Title: Wanderer's Wandering Daughter
Author: Red Wasabi
Disclaimer: Can't we all just agree to go back and read all the other pervious disclaimers?
Notes: Well I'll tell you folks; this chapter was a bona fide bitch. I have written, and re-written this chapter over eight times! EIGHT! Before I was satisfied with what I had. Luckily I have lots of paper and I don't pay attention in school, otherwise you definitely wouldn't be getting another chapter out of me this soon. So there are still several scenes that I want to write involving Kitta and Simmons, so be ready! I also have a few other shorts waiting in the wings after I am finished up here, just a heads up!
Rated: PG
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Simmons glared bitterly at the approaching cloud of dust rising in the distance. He'd been dreading this moment from the time Banachek informed him of The President's decision to dismantle Sector Seven; he'd always known that it couldn't last forever but even so. Simmons glanced back in the inky darkness of Sector Seven, the bright afternoon sunlight made it nearly impossible to see anything past the mouth of the back entry way. He knew better then to believe that he was alone however; the faint scrap of metal feet scurrying in playful circles just out of eyesight told him that his shadow of almost over a decade was nearby.
Everything; that was what Banachek had told him. Everything that had once been theirs was now the property of the aliens that had caused so much trouble a few weeks back; all of their research, their discoveries, their—projects. Theyhad claim to nothing in Sector Seven now, not even a single blank disc or—Simmons eyes closed wearily as he listened to the faint hum of life in Kitta's frame.
"Kitta," Simmons called tiredly into the dark, "go to our room Kitta, and stay there until I come for you." A soft click was the only response to his direction, but it was all he needed to hear to know that she was already on her way towards her own special area.
For the first time since hearing the news about the aliens, and their 'supposed' rights to Sector Seven, Simmons allowed himself a sneer at the thought of the 'Autobots'. He had nearly thrown a fit when he had been told that he was not only expected to act as a tour guide to the 'esteemed' leader of the aliens, but that he had to do so unarmed. There was only one alien that he trusted, and the damn thing only came up to his knees! All those other aliens could go to hell for all he cared; go to hell and leave Kitta behind with him! Angrily Simmons turned around and stalked away from the open road and the bright sunlight; he had a tour to plan.
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Optimus' optics diligently recorded in even the smallest and seemingly unimportant details of Sector Seven as he and ex-agent Simmons moved though out its long and winding tunnels. He had long since stopped listening to the brusquely speaking human, and instead had focused his processors on reviewing the files that he had downloaded from the mysterious sector's data stream.
Although the United States Government had given them their own base of operations about fifty miles away from this one, they had also been given the title to this particular base and everything that belonged to it. Secretary Keller had called it a 'good faith' arrangement, whatever that was supposed to mean. Optimus could see the positive side to having two bases though, maybe when more Autobots landed and they needed more space or if—Primus forbid, the Decepticons attacked their above ground base.
"Excuse me," Prime's train of thought was broken by an irate voice calling up to him. Optimus quickly re-focused his main processors on the stiffly standing human in front of him. Even though Simmons had been their half enemy when they had landed he was more or less on their side now, and for that reason alone Optimus had decided not to irritate the man; it was never good to alienate potential allies.
Prime cleared his vocalizer, a habit he had gradually picked up from Secretary Keller, "I'm sorry Agent Simmons," He began to apologize making sure to use the human honorific before the man's surname, "I became distracted, please continue."
For moment Simons said nothing in return, he only stared back up at the giant robot with a cloudy, unreadable look in his eyes. Finally he spoke, "I was telling you that in this last room," he paused and swallowing hard, "is the real crown jewel of Sector Seven. It was the project I was in charge of for the last decade or so and—" Optimus leaned forward concerned, he had very little experience with humans and their emotions, that was more of Bumblebee, or Jazz's area, but even he could see that what Simmons was trying to tell him was distressing him greatly.
"Please take care of my project." Optimus' optics flashed brightly in understanding, so that was what was wrong. Optimus had been reading that humans were very territorial creatures, especially the males, to have to give something up that he had spent over a tenth of his life working on, the very idea was inconceivable to Optimus.
Optimus gently placed what he hoped would be interpreted as a reassuring finger on Simmons head and responded, "You have my word Simmons; we will not destroy your project."
He wanted to scream. To yell, rage—thank the giant alien but instead Simmons only nodded silently, slipping out from underneath Prime's finger, and turned around to type in Kitta's pass code. It was time, but he didn't feel like it should be yet.
