Hello Dear Readers! I'm sorry I didn't upload this last week! My dog got very sick so I've been focusing on her recovery. But now, back to the story!

Thank you to my wonderful reviewers; Alex, Cynical Daydream (your review well very well stated, thank you so much), .Princess, Spoffen, Autobot Delta, ImpartingAbyss, and MayTylers.

Song is from Let It Be by The Beatles

Chapter 41

Ironhide entered the autobot hanger, relieved to be back. Returning from Texas took far longer than expected. To put it lightly, the humans were being overly cautious. Since Ironhide wasn't a gentle mech by nature, he'd rather say they needed to mech up and put their own organic afts in gear, for Primus sake. Mech and the 'cons had their afts handed to them and the security measures he helped put in place would ensure the facility wasn't attacked again. That didn't stop them from insisting he stand guard for days while they tested, retested, and retested once again every new system they had in place.

Worse yet, the only covered place to recharge was under a tarp alongside the twisted Decepticon's frame. Rather dealing with that thing, he sat in the rain, his tires sinking in the squelching mud every night. He was happy to be rid of it. As soon as he landed, Ratchet and Que came and hauled the remains away. The weapon's specialist wasn't sure how to feel about the fascinated look the inventor held. But he held his glossa before reminding the mech what Skywarp had done before offlining. He didn't want to pull the inventor away from what was a conclusive distraction.

Erin had told him how Que reacted to the recent casualties. He was proud of the femme for keeping an optic on him. Ironhide would need to check in with her as well. Although she'd assured him that she was coping just fine, he wanted to see for himself. First though, he wanted to check in with another femme.

It didn't take long for him to find his target, Sarah Lennox. She was on the scaffolding, talking to Optimus Prime.

His commander greeted him warmly, as always and Sarah Lennox welcomed him home.

After returning pleasantries, he focused on the small femme. "Have the twins done anything to mess with ya?" he asked, always itching for an excuse to pull out his cannons again.

"No, they've been remarkably well behaved." She laughed at his seriousness. "I think Erin's had them on their best behavior."

"I'm sure she does." He muttered, knowing it went beyond that. It seemed the Specialist hadn't taken their previous heart to spark seriously. The twins weren't right in the helm and she needed to steer them back in the right direction, before someone was hurt.

Sarah Lennox added in her best authoritative tone, "Go easy on those two, if not for their sake, then for Erin's." She added with a sad sigh, "I think she really needs them right now."

"Those two retro rats are the last things she needs." Ironhide replied with a low growl.

"If I may interject, Ironhide," Prime caught his attention with a gently raised servo, "you were the one who supported their team-up in the first place. And the results have been nothing if not exemplary." He stated, looking somewhat concerned, "Is there something I should know about?"

"No, sir." The black mech quickly explained. He didn't want the femme in trouble, she did nothing wrong. Technically, the twins hadn't broken any rules either, but that didn't mean they were in the right. "I believe she's been good for the twins; I'm just concerned about the other way around."

"He thinks they've gotten a bit too close." Sarah Lennox interjected, grinning knowingly.

Apparently, he and Erin were not the only ones who noticed the pair's shift in behavior. Did they have no shame? "I'm just saying the pair can get obsessive once something has their interest." He chose his words carefully for his leader, but assumed Optimus knew what he was referring to.

"I have no doubt Sideswipe and Sunstreaker care deeply for Ms. Brook's wellbeing." Prime responded. "As for just how close they are, it is not our right to judge the relations of others. Since our species are incredibly similar in social structures, it's not unfathomable something like this would come about at some point. Though the twins were the last mech's I'd imagine in this situation."

"You cannot be serious, Prime." Ironhide deadpanned. What the frag was he thinking? Allowing something so fragged up to continue?

"They are all consenting adults." He stated, a small quirk of his lip plates revealing amusement. "Whatever relationship they decide to pursue is up to them."

"So," the present femme interrupted whatever Ironhide was going to say, "you think they've already hitched up or what?"

"Sarah Lennox!" This was the last thing Ironhide wanted to discuss. To imagine. The young soldier was barely into her matured frame for Primus sake.

