Hey, people! So sorry for the long wait, I've been really busy with life...
Shadowstreak:
I know, that song is just... oh, it just really gets to ya. I'm glad you don't hate me, but being the pessimist that I am, you really actually might hate me by the end of this chap, and I really wouldn't blame you...
CastielLunaWinchester:
Patience, oh smart one. Don't be giving anything away now!
HeartsGuardianSol:
I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! I hope you enjoy this chapter, too!
"H-hey Bee," I wheeze out. I feel the bruised rib that I had obtained at some point protest his hug, but he doesn't seem to be letting go until I hug him back. Hesitantly, I do so. I haven't had a hug in forever, it seems. Just… I sigh unhappily. Then I realize I have no air now. I pat Bee on the back, pulling away from him slightly. He reluctantly lets go, and I wheeze, the little color that I had in my face returning. I sit down as my head spins from the sudden return in oxygen. Damn Bee. It would be like him to try to kill me through a hug.
"Sorry," Bee tells me, sounding and looking sincere. I nod, taking a few deep breaths before standing.
"Nice to see you too, Bee. Especially because you don't seem to be out to kill me at the moment," I tell him, the last part slightly bitter. Bee shakes his head in exasperation and glares at Megatron, who looks down sheepishly.
"Stay?" he asks. I look at him for a moment, noting that he's giving me puppy dog eyes. I wilt in defeat.
"Yes, I'll stay," I say with a long suffering sigh. Bee holds up his pinkie. I stare at it before wrapping my own around it. "Pinkie swear. No crosses count, no crossing on the crosses," I add. Bee smiles triumphantly. "Yeah yeah, I know that you were sent in as a means to get me to stay without dramatic, violent, means. Stop acting so innocent," I grumble. He just grins, mischief in his eyes.
"Caity?" another voice asks sharply from the doorway. I glare at Optimus. I then pointedly ignore him.
"Bee, how has Sam been?" I ask.
"Fine. Sad," he tells me.
"Why?" I ask.
"He's stuck at Hogwarts. He would rather be here. Hogwarts, like the Ministry and the rest of Britain, is controlled by Death Eaters," Optimus replies for him. I continue to ignore him.
"I wish I could do something about that. Must suck to be there," I tell Bee. He casts a worried look between me and Optimus, who is fast growing frustrated. I doubt it was anywhere nearly as frustrated as I was with people who were mad at me for something they could obviously relate to as of how I did it. "Of course, I would rather people stop being mad at me for what I did," I add, glaring at Optimus pointedly.
"I am not mad, I am frustrated," he corrects. I roll my eyes and go back to ignoring him.
"Don't roll your eyes at me, sparkling. What you did is something we should have thought of years ago, and when you did think of it, you didn't tell us and went off on your own, endangering yourself," he snaps. I open my mouth to retort, but it dies in my throat at the look he gave me.
"Fine. I'm sorry for going off on my own, recklessly endangering my own life and causing you to worry, Caretakers," I spit, glaring at the floor. "I am not going to promise that I won't do it again, but I will try to inform you next time I plan something like that so you can think of something that is possibly less dangerous," I add at expectant silence I was met with. More silence. "I am also sorry for causing such trouble to be brought back home."
"You are forgiven as long as you cease your attitude that you've picked up," Megatron growls.
"What attitude?" I demand.
"That one. We are not going to attack you. We already have you home and disarmed. Unless you were to attempt to break your promise to Bumblebee and try to leave, we have no reason to be violent towards you," Optimus explains.
"Yeah. 'Welcome back, Caity, you're a prisoner here, no leaving, and everyone is mad at you!'" I snap sarcastically.
"You are not a prisoner here," Optimus replies quietly.
"Right. Because that's not what this place has always been. You never let us leave the grounds. We never get to go exploring, you don't allow us to go to London with you ever, and all we ever did was stay here, not allowed to leave! It doesn't matter if it's the most loving, prettiest, homiest place in this dimension, when you can't leave, it's a prison!" I spit bitterly.
"You stayed here for your own protec-" Optimus began.
"Protection from WHAT? Unicron? He's already shown, YEARS AGO, that he can easily get in here! The Death Eaters? We're not helpless, I know for a fact and from multiple experiences that I can hold my own against them! Who the hell are you really protecting, because it sure as hell isn't us," I snarl.
"We ARE protecting you, as well as the rest of this dimension. If someone were to stress you out, distress you enough, the magical backlash could wipe out Britain!" Megatron corrects me. I glare at him a little smugly.
