Author's Note: The second book of TF: Lux Eterna. And yes, this is a completed fic, so don't ask when I'll be updating it, okay? ~_^
Warnings: Death, destruction, mayhem, telepathic teens, robo-yaoi, mostly OCs
Disclaimer: Transformers and it's canon characters belong to Hasbro/Takara. I claim all the OCs and take full responsibility for conjuring up the plotline of this fic. Lyrics quoted as listed.


If You Be Only Human
Chapter 3: The Human Perspective
Cast your eyes on the ocean
Cast your soul to the sea
When the dark night seems endless
Please remember me

- Loreena McKennitt, "Dante's Prayer"

August 2001

There is a danger in loving, a vulnerability in letting one's self care about others. It is in caring that one can be hurt the most deeply. In caring for others, a door is left open, one that pain can exploit in full measure. Variance was no stranger to pain, but this pain was terribly unique.
"Dana? Dana! Oh Primus. . . ."
"Variance. . . ?"
"I'm right here, Dana. Hold on. I'll have a doctor here in a flash."
"Variance . . . I'm not gonna make it. . . ."
"Don't say that. Of course you will," Variance countered, trying to keep the desperation from his voice.
"I'm too old a soldier to believe that Variance. . . ."
So much blood. . . . Primus, what do I do?
"It's been . . . an honor . . . knowing you. . . ."
"Dana?"
"Raise you glass . . . and remember me. . . ."
"Dana?!?"
All around him, the buildings of the old Navy Pier smoldered in the aftermath of the hail of Decepticon laser bolts, but Variance couldn't see them. He knelt beside the man who had been his teacher and closest friend through six months of re-orientation and training and watched in helpless agony as the light faded from his eyes.
This is my fault. I shouldn't've left him. I knew something was wrong. I should have listened to my instincts, should have gotten us out of here. I never should have left him alone. I messed up and now. . . . Oh Primus. . . .
"Sir? Sir, we need you to move. Sir?"
"I don't think he can hear you, Officer."
"Sir? Sir, the paramedics can't get past you."
"Do we even know if he understands a word we're saying?"
"I thought all Autobots knew English."
"Sir, if you can understand us, please acknowledge."
"Gentlemen. . . ."
Only when the familiar basso of Morpheus's voice reached him did Variance acknowledge that he had heard anything at all. A slow shudder rattled the aerofoil across the dusky blue tactician's shoulders. He didn't want to believe what his optics were seeing, didn't want to believe that Dana could be dead.
"Easy Variance," Morpheus murmured in their native language. "Show me what happened."
Variance dutifully recalled that horrifying moment as he watched, helpless, while the Combaticons assaulted the Old Navy Pier of Chicago. At first he was surprised by the lack of emotion he felt reviewing the memories for Morpheus. Then he realized that the telepath was blocking out the emotions for him.
"Skyfire is waiting."
Variance nodded, but otherwise felt frozen in place. He knew he needed to move, needed to transform, but something held him immobile. He couldn't take his optics off of Dana's limp body in his hands, couldn't make himself accept that his friend was truly dead.
Easy, Variance, easy, the telepath's mindvoice whispered through his thoughts, a familiar touch. Another tremor shook through him as he realized just how many humans were pressed around, some trying to fight the smoldering fires, others just anxious to see what had happened. Then he felt a wash of calm from Morpheus.
"Sirs . . . about the --"
"Dana is . . . was my responsibility."
"We will take him with us," Morpheus clarified. "Variance. . . ."
A slight psychic nudge and Variance set down Dana's body so he could ease back into his vehicle mode. He watched Morpheus awe the surrounding humans to silence as he telekinetically wrapped Dana's body in a cloth before sliding him into the rear portion of Variance's passenger compartment. He felt an increase in Morpheus's presence in his thoughts as his tires left the asphalt. The world shifted as he was turned around to face the hematite warrior-priest. The telepath offered a small smile as he spoke to the humans: "If you will excuse us, we will get our of your way."
"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. . . ."
Morpheus turned and dropped down into his vehicle mode, then slowly lead Variance to Skyfire. Variance tried very hard not to think about anything. He was only somewhat successful.