"I believe Specialist Brook would be cautious in such things." Prime stated, far too casual with the whole affair. "Knowing the respect, the twins have for her, I believe they'd take things far slower."

"This won't lead to anything good." The weapons specialist stated firmly.

"It is not our place to judge." The commander replied evenly. "Besides, there are far more pressing matters to worry about."

Ironhide narrowed his optics, glad for a change of topic. "Like what?" he asked.

"I am concerned for Jazz." Prime admitted. "I sent Prowl to D.C. so he can recuperate from the stress he's been putting himself under, but he was also Jazz's first choice for help. Since Prowl left, Jazz has hardly spoken and he's stopped pushing Ratchet for progress updates."

"What do you expect me to do?" The black mech asked. "Shoot some sense into him?" He wasn't fit for delicate matters like that. It was exactly the reason he had no fragging clue what to do about Erin and the twins, aside from locking the latter in the brig with massive dents on their helms. Ratchet had stated Jazz was in a delicate position due to his condition.

"I would like you to help me keep an optic on him." The look on Prime's faceplates showed Prowl wasn't the only one suffering under stress. The ages long conflict was wearing all mechs down.

Still, Ironhide was uncertain how much help he could offer. "Jazz is the best saboteur I've met. He wouldn't give anything away and he would recognize being watched."

Slipping into their native Cybertronian, Prime countered, "That may not be the case right now. I'm worried he's beginning to slip."

The black mech followed suit. "Have you discussed this with Ratchet."

"Yes. He says there's little he can do."

"Alright." He yielded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, old friend."

"In the meantime, I'm going to go blow something up." He dismissed himself after giving a nod to Sarah Lennox. She was understanding enough not to ask for details on Jazz's condition. That was need to know, and honestly, Ironhide only knew because he was there when Jazz was revived five years prior. He saw what happened. He knew what the mech was going through.

His cannons itching for action, Ironhide headed to the firing range. After letting off some steam, he'd see what he could do about Jazz and check in on Erin. He also had to make time for Annabelle. Since when was he juggling more social responsibilities than blasting 'cons?

The drive was quick and when he transformed, he saw another 'bot at the firing range.

Bumblebee had arrived on base with Ironhide, the black mech's plane picked the youngling up in D.C.

He approached the youngling who seemed fixated on his target, a figure with Barricade's likeness, curtesy of Sideswipe. "Shouldn't you be settling in your berth room?" the black mech groused.

Bumblebee twitched, bright blue optics moving to Ironhide, pinging his comm link. -I wanted to let off some stress. There aren't many places to fire at stateside. –

Ironhide tilted his helm, "Ya aren't worried about the boy, are ya? He's perfectly safe with Prowl."

The youngling's door wings drooped. -I know.- His radio buzzed to life, "Let it be, let it be, whisper words of wisdom, let it be."

Ironhide wasn't convinced. The scout was young and an eager guardian. He understood the added worry when one's charge was human. That was why he insisted on Erin watching Annabelle when Sarah Lennox needed a substitute. The femme was terrified of being around sparklings, but she was undoubtedly responsible.

"Why don't you head back to the hanger?" Ironhide suggested. "I know Ratchet will want to take a couple scans. Might as well get it over now."

The small mech cringed and shuttered. He was always averse to medical procedures, especially when Ratchet when rooting around his damaged vocalizer. He sent a data image of the seeker's offline frame. -He'll be busy for a while.-

"Ratchet has Que helping him. He'll manage. Get a move on, Bumblebee." Ironhide stated firmly. The youngling would only be worse off if he tried to hide from their medic.

Door wings drooping low, the scout reluctantly trudged back towards their side of the base. It was good to see the scout back, Ironhide decided. He just needed some time to get used to being without his charge.

Before he could turn back to the empty firing range, the weapons specialist saw the Primus forsaken twins drive up to the younger mech. Erin was with them. His optics narrowed in on the femme as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker spoke with Bumblebee. When her eyes drifted over to notice him, Ironhide motioned her to come over. After a quick word with the twins, she headed towards him.

"Ironhide," she greeted, "it's good to see you back."

"It's good to be back," he replied cordially, "and thank you for watching Annabelle. I know what wasn't preferential for you. But there were only so many humans reliable enough for the job."

