1)OMG, guys! I'm not dead! :D

Sorry it took so long! Online French is way harder than I thought it would be. Turns out French words aren't... phonetic, I guess. They don't sound like how they look. On top of that, my ASL teacher is one of those teachers that requires tons of study hours, which means I pretty much living in the campus ASL lab. On top of that, I have some fantastic medical issues I'm taking care of. So yeah. On the bright side, though, my braces don't hurt. :)

2) Before you read this, understand that high school cheerleading is nothing like AllStar cheerleading. We have different rules and different guidelines. In other words, my cheer squad never did the crazy stunts you see in the competitions. A lot of those are actually illegal for high school level, so... you fellow cheerleaders out there, don't pick it apart too much ;)

11. Horror

2,257 words

Today was the day. Nationals. This was my first time to go (all my previous coaches only concerned themselves with regionals, state, and football season), and I could feel the excitement buzz through my system. My squad stood around me as we waited off to the right to be called onto the mat. We hadn't had much time to practice before the competition start, but that hardly mattered to me. We had a chance to perform the stunts beforehand, and that was my only concern as I was a firm believer that stunts won a routine. Everything else was water under the bridge.

"And now," the announcer said, his voice rising above the crowds easily. "Welcome to the mat the West Prep Tigers from Texas!"

Adrenaline shot through my veins, and the world sped up around me as my squad spirited onto the spring mat, tumblers cartwheeling and flipping in the front as the non-tumblers followed after them. Spotlights blinded me as I rushed in with the non-tumblers, high off the applause and general energy in the stadium. There were so many people there, and we were gonna blow their minds. I moved to my spot, throwing in an obligatory toe-touch as I settled myself, my whole body tense as I waited for the music to start. The crowd grew quiet as we did, sitting in anticipation to see the group from Texas that was good enough to make it to South Carolina for this huge competition.

There was a single beat of sound, followed closely by a pre-recorded man announcing, "I'm the best, and there's nothing you can do about it," and we were moving. The music started off fast, 80's songs sped up with extra sound effects thrown in for good measure. Sharp arms moved in tandem, not missing a beat as the song switched over and continued. Girl's transitioned from one spot to another, barely missing each other in the organized chaos of the routine.

I easily lost myself to the sport, hips and arms moving in practiced motions as I performed the routine for all I was worth, grinning as widely as the cheerleaders around me. This was our moment, our time to shine. The song transitioned again, and we followed it easily, moving in a confusing and complicated mess of teenage girls to our stunt positions. I nodded to Layla as we locked wrists, my left wrist grabbing her right one as her left wrist grabbed my right in a firm, but loose grip. I gripped my left wrist with my right, and Layla copied my movement. All this happened in the blink of an eye, and we squatted down, fully prepared for our stunt.

We were in the center, the mid-routine basket-toss. Clarisse placed her hands on our shoulders and placed all her weight there as she was supposed to. She jumped onto our hands, and we launched her into the air. My eyes followed her as she rose to the peak of her flight, and my arms remained up in the air as she started coming back down after her kick twist.

Then I was suddenly on the other side of the stadium. I stared in horror as Clarisse landed heavily on the ground; Layla had stepped back, fearful of getting hit, and had run into Madison, preventing her from catching the flyer. Screams rose from the crowd in tandem with Clarisse's and my own, and medics immediately rushed onto the mat.

Then, just as abruptly as before, I was standing on the mat again, staring down in horror at the broken body of my flyer. A man pushed me out of the way before kneeling down beside the fallen flyer. I stumbled back, my eyes locked on the girl's obviously broken neck. I kept stepping backwards, even after I regained my balance, subconsciously trying to escape the scene that I had caused, the one that stupefied me so soundly.

"What have you done?!" a shrill voice demanded. Rough hands gripped my shoulders and whirled me around. I stared at Madison blankly, not understanding that it was me she was addressing. "You killed her!" she accused, tears running from her eyes. Maybe tears were running from my eyes, too. I couldn't really tell. "She's dead because of you! It's your fault!"

It was my fault. I did this. It was my fault. Dear God, what have I done?

"Elizabeth!"

I jolted awake abruptly, jack-knifing up in my bed as I looked around wildly. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as my eyes darted around the dark room, searching in vain for the point flyer I had just killed. Weight on my left thigh had me scurrying backwards and pressing myself in the back corner of my bed where my headboard met the two connecting walls, dislodging whatever touched me in my panic and sending it crashing to the ground.

"Elizabeth, calm yourself," a commanding, yet gentle voice ordered. Two blue circles of light appeared at the edge of my bed, followed by a robotic body.

Optimus. Optimus had woken me up… Then I didn't kill her.

My breathing slowed as I watched the mech approaching me warily, then it hitched as the adrenaline started leaving my systems. Optimus carefully navigated the bed before coming to a stop in front of me. He didn't touch me as he observed me. I was sure I was deathly pale, and I might have been crying. I couldn't tell. I was too busy trying to force that image of Clarisse from my head.

