Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. All recognizable characters are the property of HasTak. All unrecognizable ones are the intellectual property of yours truly; their theft is punishable by severe voodoo-induced pain in any and all sensitive organs of the body, followed by eternal damnation.
Because, you know, stealing is wrong.
Title: Juxtaposition
Summary: Transformers AU. She saved his life... and did not even know it. A series of unrelated events results in an earth-shattering meeting between species, cultures, and minds that is merely the beginning of so very much more.
Rating: T
Warnings: mild cursing
Author Notes: Allow me an evil chortle before we begin. (ahem) Bwahahahaha!
Transformers: Juxtaposition
Chapter Thirty-Five
Some are born great; others have greatness thrust upon them.
- Theodore "Teddy" Roosevelt
Ratchet had been putting her in 'time out' quite often lately, it seemed, but Evelyn was grateful for this latest respite. There had been nights when she had curled within the shelter of her little towel nest and let the self-pitying tears flow, but Sideswipe had been there during those times, and it was hard to feel sorry for oneself with a disembodied voice cheerily pointing out the thousands of ways It Could Be Worse.
Sideswipe wasn't there now, though. There was nothing to keep her from pulling herself into a little ball, burying her face in the scratchy-soft folds of cloth, and bawling herself into exhaustion. So that was exactly what she did.
She awoke hours later – how long, exactly, she did not know. Her sinuses were clogged, her eyes scratchy, and her throat aching. The skin beneath her eyes was tight and crusted with dried tears. Her entire body hurt. All in all, it was worse than that hellish bout of flu four years prior that had kept her from overseeing her classes for nearly two weeks.
A part of her wanted nothing more to lie there indefinitely, staring at the featureless gray plain that was the side of her box, but the discomfort of her position drove her first to sitting up, then to taking a small scrap of towel to her watercube to wash her face.
Her reflection stared up at her from the undulating water.
"You look terrible," she said, voice raspy. Then she laughed softly.
I'm so used to Sideswipe that now I have to talk to myself.
The door hissed aside to admit Ratchet. The mech's optics remained a shade too pale to be normal, but the ever-present snarling of his systems had lowered quite noticeably. Once more, Evelyn could not shake the feeling that there was something strange about his expression, an odd sort of tension that she could not quite decipher.
"Hey," she said.
"Hm," replied the medic. He eyed her with that intense not-quite-squint that meant a barrage of medical scans were being aimed at her tiny organic body, so she stood still and waited, familiar with the routine. The medic's engine revved moodily after a moment.
"Optimus has convened another meeting with the ship officers. He wants to speak with you."
Evelyn rubbed her hands over her face, sighing.
"Well, I guess I need to go see Optimus, then, don't I?"
"If you're up to it."
"Then I can go home, right?" Her voice did not waver on the word 'home.' Not at all. "You said I could go home."
"There are some details that need to be worked out. Hence, the meeting."
"Then let's go."
Paranoia was beginning to take hold of her by the time they reached the hallway outside the meeting room. They had met several mechs along the way, and Evelyn had been treated to the sight of multiple Cybertronian double-takes – a sideways glance, a hitch in forward movement, and a quick blink of the optics, off-on. She waved sheepishly at the last one, Hoist, who stammered something that could have been either a quick greeting or a garbled recitation of The Jabberwocky. There was no way to tell.
Of course, the armor-melting glare that Ratchet directed toward any and all who set optics upon them might have had something to do with the strange reactions. No one could say that Metellus Cursor's crew had anything less than impeccable self-preservation instincts where a certain riled medic was concerned.
Evelyn relaxed a bit as an alternate theory came to mind.
No more Sideswipe means no more weird energy signature. These guys are so used to be lighting up like a solar flare, it must be weird to see me 'normally.'
They'll get used to it.
She tensed up all over again, however, when she caught sight of the two mechs standing outside the meeting room door – one sunshine yellow, the other brilliant scarlet.
As they neared, both mechs glanced toward her, Sunstreaker's optics narrow and contemplative, Sideswipe's wide and somewhere between curious and anxious. A strange beat of quiet happiness thrummed through Evelyn as she saw the rich sapphire hue of the yellow warrior's optics.
"You must be feeling better," she said.
Half of her (or more than half, really) did not expect the warrior to respond at all, but he tilted his helm in a noncommittal Cybertronian shrug. Sideswipe fidgeted, looking like nothing so much as an overgrown kid waiting outside the principal's office.
"I'll need to speak with Optimus first," said Ratchet to her. "Just a breem. You'll be alright out here?"
