Author's Note: Thank you to everyone for your patience with the long hiatus on this fic! We still have a lot to come with Annabelle, and I hope I'll make her story worth your wait.
Also, when you have a chance, I highly recommend you check out luinrina's fantastic story "Lyra." It's set in the Botosphere 'verse and more or less parallels this fic, adding a new dimension to a lot of what happens here. :)
Hope you enjoy! ~ Eowyn77
Even though my dad is military and I grew up on Diego Garcia, it's not like we were trapped there. About once a year, we'd go stateside for a vacation. My earliest memory of leaving the island was when I was four, I think. Even with my unusual upbringing, my first ride in a C-17 was pretty unforgettable. The things are enormous.
At first our vacations included a certain black Topkick coming with us, but once Chromia arrived on the base, it was R.C. and her three motorcycles that provided the ground transportation. I didn't understand why until my fifteenth year, though.
Now that I was in the know, I paid a little more attention to the oversized machinery around me. "Luke" was painted on the side of the C-17 we were catching stateside this year, and I tilted my head curiously. To my dad, I asked, "Luke as in Skywalker?" It was kind of a funny pun for a plane's designation.
R.C. chuckled as she paused her bike beside mine and Dad's. "That would have been way better."
"Unfortunately," Dad said, "it's 'Luke' as in 'Beau' and 'Daisy Duke.' It was the 'Vette twins' idea."
"Why would the 'Vette twins get to...oh no."
Mom smiled and leaned her forearms on the handlebars of her bike. "Yep. There's a small fleet of C-17's that Wheeljack and the twins got to tinker with. Luke and Beau are assigned to Diego Garcia, while Daisy is stationed back East with Sam."
"Do I even want to know?"
"The hardware's considered prototype," R.C. said with a shrug, "and the military's been given full rein to study it. It's Wheeljack's Moonshine that's Autobot-level classified. And since we only get to break that out for emergencies, hopefully you'll never get a chance to know."
I gave her a curious glance. "What kind of emergency?"
"One that requires getting a C-17 to Mach 4," Dad said.
R.C. revved her engine a little. "And vacations don't count as emergencies, so let's talk inside the plane."
"Impatient much?" Dad grumbled as R.C. rolled forward.
"Can you blame her?" Mom asked, her smile widening to a grin. "Let's go!"
...
It's a little thing – opening a door. I almost never had to do it if I wasn't at home. On base, people opened doors for me because I was the colonel's daughter, a civilian, a junior ambassador, or all of the above. When we went on vacation to India or Australia, the people at the hotel or the restaurant or the taxi service always opened doors for me.
The only time I really had to open my own door in public was when I was stateside, which is why I did a mental double-take when we stopped for lunch at a fast-food joint just outside of Edwards Air Force Base in California and I had to open the door myself. It was also kind of funny to experience culture shock in the state I was born in. Walking beside Ironhide or Optimus Prime? No problem. Meeting with senators and generals? No problem. But trying to navigate a superstore was mind-boggling.
The young man behind the cash register made eye contact with me and grinned. "What'll you have, miss?"
My father cleared his throat behind me and started to place his order. I glanced sidelong at Mom, who was smothering a grin of her own at Dad's alpha-male antics. R.C. was watching me with a knowing smirk. How would I ever date anyone ever again with them around?
The thought made me remember Ironhide's over-protectiveness and Brian's less-than-gracious response to it. I blinked back a surprising tear – it had been weeks since I last cried about Brian – and stepped forward to place my own order for a wrap and onion rings. I even managed a smile for the cashier because his attention was a bit flattering and I was determined to take my victories where I could find them.
Once we'd eaten, we went back out to Arcee's motorcycles and headed out of town. I rode behind Dad, my arms tight around him, and rehearsed in my head the conversation I was going to have with Arcee during this vacation. I was fifteen and a half now – old enough that I could start learning to drive if any of the Autobots were willing to let me practice with them. If I were anyone sane, I'd start with a nice, safe, easy-to-parallel-park car like Jolt, but I wanted Arcee to be my teacher. Once I learned to drive a motorcycle, I figured a car would be easy. Maybe if I was a quick study I could ask Bumblebee to let me take the wheel, if he was coming with the Witwickys again like usual. Then I could tackle driving a beast of a 'bot like Ironhide. Mom and Dad would probably freak, but I was growing up, slag it, and I wasn't going to live on base forever. I'd need the life-skill of being able to drive.