"Are you alright?" Optimus asked evenly. I nodded fiercely. I was fine. I had had nightmares before, and I would continue having them, no doubt. Everyone had nightmares. Mine just happened to be about me accidentally killing my flyers, the ones I was charged with protecting. They gave me their explicit trust every time they put their foot in my hands, and I returned that trust by stepping back when they need me most, by letting them fall to their deaths.

"Frag," Optimus swore as he stepped onto my thighs and focused on my face. The swear broke me from my reverie, and I realized that I was nearly hyperventilating again. Ah, and I was crying. I could feel the warm drops as they streamed down my face. "Elizabeth, you must calm yourself. Slow your breathing." I tried to obey, focusing my every thought on breathing deeper, slower. It was hard, though, when I felt like my heart was crushing itself. I managed eventually; I couldn't tell how long it took me to calm my breathing. Through it all, Optimus remained silent, patiently waiting for me to compose myself as he balanced himself via hand on my shirt.

"Now… explain to me what the problem is," Optimus prompted. I took a deep breath, and when I let it out, I shook my head.

"I'm fine," I stated, trying to convince myself more than him. "It's was just a bad dream." Optimus' optics narrowed in consternation.

"I disagree. You just spent the last five minutes tossing in your berth, mumbling about how you were a murderer, then you wake up, hyperventing. You cannot lie to me, Private."

"I'm not an Autobot!" I burst out. I didn't want to be. An Autobot didn't murder her friends every other night. Optimus scowled at my statement, though.

"Be that as it may, you are still under my protection," the little Autobot Commander responded. I stared at him, frowning deeply as I finally took in his appearance in the dim light of my night light. His armor was scuffed a little, probably from where I had dumped him off the bed in my confusion, and his optics were rather dim in comparison to normal.

He was worried about me.

For some reason, that completely blew my mind. I knew that I had noticed this before, if just in passing, but Optimus was completely loyal to me, his only friend in this world. Instead of feeling inadequate, though, I felt… special. He had woken me up from that nightmare because he cared, and it completely threw me for a loop, especially since I had been convinced that nobody cared. I knew that he was supposed to take care of me, that he had to be a companion, but the fact that he was apparently beginning to accept me as his own, as a non-Autobot, made me feel important… and wanted.

"Have you ever…" I trailed off when I realized how stupid the question I was about to ask was. 'Had Optimus ever had a nightmare about making a mistake that would kill one of his friends?' How dumb! He probably had made such a mistake during his early years as a commander. How tactless would it be if I straight out asked such a question?

"Have I ever what?" Optimus prompted. I shook my head again, though.

"Nothing," I whispered, but Optimus wasn't having that.

"Finish your question or explain the situation, Elizabeth. I cannot help you if you will not let me in."

That statement struck me. How long had it been since I let someone in, since I allowed someone else to carry my problems? Dylan, I trusted with my school drama, and I told my dad was my rock at home; at least, he was before he started working nights. Mom was in her romance novels, and Billy was planning a wedding and preparing to move out.

"I have bad dreams sometimes," I told Optimus dimly. The mech frowned and remained silent, optics locked on my hazel eyes as he waited for me to continue. I was hesitant as I did. "How do you deal with the fear that you're gonna end up making a mistake that hurts someone else?"

Optimus seemed surprised by my question, but he barely let it show. I was fairly certain that the only reason I could read any of his emotions was because of his lack of recharge. His optics dimmed a little at my question, and I felt guilty for asking it. In his position, any decision he made could kill a battalion of Autobots, making his job one of the most stressful.

"Accidents happen, Private. Accidents, mistakes, and wrong decisions happen. We are not infallible creatures, humans and cybertronians alike. All we can is try our hardest to make sure we are alert at all times so that any could-be accidents are prevented. Then, if an accident does occur, we clean it up to the best of our abilities, give our apologies, and move on. Focusing on what could happen will only destroy you."

I nodded slowly as I stared at the small robot, taking in his sincere blue optics as they gazed back up at me with emotions I had never thought I would see on him. He smiled as he stood on his tippy-toes so that he could wipe my tears away, and I allowed him to, even slouching down a little. As he wiped those away, though, more suddenly came.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I pulled my knees up behind him. I repeated the apology as my tears rained down on him. "I always hurt them."

"Only in your night terrors, Private," Optimus responded, easily shifting his body as I wrapped my arms around my knees.

"But what if I hurt them in real life? What if I drop her?" Clarisse's broken neck flashed through my mind again, the sound of her lungs whistling as they expelled the last breath of air her brain had requested before connection abruptly cut off. Optimus gave me a sad sort of smile.

