There's a bit of French used in the chapter, and while I may be a Canadian living in the only officially bilingual province in the country, my French has long since faded from my days in high school. On top of that, I speak Quebec/Acadian French, not European/France French, so it was doubly difficult to write for the chapter. It's understandable enough, though, so you'll have to bear with me.^^;

I must say, I was deeply impressed by everyone who reviewed the last chapter and kept in mind my request for a review that held substance rather than an insulting demand for more. Like any writer, I spend days, sometimes weeks, perfecting my chapters, so it's of great reward when someone takes the time to repay the effort with a few moments to write a review to let me know what they liked. My deepest thanks to everyone! And since there were so many of you, I cannot simply answer your reviews individually, so a collective thanks will have to do.

My deepest and most sincere thanks to leoshunny1985, impeccableblahs, LeeMeru, orangecountrycruiser2, Supermel Returns, LupisNoctis, Chickadeeestar02, Kashuchi, ilovenat1995, babybluemoongirl, Sutzina Zion, spedclass, theshadowcat, KindaLykDiffy, ibelieveintruelove, bigguy204, Dianchi, bazookawhat, kerrde06, GirlWaterShaman, Reaper85, RedneckGeek, Violetlight, Hi, FunkyFish1991, blondie2, Ahmose, redandblack 4eva, wickle, MeakoXIII, Koolman, sofaki, AsakuraX, OnceAWildcatAlwaysAWildcat, Silveriss, pilateschick, Bluebird Soaring, SonicH2O, howdoyousleep, FntsyDncr3168, Nienna Tinehtel, Caz, Owl Emporium, Lecidre, abileabi, Joan, , Heir Head, , Rip king of pop, and Lucas4everPeyton.

Please read, review, and enjoy! :)

Chapter 14

"Mon dieu, do mine eyes deceive me? What sweet gift from heaven are you, ma belle fleur?"

A sleepy giggle tickled through her nose as she listened to the funny voice murmur a concoction of sweet nothings. This was perhaps one of the strangest dreams she had ever had, discounting her nightmares of household appliances transforming and chasing her around the house. Wherever she was, it was dark, but not in an uninviting sort of way. It was a warm semi-darkness overlaid with a strange red glow illuminating nothing. It felt as if heat had been transformed into light, and where the red glow caressed, she felt languid, content. She breathed in deeply and found Sam's scent lingering all around her, running through her head with a pleasant buzz that left her breathless. The embrace of sleep made her limbs heavy, her mind at ease; she felt the ache in her bruised body, but was not pained by it.

And then there was that voice. It was a voice she had never heard before, and was convinced it was a voice no human was capable of having. While much of it was a deep candescence that flowed like warm molasses, the words were interspersed with noises- reptilian growls and clicks, sometimes a hiss elongating a strong 's' in a word. Stranger yet was the fact that the speaker, whomever it might have been, spoke an odd melody of French and English. Not that she minded the multi-lingual declarations of her beauty, but it came as a surprise that she knew French so well subconsciously for it to show up flawlessly in a dream.

"Such perfection, you are. Your lips are like the petals of a flower, your hair like sable locks of silk-."

Oh, that sweet, curious dream-voice carried on with such a reverent enthusiasm. A girl could get used to dreaming of something as sweet as this, even if something sighed within her, wishing for the voice to be Sam's instead of this dreamscape concoction. Sam's voice was so much more attractive- not as deep, but so smooth, so sincere.

A cool touch to her forehead had her brow wrinkling. Whatever it was, it was smooth, but not flesh. Not metal, either.

"No, no, ma petite ange, don't look so disturbed. You are so sweet, it pains me to see your beautiful face frown. Let me see you smile."

She couldn't help offering another softly giggled sigh as a new touch brushed across her brow, down her cheek. There was such reverence, such worship. Still not flesh, nor metal, but it was oddly familiar. A texture she couldn't quite place. Not fur, nor feather…

'Curiouser and curiouser,' she thought. This was a dream, after all. Mild confusion was generally expected in things such as these. Maybe whatever was serenading her with praises was a handsome dream creature she'd imagined for her own subconscious pleasure, or perhaps he was a dream-ghost invisible to her in this odd dark cocoon of a dreamland. The mere idea made her smile again, which delighted her company to no end.

But then her little world trembled ever so slightly. Not like she could see it through the red-hued gloom, but she felt it. A shift in the soft materials that encased her skin, the cushion of darkness beneath her body bouncing as another great weight rolled. Cutting through her romancer's spiel about her honeyed skin and eyelashes like a raven's wing, a sleepy groan reached her ears. Sam's groan. And it was not at all far away.

