The next day, Mia and Hyde were the ones at my bedside when I woke up. "Hey," I said, smiling at the femme. It was the first time I'd seen her since we left Diego Garcia. "I didn't realize you were here, too."

She tilted her head curiously. "We've talked twice."

I huffed a chuckle. "I apologize now for whatever it was I said back then. Chalk it up to the drugs."

"That would explain it," she murmured.

"Do I want to know?"

"The second time we talked, you said that your mom was trying to kill you."

I thought of my mom - the Autobot denmother - and could feel the confusion twist my expression. "That...is really weird." Though a memory flashed through my mind - her holding Arcee's rifle, pointing it at Mrs. Witwicky, erm, Mikaela.

"I thought so," she answered. "So even then, I assumed it was the drugs talking."

"Where's Arcee?" I suddenly asked. My last memory was of her trying to fix my hip before sending me off to the hospital with Evac. "I probably need to apologize to her for some under-the-influence conversations, too."

"She's stuck in her base form right now," Mia said with a slight grimace. "She managed to break something and now she can't transform or use her holoform. She's sidelined until Ratchet can fix her."

I imagined her in traction like me. "That sucks."

"When you're feeling better, maybe you'll be able to visit her bedside," Hyde said, taking my hand to warm it. "Ratchet mentioned you had a rough time of it yesterday. Are you doing better this morning?"

"So far, but the day is young. I haven't even had breakfast yet."

"That's the spirit," Mia said, giving me a noogie. "With that attitude, you'll have destroyed the base by lunch."

I waved her hand away from me. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Dad thinks I'm crazy."

"No, he doesn't. He and Ratchet both think you've been traumatized," Hyde corrected.

"And you don't?" Mia asked of me.

"Ugh!" I closed my eyes, since I couldn't walk out of the room or even turn my back. "Can we please talk about something else?"

"Sure," Mia amiably said, "in a minute. But first, I want you to get something through that organic processor of yours. Scars of the spark are still scars. Whether it's your squishy frame or your human soul, if you're wounded, you need care. Whatever the wound is, get it fixed, or you'll always be broken, and you'll be too compromised for any mission. Got it, femme? If you ever want to be fit to help us again, you need to take care of all of you." She paused, and when I didn't respond, she said, "Now we can talk about something else. Did you have a topic in mind?"

I rolled my eyes as I opened them again, but when I glanced her way, Mia held my gaze with all the stern sass she was famous for. I sighed and extended my hand. "I got a mani-pedi from our femme commander."

Grief flitted across her face before she focused on my fingernails. "Did you now…"

...

At lunch, I got a text from Optimus, asking if I could be available at 14:00 hours for a video conference call. I typed out, /Let me see if I can clear my calendar/ before remembering he was the Prime and I was the Autobot Firebrand, when I wasn't acting like a bratty teenager. Deleting the words, I instead wrote, /Of course./

At 14:00, Mom and Dad joined the call from their VIP quarters, as did Joe Marshall. My military physician here at Edwards plus a civilian doctor from Brown Biotech Advancements looked like they were in their offices, as did a suit with the screen name that gave his title as Chief Marketing Executive. On the other hand, "Optimus Witwicky," "Ron Hatchett," and "River Christiansen" all patched in without a video feed - just still photos of their holoforms. I didn't bother turning on my phone's camera either. An admiral with the screen-name of "Black - JCS" joined us from his office, too. Samuel used a green-screen background of a tropical island that could have been anywhere.

After introducing everyone (including the 'bots as "associates of his"), Samuel got down to business. "Thank you for joining in. As you're all aware, Annabelle was gravely injured in a recent car accident. My associates and I have access to technology that is revolutionary, and we believe we can effectively clone Annabelle's own tissues to create a replacement hip and femur for her."

"There's no FDA approval for anything like that," Mr. Marshall interrupted.

"That's true," Admiral Black said, "however, the DoD is willing to request the FDA expedite this treatment option." Grimacing slightly, he added, "We could really use it in every branch of the military."

"I don't mean to rain on anyone's parade, but I'm not sure we can develop a treatment in time for Ms. Lennox," the labcoat from Brown Biotech Advancements' Research and Development division said. "We're still years away from being able to actually transplant cloned organs or tissue."

"I have the medical know-how to do it," Ratchet answered. "What I lack is a functioning lab already set up for human cloning."

His words were met with stunned silence until Mr. Marshall said, "You've had this technology for how long?"

R.C. answered, "A long time."

"Define 'a long time,'" Mr. Marshall snarked back.

"Since before you humans started sailing the oceans," she bluntly said.

