Hello, readers!

This chapter was less of a nightmare.

It has been updated as of 8/10/2016

Chapter Twenty-One

My Favorite Thing

"How about this. . .collection of vases?"

I glanced over at Marie from where I sat on the couch, sorting my mom's various knick-knacks into groups of "get rid of", "keep", and "undecided". She was standing at our armoire, looking through the cupboard and jackets. She'd found all my mom's spare flower vases.

"Um, yeah we'll try to sell those. Add 'em to the pile."

She collected them all and put them in one of the boxes by the folded tables I'd borrowed from a neighbor. With it was a pile of excess linens and collectable mugs that Dad always drank coffee out of. A lot of supplies from Dad's office, some unused scrapbooking miscellanea, and various other junk that I didn't want to straight throw away.

Marie stood in front of me and brushed the dust off on her shorts. "Anything else?"

Sighing, I picked up the things I'd been messing with and stood up. "Nah, I don't expect to move a lot of this as it. This was more of an excuse to hang out with you than anything."

"Aw, you didn't have to set all this up for little old me!"

"Yeah I know, but. . .you know."

My friend giggled and helped me carry out the folding tables one by one. Her son was still finishing his nap in my room, so we had to work quick and set up. It would become a million times harder if Marie had to wrangle her baby.

"However," she said while we set up the table, "I'm not sure why. You seem like you're doing a million times better than you were when I saw you last."

"Do I?"

"Yeah, girl. What happened in Vegas, eh? You meet a guy and get laid?"

I choked on the air I was breathing and coughed out, "What? No!"

She lifted her hands in defeat and grinned at me. "Alright, I get it. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. But you can tell me! I won't tell a soul!"

Rolling my eyes, I gave her a little push when I passed her to pick up the vases to put on the table. "Nothing happened in Vegas! Except the car accident." I paused to think about it and chewed on my bottom lip before saying, "Well, but—no, no nothing."

Marie jumped on the slip like a hungry tiger. She scrambled around the table and grabbed both of my shoulders, her face bright and excited.

"You did!" she squealed. "You met someone!"

Face burning, I pulled away from her and busied myself with straightening objects. "Did you put the signs up on the corners?"

Not only was it a horrible attempt at deflecting the conversation, but Marie didn't fall for it. She turned me back around to face her. "Forget the signs! But yes, I did. Don't change the subject! Who is he? What's his name?"

"There's no one!" I insisted, glancing to my empty driveway. Where Jazz usually sat.

After searching my face, she groaned and dropped her arms. "Fine, don't tell me. But you better spill at some point!"

"There's nothing to spill!" I called over my shoulder.

"Where are you going? We got all the stuff out."

I stopped at my doorway and indicated inside. "I left the TV on, and I wanted to check on Mikey. You got the rest of this?"

She put her hands on her hips and huffed. "No, Kat, I don't think I do. You have too much junk."

Ignoring her sarcasm, I walked inside. "I'm sure you'll manage."

The news was playing on the TV—or rather, an advertisement for the news. I picked up the remote from the armchair and went to turn it off, but paused when I caught the tail-end of the commercial: a picture of the Hoover Dam next to the anchorwoman's head.

"Toon in at five to learn more."

"Wait—wait! Learn more about what?" I demanded, shaking the remote at the television. Fat lot of good it did; the news preview was over and the program had returned.

Frustrated, I turned off the TV and grabbed my phone from the coffee table. At the same time, I made good on my word to Marie and tip-toed through the hallway to my bedroom while I pulled up the Google app on my phone.

My door was closed, but I listened carefully for any baby noises. I searched for the Hoover Dam and touched the news tab to see what I could find, only to bring up a bunch of vague articles on how a stray jet had attacked it, blowing up several structures and nearly flooding the entire place. From what I read, the dam held fast and it was a bunch of nearby buildings and some tourists who were caught in it.

A stray jet.

That had to be Starscream.