And suddenly the very cold weight of reality sinking in hit her full force. She wasn't dreaming at all. Her skin prickled with the realization that she was awake. Her eyes were closed, and it was obviously morning if the warm red glow behind her eyelids was anything to go by. She was lying in the same bed she'd been laying in last night, soft sheets tangled between her limbs. To her left was Sam. His weight, his heat, his breathing; it was all so very close.

But that left one screaming question: who the hell was on her other side?

Now with the powerful rhythm of her pulse racing in her ears, she no longer could hear the mystery man's voice. Clenching her sore fists into the bedsheets, she counted down from three to open her eyes and take in the threat.

'3…2…1!'

"Ah, bonjour, ma belle fleur! I see you are awake!"

It took a moment to focus on the figure laying mere inches from her face, a wall of green slowly clarifying. Blinking once to make sure what she was seeing wasn't just a figment of her imagination, it was quickly confirmed that was she was seeing as a wall of scales. Smooth, green, reptile scales. And those scales had undoubtedly been caressing her face for the last half hour.

Eyes widening as horror set in, Mikaela belatedly realized the scaly green snout inches from her face was attached to a giant six-foot-long iguana. It stared back at her with oil-black eyes, head cocked ever so slightly to the right. With a lizard-like smile, it opened its mouth and-

"Yes, that's right, here I am. How about a good morning kiss for sweet Jean Luc Picard?"

A high-pitched scream of utterly embarrassing female terror instantly cut the air.

Sam bolted up, ready for a fight. "What's going- Urgh!" He doubled over in pain as Mikaela's elbow drove into his bruised ribs as she flailed to get away. As his head went down, he got a swipe across the cheek by a wild hand. He cried out again, but no apology came. His legs got trampled as Mikaela scrambled over him.

"Oh please, sweet lady, don't go yet!" the iguana pleaded, crawling after her.

Mikaela gave a violated cry as she felt curved claws scrape at her ankle. She overbalanced on the edge of the mattress, her uncontrolled momentum throwing her over the edge. Thankfully, the bed was not high from the ground, which was little consolation as she hit the hardwood floor and took most of the bedsheets with her.

After a moment of extreme disorientation, Sam finally got his bearings and zeroed in on the intruder.

"FLUFFY!"

With almost violent intention, he lashed out with his mechanical arm and captured the behemoth iguana before it could escape. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?!"

"I have told you, my name is Jean Luc Picard!" Fluffy hissed, writhing madly in attempts to get away. "Perceptor asked that I summon you to have your arm completed this morning, you ungrateful mammal!"

Hefting the six-foot reptile under his arm, Sam leapt from the bed and marched for the door. "I'll show you ungrateful, you scaly womanizer!"

"Unhand me, you American swine! Cochon! I am an esteemed ambassador to France!" Fluffy yelled, his cursing demands ringing off the walls.

"Nooooo, you're an iguana from a pet shop in Jersey!" Sam shouted, wrenching the iguana off the doorframe when it tried to sink its claws. Reptilian hissing and the sound of a long tail whipping off the walls followed the pair all the way down to the first floor.

Mikaela remained on the floor where she'd fallen, too shocked to even bother untangling herself from the sheets. She had no idea how long she sat unmoving on the floor, the digital clock being on the other side of the bed. After the initial burst of adrenaline that propelled her over the bed, her body felt paralyzed. No matter how many times she ran through the scenario that just happened, none of it made sense. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was reminded that when being anywhere near the transformers, it was best to expect the unexpected, but whatever just happened might be pushing it a little.

Eventually, Sam returned, a little out of breath from his struggle with Fluffy. By the sounds of his approach, he was alone. Each padded footstep sounded like a gunshot in Mikaela's head until his sweatpants-clad legs appeared around the side of the bed, coming within a few feet of her before crouching. He scooted closer like that, much like one would approach a skittish animal- inch by cautious inch. His touch, instead of making her jump, had the curious sensation of soothing her right down to her toes. It snapped her out of her catatonia, at least.

"That… lizard… spoke to me."

Sam made a soft noise like a cross between a sigh and a laugh. "Yeah… I can explain that." His hand slid from her cheek to her arm, easing her up by her elbow to sit on the bed. Mikaela didn't even bother to fight the gentle guidance, even leaning against Sam when he came to sit next to her.

"Was it another kind of alien species?" she asked quietly.

"Nope, nothing like that. Fluffy is a one hundred percent Earth-bred iguana," Sam informed, shaking his head. "He used to be Annabelle's pet, but Perceptor got a hold of him one day, and well- poof- suddenly Fluffy was twice his normal size and speaking English. Annabelle didn't mind so much, but Will put his foot down about having talking iguana in the house. Perceptor uses him now as a lab assistant now, but God only knows how useful he is."