(The R&D guy's jaw dropped and he mouthed the words 'you humans.')

"Do you have any idea how many lives this could have saved?" Marshall demanded. "How much suffering you could have prevented?"

Optimus' voice took on a fierce edge. "Unknown. However, the human capacity for violence is unparalleled in the explored galaxy. Not even we whom you have called 'walking weapons' have killed so many of our own kind in a single day."

Ratchet added, "We're willing to buy Annabelle's recovery with this technology - that should be instructive. The sooner you demonstrate true amity, the sooner we will be able to trust humanity to our mutual benefit."

"I take it we're not looking at a conventional path for developing this treatment, then?" the R&D guy said, still looking pretty stunned.

"No," Samuel answered, taking control of the meeting again. "This is information we already possess that we're willing to share - to give to humanity. The only price we're asking is that Annabelle be the first to benefit from it. And we ask that you also share this tech, after Brown Biotech has recouped the cost of bringing it to market plus a reasonable percentage for your trouble."

The Brown Biotech Marketing Executive looked like he'd just bit a lemon. "You expect us to just hand this knowledge out like candy?"

Samuel's expression hardened with a Primely sternness. "I expect you to act in the best interest of the whole of humanity. I could get a different company in on this call in ten minutes, if you're not willing to play it our way."

"We're willing," the exec relented.

"Going back to Mr. Hatchett's comment," the R&D guy said, "You already know how to clone transplants? What kind of time frame are we looking at, then?"

"I've not personally performed a cloned transplant on a human, but my colleagues have used this technique elsewhere. I already have all the documentation ready to share with you, but I'm going to insist on some final testing before performing any procedure on Annabelle. If all goes well, we're looking at 4-6 weeks from collecting the tissue sample to transplanting the bone. Any setbacks will delay that time frame, though."

Mr. R&D let out a low whistle of surprise.

"And just like that, you're compromising all your medical ethics to make a few bucks?" Joe Marshall demanded.

"Excuse me, Samuel," my mom said, "but why is Mr. Marshall even here?"

Answering her directly, Marshall said, "As a senatorial liaison, I'm here to represent Senator Shawn Brown."

Mom glowered (I assume at his picture on her screen). "We're discussing my daughter's treatment, not just business opportunities. Samuel, as Annabelle's mother, I'm asking you to cut Mr. Marshall the hell out of this call. Brown's business associates can represent him."

The human Prime smiled every so slightly, and then Mr. Marshall's screen disappeared.

Well that was unexpected. I looked at my mom's picture on the screen wondering what the attack had done to her heart and mind, too.

"Are there any ethical concerns we're overlooking here?" Dad quietly asked.

"Yes," R.C. answered. "Several of them, actually. We can address most through the testing Hatchett is proposing, but there is some inherent risk that's difficult to quantify. As a test case, Annabelle would be breaking new ground."

"And is that what she wants?" the R&D guy asked.

"Yes," I said, my voice a bit rusty. I cleared my throat and tried again. "I want to be able to walk, and Hatchett's plan is my best shot for that. I've known him my whole life, and I trust him."

The R&D guy added, "As a test case, we'd want extensive documentation, from medical records of the initial injury to the process for cloning the necessary organs for transplant to the path of your recovery. You'd be committing to working with us for years, Ms. Lennox. Perhaps even the rest of your life."

I trusted the aliens - the humans I was less sure of. Still... "If that's what it takes, then that's what it takes. I'm willing, as long as it all goes through Mr. Hatchett."

"I guess that just leaves one question in my mind," the marketing exec said. "When do we begin?"

...

They didn't even have to sedate me to take the tissue samples after the meeting ended - turns out all Ratchet needed was a few vials of my blood and biopsies from a layer of fat in my arm and on my belly. He tried to explain what all they would do with the samples to miraculously turn them into the bones, marrow, and connective tissue I needed, but it all flew over my head.

Normally I would have asked Arcee about it (she was a former teacher, after all, and it showed). She, Optimus, and most of the other Diego Garcia Autobots were en route back to base, though, now that the Decepticon threat had been neutralized and we had a clear path forward for my recovery. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her.

My one consolation was that I'd be able to live in the VIP housing with Mom and Dad while we waited for Ratchet to cook me up a new hip. At last, I was leaving the hospital!

There was a party waiting for me when I arrived at our temporary home, complete with balloons, flowers, and a cake. There was even a present for me - a fitness watch that I was 99.9% sure was Ratchet's mother-hen idea and Wheeljack-enhanced. The Witwickys and a host of holoforms filled the living room - 'Bee, Hound, Trailbreaker, Mirage, Evac, RaFly, Ironhide, Chromia, and Ratchet - with Hound and 'Breaker each carrying a stack of pizzas and Hyde hauling twelve-packs of pop. The kitchen table was so full no one could even sit at it. "The doctors okayed this?" I asked Mia.