"Yeah. You are keeping us here away from everyone because we're too dangerous to be out in the general public, we figured that out years ago. We just didn't know how long it would be until you admitted it. But you let my sister leave because you would have to admit it if you made them stay. They were legal adults. But me and my brothers, psh, not a chance of that happening, is there? We're too dangerous on the best of days. That's one of the reasons why you were so intent on getting me back, and why you sent so many people, because the magical backlash could leave one person incapacitated while I got away," I tell them coldly. "The only reason why Megatron didn't suffer that fate was because I didn't USE my magic because I HAVE IT UNDER CONTROL!" I say.
By this point in the argument, normally, the entirety of the possessions in the house would be floating, broken, trembling, or all of the above. Now, there wasn't even a spoon. Nothing was floating. I take a deep breath, trying to maintain that control. I force the anger away, boarding it up behind the walls of my mind, along with my fears, my nightmares, my memories of things I didn't want to remember. A place where it wouldn't effect me for a while.
"You cannot legally force me to stay in this estate. I will stay here at least once a week, as in, I'll sleep here at least once a week, but I'm not gonna hang around a place where everyone is pissed at me, whether it's justified or not."
"No. Every night. Curfew is eleven," Megatron says after a moment. I glare at him.
"Twice a week, no curfew," I say.
"Every night, no curfew. Take it or leave it," Megatron growls.
"If I don't?" I challenge.
"Then I break my promise again," he snaps. I flinch back at that.
"Fine. Every night. No curfew," I mutter.
"I did not agree to that," Optimus mutters. I glare at him. "You stay here for a week straight once a month. No leaving the estate. At all," he orders.
"Fine, whatever!" I say, throwing up my hands and spinning to face Bumblebee who had been sitting nervously behind me. "Please move, Bee," I ask gently. He looks behind me before shaking his head at me. I sigh. "Do you two have anything ELSE to berate me about?" I demand as I turn again to face them.
"Yes. Despite what you may be thinking, we are very happy that you are back home, because we missed you, not because we were worried about the general populace," Optimus says. "Also, Ratchet is requesting your presence…"
I huff, dodging around Bee quickly and ducking before he could grab my shirt collar. As I am getting out the side door of the kitchen, I call back over my shoulder, "Tell him I said no."
Then I travel back through the familiar maze, up until I got to my room. Pulling the key that I still had on me, I carefully unlocked it, barely dodging the attacking Ravage as he pounced, growling angrily and hissing, his fur all puffed up and his tail lashing. I spin into my room and slam the door shut on him, scrabbling to keep it closed and then locking it behind me. I sneeze at the smell of disuse and all the dust hit my nose. Had they not cleaned in here at all in two years?
I flicked on the lights, staring at my room that seemed so childish now. Nothing had been moved. I glare at all the clothes in the closet, shaking my head in distaste. That wouldn't do. I clear nearly all of it out, replacing it with the wardrobe that I had acquired over the past years. I apparated my old clothes to Goodwill, before back into my room. It was the only room in the estate, that I knew of, that you could apparate in. That was only because I had made it that way. I sigh as I clean my little bathroom, glaring at my reflection. My hair needed to be cut again, my bangs were starting to get in my eyes and my face was absolutely filthy. I needed a shower, too. I glance into the shower stall. All cleaning products had been removed, luckily. I place my new ones in there, deciding to shower after I finished settling in again. Then I pause, thinking about it. If they had removed my shower stuff, that meant that someone had been in my room, and that they knew I would be gone for at least long enough for it to go bad. Which meant that Sirius had hinted that it would be a while before I returned. I would need to write him a thank you letter.
After cleaning my room, freeing it of dust and ignoring the pounding at my door, which came at different intervals and from different people, I hopped into the shower, wishing that I could relish the feeling of warm water on my skin but deciding to just take a fast one. I step out and get dressed, pulling my hair into a ponytail after magically drying it. Then I sit on my bed and pull out all of my remaining weapons and summoning the ones that had been left behind. I curse when I find that the dagger from Megatron was still in his possession. That meant that I would actually have to go ask for it, and that would lead to them to relieving me of all of my weapons. Damnit, I couldn't win this, could I?
I set to work cleaning my weapons and carefully placing them around the room within easy grabbing distance, but concealed enough that one wouldn't notice them unless they were specifically looking for them. Then I flopped onto my bed and pulled up the covers, cursing my luck as I fell into a fitful sleep.
I bolted awake more than once, tense and holding the dagger hidden beneath my pillow tightly, trying to convince myself that the nightmares weren't happening, but by the morning, I had given up on sleep and was just blankly staring at an off colored spot on the ceiling. A knock on my door had me turning my head, and the turning of the lock had me releasing the dagger and bringing my hands into full view, before deciding to place them behind my head as though I didn't have a care in the world.