She giggled a little. "And how does the whole Casanova routine help with scientific research?"

"Oh, that?" Sam chuckled, recalling the particularly funny memory of how that came about. "That would be Sideswipe's doing. There's a little chip in Fluffy's brain that retains his language subroutines and personality files. Sideswipe decided it would be funny to mess with all that- for a week straight, we had to keep Fluffy quarantined 'cause he kept coming on to all the female personnel on base. Perceptor managed to fix most of the damage, but, as you can see, some quirks were left behind."

"Perceptor sure sounds like the mad scientist type," Mikaela said lowly.

"Yeah, he's got a track record a mile long of the things he's done, but you should see when Wheeljack gets on a roll. Now there's some mad science for you." There was a momentary pause, and then Sam nudged her in the arm. "You feeling better now?"

"You mean, have I recovered from being accosted by a talking mutant iguana? Or do you mean do I feel better in general?" she asked, holding her hands up to display how misshapen her spotty bandages had become. Everything felt stiff, sore, as if she'd been hit by a car, which wasn't exactly far from the truth.

Sam caught a hand and kissed the tip of an exposed finger. "Both," he said.

Mikaela bit her bottom lip, wanting to grin and blush at him for being such a sweetheart, but knew better. "For the Fluffy thing… still feeling a little violated, but otherwise fine. Definitely wasn't expecting it…"

"You'll get used to him, I swear." He said it as if she were staying awhile. Mikaela chose not to read too much into the sentence.

"As for me in general, I'm sore, hungry, and desperately in need of a shower."

"Not tired?" he enquired curiously.

"Apart the rude awakening, I had a really good sleep," she admitted softly. "Your bed's really comfortable." As soon as she said the words, she wished she hadn't. The look that came into Sam's eyes was hopeful, as if a comfortable bed was enough to make her come back for more. It was too late to take it back, so she pushed to her feet and took a couple steps away from him. The distance felt better.

Sam cleared his throat, pushing to his feet as well. "You're welcome to crash on my mattress anytime," he offered, trying to be nonchalant about it. It was easy to tell he wanted to crash on his mattress for the rest of forever. "In the meantime, I've got a couple remedies for everything else- there's some pain meds in the bathroom, and you can take a shower while you're at it. Breakfast is almost ready downstairs, but you might want to hurry before it's gone."

She paused halfway to the hidden door in the wall. "What do you mean?"

"Everyone's already down there waiting, and I wouldn't put passed any of them to eat our share of the food if we keep them waiting too long," Sam informed. He couldn't count the number of time he had wandered downstairs in the morning, or wandered over to whosever kitchen breakfast was being served in, only to discover his plate licked clean. Didn't matter how many times he saved the world, if he wasn't fast enough for breakfast, he wasn't getting any.

Mikaela's eyes lit up. "Will and the others are downstairs?"

"Could there be anyone else?" Sam asked, a grin splitting his face as he absorbed Mikaela's newfound excitement. "They saw you last night, but, as you can understand, it wasn't much of a reunion. They're really looking forward to seeing you this morning."

She gave a girlish squeal, about to clap her hands together, only to remember that it was probably more trouble than it was worth. "I'll hurry in the shower!" She dashed into the black and white tiled bathroom practically dancing on air, suddenly feeling exhilarated to see her old friends. It was strange how eager she was to see Will and Epps and whoever else was there when Sam had been met with nothing but reluctance.

In her haste, she forgot about her hands as she moved to throw off the plain white t-shirt that had been lent to her while she was unconscious. "Ah-! Ow…" Her raw palms against the bandages felt like sandpaper scraping nerves. Worse yet was the discovery that everything from her muscles to bone marrow felt like big black bruises, heavy as lead and painful to move. Standing for a moment to contemplate her situation, she yielded to the inevitable.

"Saaaaaammmmmmmm."

The door opened instantly as if he had been standing on the other side expecting her.

"Yeeessssss?" By the smug sound of his voice, he had been expecting her.

"Don't look at me like that, just help me get undressed," she grumbled, glowering at her useless hands.

"It would be my pleasure," he replied, trotting into the bathroom with a jaunty skip to his step.

"Don't enjoy yourself too much," she warned, lips pursed stubbornly. It was one thing to let him undress her when they were having sex, but having to undress her because she couldn't was just plain humiliating.

"Don't worry, I'm a professional," he stated mock-seriously, which ended up making her want to walk into the shower with her clothes on so he'd go away. He gave a few experimental one-handed tugs to her hem, quickly deciding that removing the article of clothing was a two-handed job. He shrugged his other arm out of its sling to assist.