* * * * *

"You're really lucky, I hope you know that," Neo rumbled down at the teen beside him. "I'm surprised they didn't give us a good long lecture . . . probably only because Jazz switched off the door chime," he continued. The dark charcoal operative tried not to think about their recent close encounter too hard. But his companion apparently had other ideas.
"I do not understand," the dark-skinned human replied, gazing up at him with dark, innocent-seeming eyes.
"It's only because the door was unlocked that I was able to get us in. I'm only Sec4; that's not enough to get into Prowl's quarters."
"I still do not understand," the slender girl replied, a perplexed frown gracing her dark features. For all her former confidence, Nayla was still very much a wary and uncertain young girl, surrounded by strangers. On the other hand, she had sought out their help and was now seeking asylum with the Autobots.
"What's so hard to understand?"
"You say I am lucky. Why?"
"Prowl's not just some high-ranking officer; he and Jazz run this ship when Prime's not around. They're seconds and what they say carries a lot of weight with Prime. Somehow, someone's convinced Prowl that the logical course of action is to recommend support for your petition. It's possible Prime might disagree . . . but chances are he won't. That's why you're so lucky."
Nayla said nothing more as they made slow progress through the halls of the Ark. Neo knew he was supposed to be finding quarters for Nayla. Unfortunately, the Ark was not designed with quarters for humans and Neo didn't really know what to do with her. Bumblebee knew the most about humans staying at the Ark, but he was down at the city site. Which left Variance.
"Variance? Hey Vari, I know you're in here. . . ."
"Lemme alone," came the muffled reply. Neo walked further into the apartment, surprised to find Variance laying face-down on the couch, his head resting on crossed arms. He had known of Dana's death earlier that morning, but he hadn't expected this sort of reaction from his friend. Thankfully, Nayla was too uncertain of her place to wander any farther than the door.
"Vari," he coaxed, brushing the aerofoil on his friend's shoulders and back as he stood before the couch. The tactician flinched but didn't even lift his head.
"Hey now, Vari," he murmured, "take it easy. It's just me, Neo. I know you're hurting, but I need your help."
"Lemme 'lone," Variance muttered in response. Neo sighed, crouching down to rest his hand on his friend's upper arm. The mech flinched again, a shuddering sigh pushing out of his systems.
"I know," Neo whispered, gently stroking what he could of the tactician's upper arm, "I know you're in pain and I don't like asking . . . but I need to put Nayla somewhere and I don't know where."
Variance finally lifted his head from his forearms, turning his head slightly to meet Neo's gaze. The special operative was shocked at the dimness of Variance's optics, and at the haggard expression on his face. Without thinking, he cupped the tactician's cheek, stroking his thumb along the ridge. So he was doubly surprised when Variance not only failed to shy away, but actually switched off his optics and leaned into the caress.
"Where did Dana stay when he spent the night? Was he always with us?"
"After the first month, yeah," Variance sighed. "Their apartment is up by Bumblebee, Corridor 27, section 32."
"Thanks hon," Neo murmured, fighting back the urge to kiss Variance's cheek; he didn't want to push his luck.