"Annabelle is a sweet girl," she responded with a genuine smile, "while I'm not the best with kids, I'm glad you trusted me."

He gave her an appraising look. She still had apparent bruising from her encounter with Skywarp. But aside from that, she seemed fine. Her eyes were bright and her tone light and conversational. Perhaps the twins were useful after all. "How are you holding up?"

"Like I told you over the comm, I'm fine." She stated, seeming determined. "Thank you for your concern."

"It sounds like the twins helped you after it happened." He decided not to elaborate.

The look on the femme's face told him she understood exactly what he was talking about. "Ironhide," she groaned, "don't read too deep."

"We both know it's the twins seeing too far into things." He declared. "I can't tell ya what to do. But I am concerned. I still believe your team up has helped all three of you. Primus knows you're a positive influence on the twins. But we both know they are still reckless. Be careful."

"I always am." She affirmed, not seeming to take his warning seriously. What was he going to do with the femme?

Before Ironhide could say anything else, Sideswipe rolled up right behind Erin. "Hey 'Hide, welcome back." He said, sounding far too cheery. Sunstreaker also came, but just nodded to him. Bumblebee seemed to have moved on.

"And what kind of trouble have you miss-clocks been into lately?" the black mech asked, crossing his arms. He gave the brothers a hard glare, letting them know he was serious.

Sideswipe raised his servos in a surrendering gesture, "Nothing, I promise. We've been really good while Mrs. Lennox has been around."

"Squishy, we should get going if you want to get in any practice." Sunstreaker over to the distant clouds. "I'm not going to get caught in the rain."

"Can we finish this later, Ironhide?" Erin asked earnestly. He knew this was the last thing she wanted to discuss. Damn the twins to the Pit for giving her an escape.

"Yes, we will." Ironhide promised.

He watched the trio head back out. They seemed to be going for the furthest training field, which was mainly a small open space hugged on three sides by dense trees. He couldn't help but continue to worry. If the twins were as infatuated with Erin as everyone seemed to believe, there were three situations that could happen. One, the twins would reject this nonsense and take it out on her. Ironhide had a suspicion that already happened once when Sunstreaker went after her. There could be worse fights in their future. Two, they somehow try to indulge in their odd fantasy and attempt to use Erin up, not that she would humor them. Or three, they would stay attracted to her and face an emotional reckoning upon her rejection. No one ended up happy. Knowing the twins, some of those scenarios could end up downright dangerous not only for Erin, but for those around the pair should they lash out. Why couldn't anyone else see reason?

The sky thundered ominously as dark clouds promised a long storm. The sound was mostly muted out by the booming pedesteps of Sunstreaker rushing towards his brother. Sideswipe stood at the ready, energon blades unsheathed. Meanwhile, Erin hid among the palm trees, rifle trained on her silver target. Said individual was not making things easy for her. Before Sunstreaker got close enough for Erin to enact her part of the plan, Sideswipe began a dance of erratic movements, knowing Erin had planned to blind him, but not sure where she was located.

She changed tactics and whistled, informing the yellow mech of the new strategy. Sideswipe's faceplates erupted in a deadly grin, knowing the human's location and aimed his bean-bag loaded cannon at her. Just as Erin predicted, Sunstreaker took the opportunity to swing his legs under Sideswipe, causing him to fall back onto his aft. Erin had been teaching Sunny some of her stealthier moves and it was paying off. Sideswipe was not expecting the uncharacteristically subtle action from his twin. Before Sunstreaker could finish the match, a bolt of lightning brightened the evening sky. Both mechs paused to look up.

Sunstreaker allowed his twin to stand. "Looks like a fraggin' storm is here." He muttered just loud enough for Erin to hear.

"Yeah," Sideswipe agreed, "let's call it a day." He turned to see Erin get up from her hiding place and join the mechs. A bright smile was sent in her direction. "Wanna go to the rec room?" he added with a flirtatious voice, "Or we could find something fun to do in our berth room."

Erin struggled not to blush. In the weeks since she realized what the twins' feelings towards her may mean, the mech's words held a whole new meaning for her. She had not even taken the chance to account for her own confused emotions; not that it mattered. Sideswipe had been especially bad the past week since Adam 'committed suicide', most likely trying to keep her distracted from losing a friend.

