Author's Note: Just as a head's up, this fic earns its T rating in this and the next chapter with some serious character injuries. I try to write realistically, and I realize that might make for difficult reading sometimes. If you would like to read a summary of what transpires instead of (or to help soften) the more detailed account in this chapter, please skip to the summary marked by the next horizontal rule/line. I've got a less-vivid description there. Thanks for reading!

Arcee got Dad down to Edwards in record time and was back before dinner. She and 'Bee ran another patrol just like the night before, complete with cranked music. Inside the house, the feeling was completely different from usual, though. Mom put a brave face on it, but she always struggled a bit when Dad was deployed. I don't know if Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky knew her well enough to see it, but they were more than happy to help me distract her with card games again that evening.

The next day, I stepped outside where Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky were talking to Bumblebee's and Arcee's holoforms.

"Morning," Mr. Witwicky greeted.

"Good morning. Hey, um, Arcee, since we have some down time until Dad gets back, do you think you can teach me how to drive?"

Mrs. Witwicky straightened and smiled. "I think that's a great idea, Annabelle."

Cam Romero's phone quoted, "What am I, chopped liver?"

I grinned. "No, but it'll be harder to learn how to ride a motorcycle. If I learn that first, I figure you could show me the ropes of driving a car in a day."

R.C. smirked at him. "Yeah. Mechs are easy to figure out."

He rolled his eyes at her.

She glanced at the sun. "It's still early enough that the UV rays aren't too bad. Get something long-sleeved on to protect that sunburn, and we should have enough time for at least a short lesson. If that's okay with your mom, that is."

"I'll check."

Mom woke up when I tip-toed into her bedroom. "Problem?" she groggily asked.

"No. I just wanted Arcee to teach me how to drive a motorcycle..."

Mom sat bolt upright in bed. "What?"

Maybe trying to talk her into this during a deployment wasn't the best time. I sat down on the edge of her bed so we were eye-to-eye. "Mom, I'm not going to live with you and Dad forever. I've got two more years with you, and then they'll kick me off the island."

"Honey, NEST wouldn't do that. You're too important to the Autobots."

"Samuel Prime went to college – if he wasn't too important to imprison on Diego Garcia, then I'm pretty sure I'll need to go, too. And if I'm stateside, I should at least know how to drive."

She sighed and blinked a bit like she was fighting tears. I suddenly suspected that she'd been crying last night, too.

"I guess I could wait a little while..."

"No, you're right. I keep forgetting that you won't be my little girl forever. And you're never safer than when you're with an Autobot. Arcee is a great teacher."

"Thanks, Mom." I impulsively hugged her, then turned to the wardrobe where I'd hung up my hoodie. Grabbing it, I put it on as I walked out into the living room, and zipped my cell into my jacket pocket. Mr. and Mrs. Witwicky were in the kitchen, laughing about something as they worked on making breakfast.

They gave me the first pancake off the griddle, and Arcee didn't bother to eat, she was so eager to start teaching me.

One we were in the front yard again, Arcee activated her holoforms on their black and purple components, but her pink one was sitting empty, waiting for me. Taking a deep breath, I swung astride the bike.

Arcee's holoform on the purple component rolled closer and handed me a helmet that matched the bike. Then she talked me through the different parts of the motorcycle. "The hardest part is going to be the clutch, though. Let's start with that."

I spent the next hour or so repeatedly killing her engine. It was so frustrating - I knew in my head what needed to happen, but I just couldn't get the feel of it. I'd start relaxing the clutch and giving gas to the motor, but I wouldn't give her enough gas and we'd stall. Or I'd rev the engine too hard and, when the gears caught, we'd lurch forward until I let go of the handlebar grips in surprise, and then her engine would die again. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to learn to drive on a sentient vehicle who felt it every time I choked her motor. When I cussed after her engine sputtered to a stop again, the holoform on the black component said, "Let's take a break for a bit."

I sat up straighter and pulled off my helmet.

"What do you think you're doing?" the purple holoform demanded.

"You said we were done."

She smirked and revved her engine. "We're done with the clutch for a while. Let's put on some speed."