* * * * *

Nayla looked around what she could only assume were private quarters, overwhelmed by the scale. She had never felt tall, but the Autobots made her feel even smaller than normal. Even the desk was above her head, the chair's seat hitting her just below her shoulders. It was unsettling, to say the least. So she hung back by the door, afraid to move and then go unnoticed when her much taller escort moved her way once more.
After all the signage in square-cut alien glyphs, she was surprised to realize the two robots were speaking to each other in English. A twinge of guilt wrinkled through her when she heard this other robot was in pain. Curious, she tried to touch his thoughts. The pain was obvious, permeating his every thought with the anguish of loss. Some sort of personal loss, though she couldn't make sense of what had been lost. Chaotic images passed through her telepathic sight, mostly images of Autobots and an alien world, then newer images from Earth.
"Nayla?"
The touch of Neo's hand on her back sent a jolt through her as images of violence observed shot through her mind. She mentally pulled back into herself, desperate to cover her surprise and terrified of being caught snooping through someone else's thoughts. But if her escort even noticed, he gave no sign of it.
"Nayla, let's get you settled, shall we?"
She smiled quietly, curious but not willing to ask questions just yet. Instead she followed Neo in silence through the imposing vessel, hopelessly lost.
Why am I here? They say they will help, but will they truly help? What am I to do with my life now?
"Try not to worry too much," Neo murmured gently, startling her out of her thoughts. "Prowl's sure to think of something you can do. Place your palm on the plate there and the door will key to your print. This is just a temporary measure, until we can get you set up with something more permanent. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask."
"Are you leaving?" she asked, her hand frozen over the door plate. She was actually disturbed by the thought of being alone, and that frightened her almost as much. After so many years of wanting nothing so much as space to herself, the idea of being left alone in an alien environment terrified her.
"Whoa, hey, easy now. If it's going to be that much of a problem, I'll call in, okay?"
"How. . . ?"
"Telepath, forth level. That and you need to learn how not to project. It's not likely to bother other Autobots, but humans can get headaches if you aren't careful."
Relief washed through her when she realized he would stay with her and she let her hand drop to the door plate. The plate warmed to her touch, a red light scanning over her palm and fingers. Nayla pulled her hand back with a sudden yelp, surprised to see a tiny spot of blood welling up in the palm of her hand.
"The door . . . it bit me!"
"What? Oh . . . yeah, I forgot about that. Security measure. Your prints can be copied or obscured, but your DNA structure is unique to you. Plus, if something should happen, we'll have your bio data on file."
"Oh. . . ."
Nayla peered inside the open door, surprised to see a generous apartment scaled to her size, with a lofted second level. Unlike the corridor outside, the apartment appeared very human, from the marble tile entry to the vaulted stucco ceiling. Even the style of decoration was human, if more . . . modernistic than she tended to like.
"I thought Prowl said you have no facilities to board humans. What, then, is this?"
"The Whitwhickies apartment. They're gone for the month."
"You did not know where I could stay, yet you know what this place is?"
"Everyone knows about Spike and Carly. Not everyone knows where they live. This should be fine for a little while."
Nayla nodded, hesitantly stepping into the entry, which was large enough for Neo to stand upright comfortably. She could see a generous kitchen and an office on the first floor. The decorative wrought iron spiral staircase led up to a small landing with a wooden railing, then two bedrooms and a sitting room. The marble tiling of the first floor was replaced with hardwood on the second floor, the walls all dressed and painted in subdued, pastel tones. She was rather impressed with the sense of modern comfort and luxury . . . and wealth.
"They must be quite important, to have this place," she murmured, in awe of the artwork in the sitting room.
"Yeah, I suppose they are. Spike was one of the first humans to really make contact with the Autobots and make an alliance. He's not exactly an ambassador, but that might be close."
She pulled a small ottoman out onto the lofted landing. At least from the second level she didn't feel quite so small. And it would allow her to have a civilized conversation with Neo.
"I do not mean to pry, but . . . your friend. . . ."
"Variance. What about him?"
"He seemed to be in such pain. . . ."
"Well aren't we the curious little kitten?"
"Pardon?"
"I don't see how Vari's personal life is any of your business."
"I am sorry," she murmured, lowering her gaze. "His pain was so strong. . . ."
"Of course it was," Neo snapped. "He blames himself for Dana's death!"
"I am sorry," she whispered, sinking in on herself. Anger tainted the air, touched with bitterness. She flinched at the power of the Autobot's anger. Then, as suddenly as his ire appeared, it was gone again, an apologetic sense touching her thoughts.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I shouldn't've yelled at you. You were only asking a question. I guess I tend to be a little . . . overprotective where Vari's concerned.
"Dana is . . . was Variance's reorientation tutor and a close personal friend. They were out late and were driving around Chicago when the Decepticons attacked. . . ."
Nayla didn't have to ask what had happened then. She had seen many images of Decepticon attacks, both on the news and in Variance's thoughts.
"With the death of his friend, he feels lost and alone?"
"Something like that, I guess," Neo sighed.
"I can relate to that," Nayla sighed in reply.
"Lost and alone?"
"When I pleaded with Morpheus for his assistance, I thought only of escape. I knew only that I needed to escape before my father and his military allies learned of my other talents. Now that I have achieved that . . . I never looked beyond that. I do not know what to do with the rest of my life.
"School first, I should think."
"Yes, but to study what?"
"Well, you have time," Neo replied quietly. She didn't know what to say to that.
A sudden yawn reminded her that, while it was still early local time, she had already had a full day. But I have already slept once. Surely I cannot need to sleep again. . . .
"If you're tired, I can clear out and let you sleep."
"I have slept once already since this morning."
"That may be, but it's still after nine at night back in England."
"Be that as it may, I think I should attempt to adjust to the schedule here."
"That may be a bit hard, since we operate on a thirty-hour rotation and you should probably stick with a twenty-four hour cycle," Neo replied with a gentle chuckle, a quiet smile lighting his pale cobalt optics.
"Well," she smiled back, "perhaps I shall surprise you all."