"You know, you cannot stay in here forever," Megatron warns.
"Why do you care? I'm 'staying out of the way' aren't I?" I snap.
"We are not having this discussion. We all know that you didn't get any sleep last night, and Ratchet is demanding to give you a check up, not to mention you didn't eat yesterday, at least, not lunch or dinner, and I doubt you ate breakfast. You can't stay in here forever," he tells me. I don't deny his claims. I hadn't eaten at all yesterday. Whoops. It wouldn't be the first time that I had done so, though.
"I'm not hungry," I lie.
"Right. Come on. You need to eat and to stop hiding in here," he says.
"I'm not hiding. Hiding implies that someone doesn't know where I am. Everyone knows exactly where I am," I argue.
"You are hiding. You won't let anyone in, you refused to eat at all yesterday because you didn't want to see anyone," he tells me, "and you also refused to go to someone because of your nightmares that, by the way, woke up the entire estate." I stare at him in shock.
"I was screaming?" I ask. I admit that the nightmares last night had been bad, the worst that I had in a couple months, but I didn't think that they were THAT bad.
"You sounded like you were being attacked. Ironhide nearly took off your door the first time," Megatron says. "Then we figured out that you were having a nightmare. And that you enchanted your door so it couldn't be removed," he adds.
I sigh, rubbing at my tired eyes, wincing as my stomach growls at me demandingly. "Sorry for waking everyone else. I'll get my own food when I go out," I say, turning away from him.
"Not so fast. Your one week required stay starts today. You aren't going anywhere," he tells me. I gape at him. "If it were up to you to decide, you would do it after you've gone into the city where you can gather up your supplies and are able to hide in here again."
I inwardly curse him, crossing my arms stubbornly. "I'll eat later," I say.
"No, you'll eat now. I can hear your stomach about to devour itself," he orders. I jolt and glare at him.
"Yeah. It feels great to be home," I mutter sarcastically as I climb out of bed, still fully clothed. I hadn't even realized that I hadn't changed into pajamas.
"Is that a knife?" Megatron demands, spotting the edge of the dagger's hilt.
"Yes," I reply through grit teeth as he takes it swiftly.
"No weapons," he growls, tucking it away. I bite my tongue and spin, storming out of my room and carefully making my way down to the kitchen. I curse as I hear laughter and talking coming from within. I lean against the wall, trying to pluck up the courage to go in there. The tugging on my mind finally became too unbearable to ignore and I calmly walk into the kitchen, the conversations halting as the door swung open. I sigh, glaring at them, bouncing on my feet for a moment, wanting to leave but being unable to.
"You got ordered out here finally?" Optimus asks after a long, awkward silence.
"Would I be here if I hadn't?" I reply, hanging out against the wall. No way was I going to place my back to them, an ample target to be attacked. I shake my head, as though that would force those thoughts away. I had grown too paranoid while I was on my own. I had no doubt that they would try to attack me if they saw the need, but I also knew that if I hurt them in my retaliation, I would be feeling guilty. Besides, Optimus had said that I had nothing to worry about. That was reassuring. Not.
"No, if your behavior yesterday is anything to go by. Are you going to eat?" Optimus asks. I nod slowly, shifting my eyes around the room distrustfully. Optimus caught my look, sighing. "Do you truly no longer trust us?" he demands, sounding disappointed.
"I trust you. To an extent. Do I trust you not to attack me the moment my back is turned, no. Do I trust you to have my back in a fight, no. Do I trust you to be civil enough to complete the mission at least, that I do trust you with," I tell him, my eyes still moving, never hovering on any one person for very long.
Jazz snorts from my left. "Not surprisin'. Bein' on the move all the time, not bein' able ta trust anybody. Probably had ta fight ya way out of a coupla tight spots. Am I right?" he asks, chuckling and leaning back nonchalantly. I had to congratulate on his skills in defusing a tense situation. I feel a small smirk trying to work its way onto my face, but I force it back down.
"Have experience there yourself, Jazzy?" I quip instead. I was going on a dangerous, very fragile limb that was burning on the otherside by using my old nickname for him, but at his laugh, I relax a miniscule bit. I hadn't just dug myself into a mile deep hole.
"Damn right I do. Don't know how many times I had to make it up to Prowl in the most obscene ways!" he says. I glare at the ceiling for a moment, forcing the laugh that had worked its way into my throat back down. Once I had my emotions under control, I glance around the room, noting how they had relaxed some as they got over their own laughter and reactions. Primus, Jazz was a good morale officer.