"You okay to do that?" Mikaela asked cautiously, noting how weakly he held the limb.

"It wouldn't be the first time I've gone against doctor's orders," Sam assured her, shaking lingering tension out of his damaged shoulder. She didn't miss his grimace, but for his sake, said nothing. With the happily determined air of a man granted the privilege of stripping a good looking woman, he applied himself to his task. It was harder than it looked. "Maybe if you bent forward, I could slide it off without making you raise your arms…"

"Yeah, okay, I'll try." Sucking in a breath, she bent forward. It didn't so much as hurt as it was testing stiff muscles. Thankfully, her shirt slid over her with very little resistance. With her head stuck in the collar and her arms caught in the body of the shirt, Sam took a step back.

"You know, I could just leave you like this, all helpless and vulnerable," Sam chuckled, staring at her with no lack of humour. The idea of leaving her was tempting, indeed…

Mikaela bristled. "You wouldn't dare!"

His hands returned to her, freeing her of the cotton trap. "You're right, I wouldn't. I'm too much of a gentleman." He tossed the shirt aside. "Need help with the shorts?"

She sighed. "No, I don't really need to lift my arms for that." Using the undamaged sides of her hands, she pushed the white shorts down, taking her panties with them. For his part, Sam cocked his hip against the vanity and watched with a deep appreciation for the female form. She used her teeth on the gauze wrapped around her hands, tossing the used bandages into the sink. "I told you not to enjoy yourself too much," she said ruefully.

"I'm not," he objected, crossing his arms. "I'm supervising."

"'Supervising' my ass," she snorted.

"Believe me, I have no problem supervising your ass," he replied.

"I'm sure you don't," Mikaela said flatly, nodding to the beginnings of an erection tenting the front of Sam's sweatpants.

He looked down, and then cleared his throat. "Oh, yeah, it has a mind of its own," he said, quirking a guilty smile. "I can leave, if you want. Give you a little privacy."

'That would probably be best,' she thought ruefully, glancing down at Sam's arousal again and feeling an answering ache between her legs. There was no point in getting snugly with him here when it was all bound to end badly. The only reason she was here in the first place was because they had nearly been killed. Her eyes drew back to Sam's face, his expression openly waiting on her for her answer. He was just as beat up as she, if not more. God, she loved this man. And yet she wanted to run as fast and as far as she could from him. Resigning herself to the situation, she was already in as deep as she could get and they were both in need of a scrub.

"No, don't go. There's no point- we've already seen each other naked." Opening the glass door of the stall with her foot, she waved an invitation that veiled her reluctance. "Might as well save some water, right?"

"You won't find any objections here," Sam intoned eagerly, shucking his sweats and peeling off the plastic wrap covering his right arm. There was room for both of them in the stall, albeit they were permanently invading each other's personal space. Adjusting the water for the right temperature, Sam guided Mikaela under the spray to let her wash first. The touch of the water was soothing, easing the lingering soreness from her body. Looking down at her raw palms, she was faced with two new problems; one, the tightness in her arms was not going to allow her to scrub her hair comfortably, and two, even if she did summon the strength to wash her hair, the shampoo was going to feel like vinegar in her open wounds.

"The soap is going to hurt like a bitch," Sam realized, voicing the thought aloud. It was basically his fault she suffering in her current condition, which only struck him to the core.

"I can handle it," she sighed, reaching for the shampoo bottle. Sam beat her too it, drawing it out of reach. When her eyes darted up to glare, he could see she was loath to ask for help again. She was too proud.

"How about I help?" he offered.

"You have your own problems to deal with," Mikaela countered, trying to put some space between them. Pride and the burning need to distance herself from what her heart wanted stood in the way of accepting anything more from him. Her attempted escape was impeded by the confines of their glass cage, the only thing between them being a stream of steaming water. It was hard to ignore how handsome Sam looked under the spray of the water, the lean lines of his body slick with rivulets of water. Even mismatched as he was with a limp left arm, a pasty-white rubbery right arm, patched by mottled rainbows of bruises, he tugged at her resisting heartstrings. "I can wash myself."

"But it'd be easier if I just helped," he insisted, making the mistake of touching her.

Mikaela tensed, shaking away from his hand. She couldn't afford to fall victim to his touch. The stupidity of inviting him into the shower was still burning, but having him touch her and look at her like he was… It was only going to put her in a place she didn't want to be. "I can take care of myself, Sam. You need to look after yourself."