* * * * *

It was midafternoon before Neo left Nayla as she was wanting to try to sleep off a headache. There had been times when her untrained talent had pushed at him, but each time he turned her mind aside the same way Morpheus had done to him.
"Neo. Good, you're home. Morph moved Variance into your sleep room earlier. I think he wants you to sit with him, since you called in on him."
"Thanks, Striker. How's he doing?"
"Don't know," the steel blue spy operative grumbled, green optics flashing with annoyance. "Haven't seen him since he and that human went out for their joyride."
"Lucky for you," Neo grumbled. "Buy a clue, Striker. Last thing he needs is you upsetting him more."
"Lighten up, Neo. I won't even be here later; I'm covering his duty shifts until they put him back on rotation.
"Now, if you're done giving me a hard time, I think we've both got better things to do."
Striker flashed him a quick grin, then walked out of the suite. Neo checked the desk comm for messages, but there were none. Curious, he reached for his bondmate.
Morpheus? he sent, coupled with his mental signature. He felt his bondmate accept the contact, but there was no other communication at first. Then he felt his mate's presence like a sensual caress through his thoughts.
I am here, my mate. What troubles you?
How's Vari? Striker said you moved him. . . .
Yes, I thought it better if he were allowed to mourn in private. For his sake . . . and for yours.
For mine?
Did you really think I didn't know, my love? Do you think me so inattentive?
I would never think such a thing of you, beloved
, Neo sent back hastily.
Of course not, Morpheus replied, his mindvoice weaving like a tender caress through Neo's mind. I have never, nor will I ever doubt your love for me. Variance is quite striking, both physically and intellectually. You would be good for each other.
You know?
Neo could hardly believe what he was hearing.
You could never keep secrets from me, beloved, Morpheus sent back. Go, sit with him awhile. He may not yet be ready, but be his friend. Be what he needs.
I love you
, Neo sent, earnestly filling his mental tone with every ounce of sincere adoration and desire he could muster.
I know, my love, Morpheus replied with a quiet chuckle, as I love you. But later, Neo. Variance needs you now. Later there will be time for us.
Neo felt a rush of desire pushed through him, coupled with Morpheus's distinctive laugh. Then the connection between them vanished, leaving Neo in a desperate state of longing.
"Bastard," Neo muttered, but there was no rancor in it.
Neo slipped into the sleep room he shared with Morpheus and Variance. Their room had a double berth and a single berth, a concession to his and Morpheus's status as bondmates. Normally, Variance claimed the single, regardless of whether or not anyone else would need to recharge with him. But this time . . . this time he was laying face down on the double, his forearms crossed under his head.
"Hey Vari. . . ."
"Back again, eh Neo?" Variance mumbled.
"Yeah," he agreed, walking over to perch on the edge of the berth. "Thought you might want the company."
"Not really. . . ."
"Not even mine?"
"Well . . . better'n Strike's. . . ."
"He wasn--"
"Don't start, Neo. I don't need you to fight for me. What was that human saying Dana used to use all the time? Oh yeah . . . I'm a big boy; I can take care of myself."
Neo sighed, unphased by his friend's surliness. He knew it for the smokescreen it was, and so had no difficulty ignoring it. Neither was he surprised at the flinch when he rested his hand at the base of Variance's aerofoil. He could almost feel the tension radiating off of his friend.
"Vari. . . ."
"I really don't want to hear it, Neo," the tactician grumbled, still not looking up from his misery.
"Not even that I'm sorry this had to happen?"
"Especially not that," the tactician muttered. Neo sighed again, rubbing his friend's shoulder with his thumb.
"Neo, go do something. Let me be miserable in peace."
"You know I can't do that, Variance," he murmured gently, stroking the back of the tactician's neck. A choked whimper worked its way out of him, coupled with a faint creak as his joints relaxed. Neo smiled slightly as he felt the knots tension in his friend's body breaking up and releasing, albeit very slowly.
"Try to sleep, Vari."
"I . . . I can't. I've already tried once. Nightmares were too much. . . ."
"Try, hon. I promise, no nightmares."
Neo threaded his thoughts along the upper surface of Variance's thoughts, only a very light touch to monitor his friend's dreams.
Sleep well, my darling, he whispered to Variance's insensate form. I will be here for you, always.

* * * * *
Nayla awoke with a throbbing headache. She rolled over with a groan and immediately closed her eyes again.
"Computer, dim lights, seventy percent," she moaned weakly.
"Acknowledged. Do you need assistance?"
"Mm. Yes . . . a human-capable medic."
"Acknowledged."
Nayla pulled the blankets over her head and waited. Maybe the headache would go away on its own, but she doubted it. Anxious to distract herself, she tried counting backwards from fifty, but her headache wasn't letting her get past forty. She rolled over again, curling into a ball of misery. Praying silently, she hoped the medic arrived soon.

* * * * *

First Aid keyed in his medical emergency override code, allowing himself and Remix into the Whitwhickies' apartment. Remix hurried past him, flying up to the loft before First Aid could even enter the apartment. She didn't like flying around most Autobots, but for a medical emergency, she was willing to make an exception. The darkness of the bedroom, however, surprised her.
"Nayla?" she asked quietly of the lump of blankets. "Nayla, I'm here with First Aid. You said you wanted a medic?"
"Yes," came the muffled reply. Between the low ambient light and the light of her own optics, Remix was able to watch as the young girl unburied herself. She switched over to greater infrared reception, uncertain what to think of the unusual readings her optics registered.
"What's wrong?" she asked with a slight frown. Nayla started to sit up, then fell back against the bed with a groan.
"Headache," the girl moaned. "Also, light sensitivity, body aches, and chills."
"I'll see what First Aid says," she murmured, then hurried back out to the landing.
"What are her symptoms?"
"She's complaining of a headache with light sensitivity, body aches, and chills."
"Take this scanner in and take her readings."
The small Femme cassette nodded, then walked back into the bedroom. A moment later, she returned the scanner to the medic.
"Strange. According to this, she's perfectly healthy. The scanner didn't find any physical cause for her symptoms."
"I assure you, her symptoms are real. Her body temperature is definitely depressed."
"Bring her out and we'll take her to medlab. Maybe there's something we're missing."
Remix nodded and ducked back into the bedroom.
"Nayla? First Aid wants us to go to medlab. I can carry you a little ways, if you need me to do that."
"How far?"
"You only really have to go downstairs. First Aid can drive if that would be better."
"That . . . would be good . . . if I could stand. . . ."
"Here, wrap yourself up a bit and I can carry you."
Nayla complied without comment, whimpering slightly when Remix picked her up. The cassette Femme was alarmed at how light and limp the girl was in her arms as she flew back to First Aid. She didn't have to say a word for the medic to transform.

