Disclaimer: I own nothing. I believe "Transformers" belongs to Hasbro but I think Mikaela's character began in the Michael Bay Movies so *shrug* on the rights front.
A/N 1: Title is a song title by the band Brandi Carlile.
A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading

Chapter Ten: Blood, Muscle, Skin & Bone

Clark's optics look up from the picture book his face plates had been frowning over in the dark to watch her steadily, the question evident in the tilt of his small head. Mikaela pretends not to notice as she walks calmly into the bathroom and closes the door behind her. Only then does her composure collapse and she leans shakily against the door.

The first "day" in darkness, Mikaela had called a family meeting of sorts. At that time, her brood weren't quite able to grasp the full extent of the danger they were all in, they were simply excited by the differences to their normal routine. Mikaela almost hated to do anything to put a wet blanket on that happiness, but as much as she cherished their joy, their survival might count on the next few careful moves.

She had none of the innocence of the four in her care and the "night" before had not contained any easy sleep - or any sleep at all truly. Instead she squinted as she scribbled plans and charted out things with a ball point pen in the back pages of a note book that had once been used for Geometry. (When they took her belongings from her mobile home they were thorough.)

And so that "morning", she had tried to explain things to them calmly, even though her whole being buzzed with an anxiety she could not shake. To tell them about what being trapped meant; the darkness that would be constant now, their limited resources, how they must be very careful - and to ask her if they had questions.

Because if more things went wrong, they might not survive . That was the subtext of everything she said, and Lovely at least understood it clearly from the rigidity with which she held her body. The sight tore at something within Mikaela, but to protect them she could not keep them utterly innocent (utterly ignorant), no matter how much she wished to.

She always considered herself tough, practical and resourceful but it is hard, so hard, not to break down, not to let fear or claustrophobia get to her. The days seem longer with no light and her careful rationing means she was always hungry - and she was usually tired. So very very tired.

But oddly they were still mostly happy - Mikaela puts all her concentration into this task. Into giving them the best life she can despite everything. She reads to them multiple times a day, she teaches them anything she can possibly think of (praises each of their skills), talks to them about their paticluar curiosities, is always alway there for them to listen or just cuddle and comfort.

Of course Mikaela was occasionally irritated by the little things, like not being able to wash her hair - but that actually wasn't a huge bother either since Lovey was fascinated by it in a truly amazing (and adorable) manner. She would study her mother's follicles and entertain herself by rendering artistic - and increasingly more complicated - creations of twists and braids.

Still…..still nothing can stop the energy slowly running out, as well as the food.

She felt tears of frustration start to build but pushes them back brutally. She would not let her babies see her cry, she needed to think. Desperately with nothing else left available to her she looked at the last thing she had. Herself. And was – again – surprised to find the answer there.

Mikaela stared at her body as if for the first time – but in truth she hadn't really looked at herself this closely since she woke up in this room. She was much paler than she ever remembered being in her life, her skin littered with little scratches and cuts in various stages of being healed from where her little metal children were learning over time how to control their strength and be gentle with their much softer mother. She was skinnier now as well – startling so really.

And in the center of her palm the familiar scar that brought her so much comfort.

She had never told Sam – at first it was hard to find the words and then, well after ( after he had died, at least for a moment ), she always thought it would have been insensitive.

But, she would never truly understand how it felt for him when his mind started slipping before Egypt. No, in all honesty although she had tried to hide it, she had been a bit incredulous when he said that he thought he was having a nervous break down because of the shard…..because the time she held it, it had sang to her.

Sitting in her room, still in that white dress that had failed to make Sam say those three words, she had cradled it in her hands and stared at it resting so calmly in her palm. And there was barely a transition from looking at it to actually hearing it in her head. She never felt startled despite the fact that even as it was happening she knew it was strange, knew it was something that should probably worry her.

But….it was so very comforting in her mind even though at first it was just too massive for her to pick out a specific tune, (and for some reason it always seemed certain to Mikaela afterwards that it had been music) too complicated for her to really truly say she understood. There had been a pause then, a cessation of noise – and she had mourned the loss, because she had never known anything like it before, somehow knew she never would again. (Was this what they meant by the music of the stars? The music of creation?)

And then it had continued in a language she knew. One she felt she had always known.

Engines - vibrations felt as well as heard. A particular one she knew well, one she had worked on – fixed with her own two hands (although surely, that couldn't be possible?). This was a song of worry. Of hard work, sweat and blood. Tears and doubt and determination. Of overcoming – of triumph and joy.

This was the All Spark trying to comfort her and warn her something as well.

But although she found it impossibly beautiful, it was still all impressions , emotions. There were no words and she still did not know what exactly it was trying to say, what specifically she was being warned about.

There was a distinct feeling like a sigh. And even as reassurance, almost a hug tingled through her body, the All Spark departed from her.