He had expected her refusal, though it still hurt to watch her retreat. The wariness he had encountered when they had first met in the Vautz's garage was back, as if what they had shared in Phoenix had been erased in Barricade's attack. 'God no…' To be back where they started, or even worse off than before… His whole body clenched painfully with the idea that the woman he loved was forever out of his reach.

All Mikaela saw on his face was a flash of pain, no context behind it. A moment of regret stung. "I didn't hurt you when I shook off your arm, did I?"

For a single moment, he glimpsed beyond her shield of wariness. Barricade had not erased her feelings for him, merely scared them into hiding. They were still there, guarded. God, the relief that hit him was enough to make him cry.

"No, you didn't hurt me. I'm okay," he replied tightly. More than okay, knowing he still had a chance.

Realizing how vulnerable she was, Mikaela jerked back. A muscle in her shoulder gave into a spasm from the quick movement, throwing her off balance. She slipped on the wet stall floor, sprawling forward with a yelp. To her utter humiliation, she sprawled straight into Sam.

"Are you okay?" he asked, staring down at her. He obviously didn't mind the invasion of personal space, one arm sliding around her lower back to help support her, also trapping her to him.

"I'm fine," she huffed, shoving away. She used her knuckles to knead the squirming muscle, grimacing dourly.

"How about we compromise, Mickey? We're both pretty pathetic right now, so if you help me wash my back, I'll help you wash yours."

There was a long moment of deliberate silence, and then an indelicate snort rattled through her nostrils.

"Fine. You wash my back and I'll wash yours."

It was easier said than done. Their close proximity made them hyper-aware of the other's movements, and each touch felt like flame to bare skin. Flagrant temptation ran thick in their blood as they touched, shared breaths, sliding their water-slicked bodies against each other to trade places under the showerhead. It would have been too easy to meld their mouths together and taste the morning in their kiss. Sam's full-blown erection was a testament to the temptation he was resisting. The only reason he hadn't grabbed Mikaela by the hips and sank into her to the hilt was out of respect for her. She wanted the distance. Mikaela's arousal was far more subtle, though her resistance was far more determined. Her eyes betrayed how badly she wanted to feel his hard length pulsing in her, to feel his heart beat in time to hers. Fear of what would happen to her afterwards kept her at bay.

'I won't do it. I won't do it. I won't do it!'

Her fingertips were relatively unscathed, so she used them to handle the facecloth across Sam's torso. She refused to meet his eyes as she traced the rigid lines of his body.

'Don't do it, Mikaela. Don't even look him in the eye! You know you'll give in if you do!'

Concentrating so hard on not looking up, she forgot to focus on how far she was going down. Her hand ended up settling on his jutting manhood, feeling it jump beneath her touch.

"Oh God-!"

They gasped at the same time, both for entirely different reasons. Suddenly Sam's mouth was on hers, one hand splayed in her hair, the other curved to the swell of her ass to bring her body to him. It was one thing to resist sexual temptation while the woman of his dreams was running her hands all over his naked body, but if she was going to start touching him down there, all bets were off. And it wasn't like he was adverse to the idea of sex in the shower with her.

A tiny moan escaped Mikaela's parted lips, surprising the hell out of her. For all the resistance she had put up before, she was enjoying the kiss. Loving it, even. She didn't want to say no, so she let Sam pull her closer so that not even the water that slicked their bodies could get between them. Her arms came around him, surprisingly desperate to feel his strong, living body against her, to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. Unable to palm the long muscles of his back, she used her fingertips to ghost over his spine, grinning into Sam's lips when he shivered.

"Mickey," he groaned, sounding like a plea. "Mickey, please." He thrust against her, his whole body tight with primal need that had risen in him with a vengeance. He needed this woman like he needed his next breath.

The thick, heavy presence of his arousal against her belly shot a thrill through her nether regions. She wanted him inside her. After a shuddering breath in and out, she caught his darkened gaze and nodded "Alright."

The words barely out of her mouth before she was spun around to face the tiled wall. One strong hand delved between her legs, stroking the silken heat that had pooled there. A small mewl left her lips, followed by a shuddering moan as he sank two fingers into her. His long body bent over her back, moulding to the outline of her body. As one hand stroked her, the other curled upwards, taking one of her breasts in hand. He was unbelievably desperate to feel every inch of her inside and out. Her hands curled into fists with the intensity of the sensations, the bite of pain offered by the rawness of her palms only fuelling the rage of the fire in her blood.