* * * * *

"I just don't understand it," First Aid confessed with a sigh. "She should be fine."
"But obviously she's not. Is the aspirin helping at all?" Ratchet asked.
"It does for a few moments, then wears off. I'm afraid to try anything stronger, when we don't even know why she's in pain. And nothing we do is keeping her warm enough, either."
"Remix, what does Render say?"
The midnight blue cassette Femme gently tweaked the charcoal cassette jaguar's tail to get her attention. Render rowled a faint protest, blue optics glittering with silent amusement. Then she turned back to Nayla, her grey muzzle lightly touching the bundle of blankets at the head of the biobed that covered the young teen. Render had been perched on the end of the bed from the moment the human telepath had arrived, monitoring her state of mind and pain levels.
"She says she thinks she knows what the problem is."
"Oh? And did she also share her theory?" Ratchet asked with amused patience, forestalling any frustrated anger from his fellow medic.
"Yes. She says Nayla's mind feels like it's telepathically linked to another."
"What does that have to do with anything?" First Aid demanded with unexpected harshness. Remix flinched, then steadied herself.
"Unlike us, humans have no science to their telepathic abilities. Their minds often shape their realities. Render says, from what she can tell, Nayla's symptoms match what the girl expects to suffer as a result of link deprivation. Whoever she is linked to, she has formed a physical dependancy on that person."
"But who would it be?" Ratchet asked, perplexed. "Surely not someone from that military installation. And she's had no contact with any humans since she came here."
"Render is trying to track the link now. She says she might be wrong . . . and that she finds it curious to note that the link feels much as it would between two of our own people."
"That doesn't make any sense," First Aid sighed. "Humans are completely different. Remember when those humans came here, wanting Morpheus to help them prove their abilities? He could read them, but they couldn't read him, sometimes not even when he was 'sending' to them."
"Many of them were little more then charlatans," Remix replied. "The humans have no science, no guild, no testing, no procedure at all. Anyone can claim psychic ability, yet very rarely is anyone believed. Probably because of their lack of scientific procedure.
"Nayla's talents, however, are very real."
"Talents, as in more than one? What else can she do?"
"She has talent in three of what the humans term the major classes of psychic ability: telepathy, telekinesis, and teleportation."
"Teleportation isn't a psychic talent, it's a trick of hyperspatial mathematics," First Aid said dismissively.
"For us it is, because we can be wired with the mechanics to perform such a trick. For her however. . . ."
Remix was interrupted by a sudden yowl of surprise from Render. The grey and yellow jaguar blinked wide optics in obvious surprise, rearing back on her haunches momentarily.
"Render? What is it?" Ratchet asked, concerned.
Remix, mindwalk this link and tell me I'm reading this wrong. Tell me this isn't who I think it is.
Remix 'walked her link to Render, touching Nayla's sleeping mind before reaching forward along the link Render had found. When she reached the sleeping mind at the end, she was shocked to sense Neo's presence there as well.
Neo?!?
Remix? What is it?
What are you doing??
I could ask you the same thing
, her guardian's mate sent back with a mental smirk. You and Render both can get your paws out of Vari's head. I don't need any help warding off his nightmares.
That's not what brought us to him. You're the stronger telepath; check his mind for a telepathic link.
What for?
You know better than to ask that.

Remix pulled back slightly, waiting for Neo's more expert opinion. It seemed strange to her to think of the younger warrior in such terms, but compared to her, he knew much more about matters of telepathy than she herself did, with all of Morpheus's considerable expertise at his fingertips.
How did you find this, Neo demanded suddenly. And who in the name of Primus would do this to him?!
I had hoped I was wrong
, Render's quiet mindvoice whispered gently through both of their minds. Surely the child knows nothing of this.
Child? What child?
Nayla.

Silence echoed between them, filled with a riot of conflicting emotions. Concern for Variance's mental state. Worry for Nayla's health. Anger that someone would impose on Variance in such a fashion. Surprise that Nayla could form such a link at all. Curiosity at the notion of breaking the link.
Take care of all of our problems at once, Neo sent. You two monitor the girl. I'll break the link from here.
Are you sure this is such a good idea?
It's what needs to be done for them both, Remix.

"Remix? What is going on?" Ratchet demanded, interrupting the flow of conversation between the three telepaths.
"We may have this sorted out, but it will take another moment."
Remix flew up to perch next to Render. The grey mech-jaguar was watching Nayla intently, listening for the backlash of the severed link while keeping her asleep. The seconds stretched longer with no loss to the link or contact from Neo.
Reach for him, Render purred through their special link. The natives are getting restless.
Hesitant, and wary of distracting him, Remix reached out to touch the edge of Neo's mind. After a fraction of a moment, the telepath accepted her contact, obviously disturbed by something.
Neo? What's going on?
The link won't break. I've tried, but it rolls away from me.
Then maybe we should just leave it, Neo.
It's not right, Remix. I'll contact Morpheus.

