-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P- Denotes scene breaks

ooOOooOOooOOoo Denotes breaks within a scene

~ Chapter 24 ~

"Shit." Epps made eye contact with the medic, a few men forward in the aircraft and tossed his head, yelling "Dom, you're up!"

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While Dominic clambered over boots and gear to get to them, Bobby was working on disentangling Will from his equipment. He unclasped and pulled off his helmet then tugged open his shirt. "Fuck, even your pasty Dakota ass is pushing it."

Dominic made it to their side and hissed. "Cap? Lennox?" No response, Will was awake, but he was completely somewhere else. Dom tried Epps instead. "He say anything?"

"Not a damn thing," Bobby snapped. He felt Will's cheek, carded fingers through his hair. The man felt hot, clammy, but not soaked in sweat the way he should be in this heat, and he was so fucking pale.

Meanwhile, the medic had his fingers on Will's wrist, quiet in the moment to check his pulse. He crouched to get eye level and looked at Will's eyes. "C'mon, Will. Look at me, dammit." Lennox just seemed to stare right through him. When Dom felt his forehead and the back of his neck, both disturbingly warm, that made the decision. "Pretty sure this is heat stroke. Get him on the deck."

"Move yer damn feet. Move!" Bobby ordered to those nearby. By medical emergency, Dom was in charge. Epps was now a close second with Will incapacitated. Epps pointed sharply at Scott and the nearest other men, they maneuvered Will onto the floor of the helicopter between all of their feet.

Dominic ripped open as much of Will's uniform as he could, even opened his fly and tugged his pants down his thighs, modesty be damned. "Any water. Every ice pack we got," he ordered, the hand not keeping track of Will's pulse outstretched and waiting for the first man nearby to comply.

All up and down the helicopter, from the front bulkhead and back to the drama at the aft, men were passing up canteens, cracking chemical ice packs from their kits, raiding the larger first aid box stored in the helicopter. Bobby was holding whatever Dom did not have the hands for until he was ready. The medic poured water through Will's hair, tucked a cold pack under his neck, put one on his brow and two more on his collar bones. Every time he set something, Dom would put his hands out again, "More." More water went over Will's chest, soaking his t-shirt and puddling underneath him, more packs were stuffed against his armpits and his groin.

Will seemed to come up from his haze a few times, looking in confusion at all the faces above him. He tried to throw up one more time, but Dominic and Scott rolled him to his side until his body got the hint to knock that right the fuck off.

The pilot kept asking for updates, and played the game of telephone back to Base relaying their situation. Medical staff were ready and waiting to whisk Lennox off the instant they landed and the ramp was down.

Dominic snapped over his shoulder as they got Will on a gurney and rolling. "Troy, don't think I missed you holding out." The man had been whining all day and had probably already used his ice pack for his own comfort well before they boarded the helicopter.

Epps gave Troy a death glare and then moved with the assembled medical team as they wheeled Lennox away.

Once in the emergency department, Epps tried to stay out from underfoot, and most of the medical jargon and numbers Dominic and the other medics were calling back and forth went right over his head. Bobby caught that pulse was rapid and thready, that body temperature was almost 105, though he did not need to know that was a rectal measurement… It was unnerving. The medics moved and prodded, taking measurements and drawing blood. Will just seemed like a passive prop, in this strange place between conscious and unconscious.

What scared the shit out of Bobby was when Will started seizing. It was right as they got him stripped down to nothing but his boxers and were about to lift him into an ice bath. The medics quickly moved Will back onto the gurney while one doctor kept her hands shielding Will's head from hitting anything. It was only a few seconds, but later when he described it, Bobby said it felt like an infinite stretch of for fucking ever.

"Ok, get him in," Dom ordered, and again the team moved as one. Will stiffened and gasped when his legs submerged. Once his torso was underwater he made a little abortive thrash, but then he went still. Most of the other medical staff deferred at that point and went back to their regular duties, leaving Dominic in charge of his Captain. He ensured Lennox was secure and he could not slip down or his face dip under the water, then double checked all the monitoring equipment that had been hooked up. Once he had finished with that, Dominic glanced over at Bobby plastered in the corner and took pity on him. "C'mon," he said with a head toss. "You can talk to him. It'll help when he starts coming out of it."

