I only own Marianne! Everything else belongs to Hasbro!

Nightmare was my reality 2.5 years ago.


~Bonds, Hot Spot~

~Bonds, Blades~

~Bonds, First Aid~

~Bonds, Groove~

~Bonds, Streetwise~

~Bonds, Marianne/Mariposa~

"Normal"

'Thoughts'

"Comms or phone, other side"

"Bumblebee, Tones"

"Bumblebee, Comms"

"Bumblebee, Radio"


Homesick

It's 5:30 a.m., on a frigid January morning. I'm sleeping on a memory foam mattress pad simply because, right now, it's easier to sleep in than an actual bed. Of course, in my Transformers series fantasy world, I'm not alone, but that doesn't matter to anyone but me. I walk into my parents' room, like I do every other day, and help my Mother get dressed. She's got end-stage kidney disease, and I know she's dying. No one wants to believe me when I tell them. Once she's dressed, we move into the living room. Because of my birthfather—and Mom's real son—I can't go back to bed until they leave. I've only had two hours sleep.

I can hear the sound of what I assume is a four-wheel-drive truck, trying unsuccessfully to get out of the snow—which is at least five, if not six, inches deep. Aaron steps into the house and storms into the living room. "My truck's stuck."

I giggle slightly. I can't help it. A four-wheel-drive truck, which can't logically get stuck, is, ironically, stuck in the snow. It ain't the first time that old blue Silverado got stuck in the snow, either. I can remember a time where my cousin Luke and I had gone back to the woods in search of a better sledding hill, and I didn't hear my phone ring because we were having so much fun.

"It's not f***in' funny!" He glares at me. "Get dressed and go help your brother."

I turn to Mom for help, but all she does is motion for me to obey. Apparently I broke yet another unspoken rule—the one about me being Cinderella before the ball again, I have to assume. God, but I hate being abused. It's too bad no one around cares enough to listen to my cries for help.

Ten minutes later, I'm in the driveway, wearing my brown snow pants and a red coat, with pink mucking boots I had gotten to feed our now-dead chickens. Ironically—again—I forget socks in my already serious emotional state. If I'd been Prowl, by Primus I'd have crashed for sure!

I try to tell Briar, my Aaron-act-alike brother, about the injustices done to me, only for my cries for help to once again fall on deaf ears. Now, though, those deaf ears have a mouth, and they won't stop using it. I throw down my shovel and start running. I'd rather die than stay trapped inside this rapidly breaking shell—then again, I've felt that way since I lost Mam ten years ago…so…

I barely make it parallel to a power pole before I fall to my knees. Not only am I half asleep, but I wasn't made for such manual labor, and I'm already dead-on-my-feet from what little I've done so far. I can see some kind of vehicle out the corner of my eye, but I'm too tired and upset to bother paying attention to it.

"I just wanted you to help me."

Great. The fragger just came out and saw my sorry attempt at running. Primus, if he's not Megatron in human skin. My determination to stay alive out-weighs my common sense, and I go back to my abuser, almost willingly. By now, I've learned how to disguise my fear as contempt.

He sees my supposed contempt and throws a shovel full of snow on my head. I can see the dirt in the show even as I'm brushing it off my head. Primus, but I hate being dirty! I look in the pink and black shovel—belonging to my aunt—and find a single snowball. Instantly, I throw the snowball catapult-style at him, only to have a second shovel full of snow thrown in my face this time. It's by a sheer force of willpower that I don't cry. He, like the cons, sees that as a weakness.

Briar then pulls his truck free and leaves for work.

I turn to the violent man as he glares at me. I'm getting to the end of my strength. The only thing keeping me from breaking down now, is a slim hope. A hope, that's quickly vanishing.

"You have this driveway clear by the time I get home, or I'm going to drown you, and if you go back to bed, I'll throw water on you until you drown."