Remix withdrew with a sigh, absently brushing a handful of limp braids away from Nayla's face. Render was helping the girl sleep, but it was hardly necessary.
"It's all happening too fast," she murmured.
"What is?"
Startled to discover she had spoken aloud, she scrambled for a cover. And was surprised again when Render provided one.
"The progression of her symptoms. This sort of symptomology shouldn't appear for several days. I don't know why she is having this sort of rapid reaction."
"Then you're set on this being a telepathic condition," First Aid murmured.
"It's the only thing that makes sense."
ARE YOU MAD?!?!?
Render and Remix both flinched at the psychic echo of Morpheus's furious outburst. They exchanged worried looks; Morpheus was not the sort to let his anger at one person spill over into other minds. Render reached forward to touch her muzzle to Nayla's leg. The teen whimpered briefly, but Render succeeded in keeping her asleep.
REMIX!
The Femme flinched again, almost afraid to meet Morpheus's powerful sending.
I am here, she sent back submissively.
What in the name of Primus's silver Cybertron were you thinking?!?
Please, Morpheus, I have done no wrong.
How could you allow him to even attempt this madness?
I did not wish it
, she replied. I thought it ill-considered but of us he is senior and he would not listen. I knew of nothing more I could do.
He is fortunate he did not succeed; his foolishness could have killed her.

There was a pause, a deadly silence, and Remix feared for what he might say next.
Stay with the girl. I will bring Variance.

* * * * *

Variance awoke to the sound of Neo whimpering, and a dull headache.
"Neo?"
The charcoal operative whimpered without moving. Variance pulled himself upright, not sure what to think. Neo lay curled on his side, clearly miserable with something.
"Neo?" he murmured again, brushing his friend's shoulder hesitantly. "Neo, what's wrong?"
"Good, you're awake. Come."
"Morpheus? What's going on? What's wrong with Neo?"
"He tried to do something foolish. You needn't worry about that. Your presence is, however, required in medlab."
"But Neo. . . ."
". . . will be fine. You are needed in medlab."
"But. . . ."
"Now, Variance."
Variance let his optics linger on Neo's shaking form, worried for his friend. It wasn't like Neo to be whimpering for no reason. Likewise, it wasn't like Morpheus to seem so unconcerned for his bondmate. Nor was the harsh expression on the commander's face a normal occurrence. Worried for reasons he was unable to define, Variance briefly touched Neo's shoulder again before standing. He only hoped his friend understood his concern.
"Why am I needed in medlab?" he asked quietly as he joined Morpheus. "I'm nothing special."
"On the contrary," his commander replied, escorting him through the halls of the downed cruiser, "you're someone very special indeed."
"I don't understand."
"Somehow, I suspect Nayla said the very same thing."

* * * * *

"This is ridiculous. Even you admit this isn't natural."
"I will not allow any further attempts to break this link."
"What about the girl?"
"The girl? What about me? How can you expect me to do this? It's too soon, damn you!"
"We didn't make this decision; she did."
"I can't do this, Morph. I just can't. You have to do something."
"Breaking the link could kill her. . . ."
And the rest is silence.

* * * * *

Nayla rolled over, surprised to find her headache was gone. She was also once more in alien surroundings, a place of orange metal and wide spaces like the rest of the Ark, but also with the indescribable odor that seemed to cling to medical wards. There was also a knot of Autobots standing some distance from her, talking quietly between themselves while a large mechanical cat dozed at the end of her bed. If not for the sight of Morpheus amongst them, she might have panicked.
Well met, Little One, a rolling female voice purred through her thoughts. The grey cat lifted it's head, blast shields sliding back to reveal startlingly brilliant blue eyes. The mechanical feline was mostly smokey charcoal grey, with yellow lines on the tips of her ears and marking circles like cassette spools on her hips and shoulders. Darker grey whorls swirled around her eyes and down her neck, highlighting the spools at shoulders and hips. She was, in Nayla's opinion, quite beautiful.
Thank you, my dear, the purring voice whispered. I am Render. I believe you have already met my voice, Remix.
"Your voice?"
I cannot speak aloud, thus Remix does that for me. It is not a problem with other telepaths, but etiquette demands that I 'path nontelepaths in emergencies only.
But we can discuss ethics another time. There is someone you need to meet more formally.