Bobby stepped over and hesitantly scooped some water up and rubbed at the back of Will's neck. The man made a low sound, his eyelids fluttered and he glanced around, but Lennox did not say anything. Epps fumbled around and absently pulled at the ball chain of Will's dogtags, making sure that they did not catch on the edge of the tub. "He is coming out of it?" Bobby asked with a forced casual tone.

"He better," Dominic said, looking over the readouts and checking on the computer if any bloodwork was back, yet. "He's stupid, not denying that. But he's strong."

Epps laughed. "Smart fucker would have said something."

"See?" Dom said, smirking. "Dumb."

"And that…" Bobby glanced down and just made a twitchy gesture with his hand.

Dominic sighed, "Seizing ain't a great sign. But we were already working on him and getting his temp down. So, hopefully we avoided the worst."

Bobby dipped his palm into the ice water again and rubbed against the short hairs at the nape of Will's neck. "So maybe just a little dumber?"

"Probably just a little dumber," Dominic agreed with a chuckle.

"H-hey…"

Epps said a silent little prayer of thanks. Though if asked, he would deny it to the grave. He dropped to a crouch to get eye level with Lennox. "Oh, oh, now you decide to join us?"

"Huh?"

Dom made a melodramatic huff and gently guided Will's chin to look at him. "Shit, I lied, he's a lot dumber." Will's eyes seemed clearer, he was focusing and could track the medic's finger.

Bobby snickered and bumped his forehead against Will's temple.

"Whu-" Lennox mumbled. He leaned his head against Bobby, taking what support he could when he had no idea what had just happened. "Fucker."

"Well," Dom said with an air of authority as he straightened, "He can curse, good enough for the Army, I suppose."

"Jackass," Will breathed, giving Bobby a little head butt and then slowly looking over himself. "Why am I being iced?"

"You got fucking heatstroke, you dumb Dakota hick," Epps snapped. He splashed a little water at Lennox. When it hit his face it made Will gasp.

Dominic snorted. "You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes, Captain." The medic moved back to his computer and stabbed a bit at the keyboard. "We can probably get you out in a few minutes. But your electrolytes are probably fucked, so an IV and all the fucking gatorade you can stomach."

"...joy."

"See statement one," Dom responded with no sympathy. Epps was smart enough to stay out of the middle. "But lucky you, we were already off the search grid for tomorrow. By the day after you should be peachy."

Bobby made a face and let the cold water from his fingertips dribble into Lennox's hair.

Will took a deep breath and tipped his head back. "Ok, ok, I'm sorry? Is 'I'm sorry' what you want?"

"I want you to try not to die on us," Dominic grumbled.

"But sorry'll do," Epps finished.

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"Inform Sarah," the medic said, vocals quiet, "she needs to know what's happening."

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"Sarah, you need to come out here."

"Ironhide, I'm trying to get Annabelle to sleep. She's been really fussy all day and I—

"Bring the child, I will see to her. Come. Now."

Ironhide's order set her heart racing, the command in his tone so much like Will's.

Will. It had to be Will.

Sarah snatched up the crib blanket, bundling up her daughter and heading downstairs and out the back door. Annabelle was openly sobbing now, picking up on the agitation in her mother.

Worry and fear balled in the pit of her stomach; adrenaline charged through her system, making her hands shake as she fumbled with the back door latch, the steady pleading mantra like a prayer. Will…Please, not Will… Don't let it be Will…

She hurried out the back door and towards the barn, panting softly, the flash of Ironhide's headlights guiding her, the Topkick already in motion, rolling up to meet her with a harsh crunch of gravel.

Annabelle was working up to a full scream when Sarah felt the familiar warmth steal over her.

"Easy, Sarah. Will is alive."

Relief washed through her, so strong she thought she might faint with it. Sarah sagged against the passenger door, limbs suddenly released from the tension gripping them. Even Annabelle quieted, slipping from sobbing cries to sniffles and soft hiccups.

"Get in."

The door shifted, prodding her gently until she could move enough to allow it to open.