"Jazz, most of us are trying to eat! Your lewd comments are not appreciated," Prowl snaps. I feel a smile tug my lips for just a moment before it was gone. Very hesitantly, I accept the toast that Optimus offers me, eating it slowly enough that I wouldn't throw it up later, but fast enough that I got odd looks. Well, odder looks.
"I haven't eaten since breakfast two days ago. Pardon me if I'm a might bit hungry," I snap, tensing up again. My ordered task done, I quickly spin and stalk out, thoroughly annoyed and tensed, hating myself for it, because one should not be so wary around one's family. Whether they are estranged or not. I silently dash into my room, freezing as I see Ravage lazily lying in front of my door. Damn cat.
He yawned, raising his head to glare at me cooly. I take a wary step back, ready to dodge an attack. I flinch, nearly tumbling back down the stairs right behind me as he stands and begins walking towards me, well more stalking. He was belly to the floor, tail lashing, and glaring at me with fierce concentration. He pounces, and I raise my arms, protecting my face as his claws dig into my skin. Unfortunately, the suddenly weight and my closeness to the edge of the stairs sent us both tumbling down, me taking most of the impact of the steps as I shoved the cat away from me so as not to combine our weight.
I hit the bottom stair, cracking the back of my head open as I hit the wall, breaking through it and leaving an impression of my head in it. I groan, dazed from the impact. Ravage tumbles down right after me, the stupid cat landing on my stomach. I yelp as he does, swearing colorfully when I move and feel nauseous, indicating a concussion. Ratchet yowls as I grab his scruff and shove him off me, glaring.
"Are you happy now? Got yourself hurt, too," I spit, pressing my hand to the heavily bleeding wound on the back of my head in attempts to slow it.
"You left! Of all of us, you should have at least taken me with you! My job is to protect you, you little slagger, and you left! Do you know how much worry you caused me? I didn't know if you were dead or alive! Do you know how awful it was to not know if you were alright, you slagging piece of scrap! Fragging Primus, do you not THINK before you act? I told you you are MY sparkling to protect! MINE! How dare you go off like that!" he hisses.
"Are you done? Because I'm pretty sure you've done more harm than good with your 'protecting'," I retort harshly. Ravage flinches back, looking at the damage he had done.
"I'm sor-" he begins mournfully.
"Save it. I don't give a damn about your apology," I spit, standing and walking reasonably straight back up the stairs, having to pause twice to regain my balance. I got to my room and slammed the door, a little bit more harshly than I had intended, but the point was made in the same way. I don't dare attempt to heal my wound with magic. I'm not adept enough at healing magic to do it safely. Instead, I climb into the shower and carefully clean the wound, before tightly pressing a clean white rag to it. Not the best choice of color, but it was the first one I could find. Then I set to work healing the bruises that had formed, again not daring to try to heal the still bleeding clawed gashes. Those were mostly due to the concussion and the fear that I would make it worse by using magic. Funny how I hadn't thought of that when reasoning not to fix my head.
I groan, grabbing bandages from the side table by my bed, wrapping my arms with difficulty then moving onto my head. It was too deep and wide to not wrap. I should go to Ratchet, but I didn't feel like dealing with him. A pounding at my door makes my head flare with pain, but it was washed away as the door swings open. I had forgotten to lock it. I was an idiot.
Ratchet glared at me from the doorway. I look away meekly. He crossed his arms expectantly.
"Go away," I say quietly. "Please," I add as an afterthought. I have way too much respect for Ratchet to outright yell at him. It would be too rude, even for me.
Ratchet snorts, not leaving but not coming any closer. "You do realize that everyone can see the destroyed staircase, correct?" he asks. I flinch. His voice is emotionless. This was worse than his yelling. He might be beyond pissed. I don't think that was even possible! "Your head made quite the dent in the wall."
"Yup," I say, nodding but deciding better of it when it made my head swim and my stomach tried to crawl up my throat and get rid of my breakfast.
"Concussion?" he asks.
"Yup," I say again, trying to remain as still as possible.
"At least you're smart enough to not try to heal it yourself," he snaps, still not moving.
"I asked you to go away," I snap, twisting my head quickly. Oh. Oh, that was a very bad idea. I barely make it to the toilet before I rid myself of my breakfast. Tears come without my permission as my throat burns from the acids in my stomach that was now completely empty. I continue to dry heave, feeling awful, like I was suffocating. Which, I kind of was, I mean, I couldn't breathe as I was vomitting, after all. I finally sink to the ground, my stomach settling. I flush the toilet, wiping away tears carefully. I cursed as I noticed Ratchet had moved from my bedroom door to the bathroom's.