"Uh, I think I'll just go on a bit of a jog." She replied quickly. "I've been sharpshooter all day and didn't get any exercise."

"The slag, femme?" Sunstreaker stared at her incredulously, "Can't you take one day to relax?" Sideswipe nodded to his brother's statement.

It's not like she had three days off the week prior. Granted those were for post-battle recuperation. "Look, as you've made very clear, Sunstreaker, humans are weak." She leveled her gaze with them as the yellow front liner flinched uncomfortably. Seeing he was thoroughly chastised, she allowed her tone to soften. "If I allow myself any more breaks, I'll never be able to keep up with you. Besides, think of the storm as a bit of extra training. If I can't deal with a pinch of rain, how useful would I be against the 'cons?" The twins still looked unsure but Erin turned and waved them off. "It'll be fine, I'll come by the rec room later, alright?"

Without waiting for a response, Erin started her jog down to a grove of palm trees. The path there was secluded, the perfect place for her to collect her thoughts. She ran along the earth, her breath becoming hot and steaming the chilling air. It was rare the island saw temperatures below 60, so Erin decided to take advantage and enjoy the fresh atmosphere.

She thought about her mission, how it had gotten so clouded. She was a spy. Her duty was to gather information for Division and then leave. She was not a soldier. She was not the autobots' friend. At least that was how things started out. Every time she saw Sideswipe or Sunstreaker's faceplates, she did not see targets or victims. She saw their smiles and their trust. How could have tell herself that she was not distracted, that the mission was still going on as planned? During the past four info drops, she could have entered more data, different data which was far more detrimental. Instead she gave basic field reports and only half pieces of information that would be useless on their own. She could have told herself that she was limiting data size and would give the vital information in pieces, but that would be lying. She had no intention of doing that. An increasing amount of the info provided to Division was entirely false. It was her who set the dominos by involving Franky in her plans. Her convictions since the night Adam died remained. She wanted to kill her life as 56.

Erin always had a deep-rooted hatred for Division, but fear and begrudging loyalty kept her in line. Ever since joining N.E.S.T though… Why was she betraying Division? She did not feel the same loyalty for N.E.S.T as she did for Division, even though the latter was reinforced by years of psychological and physical 'conditioning'. There was nothing about the military base that encouraged allegiance from her. Sure, some of her fellow soldiers were nice, and the Lennox family was oddly welcoming, but she'd met such people before.

If she was being honest with herself, she did it all to protect the twins. That was where it started for her. At first, she did everything Division asked of her without question. However, months ago, they demanded info on the twins, estimates of weaknesses. She gave them some data but each weakness she mentioned was easily made up for by one of their abilities or attributes which she refused to divulge. The info would be useless. Why? At the time, she told herself it was an insurance, should Division decide to be through with her. After all, she did small acts of rebellion whenever she could, though it never led up to anything. It clear in her memory was the feeling that drained heat from her veins when she saw orders to report on the twins. It wasn't just an opportunity to sow chinks in Division's control, but something that she wanted to do for the mechs. During the next data dump, she entered half-collected information that, while technically true, contradicted previous intel gathered. Her efforts to protect the Autobots' data only increased from there. The harsh reality of it nearly made Erin stumble off her path. She was betraying the organization that owned her for two fucking aliens.

The first spray of droplets fell from the angry sky above, promising to turn the dirt road ahead of her to sticking mud. Light began to fade from the surrounding world as the clouds choked out what few rays had been seeping through. Erin paid no mind, continuing her internal struggle was a heavier distraction. Even if the twins were her friends, she'd kill her friends if given the order. That was how she was raised. Something was different, though. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were just so… free. They made her feel like Division's shackles were gone. Not to mention Sideswipe's after-hours innuendos left a certain corridor open in her mind. One she had not yet dared look into.