Perhaps it was their brush with death the day before that made them want to feel so alive now. Whatever the reason was, when Sam finally nudged Mikaela's legs apart with his knees and sank into her tight, wet haven, they both saw stars. Hungry to have him deep inside her, Mikaela pushed back, feeling him fill her and then some. A growl vibrated through his chest, sliding between their skin and running up Mikaela's spine. God, it felt good to feel such a powerful body around her, inside her. She set the pace, fast and deep, starved for the roiling satisfaction that coiled powerfully in the junction between her legs. A wanting noise drifted from Sam, lingering in her ears, and then she found his hot mouth on her shoulder, suckling the skin to have her taste in his mouth.

Their completion came fast and wild. Twin cries rose up over the patter of water across the shower stall. In the aftermath, the tiled wall was the only thing holding them upright. They lingered for quite awhile, silent except for panting. Sam was the first to move, pulling out, but not pulling away. Gentle hands, trembling from the force of his orgasm, took Mikaela by the waist and turned her back once more. He bent to rest his weight against her, his face buried into her wet hair, his arms curling around her possessively. The message was clear: he didn't want to let her go. And in that moment, Mikaela didn't want to let him go either.

Unfortunately, the world had other plans. Three disturbingly loud and deliberate bangs rattled through the floor.

"What the hell was that?" Mikaela whispered, breaking away out of bewilderment.

A long drawn-out groan whined from Sam at the loss of her touch. "A sign that we should hurry up."

Rinsing what remained of soap and arousal off them, they helped to towel each other off. Sam slipped into another pair of sweatpants, accompanied by a faded blue tee. Aware that Mikaela had nothing, he dug into his drawers and found a pair of drawstring pyjama pants she could tie in place and a shirt that was relatively small for him but adequate for her. It wasn't the height of fashion, but it would do for the day until Sarah or someone could lend her some girly clothes.

"Come on, Witwicky! We don't have all day!"someone called through the floor. The tone was annoyed, but in the sense of a good friend's annoyance.

"Don't rush us, Epps! Some of us had to fight for our lives yesterday!" Sam yelled from the top of the stairs.

"And some of us are too hungry to care!" Robert Epps replied.

Mikaela couldn't smother her grin any longer. She hopped lightly on the first step, almost psyching herself out by the idea of walking in on all her old friends. Who was going to be there? Who wasn't? Were they all going to be as forgiving as Sam for her walking out? Was she going to fit back in as if the last 16 years didn't happen?

A little push to her lower back had her looking back.

"Go on- they'll want to see you first," Sam urged. It was all she needed to launch down the steps. Sam's house, or what she saw of it as she blindly ran towards the smells of food and the sounds of lively conversation, was not the airy white-walled-glass-and-chrome design of a futuristic house built with alien engineering knowhow. The floors were old scratched hardwood, warped with age; the walls painted in warm, muted tones of yellow. The furniture was an assortment of comfortable pieces, most of it looking as if it had taken some serious beatings in the past from rough play. Somewhere in one of the rooms, an air conditioner chugged tiredly to keep the desert heat at bay.

Breathless, with her heartbeat ringing in her ears, Mikaela swung into the kitchen entrance. All conversation stopped as several heads swung around. A stunned moment passed, and then people were out of their seats surrounding her, wrapping her in hugs that hurt her bruises and dragging her to the table to welcome her back into the group. Two prominent faces she noted were Will and good old Epps- time and war had aged them, Will's hair already fading to a darkened gray, Epps' face lined deeper from constant frowning on the battlefield. The details were hardly noticeable, though, especially as they smiled and brought her into bear hugs, exclaiming how long it had been since they'd seen her and how much she had changed. Sarah was there, wiping her hands on a dishtowel before insinuating herself into the group menagerie to give her share of hugs, and Maggie even set aside her smart little laptop to wrestle her way in. The women had changed as the men had, worn down from war but still very much alive in their eyes and smiles.

"You look so much better than you did last night," Sarah said, pushing back wet tangles of hair to peer expertly into Mikaela's face. Satisfied with what she saw, she strapped Mikaela with another tight hug. "We were all so worried when the Aerialbots came in. Sam was just about beside himself when he carried you out."

"I'm fine now, sort of," Mikaela insisted, grimacing as sore muscles were tested. "I feel much better than I did."

Epps patted her forearm. "Sure you do, Mickey. The floors aren't sound proof, you know." He bobbed his eyebrows to get his point across, causing Mikaela to flush deeply.

"Urgh, you heard that?" she groaned, ducking her head. "I thought we were being quiet."

Will whacked Epps off, a small smirk sparkling in his eyes. "Don't worry about it, Mickey. We've all been there before- we understand."

A dramatic sigh drifted from the floor. "Ah, l'amour, l'amour- I could have done so much better for her."

"Shut up, Fluffy," Sam growled as he entered the kitchen.

