Author's Notes: A thousands thanks to Marinelife37, Laureas, RK-Striker-JK5, Gixxer Pilot, Carmilla DeWinter, and Kaede Akira for the reviews! You guys keep me writing. :)

I followed Dad out of the med bay, fighting back the tears. Ratchet never yelled me. Never.

We left the hangar through the same door Dad had entered. It led into a long hallway, but we stopped only a few doors down. "Welcome to the human side of NEST," Dad said, leading me into a break room or cafeteria of some kind. In front of some vending machines, he stopped and said, "Hot chocolate? Ice cream? Corn dog? We missed dinner, but there's always the deli over at the commissary if you want something better."

I sighed and looked over the selection. A strange thought hit me. "They're not Autobots, are they?"

Dad chuckled. "No, but we did have to hunt down and kill a Decepticon pop machine once. After that, it was a long time before I could use a vending machine without one hand on my pistol."

Any other day, I would have smiled. Instead I just pointed at a bottle of apple juice. "I'll take that."

He bought the juice for me and a soda for himself. Sitting us down at a table in the corner, he said, "Don't take it personally, Annabelle. Ratchet's had a day straight from the Pit itself. We all have. He's been in that med bay since 0300 this morning."

When I didn't answer, he squeezed my hand and said, "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"What…" I hesitated, unsure if I wanted an answer. Time to stop being a brat, I reminded myself. Show a little concern for the aliens who have always been kind if not actually honest. "What happened to his arm?"

"The same thing that's happening to Ironhide's internal systems. You saw those glowing pellets?"

"Yeah."

"They're kind of like radioactive buckshot. They couldn't pierce armor, but some of them did make it through the chinks and they're burning out Ironhide's circuits from the inside. Every time they move him, the shot rolls around inside and does more damage. The problem is Ratchet can't touch the things. He's got more repair tools than a hundred Swiss Army knives, but every time he tried to pick up the pellets or deactivate them, that tool's circuits got fried. He had to stop after a dozen or so tries because Sideswipe's spark chamber was damaged – "

"That's bad?"

"Very," Dad said grimly. "Sideswipe's spark was beginning to falter, and he'd die if it went out. If Ratchet kept trying to save Ironhide, he wouldn't have the means to save Sideswipe's spark. He had to choose."

"And he chose Sideswipe," I realized.

"We did," Dad answered solemnly.

I glared hatefully at him.

"Optimus had the final say," Dad added, "but Chromia and I were both part of the decision. You have to understand, sweetheart, Sunny and Sides are twins. Their sparks are two halves of a whole. If one dies, the other probably will, too. We were weighing both their lives against one. Ratchet knew how to fix Sideswipe, but there was nothing he could really do for Ironhide. So cut Ratchet a little slack, okay? He's had a rough time of it."

"Is Ironhide going to be okay?"

"We don't know. Johnston, he's on Ratchet's repair team, couldn't help with Sideswipe, so he took it upon himself to try to dislodge some of the shot pellets from Hyde's circuits closer to the surface. Using armor fragments from Arcee's damaged component, he realized he was able to handle the pellets without getting electrocuted or anything. Ratchet just about blew a fuse when he realized what Johnston had done, he was so mad. He doesn't like humans risking their lives to help him. He physically ejected Johnston from the med bay."

"But that didn't stop you guys," I said, smiling a little to know that they hadn't just given up on Hyde. Or 'Hide, I guess it must be.

"Once Chromia realized we could help, she wouldn't let anything stop us. We convinced Optimus to give us the go-ahead to work on Ironhide while Ratchet worked on Sides. Apparently the Decepticons hadn't figured on humans helping with repairs, so the radiation that shorted out Ratchet's hardware didn't do anything unusually nasty to us. A bunch of us humans have taken turns pulling the pellets out. Ratchet won't let us do more than one pellet or ten minutes at a time, whichever happens first. He's worried about the longer-term effects of the radiation."

"You helped, too?" I asked in surprise.