I forgot about Mikey for a moment and put my hand to my head. Jazz had left three days prior to meet with the other Autobots on a mission. He'd said it would just be a routine thing, and I was upset because I'd only been back to work for two weeks and already had to call out again.

He'd promised it would be quick.

But I still hadn't heard anything.

Mikey interrupted panic with a fussy sound and I put my phone away. His fussing turned into whining, and then into crying, so I opened the door and plucked him off my bed with a few calming words. He continued to sob big crocodile tears until I brought him to his mom.

"What's a matter little monster?" she cooed, cradling him against her chest. "Did Kat's big scary face frighten you?"

"I'm sure that's probably it," I quipped.

"Aw, well Mommy's here now." He had already stopped crying, and she put him down in her lawn chair with some toys before she helped me set up the last table, the one we decided to put all the extra gently-used towels on.

For the time being I decided that the big furniture would be the last to go, if and when my house sold. The "for sale" sign had been missing a few fliers, and Jennifer had assured me that it was posted on all the websites her company associated with. It just might take time, she'd told me. I had to be patient, that was all.

One thing she insisted on telling me was that I didn't need to live in the house to sell it. I could move out and continue on as I wanted. If I didn't want to deal with all the furniture, I could sell it as a furnished home for some extra cash.

However, I kind of wanted to keep some of the furniture, but I hadn't been able to think about that thing between getting back to work, spending time with Jazz, selling the house, and dealing with the government calling me to find out if I required grief or trauma counseling. I considered it sometimes, wondering if it would help stop some of the nightmares.

Sector Seven hadn't bothered calling me, and for that I was grateful. That was one less thing to worry about, especially now that Jazz was already going back on missions.

The last table was set up, so I went back inside to fix Marie and I some lemonade, and we sat down to wait. She spoke on about her job and sometimes pestered me for more information on my Vegas getaway. I was barely participating, nodding and muttering nonsense at the right moments.

An hour passed and Jazz was still worrying me. I'd already been a little worried about him, but now—now Starscream had attacked a major landmark and Jazz was nowhere to be seen.

Or heard from. We really needed to come up with a system. Could he call my cell?

"Kat?"

Marie's voice cut through my brooding and I started, glancing over at her. She was watching me with her head tilted, brow furrowed. I took a breath and glanced over at my empty driveway. He'd come back at night so no one noticed my car park itself, but I couldn't help but hope.

With him gone, possibly dead, every car that passed by on the road was suspect. Every plane flying overhead was a possible threat. I couldn't even help the side-long glances I gave the radio Marie brought playing soft music next to us. That was definitely the clincher; I might need to take up the therapy offers after all.

Rubbing my forehead I said, "I'm sorry. I. . .lost concentration, what were you saying?"

My friend gave me a sympathetic smile and repeated her question. "What are you going to do with the junk that won't sell?" She was bouncing her son on her knee and he had a giant grin on his face the entire time, gurgling.

"Donate it, probably," I replied. "There's a Goodwill in Billings. I'll just drive up there."

Mikey's smile opened too wide and his pacifier fell from his mouth. Marie picked it up off the ground, wiped it on her shorts, and popped it back between his lips before he could fuss over it. "Probably a good idea. Have you put any of it up on Craig's List?"

"No," I scoffed. "I don't want to deal with no-shows and people trying to barter via text. If I don't get rid of it in this garage sale, then I'm probably never going to get rid of it."

She shrugged. "Yeah I guess. Are you feeling alright? Is your concussion acting up?"

At her words, I touched my fingertips to the scar over my brow. "No, the doctor says I'm fine. What makes you think that?"

"You were a better mood earlier, but now you're all sad-looking."

"Oh. Um, I just saw something about the Mission City thing on the TV when I went inside earlier. Kind of bummed me out," I lied, worrying my fingers.

Marie groaned. "Oh I know, that's just awful. I hope the rebuilding is going okay. I don't know what I would do if something like that happened to me. What can you even do? It's kind of scary to think about, y'know?"