Confusion followed by disappointment had been heavy in her gut as she finally got up and locked the shard away in the safe. Her eyes tracked the line (not red and fresh but already looking like an old scar) it had left in the center of her palm and Mikaela felt she had missed something huge – that she should have been able to understand and her stupidity would hurt them. Sam, the Autobots, everyone .

So, she didn't tell Sam – there didn't seem to be anything to tell.

But the feeling didn't abate after Egypt – and she thought it should of then. Shouldn't that have been what the warning was about?

And soon after Mikaela had found herself humming it sometimes, that tune that had no name – it was soothing. But more than once she had felt the prickly feeling of eyes (of optics) on her while doing so on the Autobot base and at first found it startling to realize it was Optimus. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense to her though, and then she began to stare back sometimes – and wonder if the All Spark had sung to him too.

Now she wonders if the warning in the song was always more personal, not for the Autobots but for her - for Mikaela and her little ones. That it knew years down the line Mikaela would have these four little lives in her care with so little to work with.

But despite all these things she smiles, laughing almost breathlessly. Because, whether it is her contemplation of her past interaction with Cybertronian artefacts of creation or not, inside this tattered frame of hers was untapped current. Not a lot – only a few 100 volts at most she vaguely recalls - and not something she would even consider as a viable option if her children were bigger. But they were so tiny….they wouldn't need a lot to keep going ( and she would give everything for them anyway ).

Because Mikaela remembered that much from her anatomy class at least. Always with a mind that tilted more towards machines she had latched on to the idea of her body working the same way. This might just work. (She will make it work)

Her creative Bruce was actually the one to figure out how to access the electricity with very thin wires, after many arguments with Lovely ( Clark was much too squeamish, and Diana just isn't suited to anything with biology) - the main issue is that they were all just so worried about hurting her, either in the process itself or by taking too much. (If she is honest it does hurt - bits of wire shoved just under her skin every day - it doesn't take long before she is littered with scars but Mikaela wouId never say a word. They are her children and they need this to survive.) In the end, they always rotated: one keeping watch while another charged, and - since the other two slept since they expended less energy that way. They also found that they were able to adapt her body heat into energy as well.

Hunger and thirst became constants – like exhaustion. She spends hours, days just lying there keeping them alive. At least, she gets to know her little ones more individually (when she is alert that is) she thinks one day while looking for silver lining. Lovely's pride of being the eldest and best with language, how that translates into love of story, of history. Clark's fascination with the various animals in her picture books, land and sea he loves them all - and his terrible fear of hurting her, of hurting anyone. Diana is her only dear metal child who seems interested at all in the idea of other bots, but she is curious enough for all four - pumping Mikaela for information on every single Cybertronian she has met or even heard about. Bruce seems simply curious about everything, enjoys the act of collecting information in and of itself - puts ideas together and comes up with questions she would never expect. Especially from a being still so young - and Mikaela longs for a time when his creativity can stretch and grow to the potential that is clearly there. (Weapons that idiot women had once called them - she had no idea of the minds they had. It makes Mikaela feel both sad and proud.)

And also more than a tad vindictive because that women is probably dead now.

But although this is all true it is difficult to trick herself with comforts like this. And it was no small wonder to her when she can get her sluggish mind moving enough to think about it because there has been no food since the lights went out, no water since the pipes stopped working. And what she had hoarded away in her drawers or the water in her bathtub had disappeared distressingly fast.

Mikaela knows she shouldn't be alive at all. And begins to seriously wonder at this as she blinks slowly up at white optics that stare at her worriedly; has she only prolonged their eventual deaths? But then something changes, some sort of shift during one of the many times she waivers between conscious and awake. And this time when she opens her eyes, for the first time in days she is able to stand – and actually feels like she wants to.

Slowly, after that, it seems to take less and less each time one of her dear children charge from her. She is soon able to stay awake during the process again and talk or read to them, to move around and play for shot periods of time, to there very obvious delight (especially Clark her most emotional little one). And to actually more closely examine this oddity – no, this impossibility of her still being alive.

Seriously, how long has it been since she ate? Drank?

Her mind had narrowed to those in her care, to making sure they would be able to survive. But Mikaela knows human fragility – knows that she should be dead.

Except if…

She feels the thin metal lines pull back out from under her skin and Lovely's optics flicker back on.

Except if she wasn't the only one giving.

"Mommy?" whispered her eldest, sounding worried at her lack of usual greeting. And it really shouldn't have been so surprising to Mikaela - but she has been taking care of herself for so long, had to be independent for so long. Symbiosis would probably be the actual term for this but that feels wrong. She has had family before, but has never felt it crystalized so perfectly before.

Because, they - her children - they love her and are trying to care for her.

And this goes both ways.

"It's alright, baby," she whispers, and for the first time in a while Mikaela dares to hope that it is.

(In her dreams that night she hears music.)