She looked up past Render, somewhat surprised to see Morpheus and the two other Autobots watching her. One looked somewhat familiar, the white battlemask appearing rather odd on a medic. The other . . . she was quite certain she had never seen him before; from the not-quite-periwinkle blue shade of his outer transform plating to the unusual configuration of the spoiler stretched across the back of his shoulders, he was quite distinctive. Almost conspicuous. And yet something about him was as familiar to her as her own name.
"How's your head, Nayla?"
"Much better, thank you."
"I believe you've already met First Aid," Morpheus said with a gentle smile. The white medic nodded once in acknowledgment.
"And this would be Variance."
Nayla blinked up at the dusky blue warrior, at a loss to think of a response. She had already seen so much of his mind. . . . No wonder he seemed so familiar to her.
"Nayla, do you have any idea what you have done?"
"Done?"
You make a dangerous assumption, Father. She knows nothing of what has happened. It is improper to assume she made this happen.
"Variance did not forge this link, Render. None of you would. There is no other explanation possible, but that she did this."
"Link? What link?"
She stared up at the Autobots towering over her, desperately wishing they would stop talking around her and just explain what was happening. All she could understand was that they were blaming her for something.
Variance crouched down to her level. She was surprised at the worn expression on his face, and even more surprised to realize that, on anyone else, his expression would be unreadable. Even more perplexing, she felt an increasing need to touch him, to stroke his cheek and let him know everything would be okay. And yet, at the same time, she knew he didn't like to be touched. Nayla couldn't explain how, she just knew he valued his personal space, and while he could room with any number of other Autobots, the idea of being touched - or worse, held - set him on edge.
But how can I know these things?
"Nayla," the Autobot said hesitantly, "did you make this link between us?"
"What link? Please . . . I do not know what you are meaning. . . . What has happened?"
Variance looked back up at Morpheus, as if seeking advice. Unease crept into the corners of her mind, coupled with a sense that her life would never again be completely her own.
"Knowing or not, you forged this link. Now you will have to deal with it . . . and with him."
Nayla tried to hide a frown at Morpheus's words, but the look on Variance's face suggested she wasn't completely successful.
"I'm not always the best company," Variance commented with a slight grin.
"I suppose I will have to learn to adjust," she replied quietly, briefly touching his cheek in spite of knowing how he felt about physical contact. Yet even that brief contact was enough to satisfy the strange compulsion to touch him. She felt . . . complete. More, she felt safe, reassured when she realized he hadn't shied away from her.
"I think we will both have a lot of adjusting to do," he replied with a faint smile.
"You both have a great deal of adjustments facing you. From what Render can tell, you will have to stay together. Extended periods of separation will make Nayla ill, though I should hope less rapidly than this time."
"Yes. I wouldn't want to come back from a patrol or battle to find you here again," Variance added with another gentle smile.
"B-battle? I . . . I am not going to be forced to learn of war . . . will I?"
"It would be wise for you to at least learn basic self-defense."
A tremor shook through Nayla at the thought of fighting. Even the idea of holding a weapon made her feel ill.
Be easy, Little One, Render's mindvoice purred gently though her thoughts. We understand your hesitation. We will not force to do something you cannot or truly wish not to do.
"Thank you, Render," she murmured, leaning over to hug the grey jaguar. The elder Femme seemed startled for a moment, then a low rumble rolled up from her chest. Nayla smiled as she realized Render was actually purring.
"I thought you said you couldn't speak?"
I can't, Render chuckled, but purring . . . well, that's something else completely.
You and I will be spending much time together I think, as we train your talents. But for now, go with Variance. You instincts will serve you well. You will have to be patient with him, but when he opens himself up to you. . . . Walk softly, Little One. Dana's death is still fresh for him.

"Thank you, Render," she murmured once more, hugging her again. The mechajaguar nuzzled her cheek gently, still purring.
Go with Primus, Little One.

* * * * *

Variance wasn't sure what to think of the teenager walking beside him. He wasn't truly ready to be dealing with humans again. In fact, he would have been quite happy to have someone break the link Morpheus claimed existed between them. But Morpheus also claimed that even attempting such a thing could seriously hurt or even kill Nayla. Variance already had one death on his hands; he would not allow himself to be responsible for another one.
At the same time, he had no idea what was expected of him. He knew nothing about the girl who had apparently forged a telepathic link with him, knew nothing of her wants and needs. Or of what she expected from him. He knew she had come to the Autobots seeking asylum. Now that she was physically dependant on being near him, there would be no question of granting her request. Still, she was underage, and the human governments were already making trouble. The media was too busy raining abuse on the Autobots' heads for failing to protect the world from the Decepticons that morning. But the British government and their army were already demanding her return. The Americans were insisting that they would not get involved, but that they would not issue a visa to Nayla. If they caught her on their soil, she would be deported to Senegal without delay. Not that such a thing was likely to be a problem.
"What is it that you do, Variance" Nayla asked hesitantly.
"At the moment, I'm just a little better than a common warrior. I'm still in training for tactics and special ops. In fact, I'm missing class today, though I'm sure Prowl understands. If he even held class today, and I'm not sure he did, as dead as it is around here."
"Then I am to be surrounded by violence," the girl sighed.
"We are a race at war, Nayla."
"Another adjustment I will have to make, I suppose."
"Have you thought about what you will do with your life here?"
"If I thought it possible, I would like to have some small chance at a normal life. I have never known what it is to be normal. I do not think I will ever know."
"Take it from me, being 'normal' isn't anything special."
"Perhaps not, but I would still like to know," she replied, a small smile turning the corner of her mouth. Variance was impressed with how quickly and easily she was adapting to the alien environment of the Ark. She seemed already adapted to the idea of living around giant alien robots. On the other hand, she had only been with the Autobots for a day and was undoubtedly putting forward her bravest face.
"Here we are, Echo group's quarters. There are seven of us: myself, Morpheus, and Neo, whom you've already met, and Striker, Nails, Fallout, and Duotone. Duo might even be in," he explained as he keyed them into the apartment. Variance wasn't certain if he wanted someone to be home or not.