I nodded, still staring at my hands. "Yeah, it's. . .pretty scary to think about."

Before we could continue, someone pulled up to the curb in a large, mud-covered truck. I straightened in my lawn chair, instantly on edge. It was impossible not to recognize the giant pickup with his lift kit and mounted lights. Marie shot me a look, sensing my change in attitude.

"Who's that?" she asked.

Lennox climbed out of the driver's seat and I stood, looking around for Jazz. When he didn't drive up behind Ironhide, panic pierced me. The army captain was wearing his fatigues and I wondered if he owned any other kind of clothes. Most likely it meant he was here for business instead of pleasure.

"Hunk alert," Marie whispered, her voice straining to stay low. "I'm sitting here, all married. . . ."

I wasn't in the mood to humor her. I swallowed and held my hand up to her. "He's married, too. Stay here and I'll talk to him."

"Kat, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," I muttered, functioning somewhat on autopilot. I left her in her lawn chair and walked stiffly to meet him halfway up the driveway, trying not to run.

Jazz, Jazz, Jazz, Jazz. . . .

All I could imagine was the fiery scene that I'd watched on TV for all of five seconds. Lennox, coming in person to tell me the horrible news. But I cast those thoughts aside, unwilling to let my imagination get the best of me.

There was a perfectly reasonable explanation, and I was going to find it.

Though he opened his mouth to speak, I cut him off before he could utter a single syllable.

"What are you doing here, Captain? Where is he, is everything okay?" I whispered, glancing back at Marie. She was half-standing above her chair, concerned, but turned to corral her son when he started wandering too far.

Lennox raised his hands and spoke. "Relax, Ms. Walker. He's fine. Just spending some quality time with Ratchet, getting a tune-up. Had to do some rough stuff."

"Like what? I saw the news about the dam. Was it Star—"

The captain cleared his throat and indicated with a nod that we had company. I took a breath and tried to compose myself.

Marie walked up next to me and asked, "Kat, who's your friend?"

"Good afternoon, ma'am," he said, flashing Marie a friendly smile.

"Afternoon. . .sir." She shouldered her child and looked to me for help.

Remembering my manners, I turned and motioned toward each of them in turn. "Sorry. Marie, this is Captain William Lennox. Captain, this is my best friend Marie and her son Mikey. Lennox. . .um, he knew my dad."

I frowned and hid my face, Lennox's incredulous expression burning into me.

She shifted her son's weight to shake Lennox' hand. "Oh, well it's very nice to meet you, sir."

Lennox nodded and straightened his shirt. I wondered if he was hot under all of those clothes—I was wearing shorts and a tank top and I was pretty warm. He said, "The pleasure's all mine. You have a beautiful child, my daughter's about that age."

"Well thank you. You hear that, Mikey?" she cooed, making the baby face Lennox. He reached out a chubby hand and Lennox let him grab his finger, grinning.

"So what brings you here?" I asked, eager to figure out where Jazz was.

Clearing his throat, he stood at ease and said, "Just came to talk with you. Mind if I borrow Kathryn for a bit?" he said to Marie with a disarming smile.

Marie giggled and moved back to her seat. "I don't know, we're pretty busy here."

Part of me expected a tumbleweed to blow through, or a cricket to chirp.

"So busy," I muttered.

Lennox held his hand out and I led the way down my driveway to Ironhide. I leaned against his door and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Hey Ironhide," I said, keeping my voice low. "So—he's okay?"

"Oh yeah," Lennox said, dismissing my concern with an errant wave. "Guy's a rock. And to answer your next question, yes it was Starscream that attacked."

"You said he was with Ratchet, did he get hurt?" I tried to keep my tone neutral but failed.

Shaking his head, Lennox said, "Not really, just complications from Mission City. He was in a hurry to get you home so he skipped out on some repairs. Ratchet wasn't too happy about that. He should be back in a couple days."