Simmons felt like he was in a dream as his fingers glided smoothly across the keypad; his hand knew the code by heart, he didn't have to pause to think about the log series of numbers or about their order. He just knew them, and for once in his life he bitterly wished he was the kind of person who couldn't remember a phone number let alone a security code.
Timed moved like molasses for Simmons as the doors began to slid open, he had no idea what was going to happen next. Would Kitta in recognizing her own kind rush to embrace her alien heritage and leave all of this and him behind? Would he discover that she really was only a drone, and of no importance to the Autobot cause?
The doors finally opened all the way, and revealed a comparably tiny robot within, who had been in the middle of playing with her brightly colored set of building blocks. 'Would she…would he...' Simmons winced at the sound of Prime's startled gasp, followed by a shriek he had hoped he would never hear again.
The shriek broke the still moment and chaos descended upon the strangely decorated room. Prime's engine pumps faltered at the sound of the sparklings distress call; in pre-war days he had always been teased for his lack of firmness with the sparklings. His willingness to bend over backwards to accommodate them and their needs had been the aft of many jokes, but it had never stopped him then. And even though he had no idea where the sparkling was from, or how it had even survived intact through out the millennia long war he was ready and willing to run into that room and comfort or nourish it into stasis sleep. Unfortunately for him, trying to pick the sparkling up only made the matter worse.
Simmons shook his head, trying to hide the amused smile on his face, and he had been worried that Kitta would like the alien! Pursing his lips Simmons let out a low, long whistle, instantly Kitta's struggles against Prime's affections came to a halt and she scampered quickly over to the doorway where Simmons still stood.
Simmons couldn't help but feel smug as he bent down and picked an extremely eager Kitta up. The hurt look in the alien's eyes as he stared down at them was priceless; it was almost worth having to give—something in Simmons chest ached as Kitta's warm frame trembled in fear over the red and blue alien's actions. No, he was wrong, nothing would be worth that.
"Do I already have the files that pertain to her?" Optimus' unusually gruff voice startled Simmons, and made the little alien in his arms clench onto his arms even tighter.
"Yes, everything is already there." Simmons coolly replied thankful that his voice hadn't shook as he spoke.
Optimus nodded sharply, "Then I don't think I need to tell you that I'll be taking her back with me."
Simmons looked back down at his frightened charge and quietly replied, "I knew." He'd known, but knowing hadn't taken any of the edge away.
Optimus' optics narrowed unconsciously as he watched the agent interact with the sparkling; it bothered something deep inside his spark to see the sparkling react this way towards a human who had not too long ago been their enemy, and at the same time absolutely reject the attentions of its own species. It just wasn't right, and as Optimus skimmed over the data files on the tiny miracle he became more and more convinced that it was somehow Sector Seven's fault that she wasn't responding properly. That's why in her delicate state it was imperative to get her back to their base and have Ratchet run a full diagnostics on her. The uncomfortable feeling that he got when she refused to look at him, opting instead for Simmons, for a human's affection had nothing to do with it; he was sure.
"By the way Simmons I have reviewed her file briefly, but I have found no designation for her yet; she does have one?" Optimus tried not to let his hurt feelings at the sparklings reluctance to get in cab show.
Simmons looked at the semi with genuine surprise, "Those files should have had her name all over them; it's Kitta."
"Kitta?" Simmons shifted uncomfortably at the sound of Prime's overly amused voice.
"Yes, we presumed Kitta was her name because that was all she said when we first found her." Simmons ventured to explain.
Optimus let out a low chuckle that he hoped didn't sound too mocking to the human, "Kitta, agent Simmons in Cybertronian is the equivalent to a human sparkling saying 'goo-goo gaa-gaa.' "
Simmons frowned at Optimus' revelation, "I didn't know. We just assumed…"
Optimus' engine revved loudly as he started to pull slowly away, "How could you've known?" He called back to Simmons, "You're not her race." And then he was off, leaving Simmons to choke on the only thing he left behind, the dust.
Simmons walked back inside to his office in a daze. With Kitta gone the lack of comforting and familiar noise of company seemed even louder. The sound of silence pressed heavier and harder on his eardrums until he thought that they might burst with the pressure. Simmons shoulders sagged numbly, as he stared out into the labyrinth of tunnels that had made up Sector Seven. He'd forgotten what being alone was like.