Real World

I whimper, but otherwise stay still. The others are curled up around and under me—Hot Spot under the rest of us, Blades on the right, Aid on the left, and Street and Groove draped over top. I'd curled on top—as usual, because of my doorwings.


I run into my room the second they're out of sight. One hand's holding my Intensity III while I pack with shocking abandon. Primus help me not forget anything I need!

"Hello?"

Damn. It's my best friend. She's only thirteen, and I want to protect her innocence. "I need to talk to your mom." Damn it! My panic is more than evident in my voice.

"Mom's in the shower. What happened?"

Frag it all. They know about Aaron. That's why I called her to begin with. "Aaron. He threatened to drown me in a bucket of water!"


"I'll be walking. I can't stay here. If he gets home…" I trail off. She's smart enough to know what my abuser will do to me. I hang up with her before updating Dad, then settle in for a long walk. She picks me up halfway to her house, after rescuing her stranded husband. He'd gotten a flat on his way to work.


We barely walk in before both their house phone and my own cell go off. Aaron's on mine, while Mom's on theirs.

Mom and Aaron call us, causing Violet's mother to take me home. She does, causing me to curl up on April's couch. I'm exhausted, and Jackson wants my pillowpet, so I try to wave him away, to no avail.

Not five minutes later, Aaron storms in and starts yelling at me in front of April's kids, claiming, amongst other things, that everything I own that is now on April's couch belongs to him. He then tells me to shovel the five-foot drift to the other side of the drive, so I dial 911 before he comes out.

"911. What's your emergency?"

"My Birthdad—this morning, he-he threatened to drown me, and now he's forcing me to move this drift because I called a friend for help. She—she said I needed to call if he started in a-again."

"I'll send a unit out."

"Thanks. B-bye…"

As I prepare to call Dad, Aaron comes out, causing me to slip the phone away quickly. It wouldn't do for me to lose my communication with everything else, and that's usually the first thing he takes.

I start shoveling, mentally praying—no, begging—God will have him still violent when the cops pull up. Of course, he's not, but rather sitting in the van watching me. The second that cruiser pulls up, I run over and duck behind the chunkier officer, knowing he'll provide the most protection.


I start awake with a sharp gasp, then rub the back of my neck when I find myself curled into the other Protectobots. "That's a first…" I've never had a nightmare when in a group before, and I've never felt this lonely with such an attentive family before.

I sigh and climb out of the pile carefully before starting down to the living room, then turn on the TV, settling for Rescue Bots before leaning back against the couch. I need a good distraction.


Third POV

Blades stirs, and stares after the femme for a moment before glancing back to the others. They're still recharging, and haven't even noticed she's gone. He sighs before following her.


Normal POV

While this is the first time I've had a nightmare that bad, it's not the first time I've missed my old family since I got here—that started moments after I left. Even so, I don't wanna go back to them. I'm safe now—even if I do miss my old country home, and my grandfather's house. Besides…

I feel just like I'm living
Someone else's life
It's like I just stepped outside
When everything was going right

I sigh heavily. "I never thought I'd start to miss him like this…"

"Miss who?"

I start before glancing behind me, shrugging when I see Blades. "My abuser. I just—" I sigh heavily. "First actual memory-based nightmare I've ever had, and it reminded me of how much I miss my human family…even the mean ones." I look down as he sits beside me. "I don't want the others to know, though…"

"We won't judge you."

I sigh. "I know, Blades, it's just…" I sigh softly. "I love having understanding brothers for once, but…" I laugh drily. "I see what Aid meant, when he said gestalts could annoy each other just like normal siblings do." I lean on him slightly. "It's not the no-secrets thing that bothers me, either—that, or the need-for-alone-time I get sometimes—"

"I think we all have that at some point. Groove's a loner at spark, after all." He sighs. "Why'd you leave, instead of just waking us up?"

I shrug. "I never wanted to wake my parents either. If I couldn't climb in without waking someone, I'd usually just curl up on the floor, so they wouldn't get mad."