She winked. "What they don't know won't hurt them. Besides, there are only six people in here who could actually get you sick or breathe all your oxygen or whatever. It'll be fine."

So no, then. But since Ratchet and Evac were part of the crew (not to mention my parents), I figured worrying about it was above my pay grade.

Bumblebee's holoform, Cam Romero, plopped down beside me and offered me a plate with a slice of pepperoni and mushroom pizza. "Your mom said you'd want this."

I took it from him, kind of tongue-tied. It was strange to hear his voice, and stranger still to think we'd fought side-by-side together. "Thanks," I finally managed.

He searched my eyes and then leaned closer to talk directly in my ear. "Your mom told me what you did for me. She said it was your idea to fight back, to die at my side if it was your fate to die. I'm glad it wasn't, but that doesn't diminish your courage one bit. I should have thanked you weeks ago, but you spent a lot of time snoring."

I chuckled, and he leaned back to look me in the eyes again. It was hard to imagine this adorable college guy as the Cybertronian warrior who fought almost to the death for us, but he was. No matter his form, that's who he was. I swallowed down a lump in my throat. "I was just returning the favor."

A wistful smile spread across his face, and he promised, "We'll talk more later." Nodding toward the pizza, he added, "Want a soda or something to go with that?"

"Sure. A root beer, if there are any left."

"You got it!"

Bumblebee kept me company for the next half-hour, filling me in on Arcee. She was stuck in her base form, but that hadn't stopped her from helping with post-battle repairs. She was bummed that she didn't get to say goodbye to me, either, and he suggested I call her, once things calmed down around the house.

Evac came to check on me and asked how I was feeling.

I patted the rims on my wheelchair. "Ready to roll out!"

He mock-glared at Bumblebee. "You're a bad influence on her."

We both laughed at that one.

For the next couple of hours, the adults and holoforms talked and mingled. The kids didn't make it a full hour before they got bored, but Hound and 'Breaker took them out to play in the backyard, and my heart warmed at the thought of them doting on the kids the way Hyde, Mia, and Arcee had doted on me for all those years. And now that I'd been stuck babysitting them a few times, I saw the value in Autobot nannies, too.

Eventually, Mirage's Amir Raja holoform swapped places with 'Bee.

"Hey!" I greeted him.

He nodded graciously and with dignity - he must have watched a lot more movies since Thanksgiving. And that reminded me of him accidentally putting the moves on Mom. The thought made me smile.

"Bumblebee tells me you are not likely to understand, but I am honor-bound to apologize for failing you, Firebrand."

I kind of coughed in surprise (and winced at the resulting pain). "What?"

He was perfectly serious. "I was there on the field of battle when your hip was crushed. Before it was crushed, actually. I had transmitted to RaFly your conditions, our position, and a request for nannite programming that would numb you. You were injured because I didn't act with sufficient haste."

It was a little trippy to think he'd been there for all that, but I shoved the memory to the back of my mind and felt a burst of irritation. First Bumblebee and now him. "I'm alive because of you - don't you dare apologize!"

The room suddenly became silent, all eyes turned on me, and I blushed furiously. Dad tilted his head, his eyes fixed on me - reading me - and I forced myself to take a deep, calming breath. I wasn't going to have another freak-out again, if for no other reason than to keep him from freaking out.

"What is with you mechs?" I grumbled, hunching back in my wheelchair. "You don't need to apologize for saving my life. Slag happens, and against all odds we're here and alive. And Ratchet's going to make the rest right, too."

"I'll drink to that," Mom said, drawing everyone's attention to her and raising her cola can.

"To life and health," Dad said, backing up Mom, though he did cast a worried glance my way.

"To life and health," everyone echoed, and I took a swallow of my root beer. Too bad Raja had ruined the party for me. His holoform stood and crossed to the other side of the room without a word.

The next morning, the Witwickys and their 'bots headed back to D.C., so that just left me, Mom and Dad, Ironhide, Chromia, and Ratchet here at Edwards. Over the next month, life quickly fell into a predictable rhythm. On weekdays, we'd wake up to breakfast prepared by the Autobots, Ratchet would drive Mom and me over to the hospital for our physical therapy, and then we'd hang out at the house for the afternoons and evenings. I still slept more than usual and needed a nap most afternoons. A couple of weekends, we hit the movie theater or did some shopping in Palmdale, but mostly we binge-watched TV or broke out puzzles or whatever.