"Would you allow yourself to hurt them? Would you ever let her hit the floor?" I slowly shook my head. I wouldn't. I would rather break an arm or a leg trying to catch her because it wouldn't be as painful as hearing that wheezing breath, as seeing those terrified eyes blink that last time as her brain figured out that it wasn't getting any oxygen. "Then you should not worry. You will keep them safe."

I didn't believe him, not completely. I knew that for the rest of the year, I would have this fear inside me, that I would be concerned until the end of Nationals, once cheer season ended. Until then, I could count on him to comfort me.

"Optimus… could you… stay here tonight?" I whispered, feeling like a child for asking such a thing. I normally went to my dad when I had nightmares like this, but until Dad started working days again… I could let Optimus help me; I could let him in.

"Of course, Private," he responded, allowing me to lift him up as I scooted back down under the covers. I laid him on my chest as I settled down on my back and yawned a little as I felt exhaustion creep up on me. I was almost asleep when I realized something.

"You called me Elizabeth," I mumbled sleepily, putting my chin to my chest as I looked at the blue optics gazing back up at me.

"I apologize if I—"

"No, no. I don't mind it if you say it. You make it sound pretty," I told him with a lethargic smile. Optimus didn't reply, or if he did, I wasn't awake to hear it, but for the rest of that night and every night after, he slept either on my chest of on my pillow, effectively fighting my nightmares away.

The Cybertonium Warrior: Meh, I understand now. I'm lucky right now, because I only have my top ones on. I rip hard stuff with my bottom incisors and suffer through chewing. I dread when they decide to put on my bottoms, though.

Link's Rose: Hey, hey! I'm the 11th! Gonna be 21 on a Saturday this year! :D And's it's okay. I think reviewing is becoming a dying act. I don't even review very often anymore. I'm very happy you're enjoying the story, though. :)

ImpossibleImpact: I really wanted to write this side of him. There are so many facets of Optimus Prime that are OOC, yet not… I love exploring those facets. n.n It only happened once with me, the thing with my brother, that is. He never touched my computer again after that.

I AM The Silver Lining: I could see him being like that with Elita sometimes. It seems cute to me. X3

Autobot Phoenix: See, I'm careful with all my written stuff. I generally keep my more edgy stuff in spirals due to paranoia, so I never let anybody near my (literally) written work.

Bliss123: Yeah. Her mom's kind of distant, but it'll work out in the end, sorta… depending on what ending I decide on. I used to keep my work on a flashdrive, but I am so scared that I'm going to lose it. Besides, after that one occurance, my brother doesn't touch my laptop anymore. "Don't doubt yourself." You have no idea how much it means to hear one of y'all say that. I stress too much. -_-"

Esperanza Hyde the Vamp Queen: Lol, I was happy to not be on the Homecoming Court. Too much work. I got to keep up with all the mini-cheerleaders. That was an adventure, trying to keep a hundred little girls seated on the sidelines. Fun, though. If you get on the court, I hope you win! (assuming it hasn't passed yet. My alma mater's homecoming was today.) I'm rooting for you in Texas! Woot woot!

Deception is Decepticon: "Miss in the back, care to share the joke with everyone?"

"Oh, this girl has a mini-Optimus Prime, and he's messing with her head."

"Ah… And the logarithm…" I'm the same way with some of the stories I read during A&P last semester.

Crescentrax: Daw, thanks! I was hesitant in publishing it, because I was worried everyone would not like my mildly OOC Optimus moment. I mean, he was still in character, sorta, but not quite… And yeah. Glad you liked it. :)

XD And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I don't write smut. Kissing and aggressive cuddling is as far as I can go. Throw in some innuendo and allusions, and I'm good. FF has too much smut as it is. ;)

SunnySides: XD He'd have such an adorable time-out pout, too. And we shall see. That's too far in the future, I think. *nod nod*

Bluefeather4299: Heh. Leaving Prime on the desk was probably the only form of payback she could possibly give. Poor short guy. X)

ShiftFrame: Sorry it's so late, but here's an update for you.

And yes, Private Tex uses a night light. Personally, I have discovered after stubbing my toe multiple times on my furniture while moving toward the door that the mild embarrassment received when someone teases you about having said nightlight is far better than the initial pain of a stubbed toe.

Short and sweet. Didn't have much time for more. As it is, I'm being distracted by the smells of food wafting up the staircase. So for my question today: Have any of y'all had that one fear that someone will get hurt because you weren't paying attention or something? I remember having nights like this in high school after a girl went home with a concussion after our first stunting practice. I can say that the girl wasn't in my stunt - I was on the other side of the gym, in fact, practicing jumps - and the last time a flyer in my stunt hit the ground was in ninth grade, but as captain, I felt responsible because I should've asked coach to be a spotter. That girl wouldn't have hit the ground if I had been there. Irrational, non? I call it my Optimus-fear, cuz he would totally be that way. "I was on the opposite side of Iacon in a Senate meeting, but I should've been in Kaon to keep that drunk from being mugged. D'X"