An odd undertone to his voice suggested that if the answer were 'no' then there were going to be two very sorry Lamborghinis subjected to his wrath. It was comforting, in a vaguely disturbing way.
She nodded, and the medic turned pointedly toward Sunstreaker, who hesitated for a moment before holding out his hands for her to slide over. Ratchet directed a sizzling glare at the warrior, systems revving, before he disappeared into the meeting room, the door closing behind him with a hiss.
"He's in a pretty good mood today, I think," she chirped with false cheer, too-aware of the swathe of red at the corner of her vision. She could feel him watching her, still with those wide, curious eyes.
She glanced toward him. The heavy knot of tension and grief in her chest was too close to that one felt when a dear friend died, but this, perhaps, was worse.
Sideswipe was here. He was alive. But he wasn't her Sideswipe anymore. So in a way, yes, a dear friend had died, and she wondered how much of that friend remained in the mech before her.
She realized suddenly that though Sideswipe's and Sunstreaker's frames were notably different, the shapes of their faces were the same – the same straight noses and gently curved mouths and strong jaws.
In that, at least, they're twins, she thought.
But Sunstreaker's visage was cool and uncaring while Sideswipe's was open and inquiring, he studying her as much as she did him.
She rubbed a hand over her face, frowning, then glanced at the mech again.
Coming to a decision, she braced on hand on Sunstreaker's curled fingers and rose to her feet. Sideswipe watched her intently, and when she beckoned him nearer, he frowned.
"You're not gonna throw something at me again, are you?"
She shook her head and sighed, beckoning again. The red mech sidled nearer. When he was close enough, she held out her right hand.
"You don't remember me… but my name is Evelyn Meredith Hughes. You can call me Evy."
He eyed her hand for a moment, but she held it out stubbornly. Finally, he raised his own hand and placed the tip of his finger in her palm.
"I'm Sideswipe," he said, sounding bemused at the whole situation. "It's nice to meet you… again?"
They shook.
"We're going to be very good friends," said Evelyn with bold certainty. Her heart ached at the unknowing look in his optics, but she pressed that feeling deeper down within herself where she would not have to deal with it. She forced a grin. "I know way too much about you for us not to be."
His optics flickered in a blink, and he glanced at Sunstreaker. The yellow mech smirked at his sibling. 'You're stuck with her,' his expression seemed to say. 'You poor slagger, you.'
The door beside them hissed open. Optimus Prime's voice drifted out, deep and resonant.
"Evelyn, would you join us?"
Sunstreaker and Sideswipe entered the room. Evelyn's memories flashed to the last time she was in the room; the same mechs sat around the immense table, all the officers aboard Metellus Cursor: Optimus Prime, Prowl, Jazz, Ratchet, Bumblebee, Ironhide, and Red Alert. She wondered briefly if Metellus himself were an officer or if it even mattered, as he was technically present whether or not anyone wanted him to be.
Sunstreaker lowered her to the table and stepped back, ready to leave.
"What about us?" asked Sideswipe.
Glances were exchanged around the table. Finally, Optimus beckoned with one hand.
"You can remain if you like, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker. I suppose this would concern you as well."
The Lamborghini twins exchanged a glance. Sunstreaker tilted his head in a shrug and turned to lean his shoulders against the wall beside the closed door. Sideswipe moved to stand beside him.
Optimus turned his gaze toward Evelyn.
There was something about the Prime's eyes that made something within Evelyn shiver – not in fright, because the mech did not scare her, but in an inexplicable awareness of power. There was something about Optimus Prime that made one know that he was a great mech. Perhaps one would call it an aura. His optics seemed to see more of her than most did.
"How are you, Evelyn?"
"I, uh…" There was also something about him that made her stammer like a schoolgirl giving her first book report. "I'm… good. No more headaches. I'm not as twitchy as I was. And I don't feel like sleeping so much, so that's got to be good, right? Er… how are you?"
A matched pair of amused rumbles from behind her. She resisted an urge to turn and glare at the pair of Lamborghinis.
A tilt at the corner of the Prime's eyes suggested a smile.
"I'm well, thank you. And I'm glad to hear that you're feeling better."
"Thank you." She smiled. "I can't wait to go home."
Silence.
She noticed for the first time the tense atmosphere in the room, the pale optics of the officers, the subtle hum of systems running at above-normal energy settings.
"I can go home now, right?" she asked, a strange, unnamed fear rising within her at the grim expressions surrounding her. "You said I could go home."
"Evelyn, there's been a complication."
"What? What do you mean 'complication'? Like, we-forgot-to-put-gas-in-the-shuttle complication, or ten-seconds-to-warp-core-breach complication?"