Even with that considered, a small part of her admitted they were sort of… attractive. Both of them. The fact that they were a package deal was engrained in her feelings for them. With that in mind, did Sunstreaker feel the same way that Sideswipe seemed to? A part of her begged for that not to be true. If one twin was not interested, the whole matter could be pushed aside. However, she somewhat dreaded the thought of Sunstreaker not having these feelings. She wanted him to… maybe… she did not know what she wanted. Although, whenever she of thought last week when he held her to his chest, affectionately rubbing her back-

The droplets of rain quickly expanded as a waterfall drained upon her. Still, Erin continued her run, more concerned with her own turmoil than the clouds lashing out above. As the storm persisted, she could not hear the roar of two engines over the constant barrage of thunder. On either side of her, silver and yellow frames were shined upon by a series of lightning strikes. Erin stopped as she caught the glean of their armor. Her feet sank slightly into the wet earth. She stared at the mechs, mostly Sunstreaker because his side was thoroughly coated in mud.

"What are you two doing?" she shouted over the thunder.

Both mechs transformed in tandem, rain bouncing off their frames. The light of their optics reflected off every rain drop, making the sky shimmer like it was imbedded with icy stalactites.

"You're the one who says teammates stick together." Sideswipe pointed out. "So, if you're gonna suffer through this storm, then we'll do it with you." The brightest coming from his optics overtook his faceplates. Nevertheless, Erin could pick out a determination expression.

Sunstreaker nodded in agreement. "Just hurry it up, squishy. His arms crossed over his chassis, an obvious display of how uncomfortable he was. Mud squelched under his pedes as he shifted, causing the mech to freeze where he stood.

Erin looked at the twin gladiators with silent gratefulness. She nodded and they changed back down to their vehicle forms, splashing mud up to Erin's waist. She was already thoroughly soaked so it didn't matter much to her. She continued her run, practically hugged on both sides by her two favorite mechs. Deciding to speed her pace, she her new goal was to get her mechs somewhere dry as soon as possible.

Her mechs.

She honestly liked them. She liked Sideswipe who was slowly breaking her out of her shell of despair. She liked Sunstreaker who's protective demeanor and affection helped fill the gaping whole left by Cora. In the pit of her stomach, she could feel affection and worry. Worry about what her feelings could bring. She was in so much trouble.

Ratchet surveyed his rather full med bay. The seeker and drone frames took up most of it. Que was busy finishing up their initial scans, his helm down as he muttered to himself. The scientist would be needed to help Ratchet figure out just what had been done to the 'con. If the Decepticons had a mech with such abilities naturally, they would have revealed him earlier in the war. That left the assumption that the trait was artificial. He knew Shockwave was somewhere on the planet, could he have created such an abomination? Even more concerning, was what the twins had to report on what Skywarp had said before his demise. Shockwave wanted 'more' twins. If the seeker was one of those sets, at the very least his counterpart would be offline as well. Hopefully, the Autobots would find more evidence in the frame. But in the meantime, he had online patients to worry about.

Jazz was already in for his usual check-up. He had set the mech up in the private room so he wouldn't be disturbed. Ratchet had the TIC hooked up to a spark reader. It would be a few more moments until the results were ready. That gave him enough time to look at Bumblebee.

Luckily, the young mech was in good shape. His vocalizer still showed no sign of self-repair. And the part Ratchet tried using months prior was rejected by the 'bot's nanites. It was frustrating for both the medic and Bumblebee. But the youngling seemed to be in good spirits, regardless.

A male human's voice sounded from Bumblebee's radio, "At least I still got my good looks."

"Well," Ratchet continued, not showing his amusement, "we've done enough for now. You're all clear. I'll see what I can do about making a new part."

The yellow mech warbled with a nod. Ratchet didn't need a comm to know the scout was relieved his checkup was over. He left as quickly as possible, only sparing one last glance towards the fallen foe.

Ratchet sighed in relief. One down, two to go. At least the youngling was in good repair. That was one of the conditions he set when Bumblebee became the boy's guardian. If he stopped self-maintenance, he'd be sent back to the island and strapped to a med bay faster than he could pray to Primus.

His remaining patient was none too compliant. He had half a processor to just tear out the dampeners he created and let the All Spark do its work. Jazz's frame had been damaged far too long and his natural healing process couldn't fix the mutilation to his spark chamber.

Ratchet stepped in to the private room, seeing the scans were about the finish.

"Anything to report?" he asked, masking the concern rolling around his tanks.