It was a long road trip – long enough that the summer sun had already set before we pulled up to the ranch house where the Jensen's lived. We only stayed for a few minutes, though. The Witwickys had given up waiting for us two hours ago and had gone on ahead to the cabin on the east side of the ranch.
"Think you can find your way in the dark?" Mom asked R.C. as she straddled the bike again.
"I know this dirt road by spark now," R.C. answered almost grimly. "I'm not stopping for anything tonight."
The last leg of the journey was the bumpiest as Arcee sped us down those long, empty miles. I was so rattled I finally gave up trying to rehearse my request for an Autobot driving instructor and clung to my dad for dear life. Usually Arcee was very considerate of her passengers, but this time, she didn't seem to care. I praised Primus when I saw the lantern light of the cabin in the distance but was puzzled by another set of lights until we got a lot closer. It was 'Bee in his root mode, watching for us.
He was such a sweet-sparked mech.
Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky – Samuel Prime and Warrior Goddess, that is – came out to greet us and help us get our luggage inside (after Arcee pulled it out of her subspace pockets).
"Where are Daemon and Beatrice?" I asked.
"They're camping with their grandparents this week," Mrs. Witwicky said as she hefted my bag. "They'll be joining us on Sunday."
I smiled, pleased that I'd have the 'bots to myself until then.
As soon as we were clear of her, Arcee combined into her unified base mode and slugged 'Bee on the arm. "Good to see you. Have you run a patrol yet?"
He shook his head, and Arcee turned her bright optics toward us. "You good?"
"Yeah," Mom assured her. "Go for a drive. We'll see you in the morning."
They collapsed into their alt-modes and roared off into the night, music blaring, and I wondered how they could possibly scout out anything with that kind of racket.
We played poker with M&M's after that until Mrs. Witwicky cleaned house and we turned in for the night. Mom and Dad took one bedroom, Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky took the other, and I took the couch.
The next morning, we all slept in until almost 09:00. When I finally sat up and rubbed my eyes, all I could see out the living room window was Bumblebee with all three of Arcee's bikes surrounding him and…and…cuddling? I couldn't quite wrap my head around it, but that's sure what it looked like. There was just something about the way Arcee's components were touching him that seemed affectionate and maybe just a teeny bit possessive. It reminded me a bit Chromia and Ironhide somehow. "Huh," I said to myself, shaking my head and half-wondering if I was dreaming. But no, there they still were. They weren't… a thing, were they? I mean, yeah, they'd held hands at Thanksgiving but that was just to provoke Mia, I thought.
Dad was already up, as usual, so I tiptoed into my parent's room to raid my suitcase for a swimsuit. After changing in the bathroom, I came into the living room and breathed in the aroma of pancakes. Dad was at the stove wearing an apron, and I discreetly snapped a picture of him with my phone.
"What was that?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing," I said, hurrying to text the pic to Ironhide before he could stop me. "Just… checking my email."
"You know," he drawled, pouring more batter onto the griddle, "most people don't have cell reception while camping. The 'bots spoil you rotten."
"Oh, I know," I grinned at him as soon as I knew the photo was on its way.
Laughter drifted in from outside, followed a few seconds later by R.C. and Cam Romero, both of them grinning ear to ear.
"What's so funny?" Dad demanded.
"Toldja," Cam quoted. "Not that there's anything wrong with…pink."
My cell chimed announcing a new text and I nearly dropped my phone I laughed so hard. Some 'bot had doctored the pic so that Dad was in a pink apron with the caption "Kiss the Cook!"
Dad made a grab for my phone, and with his G.I. Joe reflexes, I didn't stand a chance. After pulling up the incriminating image, he gave me a mock glare that had meant one thing for as long as I could remember: tickle torture. He grabbed me, rolled me over onto the couch, and sat on me while poking me in the ribs, and I howled with laughter the whole time. Mrs. Witwicky came running into the living room like she was ready to kill something (with Wheelie hot on her heels), but Mom drifted out of her room at a more morning-appropriate pace.
"Help me, Warrior Goddess!" I begged between giggles.