Optimus glanced at Ratchet. Ratchet turned to Evelyn.
"Evelyn, when we extracted Sideswipe's spark, we found something else."
Evelyn stared at the medic. Her thoughts raced: Found? Found what? Blood clot, tumor, aneurism, infection, brain damage…
Almost gently, Ratchet said, "Evelyn, the Key wasn't destroyed."
Her first thought was, That's great!
Her second: waitasecond.
And third: … oh, no.
Her ears were still ringing – her body was still sensitive to the energy of Cybertronians. Why would she still be sensitive if Sideswipe's presence was what caused it? He was gone; she should be back to normal.
But she wasn't.
Oh, god, no.
"So take it out!" she said, voice sharp. "Take it out and let me go home!"
"We don't have the resources to repair the Key's shell," said Optimus heavily. "We'd have to return to the Hub and perhaps gather a scientific team there to research a solution. We need to speak with the Autobot Council to discuss a plan of action. There are those who believe it would be safest to bring you with us to the Hub."
And the world fell out from underneath her feet.
The mechs seemed to loom around her larger than ever before. Instead of the size of a cat, she felt smaller than a mouse, surrounding by glaring blue optics. Her eyes darted from mech to mech, seeing the grim expressions and clenched hands and Ratchet's sizzling glare.
"You lied to me!"
A ripple went through the seated mechs. She focused upon the medic even as she backed away, the age-old instincts of fight-or-flight rising within her.
"You lied to me! You said I was going home! You lied!"
"Evelyn–"
And then a new voice from behind her, Sideswipe: "That's not fair!"
Suddenly the officer's were not looking at Evelyn but past her, focusing on the red warrior who now loomed behind the woman.
Sideswipe's systems snarled fiercely, setting the air itself to trembling.
"You can't do that. And if you try it, you're gonna have an even bigger problem to worry about than a little organic femme feeling homesick."
"Two bigger problems," rumbled Sunstreaker mildly, still leaning beside the door.
"That's mutiny," snapped Red Alert.
"That's Primus-honest truth," growled Sideswipe.
A hard silence settled over the room, broken only by the rumbling of the mechs' systems.
Then, quietly, came Jazz's voice: "Attaboy, Sides."
The saboteur's expression was still grim, but a faint approving grin hovered at the edge of his mouth.
"There's some things more important than logic an' security protocols."
"And if you had given us another minute to explain," growled Ratchet, eyeing Evelyn, "we would have told you that while it would have been safest for us, it probably would have killed you. I wouldn't have allowed it."
"I was attempting to explain the situation fully," said Optimus Prime. "I apologize. I did not mean to imply that you weren't returning home, simply that this is a dilemma that requires we rethink our original plans."
Still shaky with adrenaline, Evelyn drew in a deep breath and let it out in a slow, calming rush. She lowered herself to a sitting position.
It's okay, she told herself, repeating it as a mantra. I'm going home. It's okay. I'm going home. It's okay…
"There will have to be security measures put in place," said Optimus. "I'm sorry to say, your energy signature is now recognizable as a mildly altered version of the Key's documented energy signature. Even aboard Metellus, the change has caused a bit of a stir. Wheeljack and Ratchet are both working on a way to hide that from scanners, something small enough that it won't hinder you."
"Okay," she breathed, still trying to absorb the situation.
"Also… Evelyn, the Key is a priceless item to Cybertronians. For the Autobot cause… it could help us turn the tide of the war, giving us a way to bolster our ranks. We can't leave it – you – unguarded."
Oh.
"I'll be organizing a team to remain on Earth."
Oh, dear.
"They'll keep watch and act as a forward guard against any Decepticons that make their way to Earth. They'll keep you safe."
She felt as though someone had just punched her solidly between the eyes.
Giant… alien… robot… bodyguards.
"I will take the rest of the crew with Metellus Cursor to the Hub to meet with the Autobot Council and explain the situation." He must have seen the dazed expression upon her face, for he prompted, "Evelyn? Do you understand?"
She nodded mutely, still caught on the thought of bodyguards.
Abruptly, she giggled.
Blue optics focused upon her from every angle.
"Evelyn?"
She giggled again (a slightly watery giggle, and she scrubbed one hand fiercely over her eyes to do away with the unwanted moisture) and managed to focus on the imposing figure of the Autobot Prime.
"I guess Earth's getting that protection order after all, huh?"
End Chapter Thirty-Five
A/N: Yes. Yes, you read correctly. Transformers: Juxtaposition, all soon-to-be-forty chapters and hundred-thousand-plus words of it, is a prologue. (Insert evil cackle here.)
Seriously, who saw that coming? I know some of you did.