographic image of Jazz's components and discusses with her what needs to be fixed and what needs to be replaced. She asks questions to which he gladly answers, pleasantly surprised at her ability to pick up the complexities of a Cybertronian's system. After a few minutes of instruction, he has her finding wires that have fallen into Jazz's chest cavity that he's having problems getting to and it's while she's elbow deep in Autobot internals, he gets a call that nearly knocks him on his aft.
'Ironhide to Ratchet,' Ironhide calls, sounding about as thrilled as having all of his fluids drained and replaced with seltzer water.
'Ratchet here,' Ratchet replies, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice, not that he's really trying. 'If you're going to ask how to make the Energon work out of your systems faster, take two aspirin and call me in the morning."
'What the Pit is aspirin?' Ironhide demands.
'Human medicine,' Ratchet replies, chuckling to himself.
'That's not why I called,' Ironhide growls.
'Then if you are asking about how to her stop singing again, forget it,' Ratchet states. 'In fact, if I could, I'd record it and then program it into your system to play at random times during the day. Preferably while you're in stasis.'
'That is not why I called!' Ironhide repeats snapishly.
'Then what can I help you with?' Ratchet asks, highly amused.
'How much food is a normal amount for a human to consume?' Ironhide snarls.
'Why?' Ratchet questions.
'Because she's just bought a lot more than I've ever seen Lennox or his female buy' Ironhide grumbles.
'Well, a human burns about two thousand calories a day and must replace it to maintain his or her weight,' Ratchets states after a quick search on the internet.
'How many calories are in this?' Ironhide demands as he sends Ratchet an image of the food she's purchased.
'I would hazard to guess more than two thousand calories,' Ratchet replies, stunned by the amount of food that he sees. 'Let me see what Mikaela thinks of this.'
"Mikaela?" Ratchet calls only now noticing that the girl is up to her armpit in Jazz's chest cavity.
"Yeah?" she grunts as she tries to push her arm a bit further in.
"I need your advice on something," he tells her and she looks up at him, her arm still inside of the fallen Autobot.
"Ok," she says, not moving from where she is.
"Why would someone need to buy this much food?" he asks as he projects the image Ironhide sent him on the wall.
"Well, either they're having a major party or they're stocking up," she tells him. "Why?"
"Ironhide was curious," he replies.
"Oh, is this the lady that, um, 'borrowed' him?" she asks, having a hard time keeping a smile from her face.
"It is," he confirms and she could swear that he's smirking.
"Bumblebee was telling Sam and me about the whole Ironhide getting 'borrowed' thing," she says, trying not to snicker. "With that much food, I'm guessing she's stocking up for winter. I hope she has enough."
With that, she turns back to what she was doing, nearly climbing into Jazz to get to the bundle of wires that Ratchet wants.
'Did you hear?' Ratchet questions.
'Yes,' Ironhide replies and he expresses air through his vents. 'It explains her need for so much food. She's really serious about this cutting herself off from the rest of the world. Primus help me.'
'Good luck,' Ratchet chuckles. 'Ratchet out.'
The medic disconnects the comlink and turns his attention back to his small human helper and is rather surprised to be staring at her backside. She's on her knees with both of her arms and her head inside of Jazz and he briefly wonders how in Primus's name she's able to fit. A quick scan shows him how pliable humans are and while he's amazed by her ability to squeeze into such a tight spot, he's also concerned for her safety.
"Mikaela, I do not think that it is wise for you to be so far in there," he states as he reaches for her, getting ready to pull her out.
"Have you got a flashlight?" she yells, her voice muffled by Jazz's chest. "I think I've found the wires, but I don't want to be yanking on the wrong thing."
The excitement of finally getting the central processing wire bundle out from wherever it's hidden itself momentarily overrides his concern and he leans over, turning on his spotlight to illuminate his friend's internals. He can see her squirming around to get her hand a little bit farther in and she lets out a little grunt as pushes herself in more. Worriedly, he starts to reach for her to pull her out only to be stopped by her cry of triumph.
"I've got it!" she cries happily and then she starts to wiggle around. "Um, Ratchet, could you help me? I seem to be stuck."
"Of course," he chuckles, reaching down and gently grabbing a hold of her hips.
"Hey, guys," a new voice calls from the doorway.
"Ah, hello, Sam," Ratchet greets and Mikaela suppresses a groan.
"Ratchet, what are you doing?" Sam asks, bewilderment in his voice.
"I am helping Mikaela get out of Jazz," Ratchet answers.
"Um, ok," Sam responds, still confused. "Why's Mikaela inside of Jazz?"
"She's helping me repair him," Ratchet tells him.
"Ok, but that still doesn't explain why she's in him," Sam points out.
"She's retrieving the central processing wires," Ratchet replies. "They were stuck somewhere in his chest cavity."
"What exactly are central processing wires?" Sam questions as he moves closer to them.
"They function in us much the same way as your spinal cord works in you," Ratchet responds while he carefully extracts the teenager from the Autobot.
"Are these the wires you wanted?" Mikaela inquires as she pulls the bundle free of some hosing.
"They are," Ratchet tells her, relief evident in his voice. "Thank you."
"They were caught above a big box in there," she informs him.
"Ah, the spark housing," he muses. "I was afraid that was what happened."
"You might want to take a look at the spark housing," she states. "I'm pretty sure I felt a couple of cracks in it. They aren't very big, but there's something definitely off about it. Not that I'm an expert, but it just didn't feel right."
"Thank you, I'll look into it," he says as he carefully takes the wires from her. "Would you like to go down and greet Sam?"
"Oh, ok, sure," she says a bit nervously.
"Is everything alright?" he asks and she looks down at Sam.
She looks down at Sam and sees a look of curiosity on his face, but not even the slightest trace of anger or resentment is there, something she knows past boyfriends of hers would have had if they were in Sam's place.
"Yeah, everything's just fine," she tells the Autobot and gratefully climbs onto his hand when he offers it.
Soon she's on the ground with the weirdest and nicest boy she knows and they smile at each other. He walks up to her, pulls the edge of his shirt up and rubs at a spot on her face.
"You've got grease on your nose," he tells her.
"Thanks," she says, laughing lightly.
"So, this is where you've been taking off to the past couple of days?" he asks, worry evident in his eyes.
"Yeah," she answers, not able to really look at him in the eye.
"Why?" he quietly questions. "Not that I'm not thrilled that you've been here. I thought maybe you've gotten bored with me, not that you shouldn't be, because you know, it's not like I've got really big biceps or tight abs or anything, but I'm really glad you haven't been, you know, seeing a certain jock…"
She silences him with a kiss and all thoughts pretty much fly out the window as his arms automatically wrap around her small waist and her arms circle his neck.
"You're cute when you ramble," she teases when they slightly pull apart. "You don't have to worry about Trent. He might have big arms and tight abs, but you've got a great sense of humor, you've always treated me nicer than I've ever been treated before and your car can step on his."
"Yeah, having 'Bee around is great," he laughs and then his face turns to one of shock and dismay as he quickly steps away from her. "Ratchet, I need your help."
"What can I do for you?" Ratchet asks, turning away from his work on Jazz.
"I think there's something wrong with Bumblebee."
A/N: Yeah, I'm evil.