"Yeah right," Mrs. Witwicky said and then waved at the 'bots in the kitchen before going back to bed.
Dad finally took pity on me and stood up to go catch Mom in a big hug. "Breakfast is…oh slag, it's burned!"
"Got your six," R.C. assured him, holding up a plate full of golden-brown pancakes. "Go back to disciplining your youngling."
"Hey!" I protested, but 'Bee nudged her with his shoulder and grinned. My cell chimed with a text from him. /Give her KP duty instead./
"You're not even from this planet," I playfully scolded them both. "You don't get a say in this!"
Dad gave me a light noogie as he walked past me into the kitchen. "KP duty it is."
Being my dad, he was kind enough, after everyone had eaten, to help me with the washing up while the other grownups got ready for the day. I washed and rinsed and he dried and put away, and as soon as the coast was clear I whispered to him, "What's with Arcee and Bumblebee?"
He frowned thoughtfully as he dried the wet coffee mug in his hands. "What do you mean?"
"I'm not blind, Dad. They're together, aren't they."
He placed the cup in the cupboard and reached for another one. "Cybertronian relationships are complicated."
I huffed. "Meaning…?"
"Meaning they'll tell you if they're a couple when they are ready to be one."
I frowned and sloshed soapy water over the syrupy plates.
...
After everyone was ready and breakfast was cleaned up, our Autobots brought us up to a small reservoir where we humans could play in the water while it was hot and go fishing when it cooled off in the evening. Arcee and 'Bee insisted they were content to just bask in the sun, although a part of me suspected that the reservoir's shoreline was just a little too muddy for them.
I couldn't exactly blame them – I wasn't used to water that cold. After just a few minutes, I decided I'd had enough. Mom and Dad were dozing under the shade of the cottonwoods, but Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky were still splashing around. I spread a beach towel on the ground in the sun next to the mech and femme and lay down on my belly, drinking in the blessed warmth of the sun.
"Oh slag!"
I jumped when something cool touched my back.
"Wake up, Firebrand," R.C. was saying, shaking me gently.
"Wha?" I groggily asked.
"Ratchet…gonna kill us," random voices said, and I eventually realized it was 'Bee splicing together a quote.
"Spitfire!" R.C. yelled, and then to me, she said, "Sit up and put something on over your swimsuit. You've got a sunburn."
I did feel a little too warm, come to think of it, but the day had been so cool that I hadn't thought to put on sunscreen.
Mom came running over as I sat up. "Oh no."
"How much ice do we have back at the cabin?" R.C. asked, her bikes already waking up and rolling closer on their own.
"We don't have any. Why?"
"Ratchet says that cooling that burn down will be one of the best things we can do for it at this point. I'd like 'Bee to take her back to the cabin so she's out of the sun, and I can run down to the main house for some ice." Apparently Arcee was in full medic mode.
Mom pursed her lips. "I'd hate to make you go to all that trouble."
R.C. smiled and patted her once on the shoulder encouragingly. "It's no trouble, I promise. In fact, why don't the rest of you stay here, enjoy yourselves, and 'Bee will come back up here once I'm back at the cabin."
Mom shook her head. "You two should be spending some time together, too."
"How 'bout this," I interrupted. "Arcee and 'Bee can take me back to the cabin, I'll rest up for a little bit, and then once Ratchet's not freaking out anymore, they'll bring me back up here."
"Honey, you can't see your back right now," Mom said. "You probably should be wearing a long-sleeve shirt for the rest of our vacation."
I groaned and she turned back to the femme. "How about you bring me and Annabelle down to the cabin, get the ice, and then head back up here. We'll be fine there for the rest of the afternoon."
"This is your vacation, too," Arcee answered. "You should be spending it with Will. Let me and 'Bee take care of Annabelle. You can call us if you need anything. We'll only be about twenty minutes away."
Mom frowned and glanced back at the picnic Dad was spreading on the blankets under the cottonwoods. He'd been looking forward to fly fishing here for months.
"Arcee's right, Mom," I said. "We'll only be a few minutes away, and hey – Autobots to watch out for me. I'll be fine."
"Okay, but we might come down to the cabin early tonight, just so you 'bots can run a patrol as soon as it gets dark."
R.C. smirked. "Understood."