Relief washed over me, followed my chagrin. "Mikaela told me he let Ratchet patch him up before he came to get me."

"Well, that was a lie. It's all good now, though. I didn't just come here to tell you this."

"Okay, then what did you come to tell me?"

He sighed and glanced over at Marie, but she was busy keeping her baby entertained. He looked back to me and said, "It's about the attack. In light of recent events, we're trying to get a new task force together, and we have an offer for you and the other two."

"What offer?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Sector Seven has been disbanded and—"

"Really?" The thought was enticing. "That's that awful group that kidnapped Sam, Mikaela, and Bumblebee, right? Did they get shut down for being assholes?"

Lennox chuckled and shook his head. "Not really. Secretary of Defense shut 'em down because they touched something they shouldn't have and that's what attracted Starscream. He leveled their Nevada bunker and got a lot of people killed. So they were shut down for being generally inept against the things they were supposed to be experts on."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down at my feet, worrying the hem of my shirt. "My dad was a member, allegedly."

"Yeah?" I nodded and he whistled. "Well, it's a good thing you didn't get roped in."

"Can say that again. They all certainly seemed like a bunch of hot-headed weirdos." I closed my eyes and rubbed my brow. "Dad had his moments no doubt, but I guess I don't want to think he was associated with jerks like them."

He nodded. "S-7 certainly let the power go to their heads. But I'm sure your dad was one of the good ones if you're his daughter."

"Thanks," I murmured, blushing.

"Anyway," he continued. "That's why the Autobots were called in. They chased off Starscream, but not before Barricade and an unknown Con slipped in during his raze and took Megatron's body."

Shocked, I almost couldn't find my voice and barely managed to croak out, "What?"

"Yup. Plan was to dump all the bad guys' bodies in the ocean. The helicopter disappeared—Blackout, I think they called it—so the only bodies we have now are the minesweeper and the tank."

"How does a helicopter disappear?" I demanded.

Lennox sniffed. "Dunno, must not have been as dead as we thought, but it was on Sector Seven, so just another notch in their gravestone. It's not quite shut down yet, but we're busy collecting files and sending out severance checks."

It was nice to know their incompetence was being recognized.

"So where do I come into all this? Isn't this classified, why are you telling me?" I felt kind of bad for assaulting him with so many questions.

"Jazz'd just tell you anyway, wouldn't he?"

I snickered. "Yeah, I suppose he would."

"Anyway, we've been fighting to convince the Pentagon that the Autobots can be trusted. With the Decepticons at large, we'll need their help to track and terminate them, so a human-Autobot alliance is in the works. They're a little wary, but overall it's been agreed to."

"They'd be stupid not to," I chimed in.

Amused, he continued. "It's largely going to be a military task force. We're still working on the details, but no one's closer to the Autobots than you, Sam and Mikaela. So—we'd like to offer you a position, once it's been established."

I stared at him for a second and then inhaled. "Wait—you want to give me a position in a military group or whatever? I'm a banker. From Montana. I couldn't possibly."

"Well, you wouldn't have to do any fighting if you didn't want to. If anything you'd have more of a liaison position, or we could find something else for you. The less people know about these guys, the better, so we're trying to recruit as many people who already know about their existence as possible," he explained, indicating toward me with a hand.

It still didn't make any sense. "I don't have any training, though. I can't be a diplomat, or a soldier. I wouldn't even know what to say or do. . .I'm not even really sure what you're offering me."

He rubbed the back of his head. "Well, yeah, no, I know. . .the details are going to be fuzzy for a while until we can figure it all out. I wish I had more for you, I just wanted to gauge your interest and see if I could put you on the list for a potential recruit."

"What can I do that you can't do yourself?"

Lennox glanced between me and Ironhide, then extended his arm. "Walk with me a bit. You live in a lovely town."