He gave me a sad smile. "Why do you think I sent Sunny instead of coming myself? I've got command authority, even over Ratchet. I've pulled three pellets, but Prime put his foot down and won't let me do any more."

"Could I do one?" I softly asked.

Dad stared at me, and I couldn't tell if he was more pleased, alarmed, or just plain surprised. Recovering, he said, "No, I doubt it. Ratchet's irritated enough that humans can do something for his patient that he can't do himself. Putting you at risk would be out of the question."

"Because I'm just a kid."

"No," Dad said solemnly. "Because he has a special place in his spark for you."

With the way I'd been acting? I raised my eyebrows in surprise, and Dad smiled gently. "They all do, Annabelle. You became their surrogate child in many ways, or maybe everyone's kid sister. They wouldn't let you endanger yourself, not because you're too young but because they love you too much."

I thought about that as Dad took a drink of his soda. One of the hardest things about finding out my friends were all alien robots was that it colored and warped all my memories. For instance, the cool cars they drove were actually themselves, and the people in the back yard were just illusions. So their friendship seemed like illusions, too. It was all part of the game, the deception necessary to blend in. The lie. How could a person not feel used and betrayed to learn that? But now I was starting to understand that the illusions weren't just illusions. I hadn't lost my friends; their soul or spark or heart or whatever you call it was still there, just…different, I guess. It was all pretty confusing still. But I realized that Dad was right – they loved me, and that was true whether Ratchet and Hyde were tough old soldiers or alien robots.

"Have there been other times humans could do things for Ratchet that he couldn't do?"

Dad shook his head. "Very rarely. You remember hearing about the Fallen?"

"Um, no."

"That was the Decepticon who made the world-wide transmission when you were two and half."

"Oh." Yeah. We learned about that in school. It was kind of weird to hear Dad talk about it as a memory when I'd read about it in a textbook.

"Optimus Prime died – they got there too late for Ratchet or any of the others to save him. That's why the Fallen had the power to attack Earth. A human boy sacrificed his own life to bring Prime back. Luckily for the boy, the same power that brought Prime back brought him back, too."

"Wow! How often does that happen?"

Dad gave me a grim half-smile. "About as often for Autobots as it does for humans. The only other one I know about is Megatron. We had a powerful piece of technology that some Decepticons broke in and…" He froze and then, jerking to his feet, bolted toward the door. "Move it, Annabelle!"

Confused (and, I'll admit, frightened), I ran after him. He hurtled down the hallway, throwing open the door to the Autobot hangar and sprinting across it to a huge doorway opposite the human wing. He paused there long enough to scan his access card and the door swished open just as I caught up with him. In the back of my mind, I realized as we passed through the enormous door that this must be the Autobot side of NEST. Literally.

Hanging a left, we ran two doors down. Dad skidded to a halt, catching me as I almost fell into him. "PROWL!" he barked.

The Autobot door in front of us opened, and a black-and-white robot crouched down to eye-level. "Report."

"Are we sure those pellets in Ironhide aren't Decepticons? Like the mini Insecticon marble-things that stole the All Spark Fragment?"

The Autobot blinked, and even though his eyes were basically glorified light bulbs, I got a sense that his gaze was distant. "Chromia says nothing in Ratchet's scans have indicated spark-energy – she's certain he would have said something – but his scans are about as effective as his repair tools with this new weapon."

"Recommend we contain the extracted pellets with Level One security."

"Agreed." Prowl straightened, his expression distant again. "Wheeljack will pick them up from the med-bay and seal them in his lab."

Wheeljack? Jack's Autobot name, I guessed.

"Jolt as an escort?"

Prowl tilted his head slightly. "And Prime."

Then he swiftly transformed into the familiar police car and opened the front doors – both of them. I climbed in and hung on for dear life when Prowl peeled out. No one questioned whether I would come along or suggested I should wait in the break room or go hang out with Skids and Mudflap. Dad was treating me like an adult, and I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that.