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Two Weeks later
Simmons blearily opened his eyes and stiffly stretched on the small cot he'd been sleeping on for the past two weeks. He'd been stuck in the dark recesses of Sector Seven over seeing the transfer of everything to Optimus Prime's new base. The natural vastness of Sector Seven impressive caverns seemed magnified by the growing open spaces and dwindling human presence.
Wearily Simmons sat up, leaning heavily on his legs as a stretched his arms towards the cold concrete floor. If Sector Seven had ever felt mysterious, and secluded before that feeling was magnified now by ten.
With a heavy sigh Simmons eyes closed as he listened for the natural sounds of Sector Seven, sounds of familiarity, of normality, of life. He heard nothing except a small and almost indiscernible buzz. That however wasn't a sound he should have been hearing, it was a sound that should have been long gone by now. A sound he needed to be gone by now—to stay gone; because every time he heard it again it made giving up his life's work that much harder to bear, to face, to live with.
Simmons stood up and walked to his office door like a man walking to the gallows; his steps felt heavy and clumsy like his feet were made out of lead. Hesitantly he placed his hand on the door knob and smoothly opened his office up to the inky blackness of Sector Seven's shell.
For a few moments all he could do was stare down at the small alien child that he had lived with and in a strange way that he had never admitted out loud grown to care for over the year as she slept peacefully on the hard concrete outside his office door. She had come back to him—again—for the tenth time in two weeks since the other aliens, the ones who claimed she rightfully belonged with them had taken her.
He knew that what he should do was to shut his door again, turn off his light and pretend to asleep until Kitta's rightful guardians came around, which no doubt they would in an hour or so, to collect up there wayward charge. Simmons distractedly studied the delicate intricacies of Kitta's small frame; and for the second time in his life he petitioned silently to a God he'd thought he'd long forgotten that if he should live a hundred years and never see her again that he would at least remember this moment. That he would at least remember her unfailing loyalty; a loyalty she proved day after day by returning to him every time he sent her back.
Simmons turned around and walked back to his cot to retrieve the rough green Government Issue blanket that was strewn across it; his job with Sector Seven had required him to have a heart of more then merely stone, or steel, or iron, his heart had to be unbreakable, it had to be made of absence. For years he had labored under the idea that he had an absent heart, that he was indeed 'heartless', but with every small buzzing breath that Kitta let out as she slept he could feel something inside of him breaking a little more and it was agonizing.
Simmons gently bundled Kitta up in his coarse blanket and went to lay her soft on his cot. As he pulled away as a sleepy chirp rose up from the green blanket, Simmons smiled fondly as he watched Kitta's small hands burrow their way out the blankets and reach for him. He placed a reassuring hand on her head and instantly her half hearted struggling ceased, "Shh, go back to sleep Kitta, I'll be here when you wake up." Simmons whispered soothingly.
Slowly he stood back up and looked down at the again sleeping alien; he had phone calls to make, and betrayals to commit—again.
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"You want to go train?" Simmons asked bemused as Kitta tugged him towards one of the many now empty rooms in Sector Seven. Kitta let out an excited series of clicks reaffirming his assessment. Simmons looked down at his watch, they had already been up for two hours and not a single alien had shown their shiny unwanted faces up yet. Usually they came even before Kitta had had a chance to really wake up; Simmons figured that they did that specifically so that it would be easier to transport her.
Another sharp tug on his arm alerted him to the growing impatience of his wandering charge. "Alright!" Simmons shouted with a laugh throwing his free hand up in mock defeat. "We'll go train, but don't expect much with most the equipment gone!"
As they walked into the nearly empty training room Kitta let go of Simmons arm and ran over to the last set of uneven bars left. She eagerly scrambled up the pole of the highest bar and began to perform a set of acrobatics that Simmons was proud to say would have shammed even the world's greatest acrobat.
As she swung easily and fearlessly from bar to bar, flipping gratuitously in the air at will, Simmons was reminded of the first time she was taken to uneven bars; she had wailed so loudly, even when they had put her on the lowest set, that Banachek had considered the possibility of training her strictly for ground missions. That had been of course before Simmons had thought of implanting the trick for treat system he'd read about while doing his research.
Simmons winced as Kitta let out a triumphant but decidedly ear piercing screech in the cavernous room. She was balanced, and quite precariously in Simmons opinion, on the highest beam about to practice a set of maneuvers that she had been scheduled to learn weeks ago.