Once inside, the warmth curled around her like the blanket swaddling her daughter. It wrapped her up and sank deep, layering her in comfort and calm. She had no idea what magic Ironhide worked, but Annabelle was asleep within moments. Sarah would have been happy to follow her, until Ratchet's voice broke the quiet.

"This is hyperthermia, Ironhide. His core temperature has reached 40 degrees Celsius. If it is not brought down immediately it will be fatal."

…Temperature… Fatal… what?

She stiffened, eyes wide with fright and shock as she stared at the radio on the dash. "Will has heatstroke?"

"He does," Ironhide confirmed, his vocals curt and gruff, but the warmth surrounding her carried a strong undercurrent of worry. "Ratchet is monitoring him. Lennox is enroute to the Base now."

Sarah leaned forward, resting her hands and forehead on Ironhide's dash, listening to the confusion of voices, directions, orders, through the heavy beat of chopper blades.

"Not enough," Ratchet's voice overrode the noise. "Their medic is using ice packs but they are not enough to help. Pulse and respiration still too fast."

Her hands clenched the dashboard. Sarah moaned softly and was immediately surrounded by Ironhide's presence, strong and soothing.

The engine noise cut, and the whir of rotor blades started to fade.

"They've landed. Medical team ready and taking over."

"Efficient," Ironhide murmured.

There was an interminable period of time listening to the chaos of moving Will and setting up in Medical, and then Ratchet cut in again.

"Core temperature nearing 40.5 degrees Celsius. He is experiencing a seizure."

…Seizure… seizure… what happens next… ice... cold… please please get him cooled down…

Her hands shook where they gripped the dash. Ironhide's engine rumbled beneath her; sensations swamped her. She was caught up in a firm grip, held in large, strong hands, wrapped in safety and tucked close. Flickers of blue edged her vision, then vanished, leaving behind a wash of calm.

Sarah was able to focus on the audio chatter again, but her death grip on Ironhide's dash didn't loosen until they got the all clear from Ratchet.

"The ice bath is working, core temperature is dropping."

She let out a shaky breath and a few tears when she heard Will's voice, just random sounds at first, then Ironhide chuckled outright when "Fucker" came through loud and clear. "Seems to be recovering."

Amusement replaced worry, rippling through the firm hold around her, tingeing her vision with a hint of blue again.

The hold began to loosen, but Sarah reached for it. No no, please… not yet…

Surprise threaded through amusement, but the grip around her returned, sinking her deep into warmth and calm, a weighted blanket keeping her from flying apart.

She floated on the warm currents, watching entranced as motes of light glowed in the darkness, dancing around her like fireflies. It was exhilarating, euphoric, and over far too soon.

She emerged from the depths and back to reality, just in time to hear Ratchet's irritated growl.

"… vitals were abnormal hours before the crisis, he had to have known something was wrong. Perhaps you can impress upon your charge the need to Ask. For. Help."

Wait... Will didn't ask for... Oh, of course he didn't, and Bobby was absolutely right. Dumb Dakota hick...

"I will make that clear to him."

The engine beneath her growled Ironhide's annoyance. Sarah was in complete agreement.

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Ironhide was not surprised to see Sarah come back out after settling Annabelle into her crib for the night. Wordlessly, he held out a hand, and she settled herself in his palm without a moment's hesitation. Ironhide raised her to optic level, a rumbling hum pitched low and soothing. Turmoil and anger and fear flickered through the bond, faint but definitely there.

"I will speak with him,' Ironhide promised, after a very long rant and a few tears from Sarah. "Perhaps if he realizes—" He paused at Sarah's snort.

"I have talked to him, yelled at him, read the riot act to him, and he STILL doesn't realize or think to let me know, let somebody KNOW, what is going on, if there's trouble, ask for help…. Damnit, Ironhide, it drives me crazy."

A gentle fingerpad soothed across her shoulders and down her back. Sarah sighed and leaned into the contact. "I worry sometimes, that this will be what finally drives us apart."

Not if Ironhide had any say in it, but right now Lennox was a continent and ocean away from home, and there was a world of pain and hurt in Sarah's voice. His field curled tightly around her, pulsing waves of comfort and support.