The only variation to that was Thursdays, when Hyde and Ratchet would drive the two hours necessary to meet the Brown Biotech people at their lab in L.A. (On those days, Dad and Mia pushed Mom's and my wheelchairs to the hospital and back. Yeah, the humans "rolled out" while the Autobot walked.) Every week, I'd grill Ratchet when he returned. The first Thursday evening, he said over dinner, "We've got a half-dozen cell clusters successfully forming."

"A half-dozen?" I asked, surprised.

"I don't want you to have to wait through the whole process a second time if there are any problems with the first cloned transplant. Any tissue we don't end up using for you will be retained by Brown Biotech for their own testing."

I wasn't sure how I felt about my spare body parts just floating around out there somewhere, but he had a good point about not putting all our eggs in one basket. Better to have a spare hip and not need it than to need it and not have it. I was already living that truth!

The second week, he said, "Your bones are still growing in the anticipated manner and speed, which is good news. Even better news is that the hips we're growing for the macaques should be ready to implant in the next week. That test will give us a better feel for what we're up against with you."

The third week was my medical team's first trial-run at transplanting a cloned bone. Ratchet was more grim when he finally reported back. "This was my first time participating in a transplant on an Earth species. We learned a lot and will try again. Next week should go better."

"Why is the macaque bone ready so much faster?" I asked.

"The bones are smaller, for one, so they're finished sooner. For two, we have accelerated cellular growth almost to the point that it's like a cancer. With the animal subjects, we used more of the accelerant, but we're erring on the side of caution and taking things a bit more slowly with your hip since it'll need to last you for decades. That, and even a slight miscalculation could mean your new hip or femur could be bigger than your other, intact bones. The last thing we want is for you to be limping on your good leg. We need to produce an absolutely perfect match. It's a good thing for you that I specialize in performing transplants - though usually they're not so squishy. For both you and the monkeys, when the bone gets to the right stage of development, we'll introduce a counter-agent to slow the growth back to normal."

I tilted my head curiously. "So, could that counter-agent work against cancer, too?"

Ron Hatchet gave me an appraising look. "I didn't say as much, but yes, it could, and I expect my human colleagues will be intelligent enough to see that. Humanity's getting a two-fer out of you, Firebrand."

I leaned back in my chair, a little stunned at the realization. The 'bots had sat on the cure for cancer my entire lifetime, but they were handing it over now - because of me. I should have felt touched, but instead I felt guilty. Trying to hide it from Dad, I started picking at my dinner salad.

It didn't work. After the holoforms helped me and Mom get settled in and left for the night, Dad knocked on my bedroom door.

A part of me wanted to tell him to leave, but as much as he made me angry sometimes, this was my Dad, the man who would do anything for me and loved me more than made sense. "Come in."

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired," I reflexively answered.

"I'll be quick, then. I want you to know that, no matter what, I'm here for you. Even once you've got that shiny new hip transplanted, even once you're walking again and back in school and everything, I'll be here for you. I've been through firefights, Annabelle. Bombings. I've had men who...men who are as close to me as the 'bots are and they were killed right in front of me."

My heart started racing at the scene he was describing, and I rubbed my eyes, trying to grind out the mental images. His gentle hand rested on my head, and it helped pull me back to the present. "It's kind of hippie, but the saying is true that emotions buried alive don't die. They'll find their way out sideways, in ways that don't make sense, and in ways that can hurt you and your relationships with the people around you. I know you've got a rough road ahead, but I want you to know I have faith in you, and I love you. No matter how sideways things might come out, I'm here for you." He paused, taking a deep breath, and added, You don't have to hide from me."

Clearing the lump from my throat, I said, "You saw that at dinner, huh?"

"Yep. And yesterday on the way to physical therapy, and the day before over breakfast. I'm not an expert, but I can help at least a little bit until you can get to the real expert. If you'll let me."

I started sobbing - I so didn't deserve that kind of love - but I knew it was real, had known it from before my earliest memories. I reached up, and he knelt beside my bed to hug me. I sobbed in my Dad's arms until I trembled, and it was the snotty-nosed, messy crying, too. I'm not sure how long it was before I finally settled down enough for the exhaustion to catch up with me, but he handed me a final tissue so I could blow my nose and my eyes just wouldn't open again.

"Love you, sweetheart."

"Love you, Dad."

"Sleep well." Through my eyelids, I saw the light extinguish, and I heard him close the door behind him. That night was my best drug-free night's sleep since before the battle.