I narrowed my eyes, but straightened up and turned to my friend. "Marie! Think you can handle the garage sale for a little while longer? I'm going to show Lennox around town real quick. It'll only be a few minutes."

She set Mikey in the grass before yelling back. "Sure, but you better hurry before I'm overwhelmed by the sheer number of customers!"

That was the cue for another tumbleweed or loud breeze, but neither happened. I waved back to her and said, "Thank you, I'll only be a little while. Twenty minutes maybe," I said. Before we left, I took another wistful look down the street, but no silver cars came driving by.

We were silent until we were a few blocks away, then Lennox glanced over his shoulder. "Okay, he probably can't hear us."

"Who?"

"Ironhide."

Brow furrowed, I asked, "Why would that matter?"

He scratched his forehead and said, "Didn't want to risk him contacting Jazz and telling him I'm bullying you or anything."

"And what would you be bullying me for?" I asked, even more suspicious than I was before.

Lennox made eye contact and his expression hardened. "I'm going to be honest with you, Kathryn. The Autobots are hurting. There are a lot more Decepticons running around on Earth than we originally thought. Optimus, Ironhide, and Ratchet can't handle it all on their own. They need Jazz and Bumblebee until Optimus' reinforcements arrive."

"Bumblebee? I don't understand, I thought he was with you guys?"

"He was," Lennox said. "But he wants to be with Sam and protect him and his family. Sam might not be in trouble anymore because the All Spark was destroyed, but he still wants to stay with him in case the Decepticons try to use him against them."

I swallowed to soothe my suddenly dry throat. "And Jazz—"

"Isn't going to leave your side for the exact same reasons. Maybe ever. Ironhide complains all the time about how much he talks about you."

"You and Ironhide hang out a lot?" I asked, hiding my embarrassment by turning my head.

He played willingly into my deflection. "He drives me around a little more than the others do. Don't tell him I told you, but I think he's taken a liking to Annabelle."

"Your daughter?"

Lennox was a little too eager to pull out his phone and show me all the pictures his wife had taken. "Yeah, I finally got to see her a few weeks ago. She's growing up so fast! It's been great being state-side again."

The thought of Ironhide playing with a baby brought a smile to my face. "So you told your wife about all this, then?"

"Enough, yeah. Can't keep secrets from her, y'know. But that's all beside the point." Lennox put his phone back in his pocket. "I'm offering you a way to stay with Jazz. You'd be paid well and be safe from any danger, too."

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek. "He went on this mission for you guys no problem."

"Yes," Lennox said, bowing his head, "and he's been worried about you the entire time. One day he might be in a rush, one day he might get sloppy."

"One day he might get hurt, or get someone else hurt," I sighed, rubbing my face.

"I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to. All I can do is try to convince you. Your other option is return to your own life. The government will give you a sum of money in exchange for your silence and anything else you might need. But the Autobots need him." he finished.

Sighing, I put my hand to my forehead. "No, no. I can't just, sit around and mooch off taxpayers' money. Whatever you pay me I'd want to earn."

He nodded. "Yeah, sure. Like I said, once the team is decided, we'll know what positions we need to be filled and you can have your pick. Any schooling you might need will be taken care of, you could become a soldier and go to boot camp, whatever."

Something as simple as the phrase "boot camp" made my heart stop and I shook my head. "No, no I'm not cut out to be a soldier."

"That's not what some of these recordings the Autobots intercepted say," he said, a wide grin breaking out across his features. "But I'm sure we could work something out."

Coming to a stop I gave him a terrified look. "What recordings?"

"Oh, just some crazy girl driving an SUV into Megatron, or helping pull someone out from under rubble. Climbing down a building—that's all we've collected so far. Got a few of Sam running down the street with the cube or falling off that building, Mikaela driving a tow truck with Bumblebee shooting things from the back. Lot of video of the Cybertronians."

I scoffed and my face burned. "Stupid people and their damn phones. . . ."