A hand reached out to touch a warm plate, a soft sigh and her eyes closed. "I can feel you," Sarah murmured, then blinked up at him. "It's… thank you."

"You are welcome, Sarah." Ironhide hummed, pleased with the deepening bond. A little more and then, maybe…

Lennox.

The tug was insistent, all his protocols aligning for the final step, the creation of a new nexus, but with Lennox half a world away, this would have to be enough for now.

The biofield clung; Ironhide set his field weaving through hers, her frame beginning to relax with the contact. Sarah's eyes fluttered closed again, a soft smile curving her mouth.

Something nudged at the back of his processor, and Ironhide reset his optics. This, he had to see for himself.

He lowered the visual spectrum on his optics, dropping further and further, a thousand times below what humans could see, searching for just the right setting, discovered not by Jazz, but by Bumblebee. Bumblebee, who loved his humans as much as Jazz loved them, and they both insisted that Prime was right; they were not so different after all, and more and more, Ironhide was coming to agree. Same hopes and fears, the same dreams and the courage to fight for them, despite the odds the universe had thrown at them.

There.

Sarah's body transformed, becoming luminous with biophotonic light, glowing and vibrant. The light enveloped her, reflecting off his own metalloid skin with a soft sheen.

It had been long since Ironhide had felt wonder, but he felt it now, looking at this small, ethereal being he held in the cup of his hand, a creature of energy, much like himself, and shining with a sparklight all her own.

It took him a while to find the right word, a word that had not been in his vocabulary for a literal age, as his field brushed along her cheek, very gently.

"Beautiful," he finally murmured in Cybertronian tones, and it could only sound like a hum to her ears, but Primus help him, Sarah hummed in return.

"I like the sound of that," she whispered, and he was startled for a moment, thinking that she understood what he said.

But she didn't, she couldn't, and maybe she never would, but It didn't matter. Right here and right now, he was her Guardian and she was his Charge, the bond forming as near perfect as he had ever seen, and he would take these moments and treasure them for as long as they lasted.

Sarah touched his plate with a soft glowing hand and hummed again.

And to think there had been a time when she could barely approach him.

"Beautiful," Ironhide repeated gently, because he could say it without frightening her, because she liked it, and because it was true.

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::I believe the worst is over, Ironhide. The medics have him in hand, he is responding well to treatment.::

::Ratchet, thank you::

Ratchet acknowledged with a short ping and glanced around the quiet cavern before resuming work on the drone.

He had Bumblebee to thank for giving him an excuse to leave the Base; the cache was safely stowed in his subspace. He could thank Prime for an excuse to avoid returning; the drones needed to be shut down, stripped of their most useful components, and prepped for long term storage.

He looked down the row of silent drones lined up neatly against the wall of the cavern. Twelve down, twelve to go. His HUD insisted on flashing fuel and recharge status alerts that the medic kept ignoring. His only concession was to open his fuel reserves, set to minimal but it would do. Recharge could wait. He scrubbed a weary hand over jaw plates and continued his work.

And after this was done… well. The new liaison officer, General Morshower, had proven so cooperative and agreeable, that Prime had not seen a reason to continue work on the cavern and every reason to reclaim valuable resources from the drones.

Ratchet could not fault the logic. He could and did blame Prime for the loss of one more excuse to get away from the Base. Jazz was functional, Barricade was Ironhide's concern, and now this. His list of excuses to avoid Optimus was wearing very thin.

He winced at the flare of pain, hand pressed to chestplates and moving in slow, soothing and utterly futile strokes.

Maybe he should just go to him. The pain would be gone, at least for a little while, and being with Optimus again…

He paused and snarled, fingers digging viciously at the ache behind his plates.

Or he could just stay here because he would not, would not, be forced into eternally waiting on Optimus and an empty promise. Not again. Not ever.

Ratchet cursed as he tried and failed, for the third time, to remove a component from the drone. The tool slipped, the clang sounding overly loud and harsh, echoing in the quiet of the cavern.