"I suggest not moving so quickly," he says.
"Go away!" I sob.
"Would you really rather suffer through this or would you rather be healed?" he snaps back.
"I would rather not be here!" I retort.
"Well you are here, so you might as well knock off your attitude and deal with it," he snaps.
"Go away! I'll suffer through it," I spit, turning to glaring at him. I had moved too fast again and was sent into another bout of dry heaves, making me feel even worse than before.
"I'm guessing that what you said about not eating since yesterday morning was a lie. You didn't eat at all yesterday, did you?" he asks.
I debate lying. Then I remember that this was Ratchet. I slowly shake my head no. "Didn't find the time. Had things to do. Wasn't expecting what happened to happen."
Ratchet slowly moves from his position, and I scoot away. "You've had a bad two years, haven't you? I haven't done anything threatening to you, and yet you're terrified. What happened?"
I glare at him half heartedly, turning away, only to bang the back of my head on the wall behind me, making me yelp in pain. I hold it in pain, trying to convince myself that I had felt worse pain. I had. I just couldn't seem to make that important to my brain, because all it was saying was 'OW!'
"If you tell me, I'll heal the concussion," he offers. I debate this. Not puking and being able to think and see clearly would be better.
"A week after the Ministry incident, I was in muggle London. Got cornered in an alley. Gang of university kids thought that beating up a lone teen girl would be fun. I say gang because there were eighteen of them… Anyways, I wasn't armed, didn't think that I would need to be in the neighborhood I was in. To put it shortly, six of them ended up in the hospital, all of them were sporting bruises, but ultimately I got knocked out. I woke up the three broken ribs, fractured ulna, sprained ankle, cuts, bruises all over, and one hell of a concussion. Went to a doctor. Lot of good that did. Turns out that one of the kids that landed in the hospital was the doctor's son. Slagger decided to get even by making my recovering as painful as he legally, and even a little illegally, could."
"What happened after that?" he asks. I glare at him. He glares back at me.
"Well, what normally happens when you look like a vulnerable target. I got targeted. I've been stabbed, beaten, taunted, kicked when I was down. I've broken bones, got bruises that took weeks to heal, and cuts that took months to heal," I say. "But I never went to a hospital after, or any doctor, because of that one."
Ratchet nods, pulling out his wand and gently tapping my head. My head instantly clears from the effects of the concussion. But not the giant wound that was bleeding through the bandages. I curse as he grabs my head firmly and removes the bandages a little harshly. He tsks in disapproval, examining it and ignoring the fact that blood was getting in my hair and caking it together uncomfortably.
"It seems as though the wall decided to get revenge for the hole you put into it by putting one in you," he says dryly. I flinch when he gently prods the wound, trying to wiggle away from him. "Enough. You are going to let me finish or I will knock you out and continue," he warns. I freeze. Then I let out a string of explicites that had Ratchet pausing and glaring at me in shock.
"Where did you even learn those?" he demands. I don't answer.
He continues on like nothing had happened, finally healing it once he deemed it safe enough to, though he did pull out a chunk of plaster that had embedded itself into my flesh. I had given a little strangled scream at that. Then he moved down to my arms, unravelling those wrappings as well and cursing colorfully at Ravage. Then he healed the scratches, too, before summoning a potion from his lab and ordering me to drink it. Apparently it would heal any other past damage that had been done, as well as anything else that had been injured in my tumble down that stairs.
"That was disgusting," I say after I gag from the taste. I had only taken one sip and I never wanted to taste it again.
"You have to drink all of it," he informs me. I grit my teeth and shake my head. I am only half surprised when Ratchet grabs it, pinches my nose and pours the rest of it down my throat calmly, as though he did it every day.
I struggle away from him, or attempt to, gagging as the last of the wretched potion is swallowed. I feel like puking again.
"Ratchet, I'm going to-" I cut off as the potion very nearly comes back up. Ratchet is fast though, and quickly stops my vomiting in its tracks. I still dry heave, shaking and cursing the tears that came to my eyes. I was left quivering on the floor, gasping for breath and dry heaving, the spell keeping my stomach contents, also known as the potion, from spewing out but nothing else. I hated it more than actually vomiting.
"That is concerning. I suppose it is probably a side effect from your lack of any food in your stomach," Ratchet murmurs as he rubs soothing circles on my back, working out the knots that had begun to form. I normally would have tensed and struggled any supposedly kind touch, but I was honestly too weak to do anything but lean against him for support and allow my tired body to fall asleep.