Blinking back angry tears, I pulled the helmet again, and the pink component roared to life.

"Don't worry about the clutch or brake," the purple holoform gently said, "just acceleration and direction. We'll keep you safe."

Drawing a shaky breath (because I was still angry that I couldn't figure out that fragging clutch), I gripped the handles and Arcee leaped forward. She tore across the field, the familiar vibration of off-roading rattling my bones. I clung to the grips for dear life. We made it back up onto the rutted track that passed for a road here on the ranch, and the component I was riding leaped into the far track. Then Arcee really accelerated, the wind beating against me until I was grinning from the thrill of it. By the time we got home for lunch, I was in a much better mood.

When I walked into the house with one of the Arcee holoforms, Bumblebee was nowhere to be seen. Mr. Witwicky was cooking again, and Mrs. Witwicky was at the table, reading him something funny from her phone.

"Where's Mom?" I asked.

"She just got out of the shower, I think," Mrs. Witwicky answered. "How was the driving lesson?"

"I think Ratchet's gonna kill me for whatever I did to Arcee's engine."

The femme scoffed beside me. "Ground my gears a little, no big deal." To Mrs. Witwicky, she added, "You remember what it's like learning to drive a clutch."

Mr. Witwicky dropped the box of freeze-dried lunch packets on the floor with a loud smack. I jumped, and he bolted for the front door, screaming for Bumblebee.

Mrs. Witwicky mixed human and Autobot swears as she ran after him. Shaking myself out of my surprise, I followed them to the front yard.

Bumblebee had opened his door, and the Witwicky's were climbing in, Mrs. Witwicky calling frantically for Wheelie. R.C. followed me out and joined me on the steps. "We need to get your mom. We have to go to Edwards immediately."

"What happened to Dad?" I demanded as she turned and hurried back into the house.

"Nothing. We're the ones in danger. Maybe." Crossing to the bedrooms, she called out, "No time to pack, Spitfire. Get dressed. We have to leave now."

"I don't understand."

"It's mostly a precaution," R.C. answered. "The two new Cybertronians never responded to hails. Hound was tracking them on the ground, but he lost the scent in Illinois. He believes they've taken to the air. If so, they could potentially be coming here. We have to get Samuel Prime to Edwards."

Mom hurried into the room with her shoes and jacket on but her hair was still wet. R.C.'s holoform disappeared only to materialize in triplicate on her bikes.

Mom and I ran outside, and Mrs. Witwicky stepped out of the cab to tip her seat forward. "Ride with us."

We dove into Bumblebee's back seat, and he kicked up gravel as his tires peeled out in the drive. Arcee took point, one bike in each rut and the third one hopping from one rut to the other in impatience. Once we hit blacktop her three bikes formed an arrow a couple of car-lengths in front of 'Bee.

We sped down the winding, mountain road, and even with the seat belts, Mom and I were getting tossed around. I ended up bracing myself in the corner of the seat, more than a little terrified. R.C. tried to make it sound like just a precaution, but Bumblebee was driving like Samuel's life depended on how fast we could get to Edwards.

At a particularly sharp turn, Wheelie (who was in the middle seat) went flying across my lap to hit Bumblebee's side panel. "Watch it!" he grumbled.

As we rounded the turn, there was an armored tank in the road. My heart leapt to my throat when 'Bee swung into a 180, and beside us, a shell hit the shoulder, throwing brimstone and dust everywhere. Samuel was swearing nonstop under his breath, and when I glanced at Mom, she was almost gray she was so grim-faced.

We were surrounded by bike-bots now – Arcee covering our retreat. In front of us, the road exploded again and again. It was being taken out by the tank. We were trapped.

Bumblebee dodged off-road behind a rock outcropping and unceremoniously dumped us on the ground.

Shards of stone exploded down over us as a missile of some kind landed on the outcropping.

"We detected Barricade," black-Arcee declared as she hunched over, trying to shelter me from the worst of the rock chunks. The pink and purple components skittered up the rock face to return fire. "Coordinates approximate."

"He ain't alone," 'Bee quoted, shooting rockets up over the outcropping.