Jazz shook his lowered helm. He looked like a shell of his former self. It broke Ratchet's spark. He knew there was a risk to bringing mechs back from the well. But there were so few of them left. He was the one to convince Prime to make the attempt and he was to blame for the result. Jazz could either sit in limbo, unhealed but held together by what little All Spark energy sustained him, or have his frame repaired and whatever force behind the All Spark take over. The former wasn't a sustainable option and Ratchet had no clue whether the latter would have permanent consequences. So, Jazz waited, half the mech he used to be while some unknown force waited over his shoulder. The dampers Ratchet created were holding steady, but for how long? Ratchet needed to find the solution.

But the scans were the same as always. No changes. Not even when he shifted the dampener's power source from Jazz's frame to an artificial one. Disappointed, Ratchet rerouted the energon lines back to his spark so Jazz could move once again.

"Nothing to say, doc?" The small mech's words were seething. Ratchet couldn't blame him. He was at fault after all.

"I'll find a solution, Jazz. I just need more data."

"And what else have you been doing all this time!"

Ratchet paused, fighting the instinct to beat the younger mech over the helm with a wrench. He'd been slipping more and more. If he couldn't do anything for his frame, at least her could maintain the mech's mind. "Jazz, I'm going to do a deep scan of your processor."

"My processor is fine, it's my frame that's fragged. Figure that out!"

He stormed off. Ratchet considered knocking the TIC out and welding him to a berth but he held back. Jazz was in a fragile mental condition. He'd have to be tactful in caring for him. It was best to let the mech blow off some steam on his own. Ratchet would try again later.

With all his patients gone for the moment, and the weight of failure churning in his tanks, he left the private room and headed towards Que. The scientist seemed engrossed in his internal muttering before he noticed Ratchet.

"Ah, are you finished with everyone else?" he asked with his usual cheer.

How did he not hear Jazz? "Yes, have your found anything about our friend here?" He gestured towards the seeker, noting the drone had yet to be touched. It was a lesser priority at the moment.

"Well, I can't be sure exactly what we're dealing with here." He started, pulling up images on his data pad for Ratchet to go over. "His entire frame is riddled with microscopic abrasions. If I didn't have any background knowledge, I'd say it was caused by extreme minute trauma from shockwaves or some other source of vibration."

"Primus." Ratchet muttered as he looked over the scans. "I'm surprised he isn't dust. Do you know how he kept structural integrity?"

"I believe I might have." Que nodded. "The next scan shows his nanites. Tell me what you think."

Ratchet stared at the image, at first thinking he was looking at the wrong one. "Wh- what the frag am I looking at?"

"Those are his nanites." Que said with the same air of awe.

Instead of the normal square shape of the microscopic cells, they were round with small rod-like appendages that reached into the micro-cracks in the armor.

"I found these all throughout his system, no differentiation between internal or external nanites. It's the same in his processor, which would explain his reportedly psychotic behavior. His mind was literally in a billion pieces." Que continued, "I think… I think they're spark cells."

That was too far of a conjecture for Ratchet to believe. "How can a mech's nanites be replaced with spark cells? They would never stabilize outside of a frame."

"I'm not sure." The inventor admitted. He looked through the scans again, as if searching for a clear answer. "But, if they were, do you think that would explain his warping ability?"

This was getting too far into theoretical programming. Without an online system for him to use his medical codes on, there was only so much his scanners could do. "Hypothetically, since spark cells are controlled intricately by base programming, if Skywarp was able to use the cells to de-atomize himself and rebuild, then… perhaps? What does his spark look like?"

"As far as I can tell, it's a normal spark. The energy is gone but the base signature resonates with the new nanites."

An uncomfortable feeling settled within Ratchet. "No spark can survive being taken apart for this. Remember what the twins said? They think Skywarp was a twin."

Que whipped around, recognition lighting his optics. "Don't tell me you think the nanites were formed out of his twin's spark?"

"These transformed spark cells could be what stabilized his spark after his twin perished." He paused, seeing the horror in his associate's optics. Sparks were sacred. Even Decepticons wouldn't mess with such things. "It's just a theory for now. There's a lot more to explore. We should take some samples to your lab. I'd like to get some more in-depth scans. Perhaps we can put together a timeline of the microscopic damage."