Another hard part about learning the truth about the Autobots was that I didn't know where I fit. Like everything else in life, I was first and foremost Colonel Lennox's daughter, and the Autobots were my dad's friends before they were mine. Now all of a sudden they were a state secret, and with the magical tick of a clock on my fifteenth birthday, I was supposed to be a grown up capable of…what? Helping provide a human cover for them? Fighting with them? Was that why Chromia had spent so much time training with me? Did they expect me to contribute in some way? I was only a kid, for crying out loud!

But I didn't want to be just a kid – nobody does, and especially not teenagers.

Even knowing one of the most closely-kept secrets in the world, though, I didn't feel any different. The Autobots were still my dad's friends, for the most part, and there was no way I was an adult like him. In what universe was I on equal footing with them? The fact that they'd hidden the truth for so long made me feel kind of like they'd kept me in my proper place all this time. I was just a kid whose father was mixed up in the insanity. Why did they bother to let me into the club?

I couldn't make sense of my own feelings any more than I could make sense of the Autobots. Did I want to be a kid or an adult? Did I want to be a part of this or did I want to stay home and innocently watch TV and leave all this scary, strange, epic stuff to my dad?

Since finding out, I'd acted like a kid, but here, speeding across the base in Prowl's vehicle form…maybe this was something I really didn't want to miss out on. Humans could help the Autobots. They needed us. And maybe, just maybe, they needed me – Ironhide or Ratchet, if no one else.

They love you. My mom's words echoed in my mind, as did my dad's comments earlier. You're like a surrogate child or everyone's kid sister.

Even if, thanks to Chromia, I could shoot straight, they didn't expect me to be a warrior like Dad. I understood that now, especially after Dad's reaction to my offer to help Ironhide (and Ratchet's reaction to me in the med bay, though that still stung). It made me feel worlds better knowing they didn't expect me to do something I couldn't. I suddenly realized, though, that if there was any way I could help them, I would because Arcee was still R.C. and Ironhide was still Hyde. If they ran out of human helpers before they ran out of pellets, I would crawl into Ironhide's chest to pull out a radioactive bullet. And like Sunny and Sides, I'd flip Ratchet off if he gave me any grief.

Okay, so I wouldn't ever really flip off Ratchet, but I still grinned at the mental image.

Prowl squealed to a stop in front of a bunker with a huge door and opened his car doors for us. Climbing out, I was a little intimidated to see a group of vehicles bearing down on us, though Prime's red and blue semi had me the most worried. No way would they be able to stop in time. Dad simply stood at attention and I sidled up to him.

Prowl transformed back to his robot mode, but I barely noticed as I stared, riveted, at the oncoming semi. In front of my horrified eyes, the truck began transforming as its brakes squealed, pushing up from kneeling to stop about four feet in front of us. I looked up…and up. Of course the one with the biggest vehicle would be the biggest Autobot. Here was the real Optimus Prime. He turned, looking down at the green and white car that had also stopped and now popped its trunk – Wheeljack. A blue Autobot – Jolt – reached into Jack's trunk and picked up the cooler-looking thing I'd seen in the med-bay. Then Wheeljack transformed.

It was mind-blowing to watch so many transformations all at once – I had a hard time processing it. Fortunately, everybody seemed focused on the Decepticon ammo instead of on me.

"How many pellets remain in Ironhide?" Prowl asked.

"Eight," Wheeljack answered, taking the cooler from Jolt and carrying it toward the bunker. Everyone fell in step with him, and I hurried to keep up with Dad. "We have extracted thirty-six and have another twenty-one recovered from the battlefield in containment."

"I've asked Chromia to discreetly keep watch inside the med-bay," Prime said in his unmistakable voice. "Ratchet is agitated enough already."

"Chromia discreet?" Jolt muttered in disbelief.

"I'll join her as soon as these pellets are secure," Prime continued. "Jolt will stay with you and Wheeljack, Prowl."

"Do you think that's necessary?" Wheeljack asked, sounding more curious than annoyed. "My lab is the most secure facility on the planet."

"Level One security requires at least two escorts," Prowl answered.

"Right," Wheeljack sighed.