"Agreed," the black component said, inching toward where the road rounded the corner. "Hardtop, Bludgeon. Anyone else?"

"Stockade," 'Bee said.

"How'd they get past BINDS undetected?" Samuel demanded.

"They must have…been here a while already," Bumblebee answered.

Black-Arcee looked to the skies. "No sign of any Seekers yet. We need to get you and Samuel out of here."

"Like hell!" 'Bee answered her in the voice of a man with a Southern drawl.

"It doesn't matter that we're less conspicuous," the black one snarled, while the pink and purple components kept popping up over the stone to each fire a rifle. "They'll track us regardless. Soundwave probably has a lock on our position already."

"That's rough terrain...I'm too slow," he quoted.

"Frag it, mech, get out of here!"

There was a pause, and I realized Bumblebee was probably using his comm instead of trying to fight and channelsurf for quotes at the same time.

"But Samuel's safe when he's with you," purple-Arcee hotly argued from her perch, swapping her rifle for what looked suspiciously like a bazooka and firing off a missile of her own.

A Decepticon shot struck home, making the purple component stagger down the slope in a shower of blue sparks. I shrieked as she fell past me, and the other two components started swearing in an emphatic mix of Cybertronian and English. Then together, they said, "That hurt!"

In its final death-throe, the downed component seemed to shed weapons and other random things. "Arm yourselves," black-Arcee ordered as she climbed up to take the purple' one's place.

Grim-faced, Samuel picked up several small canisters and Mrs. Witwicky chose the bazooka thing.

"I can't," I said. It came out a frightened whimper and I didn't even care how cowardly it sounded.

Mom picked up purple-Arcee's rifle and said through gritted teeth, "I can." Then she edged toward where the road rounded the outcropping, putting herself between me and the Decepticons.

And I'd be slagged if I let my mom fight to the death to protect me while I wussed out. Grabbing the first metallic thing I saw on the ground with trembling hands, I took my place next to Mom, so we were standing between Samuel Prime and danger. "How do I use this?"

"You don't," pink-Arcee snapped, taking another shot at the Decepticons. "It's a cybertronium switchblade for close-quarter fighting. We just emptied everything from our subspace pockets. Samuel has grenades. Find some like his and have them on standby."

I tossed it aside and started snapping up grenades. Pink-Arcee glanced at me for a split second – it was all the distraction it took – and another shot hit home, blowing her head off and offlining her before she even hit the ground.

"GET OUT!" Bumblebee roared the quote.

Black-Arcee hesitated for a split second and then nodded her head sharply. "Samuel, Mikaela, come with me."

"Annabelle should go," Mrs. Witwicky protested, launching another grenade.

Mom turned the rifle on her. "You're a Prime's mate and mother, Warrior Goddess. Now go!"

Mrs. Witwicky's eyes burned with fury, but she snatched up a helmet that purple-Arcee had shed before dying. "You damn well better live so I can kick your aft over this," she growled.

"I'll do my best," Mom promised.

Arcee collapsed into her black bike; the purple and pink ones lay dead at my feet. Samuel and Mrs. Witwicky mounted the bike, picking up Wheelie as she went and holding him against her. I picked up Mrs. Witwicky's discarded grenade launcher, dropping the grenade in like I'd seen Samuel doing.

Bumblebee quoted the command, "Cover fire."

I sent mental thanks to Chromia for teaching me what that even meant. Throwing everything we had at the Decepticons, I didn't even hear or see Arcee and the Witwickys tear back up the mountainside behind us. With any luck, neither did the 'cons.

The launcher's power gave out after another dozen shots. "Don't waste any more grenades," Mom ordered me as she continued to fire her rifle. "We can throw them by hand if we have to."

I didn't want to think about that. So I cowered against the rock outcropping, trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest in a panic. In the back of my mind, I wondered how Mom knew how to shoot, and I realized that Chromia and Arcee must have trained her like they had me. Probably years before they had trained me, come to think about it.

"Run," Bumblebee suddenly ordered in a low hiss. "Hide!" He pointed uphill to where some large rocks had tumbled off the outcropping.