Que still looked concerned, but moved to do as Ratchet suggested. The pair took their needed supplies and headed out. Ratchet made sure to lock the med bay and set his ping signal. He didn't want anyone around the seeker frame without his supervision.

The trio entered the hanger to find Que and Ratchet discussing something at the entrance to the former's lab. It appeared something had shaken the pair. She knew they were studying Skywarp's frame; she could only imagine the horrors within the mad seeker. Erin wanted to investigate but a formerly yellow leg stomped into her path.

"Where do you think you're going, squishy?"

"Uh, well." Erin glanced over to the other mechs. Apparently, Sunstreaker had gotten both of their attention. They stared at him with faceplates caught between awe and worry.

"What happened to you?" Ratchet questioned, only to receive a fierce growl from the yellow mech.

Que looked questioningly at the front liner and slowly asked, "Are you in need of a medic?"

Erin tried to sooth their concern, "No guys, it's just mud."

Sunstreaker was clearly discomforted. He shifted his legs slightly. This could not have been easy for the mech, to be under the scrutinizing gaze of the others while he was in such a state. That uneasiness easily switched to rage as his servos clenched and he took a couple of threatening steps forwards, leaving a trail of wet pedesteps. "Why don't you mind your own fragging business? Or would you rather I pound you into scrap!" He roared. Instead of launching an attack, though, he turned on his heel struts to face Erin. With slightly more control he addressed her, "Come on, squishy, I'm covered in this slag 'cause of you so you're washing it off." Without another word, he stalked off towards the washracks.

Que and Ratchet, the latter of which was normally defensive, remained silent and watched his retreat.

Sideswipe scooped Erin up, earning an undignified squeak, and wheeled of after his twin. "I wouldn't mind help washing up either." He said in a husky tone.

Erin tried to keep her blushing to a minimum. "Sh-shouldn't I take a shower first?"

"You can just use the washracks with us." Sideswipe said casually.

"I'm not showering with you!"

The trio left the scientist and medic, in the middle of the hanger, but Erin could still hear Ratchet when he asked, "What the frag just happened?"

It sounded as if Que offered no answer.

"So," Sideswipe started, earning back Erin's attention, "when are we finally going to go on our date?"

The woman's eyes shot wide. She could hear his tone was at least partially joking, but how much of that statement was actually serious? "Our date?" she repeated, trying to sound neutral.

"Well you and Sunny went on one."

"That wasn't a date."

"Ok, then can we go on a not-date?"

Damn his quick wit. Erin seemed to be too slow to answer, because Sideswipe ended up grinning madly, thinking he got her flustered. She couldn't think of a response.

When the pair entered the washracks, Sunstreaker was already washing the muck off his armor. Apparently waiting was too much for him the handle.

In the battle of wills, Sideswipe won as Erin consented to rinsing off in the washracks. It was, after all, the least she could do after they stuck with her through the storm. Sideswipe turned on the water for her, considering the lever was too high for her to reach, and even adjusted the temperature, how gentlemechly.

Erin gratefully peeled off her uniform, appreciating the loss of the scratchy, wet fabric. She paused at her sports bra and spandex, stuck on the eternal question; would alien robots care whether she was naked or not? She could at least take her bra off. That wouldn't mean much to robots.

An appreciative whistle from Sideswipe made the decision for her. Spandex and bra were definitely staying on. A sudden sense of vulnerability clouded over her. She always strips in front of them so casually! Normally she wouldn't give two damns what a man thought of her, with or without clothes, but the twins were unique. They might have been different species but she had reason to believe that difference did not matter to at least one of them. Before embarrassment could fully lodge itself into the pit of her stomach, she told herself it was no big deal. They had seen her like that before, several times in fact. It was nothing. All those thoughts perished as she turned to see Sunstreaker, optics staring contently at her. Yup, all underwear was definitely staying on.

The water was the perfect temperature when she stepped under. It was not as pleasant as her other shower, not to say that was a luxury item either, but the wide and heavy spray of water from twenty-five feet up felt more like a rough waterfall. Nevertheless, she enjoyed the warm water washing away the cold mud that had plastered to her skin. She tried to ignore the 'bots as their optics bore into her.