"Cochon," the iguana snorted, returning to his bowl of crickets.

Sam's round of greetings was far less enthusiastic as Mikaela's had been, but no less relieved that he was alright. He pulled out the vacant chair next to her and sat down heavily. Sarah placed a fond sisterly kiss to his temple and set two plates down, one for Sam and the other for Mikaela.

"You must be starved," she said, urging them to eat. To everyone else who looked at her expectantly, she shooed them with her hands. "Don't look at me. You all know how to serve yourselves."

In the mad dash for breakfast that ensued, Mikaela noted a few new faces mixed in with the old. A pretty blond teen was fighting her way between Epps and Will, impeded by the presence of a dangerous looking rifle strapped to her back. A young boy no older than 10 hung back, content in the knowledge that his mother always had a plate hidden away for him. A giant hulk of a man loomed over everyone, dark-skinned and dark-haired with piercing features that struck as purely masculine.

Sam chuckled as he watched Mikaela try and place the strange faces. "The blond is Annabelle all grown up," he informed, and then nodded to the young boy. "That's her younger brother Billy."

Mikaela had to do a double take of both. "Annie's so grown up now! I just remember her as a little baby!" she gasped.

"And she unfortunately takes after Ironhide now," Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "Billy's a big sweetheart, though." He nodded to the last stranger in the room, who turned as if he felt the new attention. "And that's Viktor Ashkroft, one of our doctors. He helped treat you yesterday."

Viktor extended a large, steady hand. "It is a pleasure to see you are alright," he intoned, his voice deeply accented by his native Russian tongue.

"Yeah, uh, thanks," Mikaela said, letting her hand be grasped gently. Instead of shaking it in greeting, Viktor turned her palm up to inspect it.

"Your wounds are healing nicely," he commented. "What I have heard of your strength in battle has not been exaggerated." A languid smile curved his strong features.

Sam coughed, not-so-subtly taking one of Mikaela's chair legs and dragging her closer in obvious claim. Viktor chuckled, backing away to settle in his chair at the other end of the table.

"Ahem," someone said pointedly, announcing it from under the table. "Ahem!"

"Oh!" Mikaela jumped when something started scratching at her knee. She ducked down, surprised to come face-to-face with a three-foot-tall fruit bat, its narrow fox-like face peering up at her with sparkling brown eyes.

"Well, hello there, beautiful!" it chimed. "Name's Barnaby!"

There was an initial bout of surprise, but when no one else reacted to the talking bat beneath the table, Mikaela figured he was like Fluffy. "N-nice to meet you," she replied, taking an extended wing-claw to shake with her finger. "Are you one of Perceptor's assistants, too?"

"Right you are! I'm the one that keeps that horny lizard in check," the bat proclaimed happily, flapping a wing at a despondant Fluffy.

Annabelle wandered back to the table and happily took a spot next to Mikaela. Unstrapping her rifle, she leaned it against her chair and reached an arm beneath the table. "Come on, Barnaby, you know better than to hide under there." She dragged him out and swung him onto her back, the bat's large wings wrapping around her shoulders like a cape. She then grinned at Mikaela, sweeping her short cropped hair out of her bright blue eyes. "It's so great to finally meet the Mikaela Banes that changed my diapers," she said, voice ringing with content self-confidence. "Sorry that I don't remember you, but I'm guessing you remember me, right?"

"You're a lot bigger than the Annabelle I remember," Mikaela replied.

"She's a lot more trouble, too," Will said fondly, mussing his daughter's hair as he passed.

"Dad!"

"I'm not any trouble, though," Billy intoned shyly, quirking a sweet smile for Mikaela as he hopped into a chair and fed Barnaby a piece of melon.

Once the last person settled at the table, leaving everyone delightedly squished elbow-to-elbow with their neighbour, Mikaela was promptly insinuated into the obviously tight-knit group. There was a feeling of open welcoming amongst all of them, even those she had not met before. Viktor was kind and benevolent from his end of the table, though Sam seemed to find his interest in Mikaela as some cause for jealousy. Maggie and Sarah eagerly grilled her for details of how she and Sam stumbled across each other, and then made her swear to divulge the juicier details when it was just them girls. Billy seemed to like her for the mere fact that she was very pretty and his godfather/uncle Sam looked so happy every time he looked at her. Epps, Will, and Annabelle were far more interested in what happened with Barricade and how she faired with Sam's gun in battle. And if she wasn't overwhelmed enough by the human attention, Fluffy seemed to think it alright to curl around her feet and sing to her while Barnaby hopped to the floor and tried to police the iguana away.