Instantly, Mom grabbed my hand and hauled me to my feet. We sprinted for cover, and I bruised my knee as we dove behind a jagged boulder. Glancing between gaps in the rocks, I saw four Decepticons come into view. One was the tank alt-form, while the others were in their bipedal base modes. I ducked back into hiding, but not before seeing a smaller, gray 'con stomp on the offlined purple-Arcee's head, smashing it. More explosions erupted behind us, some of them shrieking as they tore into metal armor. A heavy crunch followed, with a wordless roar of pain. Mom held me tightly and, when I felt something wet on my forehead, I looked up, worried she was bleeding. She wasn't – she was crying. And then she touched my cheek with her hand, wiping away tears I hadn't noticed. Leaning close enough that her lips were touching my ear, she whispered, "I'm sorry, Annabelle. So sorry."

Sorry I was here instead of safe at the Air Force base. Sorry we were attacked. Sorry she couldn't send me to safety with Arcee. Sorry 'Bee was going to fight to the death. Sorry it would be for nothing. Sorry she and I were both going to die today and leave Dad all alone.

I held her and cried while the uneven battle raged behind us. I thought about trying to make a run for it, but there was nothing but grassland with the occasional sagebrush for at least half a mile. We could try climbing over the rock out-cropping, but we'd be in plain sight and making noise the whole time. There was no escape.

To Bumblebee's credit, he lasted much longer than I expected him to, not when he was outnumbered four to one. And then a roar of engines and a blast of hot air announced the arrival of yet more Decepticons. Flyers this time. It was his heart-wrenching wordless cry of pain that finally dragged me out of my fear and grief. He was dying. I had a weapon in hand, and we were just letting him die. We were only safe as long as he was distracting them. With our body heat and everything, they'd find us without any trouble and then they'd kill us, too. We were all going to die today anyway – Bumblebee shouldn't die alone. Pulling my mom close again, I whispered in her ear, "We can't shame Dad. We have to fight."

She looked over the surrounding terrain and saw what I saw - we were trapped. Her face twisting with grief, she nodded and whispered, "I'm proud of you. Love you." Then she handed me a grenade. I pulled the pin and, swallowing hard, we both stood up, taking aim. A blue jet and a black ground-based mech stood over 'Bee. One was snapping a leg-strut while the other was tearing at 'Bee's remaining doorwing.

"Dibs on the car," Mom said, and then threw her grenade. It landed in the mech's face, blowing half his head off. I was a heartbeat behind her, but not quick enough. My target moved as Mom's mech fell. I caught the blue jet on the wing but didn't do enough damage to even seriously slow him down. And then a red-and-white jet landed behind us as the smaller, gray ground-based mech ran toward us. We threw what munitions we could, but I only got off a second grenade before I was being crushed in metal claws.

A tall, deep-purple mech stepped closer, and with how the others moved out of his way, it was clear he was the one in charge. I'd never seen a 'bot with only one optic before, and it made him look downright monstrous. "Where is the human you have designated a Prime?"

We didn't answer, and the jet holding us tightened his grip. I didn't want to cry. I didn't want to scream and hurt Mom. I didn't want to make 'Bee feel guilty. So I bit down hard on my own teeth. The pressure of the claws on my body tightened, cutting into my sunburned skin, my ribs, until I shrieked. He stopped squeezing me then, but the threat was clear. Answer, or he'd continue.

"Ran away," Mom gasped, grief contorting her face. "Don't know where."

"Too bad for you," the jet holding us gloated and tightened his grip again. Something snapped in my side and I screamed. Abruptly, though, the pressure loosened and the jet handed Mom off to the purple one. He yanked her cowgirl boot off and examined her ankle. Her Autobot insignia, I realized with dread.

"What is your designation?" he demanded.

"What's yours?" Mom shot back.

"Shockwave," he coldly answered, his hand curling around Mom.

"Spitfire," she hurriedly answered.

"Your human designation."

Mom closed her eyes, and I could tell she was torn about whether she should say or not.