"So you've all proven you've got the stuff. I'm sure you'd find a place somewhere in the task force, even if it's filing papers. Every group needs its pencil pushers."

That also sounded less than ideal, but better than putting myself in the middle of a fight again.

"I don't know, Lennox, this is all so. . .sudden."

Lennox stopped and turned me to face him. "I get it, Kathryn. You're from a small town. A month ago you worked for a bank and then all this shit happened. But the Autobots need their first lieutenant for this war. There are more Autobots coming, and Optimus will need help organizing them and tracking down 'cons."

I shrugged out of his grasp and lifted my hands defensively. "I know that! I think about it every single time I see Jazz stuck in my driveway or in the parking lot at work. He's not cut out for this life and I know it. It eats me up inside every day. But I don't know what to do! This is all I know!"

"Like I said, your other option is to let him go," Lennox suggested. He said it so nonchalantly, like he was suggesting I get a haircut, but I reeled like he hit me.

Let him go? Relieve him of his duty and tell him to forget about me? My mouth fell open and distress held my tongue. That wouldn't work. He would never agree, not if he really thought I was in danger. Besides all that—

My face fell and I wrapped my arms around myself. "I can't. I'm. . .I'm too scared."

Lennox sighed and put a hand on my shoulder. "I can imagine you are. I don't trust my toaster sometimes. And I don't really think Jazz would go anyway. He's scared for you. But I'm sure you'd compromise."

I nodded and brushed my eyes before the tears could start.

A month ago, when we first met, I would have jumped at the opportunity to ditch him. He'd been a frightening alien robot at the time, trying to whisk me away from the life I knew.

It wasn't like that anymore. We'd had so much time to get to know each other. I'd grown accustomed to his voice, his presence. He was the type of personality I liked to associate with and he never failed to make me smile. There was no way I would be able to part ways with him now, pretend he didn't exist. Maybe there was a legit danger from other Decepticons, but I preferred Jazz' company more than I preferred people's company. If he had been a man—

My heart throbbed and I didn't dare finish that thought.

If I declined, I couldn't ask Jazz to stick around and leave the other Autobots just for me. It didn't matter if he wanted to stay by my side, it was for his own good, and the good of his team. If anything happened to Optimus, they would need him.

We couldn't both be selfish. If he wanted to stay by my side, then I would give up my comfort for his because god dammit I wanted him to stay with me too.

"Kathryn?" Lennox murmured.

I twitched my head toward him, momentarily surprised, then settled. "Sorry, I'm thinking." I'd almost forgotten he was there.

"It's up to you, Kathryn," he urged, leaning forward. "If you need time, you have my number."

Though I knew the answer deep in my gut, I was hesitant. Change was hard and scary. I would be in the thick of things, maybe safe in a base and surrounded by Autobots and the military, but there would always be that hint of danger.

"I would be dealing with people mostly, right? No fighting?" I needed that confirmation more than anything.

Lennox shrugged. "Not if you didn't want to. There's plenty of non-combatant roles in a government agency. No real field work. Depending on what you choose to do, you might have to travel to a location, but we won't know until we start hiring people. Maybe once in a while we might ask you to speak on their behalf. Their goals, how we play in, whether or not they're going to try to enslave us. That kind of stuff."

My gaze shifted down the street, back toward my house, though it was out of sight. Was Ironhide listening in, even that far away? Telling Jazz and the others what was transpiring? Lennox was the picture of patience as I thought about my tiny town in the middle of nowhere, my dead-end job as a bank teller, and where exactly my life was headed.

Maybe I'd been avoiding change, unwilling to let go of the simple life I'd held with my parents, but that had ended the moment they'd died.

A change in my life was long overdue. Jazz wouldn't like it, he would insist that he was fine living out his days being my chauffeur so long as it meant I was safe. I could tell he was suffering, though, and I didn't want that.

Turning toward Lennox, I nodded. "Alright. . . . I guess mark me down as a 'probably'."