The tool vanished in a blur of moving parts and reconfigured into a hand, the fingers visibly tremoring. Ratchet's glare at the offending appendage was short-lived, his expression slipping back into the ever present awareness of pain. Pain unlike any other. Pain he had hoped to avoid. Pain he had gone to great lengths and half a galaxy away to forestall.

"It's starting again, isn't it."

Not a question, and Ratchet saw no point in denying the obvious. "I can stall it."

"Not forever, you can't."

"No." Air whispered out from Ratchet's vents. "Not forever."

Whatever time he had bought by leaving was almost gone.

Ratchet swore again, steadily, hopelessly, cursing Primus, the Allspark, their war and Optimus, while trembling fingers rubbed over the ache in his chest. He had very few options left, and the other side of this planet was not going to be far enough.

Ratchet snarled, calling up his HUD and reducing the flow of reserve fuel to a mere trickle. With his frame just as sore, maybe his spark wouldn't seem so bad.

The effect was immediate, his frame began to ache, every component clamoring for what they couldn't have.

He hated how very apropos it was.

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Bumblebee vented a sigh and brought Sam close to his spark. By now he was used to these middle of recharge demands but the drain on his systems kept growing. Even worse, Sam no longer slept through them.

Bumblebee shivered when hands touched his spark, stroking and petting until the corona expanded and his spark spun up blazing. Then the grip tightened and a small chest carefully aligned, heartbeat to spark, and Bumblebee set himself to endure the rest. The rest that was not Sam, the rest that had become slow insidious torture. Sam would never have known how to call the energy from his spark. Something else was controlling this, something not-Sam, something that knew, and if he looked down now, all he would see was the bright alien spark of blue in Sam's eyes.

His systems pinged warnings of low fuel levels. Bumblebee murmured softly and started to move his boy, then moaned and dropped his hand at the sudden painful clamp on his spark and the snarl of warning.

This was not Sam, not Sam, not Sam. Bumblebee clung to the thought, a small island of sanity, while Sam hunched over his spark like some small feral energy vampire and his systems drained steadily.

It wasn't until alarms were howling and Bumblebee was dizzy and weak, that Sam finally lifted his head. The gaze locked on him, blue fire centered in brown, and a wave of sated contentment lapped against his field. He half expected Sam to purr and lick his lips, but his boy only lowered his gaze and climbed down, returning to the small sleeping pad.

He was asleep in seconds.

Not Sam, not Sam…. Bumblebee's hand shook as he withdrew a cube and drained it without a pause. This couldn't go on, he needed help, but who? Not the Autobots certainly.

He wished with all his spark he had not hurt Mikaela. Mikaela knew him literally inside and out, and she knew Sam. She could have helped. But he had burned that bridge, as the humans said.

He drowned the engine whine with the contents of another cube, then a third, until systems finally settled enough to initiate recharge.

He waited, processors drifting, muzzy and disconnected, logic chains forming and breaking apart, and then a thought surfaced, bright and crystal clear.

Message from Starfleet, Captain…

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The insistent chime of notifications was relentless. Miles muffled a groan and rolled over to grab his phone. What the fuck... forgot to silence it again, dumbass... He stared bleary eyed at the small screen, then bolted upright. Holy shit... same number... He stared at the message for a few long minutes and then made up his mind, fingers tapping carefully.

'Hi, did you call me before?'

YES.

The answer was so immediate Miles startled and nearly dropped his phone. What the… Had the mystery person just been sitting around, waiting for his text? He had to pause before replying, hand shaking a little, then carefully tapped again.

'Was it about Sam?'

YES.

Miles startled again. "Geeze, chill man," he muttered to himself. Dude was just really-like really-in a hurry to talk.

'I'm worried about him.'

YES.

A cold little niggle of fear crept up his spine. Miles took a deep breath and tapped the screen again.

'I would like to talk to you about Sam.'

This time instead of a reply, there was an agonizing pause, as though his offer were being weighed and considered and possibly even about to be rejected. Miles' fingers flew over the onscreen keyboard.

'I've known Sam for years, he's my best friend. I can tell something is very very wrong. Please, let me help?'

The silence went on for so long Miles was certain he had lost the mystery person on the other end. Then another message pinged.

NEED DATA. NEED HELP.