Tell the truth, but only barely enough. Samuel's words echoed in my mind. "Annabelle," I blurted out, my voice high and shaky from the pain in my side. "Annabelle Lennox. That's my mom, Sarah Lennox."

The biggest of the non-flyers, I guessed he was the tank judging by his armor bits, perked up at that. "Lennox. The humans' leader."

"Your vendetta is not important, Bludgeon," Shockwave said, his words devoid of any emotion. "Only our mission."

"Frag it isn't," the tank Bludgeon answered. "It's the only reason I'm here, and you slagging owe me these squishies. I'm the one who saw Lennox with the femme at the military base and tracked her back to the maggot Prime. You wouldn't be here either, if it weren't for me." Looming over Mom, he harshly demanded, "Do you know Ironhide?"

"She is branded with their mark – of course she knows him," Shockwave said. "The more important question is does he know her." He turned his eerie, single optic on her. "Tell us, fleshling. Does Ironhide know who you are?"

Mom pressed her lips together tightly, and that single optic turned toward me. The jet began tightening his grip on me again, and I immediately wailed in pain as broken bones shifted and rubbed against each other.

"Yes," Mom yelled, her face ashen. The jet's grip relaxed. "Yes, he knows us."

"Will he come for you?" Bludgeon eagerly asked.

Mom's tears were streaming down her cheeks, leaving tracks of mud on her face. "Yes."

"Prove it," Shockwave evenly demanded. "Demonstrate you are important to him."

"He was almost one of you," I panted through the pain. "He was there when Megatron started the Decepticons. He defected. He and Chromia both. And another femme."

"Two femmes," Mom corrected. "And I give him a wash and a wax after every deployment. He hates mud."

"That was the wrong answer," the jet holding me said, and I was surprised because it was almost a purr and his hand didn't tighten down on me. "Now instead of being responsible for just your own deaths, you'll be to blame for Ironhide's, too."

Several of the Decepticons laughed harshly, and too late, I saw the noose behind the question. We were now bait for a trap for Ironhide.

SUMMARY:

After bringing Will to Edwards AFB, Arcee returns to the ranch. The next morning, Annabelle asked Arcee if the femme would teach her how to drive. Arcee agrees, as long as Sarah consents to it. When Annabelle asks Sarah, Sarah agrees. She's a bit reluctant, mostly because it's another way that Annabelle is growing up and drifting away from her.

Annabelle struggles with mastering a motorcycle's clutch and gets very frustrated with herself, even though Arcee is both patient and a good teacher. They break for lunch and find out then that the newly arrived Cybertronians aren't responding to hails, have fled from Trailbreaker and Hound, and are now airborne.

Bumblebee and Arcee race to get their human charges to the safety of Edwards AFB but are ambushed on the way. Two of Arcee's components are destroyed in the battle that follows. Bumblebee orders her to use her last remaining component to take Sam and Mikaela (and Wheelie) to safety by making a break for it cross-country. Mikaela protests that Annabelle should take her place, but Sarah turns one of Arcee's rifles on Mikaela and sends her away at gunpoint. Arcee gets away, but the Decepticons surround Bumblebee, Annabelle, and Sarah, who have covered Arcee's retreat. Sarah and Annabelle hide among some boulders while Bumblebee makes a brief, solo stand against half a dozen Decepticons, including a trine of Seekers and Shockwave.

Realizing that there's no escape, Annabelle and Sarah decide that Bumblebee shouldn't die alone and they make an attack with some munitions Arcee had left behind. Bumblebee is severely injured and unconscious at this point, and both women are captured. The Decepticons see Sarah's and Annabelle's Autobot brands and are curious about them. During interrogation, Annabelle's ribs are broken. It's revealed that Bludgeon (tank alt-form) was the Decepticon who located Sam by tracking Arcee from Edwards AFB (when she dropped off Will) to the ranch. Bludgeon also has a vendetta against Ironhide and is armed with even deadlier radioactive pellets, in the hopes of finishing the job of killing 'Hide. When he learns that Annabelle and Sarah are kin to Ironhide's human ally, William Lennox, Bludgeon claims both women as his with the intent to kill them in front of Ironhide as a means of tormenting the Autobot.