Simmons watched curiously as she leaned over about to start going through the motions. His eyes widened in surprised as at last second her balance seemed to waver and instead of a graceful finish to the other side of the beams Kitta fell with a hard crash onto the unprotected floor. With a quiet chuckle that didn't seem so quiet in the gutted room Simmons bent over and offered a hand to his fallen charge. A pair of intense blue eye glared up at him in defiance as Kitta brushed away his outstretched hand and shakily stood up, ready to climb the beams again. Simmons nodded proudly at Kitta's determination, at times like this she almost reminded him of him when he was a kid. Noiselessly he withdrew back to his vantage point, ignoring the small beep of his wristwatch as it tried to alert him to another hour passing by without Kitta's new guardian's appearing. He knew it was a vain hope, to think that maybe this time they would finally let her be; that they would just let her stay, but, he conceded to himself that is why they say 'hope springs eternal.'
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Optimus Prime wordlessly watched the unlikely pair as a busy Simmons patiently indulged the sparkling as she played around him. During Opitmus' long and sometimes brutal lifetime he had been faced with hard decisions; to hold out or withdraw, to be merciful or vengeful, to— Optimus' optics darkened with sorrow as the sparkling let out peals of laughter at the faces Simmons had paused in his paperwork to make at her. During the few times that the sparkling had actually tolerated any of his mechs in the same room with her they would have been lucky to get a sullen chick out of her let alone laughter.
Bumblebee didn't trust the ex-agent, he'd made that clear to Optimus; and Ironhide would be more willing to blow the pompous human up then to ever tolerate him. And Ratchet—Optimus didn't even want to remember Ratchet's hours long rant on 'useless, irresponsible humans who can't even be bothered to feed a sparkling the proper things'.
Optimus let out a long suffering sigh; he shouldn't even be thinking about what he was contemplating. It shouldn't have even crossed his neural net as a possibility, but…the sound of the sparkling giggling pleasantly with Simmons made up his mind. Sparklings were rare during the war; and with the loss of the Allspark their numbers were sure to dwindle even more.
If they had to accept this human in order for the sparkling's health and happiness to continue then they would; even if it meant dealing with the grating human on a regular basis.
Optimus rattled his vocalizer loudly as he stepped out from the shadows. A deep melancholy rose up in his chest plates when he saw that the sparkling instantly went on the defensive and ran behind Simmons. Although for the last two weeks they had tried everything they could to acclimate their precious charge to their company nothing they had done, or thought of had worked. The sparkling still refused to eat anything they offered, refused to recharge on their base, and refused to be handled in anyway.
They had been trying so hard, and yet, Optimus' optics connected with Simmons stony glare. He was afraid that in their attempts to raise the sparkling according to Cybertroain ways they had completely forgotten that it wasn't a Cybertronian at all, that it in fact had been raised by humans and was an earthling. And that thought was perhaps what scared them all more then anything; the thought that despite this being the first sparkling to be created in vorns, it had about as much in common with them as the humans that they shared this planet with did. They were the same species but theywere alien to one another.
"You're later then usual." Simmons called out; Optimus was taken aback by the bitter quality of the ex-agents voice. "Can't say I was expecting you though; you here to make sure I haven't been bribing the kid to run back to me all this time?"
Optimus took another step closer, much to the chagrin of Kitta who began to chirp furiously at him. "I," Optimus began to explain, his optics staying trained on the enraged youngling. "I wasn't here to accuse you Simmons, I'm here to offer you a deal." He finished solemnly.
Simmons snorted up at the giant alien, "And what if I don't want to accept this 'offer'?"
Optimus looked down at the mistrusting human and let out a deep sigh, "I was hoping for—Kitta's—sake that you would accept."
Simmons glanced sharply down at the small upset alien that clung to his shirt tails chittering madly; if it was for Kitta then…maybe he would listen. "For Kitta's sake I might," Simmons replied coolly determined not to allow his anxiety to surface in front of the gigantic alien.
Optimus allowed himself a small smile before quickly transforming into his alt. mode and swinging open the passenger door of his cab, "Reginald Simmons, I, Optimus Prime, Leader of the Autobots, officially request your expertise and skills to fill the vacant position as sparkling liaison."
Simmons stared blankly in shock at the semi for a minute before recovering his usual over confidence and hauling him and Kitta up boldly into the open cab, "Well Prime, you're in luck, I was just looking for a job with that title."
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AN: So, did you like it? Love it? Hate it's guts? Was jealous OP just the cutest thing or was he annoying?
Preview: Think Megatron's first unfreezing, Simmons living on base with the Autobots as Kitta's caretaker + the return of the pink Barbie car, and many, many more!