He frowned at the small screen. Data, what data? What about Sam? He was just about to ask when it dawned on him.

"Alright dude, you're scaring me now." He blew out a harsh breath, fingers shaking a little as he typed out his answer.

'Tell me what you need me to do.'

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"Jazz, pleeease?"

"Think you almost hit the high note with that whine." Jazz smirked down at her, visor sparkling with amusement.

Mikaela huffed. "I am not whining, I'm pleading, there's a difference."

That just made Jazz's smirk broaden to an outright grin. Great.

Mikaela ran a hand through long hair and impatiently pushed it behind an ear. "He's not making any progress, it's like he's stuck. He still can't transform without help, his balance is shot, optics and audials are still offline, and the last diagnostic showed no new nanites and barely any active ones so his self-repair may as well be offline too."

Jazz shrugged, unconvinced. "So get more donors."

Mikaela narrowed her eyes. "Everyone else has already donated."

Optics widened in surprise; Jazz gave a low whistle. "And he blew through them already? Mech's in bad shape."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Mikaela snapped, then rubbed her forehead and frowned at the silent Saleen. He was doing that thing through their connection again, the contact somewhere between a hard prod and an icepick straight to the brain.

Please stop and let me get through this…

The pressure eased and Mikaela sighed. Barricade was either going to turn her brain to jelly or take her right along with him into stasis lock. Maybe both.

Jazz gave a curious chirp and she glanced up tiredly.

"He still in contact?"

"Yes, and he has no control over that either."

Jazz inclined his helm thoughtfully, the image of the exhausted Guardian all but stumbling over to Prime still very clear in processors. "No progress, no wonder poor ol' 'Hide is gettin' drained."

And how long could he keep that up? A single Guardian did not have enough reserves to maintain a mech this badly damaged, let alone keep him out of stasis lock. Barricade should have been in the care of a network of Guardians, or better yet, a fully outfitted medical bay. Not that there had been any of those even before they left Cybertron…

Jazz regarded the Saleen a moment, then tapped his comm. ::Hey, my love, what's the status on that Qatar signal yer keepin' tabs on?::

A short chirp and then Maggie's voice came over the comm. ::Frequency has been picking up. Whatever they're chatting about, it's going to get them both noticed sooner rather than later.::

Another drain on Ironhide's resources. Jazz ex-vented with a shake of his helm. "Mech's stretched too thin to keep up much longer."

He approached the Saleen and sat down next to the vehicle. Mikaela watched him, trying to maintain a carefully neutral expression. As if she didn't have any hopes pinned on this, as if she didn't want this so much it hurt, even if the 'why' of it all escaped her.

A whine emerged from Barricade, who tried to wedge himself even further into the corner of the barn. Jazz laid a calming hand on the dark hood. "So I guess Ratchet told ya a bit about me?"

Mikaela nodded. "He said you were specialized, that a lot of your systems had been modded."

"Includin' my nanites," Jazz said softly, still regarding the Saleen.

"Including your nanites."

The silver helm turned to her, visor a steady band of blue. "So here's the thing about mods, they're not a one-size-fits-all kind of deal. They're only ever fitted to one mech."

Mikaela frowned, then realization dawned and Jazz's mouthplates quirked.

"You thought I wasn't donatin' 'cause I didn't want ta share my toys? Nuh-uh, it's 'cause I have no idea what they might do ta him. At best, he'll be knocked offline for a few cycles and then wake up feelin' like a new mech. At worst, he'll be knocked offline, won't wake up, and then Ratchet will be the one pickin' up the pieces."

"So you can't."

He could feel her disappointment from across the barn. Beside him, the Saleen shifted uneasily. Barricade's field was pulled in tight, wary and distrustful, yet still reacting to Mikaela.

"Oh I can, just not sure what'll happen. So maybe we should let 'Cade here decide."

Slender filaments emerged from fingerpads, not glowing like the medic's, these were stealthy and all but invisible as they darted towards a seam and disappeared. The only sign of their presence was a sudden shudder from the Saleen, and a prod aimed at Mikaela.

Jazz hummed, field reassuring, waiting for the filaments to connect, and then opened a link.