The tall garage door in front of us slowly rose, and as soon as it was high enough, Jolt ducked through. Prowl gestured for Wheeljack to go first, and then Dad and I followed with the Autobot second-in-command. The door began sliding down again, and I noticed that, instead of sheets of aluminum, the garage door was made of solid-looking metal strips six inches thick.

I gulped, suddenly remembering all the times Jack hadn't been able to come to the football games because he was injured and stuck on the base. Maybe tagging along hadn't been the best idea today. Still, too late to turn back now. I again hurried to Dad's side.

"Wait in the observation lounge," Prowl said to us. "Jolt and I will be there shortly."

Dad nodded and led us to another tall door, scanning his security key. As it lifted, I saw that this door was as thick as the one leading outside. What on Earth went on in this lab?!

"We're safe here," Dad said reassuringly as he led me into a concrete room with an enormous, dark window that took up most of one wall.

"From what?" And it annoyed me that he still thought I was a chicken. Learning about Ironhide and the rest of the Autobots had shaken me, but it hadn't scared me.

Dad chuckled. "Wheeljack. Or rather, his experiments. Brilliant scientist, but a little…"

"Cracked. Yeah, I know, Dad. I've known him for the last seven years."

"Anyway," he said, ignoring my attitude. (It drove me nuts when he did that.) "This observation lounge is heavily shielded. It's as safe in here as being outside, and probably a little safer."

He walked over to a computer console and tapped in a password. The window flickered to life revealing a cluttered room with various workstations, cabinets, and bits of machinery. I realized that what I thought was a window was actually a TV, or something like one, anyway. Wheeljack, Jolt, and Prowl filed into the room on display. Wheeljack rummaged around for something in a cabinet, while the other two stood back.

"Wheeljack's lab." Dad grinned sidelong at me. "There are Congressmen, Ministers of State, and five-star generals who have all wanted to stand where you are right now, and they weren't allowed in. Just so you know."

"Gee. I guess I should feel special."

"You should, Annabelle. You are."

The genuine warmth in his voice melted something in me, and I looked up at my dad. He was standing at ease, staring at the window TV as if I was a superior officer instead of his daughter. Everything about his stance and expression yelled 'guarded,' and I suddenly realized he was afraid. Of me. Of me hating him. That simple statement, 'you are,' was the first real chink I'd seen in his emotional armor since I freaked out over Ironhide.

Everybody's dad thinks they're special, I guess. My dad knew it. For as long as I could remember, most of my friends were grown-ups, but my best friend was always my dad. At the age of thirteen, I'd realized that the reason he fought and killed was for me – to keep me safe. I'd felt guilty that Dad had to leave because of me until Hyde…Ironhide…explained that they'd be fighting regardless. I just gave Dad and Hyde a face and a name to represent all the kids they fought for. And now I was beginning to realize that all the Autobots felt a little of that, too.

Everything they'd ever done was to keep me safe, including lying to me. Mom and Dad, Ironhide and Arcee and Chromia – they must have hated every second of it, but they did it to keep me safe. Because they loved me.

"Thank you."

Dad looked down at me in surprise. "For what?"

"For everything." I tentatively stepped closer, and he seemed to understand. Dad shifted his stance, suddenly going from soldier to father, and wrapped his strong arms around me. It was my first hug in almost three weeks, and I held him tightly, resting my head on his shoulder. It felt so good. "For putting up with me," I added. "I'm so sorry."

"It's what dads do." He squeezed me more tightly. "And I'm sorry, Annabelle. We didn't prepare you like we should have."

I bitterly chuckled. "I don't know if anything could have prepared me for this."

"Maybe not," he allowed, "but I could have handled it better. I should have known that my daughter wouldn't be scared. Your mom had to explain that you were feeling betrayed not afraid, but it was a while before I could calm down enough to listen. I shouldn't have let things get so bad. Forgive me?"

It was the first time in my entire life that I could remember my dad asking for my forgiveness. It was the first time that he'd even needed it. I lifted my head to meet his gaze. "I forgive you."

He let me go, his eyes twinkling. "Thanks."