"Hey, Rin." Sideswipe knelt down close to her, droplets bouncing off his still muddy armor. His optics were darker and half-shuttered, his smile was not that trademark goofy grin, instead a corner of his lip plates hitched just slightly. Erin felt butterflies in her stomach as he leaned closer. She couldn't help but wonder whether he knew what he, and Sunstreaker, were doing to her. With her tongue caught, she couldn't speak. Heaven knows what kind of face she was making when he came close enough that his lip plates brushed against her ear. "If you wash us, it's only fair that I do the same for you."

His words were almost lost on her as her legs began to wobble under the weight of his voice. All senses came back, though, when he backed up enough for her to see the brightening of his optics, emanating mischief. A sudden sense of dread pooled inside of her as his words replayed in her head.

"Oh, no." She took a step back as Sideswipe's servos closed in. "No! No! No!" There was nowhere to run. One hand gently curled around her midsection, trapping her. "You are not bathing me!"

It was one thing for Sideswipe to ignore her, it was another when he chuckled at her reaction. "Oh, don't be such a sparkling." He added in a flirtatious voice, "I'll be gentle."

He didn't seem serious, just wanting to get a reaction out of her. Sideswipe was not the type of mech to take things so far Erin would feel violated. But she was distracted by Sunstreaker's curious expression, optic ridge raised, when Sideswipe decided to do a mock cleaning motion, gently rubbing one digit where mud was stuck to her side. He then let her go, seeing she was thoroughly flustered, but not before Erin let out an undignified- and incredibly girly- giggle to escape her lips. Sideswipe paused.

"Erin…" That tone was familiar. Where had she heard it before? It was the same one he made whenever he made a discovery. Like when he learned of her fear of heights. Oh, no. "You wouldn't happen to be ticklish… would you?" His smile grew into a wicked grin.

"Uh, me? No- no!"

Sideswipe explored this newfound weakness by gently rubbing another digit along her side, pulling out another high-pitched giggle. Within moments, Erin was collapsed on the floor, aching from giggling as Sideswipe relentlessly tickled her. Soon, laughter from both human and mech filled the room, overtaking the sounds of rushing water.

It did not take long for all of Erin's energy to be sapped as she gave up all hope of escape. Her captor then scooped her up and held her to his chassis, under the running water. Their giggles siphoned off as they contently sat together. Erin felt warm and safe. Her heart beat happily next to the electric thrumming of Sideswipe's spark.

Sunstreaker had silently watched their antics, shower forgotten. He seemed to be content to be on the sidelines. Tickling probably was not his thing.

"So Rin," Those bright optics were one of her weaknesses. "Sunny's looking pretty dull."

"Don't call me that!"

Erin laughed as she jumped out of Sideswipe's arms and started ringing out her hair. Sideswipe, of course, offered her a towel from his subspace which she gratefully took. After briefly drying herself and tying her hair back, she walked up to Sunstreaker. He took one more moment to stare at her. This of course, was not lost on Erin, but only he and Sideswipe would know what he was thinking. The yellow 'bot transformed into his alt-mode to allow Erin to wash him.

She set about the task, her and Sunstreaker listening to Sideswipe chat about anything that popped into his processor. He helped her reach Sunstreaker's roof, lifting her so she could use the sponge without her having to grease him up with her 'human oils'. She did not mind. Erin got the sense that Sunstreaker's cleaning regimen was an important coping mechanism for him and she did not want to mess with it. When he was not grooming himself or being groomed, it was ok for her to touch him. After she finished scrubbing Sunstreaker, she did Sideswipe while the yellow 'bot dried himself.

She and Sideswipe worked together, as they had before, to wax Sunstreaker. They fell into such a comfortable rhythm; she even began singing at Sideswipe's request. Erin wished it would not end. She really did not want to leave this false reality she had created for herself and the twins. One in which they only fought for each other and a common goal. Wherein she had no ulterior motives and she deserved the trust the twins put in her. She tried to protect this reality by betraying Division. But the truth still burned like the scars inflicted upon her after years of service as an assassin.

Erin, Number 56, stared at both mechs. The fluttering in her stomach erupted. And an image started to clear in her head. How much did she really care for them? Was it actually love?