The data transfer lasted mere nanoseconds, leaving the Saleen vibrating, growling engine voicing a demand.

Mikaela grimaced and rubbed her forehead at the sudden hard prod. "I take it he agreed."

"Sure did." Jazz retracted the filaments and beckoned her over. "Now that's out of the way, you want to take the colonies or should I?"

Mikaela moved to stand beside him, reaching for a small toolkit. "I'll do it, I need the practice. Just show me where."

It was nearly an hour of patient painstaking work, but by the end she had three large colonies to work with, placed carefully in a small containment chamber with energon to feed them.

Jazz stood and stretched. "Gotta go, hot date tonight." His visor winked down at her. "Ya know what ta do?"

Mikaela chuckled. "Feed them, then inject them into armor, core, and processors. And tell Maggie I said hi."

Jazz grinned and gave her a jaunty salute as he left.

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Barricade was a miracle of cooperation, the Saleen so utterly still and quiet, he might have been in recharge. Only his field betrayed him, demanding currents swirling and lapping against her.

"That is not helping, at all," Mikaela muttered, holding the injector as it emptied the last of the nanites into processor circuitry. "There, done. Now let's see if this works."

She hooked him up to the array of scanners Ratchet had installed, checking over connections and readings. All normal, no change. Mikaela pulled a folding chair over next to Barricade to wait.

When it happened it was sudden and she was not at all prepared for it. From one moment to the next, Barricade simply faded. The absence of his usual soundscape of pings and clanks and engine mutters left the barn eerily quiet. The absence of his field, the sense of connection, left her alone and lonely.

She had a moment of panic, checking over the readouts from his core and spark, but every systems check registered, just very very low. Barricade was in stasis.

It was so quiet. Mikaela's fingers tapped nervously against a scanner before she forced herself to stop. Maybe a few cycles, Jazz said. That could be anywhere from a day to three days before she would start to worry, and sitting here all that time was… not appealing. Barricade was usually quiet, but the complete absence of him was unnerving. She hooked up the small energon feed, gave the readouts one more glance and double checked to make sure the alarms were on, then left the barn to go help Sarah with chores.

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By the fourth day, Mikaela was anxious. By the fifth, she could acknowledge she had a problem.

"Hey 'kaela, it's not your fault. He wanted ta try," Jazz soothed over her comm. "Readings all good, right?"

"All normal, for stasis," Mikaela agreed.

"Well, he's holdin' his own, so no worries there. Keep yourself calm, keep him fueled, and just wait until Ratchet returns ta work his magic and coax him back out."

"Will do, thanks Jazz." She had to smirk at the idea of Ratchet coaxing, well, anyone, but especially Barricade. The Decepticon was not known for being cooperative with anything less than the threat of Ratchet's hooks and saws.

Mikaela returned to finishing up the soapy dishes, rinsing plates and glasses and silverware and stacking them on the drainer. Sarah popped her head in once to say thanks and she could handle Annabelle's bedtime routine, go back to the barn, then chuckled when she caught Mikaela's blush before vanishing again.

Mikaela smiled a little, still feeling the heat in her cheeks as she walked to the barn. Sarah was very sweet and very very sharp. She also understood completely.

Ironhide was due back from cache collecting tomorrow, maybe he would have some ideas about Barric-

Mikaela stopped. The barn door was open. She was sure she'd shut it. Jazz must have decided to come check up on Barricade.

"Hey, Jazz," she called out, "did you bring Maggie?"

She froze at the deep engine snarl behind her. Slow slow slow… She took a deep breath and turned, eyes catching the gleam of metal. The familiar sounds of a transformation cog engaged and a dark shape rose smoothly before her. Big, bigger than Bumblebee, all sharp edges and dangerous claws. Hellish red optics stared down at her.

Mikaela gasped.

"Oh… oh fuck."

tbc

A/N: As always, thank you for staying with this story, lovely readers! The kudos, likes, faves and follows keep me going. :) Many many MANY thanks, appreciation and gratitude to my beta, Quidamling, who took over Will Lennox for me this chapter (again!). Your help, support, and encouragement (not to mention the use of sharp pointy things xDD) mean the world to me. So much love, hun, this would not get done without you.