It was loud, crazy, and confusing, but most of all it felt like home. A real home. Something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

"Hey, hey, you okay?" Sam murmured, feeling the tremor that shivered through her. An embarrassing sniff rose from her as a precursor to tears. As the others noticed, they quieted down, unsure if something was wrong or something had been said to upset her. Setting down the fork she'd been handling awkward, she reached for a napkin to wipe at her eyes.

"I'm fine, really." A watery little laugh followed. "It's just- it's so great to see you all again. It feels as if I never left."

"Aw, sweetheart, it's great to have you back, for however long you want to stay," Sarah said, leaning in to lay a hand over Mikaela's.

Mikaela nodded, laughing again at being so overwhelmed. She let Sam wrap an arm around her, leaning into his side without the strength or desire to lean away.

A rapid series of tapping on the kitchen window had everyone looking up. Two familiar heads peered in through the glass, one being a fresh-faced handsome blond and the other a bright-eyed blue-haired young man.

"Bumblebee, Bluestreak!" Mikaela exclaimed, gasping back her tears. When the holograms grinned and started waving excitedly to her, she pushed back weakly from the table. "Do you mind if I-?"

"Go, honey," Maggie urged as the voice for the group.

Sam guided her to the back door, opening it for her to allow two excited holographic blurs to crash in on her.

"Mikaela! You're alright! I was so worried!" Bumblebee cried, rubbing his head to hers. His soft blond hair felt like kitten fur. Bluestreak crowded in from the other side, running his mouth a mile a minute as he exclaimed his relief over her being alright and repeating several apologies over the fact that he hadn't been able to keep her safe.

"Awww, guys, it's alright, I'm okay," Mikaela assured, gasping for air as they smothered her in alien love. She looked to Sam desperately, who stepped in to extricate her from the holographic group hug.

"She's not a squeeze toy you can maul, you two," he chastised lightly, which was a bit rich coming from him. "Let the bruises heal first, will you?"

Bumblebee was reluctant to let go, remaining attached even as Bluestreak backed off. He turned big blue pleading eyes on her, looking almost too excited to contain himself. "Oh, Mikaela, you have to come with us right away. Please! Everyone will be so happy to see you!" He started tugging her before he gained permission. As strong as the hologram was, he was mindful of Mikaela's healing body, gentle enough not to hurt her as he guided her out of the cool shadow of the house to the wide, flat expanse next to it sitting in the full blaze of the sun. Most of it was taken up by rusted farm equipment and an assortment of rusted vehicles from all eras. A single glance back showed Sam's house to have the outward appearance of an innocuous crooked farm house, probably several decades old. Dotting the flat, arid landscape nearby were several other structures, some being old houses and others an assortment of barns, obviously all existing as the disguised dwellings of the other humans.

"Where are you taking me, Bee?" Mikaela asked breathlessly, laughing at how eager the hologram was.

"Here!" Bumblebee stopped dead, spinning around grandly with an inhumanly wide smile brightening his face. In a shower of pixels, he and Bluestreak disappeared. And then the rotted graveyard of rust Bumblebee had dragged her to flickered, pixelated, and then shattered completely. In its place was a breath-taking assortment of the most beautiful cars, trucks, and various other pieces of heavy-duty machinery she had ever laid eyes on. After a moment of sheer awe to understand exactly what she was looking at, they all started to move.

No, not move.

Stand up.

"Oh my god."

Just as it was on the night she had stood in the dingy alley with Sam and watched as five unbelievable vehicles transformed, she was struck with an awe that made time itself feel like it was slowing down. There were more than just five, now. There were many of them, in all different shapes and sizes and colours. Bumblebee was near the front, eagerly waving to her as his parts clicked into place, and the ice-blue mech nearby grinning at her could only be Bluestreak. The Aerialbots were in the back, towering over everyone as they stretched. There were a few who she could guess the identities of just from Sam's descriptions in his books. All of them stood tall, proud, and larger than life; glittering optics shone in shadowed faceplates, smiles catching in the sunlight. Seeing them all made her heart ache, reminding her of how much she'd missed not just the humans, but everyone.

Glossy flames glinted merrily under the sun as one proud Cybertronian broke away from the crowd, taking two great steps forward before crouching. He was exactly as she remembered him, just as big, just as noble. Even his smile remained with the same understanding tilt as he looked down to her. A dark metal hand was extended, which she reached out for on instinct, using the back of her free hand to wipe away the budding tears that began to pool.

"Hello, Mikaela," the towering mech said, his voice as deep and as kind as it had ever been. Without shame of what she was doing, Mikaela hugged herself to the large fingers offered to her.

"Hello, Optimus."