"We won't get mad, and Spot's gonna be worried sick when he wakes up and you're not there."

"You're not there either."

He shrugs. "I followed you."

"Obviously."

"Hey, I was worried. Aid does the same thing after we have bad calls now, and after the really bad battles and missions before that. He's fine during the day, but—"

"It all comes back at night. He told me." I sigh softly. "I'm calm when it counts, too, but I usually crumble right after whatever's over. I react right away afterwards, where he holds off until recharge." I shrug. "Hence my being down here. Not even two weeks after I meet you guys, and… I almost lost you all last night."

"We're fine, Mari. We've survived worse."

"It just…" I rub the back of my neck. "Brought everything back, from Ratchet, too. I saw the movie a little over a month after I lost my mother, which means only six months after I had to call the police. It all ties together, Blades. Almost losing you guys may have caused that nightmare, because it was still so fresh the last time I saw Cemetery Wind, and… He told me to shoot him… God, Blades… I know you don't see things the way I do, but I don't think I can do that again."

"At least you didn't completely freeze up again…" I glare up at him half-heartedly. "I—" He sighs as he finds the remote and switches off the TV at a point where his counterpart is complaining about flying yet again. "It scared me, when you did that. Spot was trying to comfort you, and you just kept getting worse."

I glance down. "It was the bunnies. They were so tiny, and innocent, and soft—I can still feel their little ears, and see the tooth marks on the one…" I sigh softly. "Their mother had been eaten by a dog, and someone had just left them at Family Dollar. I couldn't leave them there, but no one let me care. I was supposed to be hard and unfeeling enough to shoot the animal who just follows instincts… Like he does, so often…" I look down at my lap. "Like I did yesterday…" I sigh before looking back up to him. "I try every day to not be him, Blades, and usually I do a pretty good job…" I lay my head on his shoulder. "But yesterday only proves that I can just as easily go his route…" I whimper. "His…Megatron-like, cowardly route…" I sigh. "I'm like Aid, yes, but some days it's a battle not to do what he would—not to follow my head, instead of my heart." I turn and bury my head into his shoulder before starting to cry softly.

He sighs before hugging me, then turns to me once I calm down. "Ready to get back to recharge?" I nod. "Good…" He smiles down at me. "Just… Don't tell Spot I can be as soft as Aid…"

"Hey. He probably already knows." I shrug. "You guys function best out of all the combiners because of your shared mentality. You've all got a soft side, it's just that some have it bigger than others, and some of them hide it like Ratchet or Heatwave. You'd take a con out with your rotors, but I'm sure you'd be just as good at EMS if you tried." I shrug when he gives me a look. "Rescue Bots counterpart. You have a few similarities to him."


We climb back into the berth. I curl into Hot Spot carefully, trying not to wake him… Even though he's already awake. "Where were you?"

Slag. "Downstairs. I'm okay now, though. Just a nightmare."

He shifts. "You should have woken us up…"

Blades sighs. "She woke me up."

"I didn't mean to…"

Hot Spot sighs before glancing from me to Blades. "You took care of her?"

I sigh. "He's not just a brawler, you know… We wouldn't meld so easy as Defensor if he was."

"I know." He glances to Blades. "He's just never admitted to it before."

I shrug. "I can make the bad guys good for a weekend…" I nuzzle under his chin with a smile. "But right now, I wanna 'charge."


Third POV

As she drifts off, Hot Spot and Blades share a look. "What. Did she. Just say?"

"I think it was from one of her songs…"

"I know that." Hot Spot sighs. "She's never done that before, though."

Blades sighs. "She'd better not make me go soft on the cons…"

"Don' wanna… Dey 'serve i', kill Wat'et."

The two share a look before laughing softly. "She won't kill 'em herself, but she's not gonna try to stop me either."

Hot Spot nods slightly, not wanting to wake the femme now recharging with her head under his chin. "We need to cycle down before we wake the others."