* * * * *

Nayla stumbled back as a wall of sound assaulted her ears. Variance stepped past her into the room, striding purposefully towards the desk. He touched some control on the desktop and the sound level dropped dramatically.
"Hey!"
"Hey yourself, Duo."
"Oh, hey Var. What's up?"
Nayla stared up at the taller Autobot, unable to find her voice. She knew somehow that the crimson and ivory panels on his shoulders, forearms, and shins were capable of rotating to dark blue as part of his vehicle mode's disguise system. He was at least a head taller than Variance, his color scheme dominated by crimson and ivory, though she could also see touches of his dark blue alternate color between segments of black and dark grey. His optics were a deep teal-blue that glittered with amusement in the pale smoke grey of his face and faceplate, in stark contrast to the sharpness of Variance's white face and chromium blue optics. Between the two warriors, she could tell that Duotone was the heavier warrior, with a bulkier frame, while Variance was lighter on his feet. Strange as it felt to think of giant alien robots in such terms, she confessed to herself that Variance was the more attractive of the two.
"Duo, this is Nayla. She'll be staying with us. Nayla, Duotone, espionage and counterespionage agent."
"A pleasure to meet you," she murmured.
"Likewise. How long are you staying with us and who did you tick off to get stuck with Variance as your escort?"
"Duo, you've got to be the least tactful mech I've ever known."
Nayla whirled around at the sound of a new voice, braids wrapping around her neck in the process. Another Autobot stood in an inner doorway, every line of his boxy black body speaking volumes in amusement. She recognized him from the convoy southwest of York, his dark charcoal and black form definitely that of a heavy warrior.
"Didn't think you'd be home, Nails. Nayla, this is Nails, our weapons specialist. Nayla here will be staying with us indefinitely."
"You're the girl the Brits are all up in arms over, right?"
"I am, yes."
"Some particular reason why you're staying here with us and not at the Whitwhickies place?" Duo asked.
"Not that we necessarily mind, of course," Nails qualified.
Nayla scooted closer to Variance, suddenly unsteady on her own. She was used to being the focus of attention, but not like this. While the Autobots before her appeared friendly enough, she had the distinct feeling that they weren't really interested in having her around. To her surprise - and that of the other two Autobots as well - Variance reached down to steady her.
"Ease off, guys. Nayla's had a rough day. Come on, Nayla. Dana's bed is even made."
She felt a sharp pang of regret from Variance as he gestured toward another door. Nayla hurried to comply with his directions, anxious to get him alone, where he could mourn in peace.
As the door hissed shut, she studied her new environment. The room was fairly plain, shades of orange metal occasionally disrupted by the presence of personal items. There were four sets of shelves, one on each side of the two giant beds. Tucked into the near corner was a single bed, a plain coverlet in shades of grey. Hardly attractive, but it was better than army standard issue. And perhaps she could have it changed.

* * * * *

Variance stared at the upper shelf that still held a handful of Dana's things. He would have to do something about that; if nothing else, that space belonged to Nayla now. And yet . . . he hated the very thought of it. He didn't want to have to . . . deal with them. They were Dana's things; he'd never touched them without being asked before. It felt wrong to do so now, as if it was a betrayal of his friend's personal space.
His attention was recalled sharply to the girl who was now a part of his life by the sound of a strangled whimper. She had collapsed halfway between the door and the bed that was now hers. Worried, he crouched down beside her.
"Nayla?" he asked, not sure what to do. "Nayla, what is it? What's wrong?"
"Forever. . . ."
"Nayla?"
Haunted brown eyes stared up at Variance, tugging at something deep inside. For a moment, her hand hovered mere centimeters away from his face, then fell back again.
"This will be my life . . . for the rest of my life. . . ."
Silent tears slipped down her cheeks, her arms wrapping around her waist as several of her slim braids hung limply in her face, a picture of human suffering. Variance wished he knew how to comfort her, but he still knew very little about humans, and even less about teenaged girls. His instincts insisted he should leave her alone, let her suffer in solitary peace as he would want done for himself. If she really wanted to talk to him, she would be talking, not clammed up and silent. And yet . . . something held him back. Something told him that she needed him, but he couldn't figure out how or what he could do.
"Variance. . . . I am so sorry. I only knew you were in pain. I never meant for this to happen. I only wanted to help you in some way. . . ."
"I know," he replied quietly. For a moment, there was silence between them, a frozen moment in time. Variance felt trapped, unable to move as Nayla slowly rose to her feet and staggered closer to him. Instinct screamed at him in silence, anxious to get away. He could see her reaching out towards him, but as much as he wanted to move away, he couldn't seem to do it. Nayla staggered against his flank and just stayed there, whimpering weakly. At first, he wanted nothing so much as for her to move. But something about the weakness with which she was leaning against him and the broken sound of her whimpering tore at his spark.
"I . . . I am so sorry, Variance. . . ."
He reached down with hesitant hands, shifting his own weight so he was seated on the floor, her slight frame cradled in his lap. She immediately leaned against his chest, speaking with a weary sigh: "Perhaps we shall sit awhile and share our pains . . . and learn more about each other as we do."
The pillow and blanket from her bed floated across the distance between them. Nayla wrapped herself in the blanket, then used the pillow to snuggle herself against him. Variance felt himself smiling inspite of it all; he had forgotten how it could feel to have such absolute trust.
"So," she murmured, "tell me about Dana. . . ."