AN: Aaaaand here we are, in the new Movie section! Still unpacking and settling in, and waiting for the movers to arrive. Hopefully I won't lose the box with have my reviewers inside. ;)

You know what's interesting? A few days ago I was the train, lost in thought, and I was starting to stress out about various things in my life. Right then and there I whipped out my trusty notebook and worked on this chapter, and within minutes I was feeling much better. Apparently, writing is a very relaxing activity for me. :)

Remember, if you want to see pictures or read descriptions of what the characters look like, check out my profile for the links.

Disclaimer: If I owned Transformers, characters like Elita would get a lot more love.

TPWIP is inspired by Ray of Starlight's "Twin Times the Fun." Go check it out if you haven't yet. And when you get there, read her story "The Ties that Bind", that's a cool one too.

Ch. 8 – Matters of Duty

Aine stood on the wide cement steps of the public library and watched Elita drive away with Nolan, catching a few odd looks on her way out because of the broken window and sizable dent in the door.

She hoped Nolan would be alright, but she was also glad for Elita taking him out of her hands. She had never seen Nolan like that before, so mad and irrational, and it still left her shaken. Her heart was still fluttering from the experience.

Hopefully, Elita would be able to talk some sense into her brother, and he'd be himself again when they got back.

In the meantime, Elita had given her a job to do: find out where they were, and plot a rough course to Tranquility from here.

So Aine took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and marched up the steps, brimming with resolve and determination to fulfill her mission to the highest degree…then backed up a few steps to check the sign.

" 'Owensboro City Library'," she read aloud. "Well, that's a start."

Not that did her any good, since she didn't have a clue where Owensboro even was. Were they even still in Ohio?

She'd need to use one of the computers to find out.

Twenty minutes later, Aine was browsing through online US road maps with the help of a borrowed library card.

Getting her own card for this one visit, as it turned out, had been out of the question. Without a local home address or photo ID, she couldn't get one even if she wanted to. Fortunately, after asking a few people there, she found one guy who was nice enough to lend her his, so long as she paid for her own printouts and gave it back as soon as she was done (which she promised to do, several times).

As it turned out, they weren't in Ohio anymore. They had ended up going in a west and southerly direction, from the looks of it, and ended up on the border of Kentucky. Not the most efficient course to Tranquility, but at least they hadn't backtracked. Really, the Blue Car Crew had done them a favor, forcing them to travel so far so fast.

Thinking of the Blue Car Crew, and the case, reminded Aine why nearly the entire episode was a blur to her, until near the end. She remembered the horrid yet familiar sensation of her chest constricting, her body trembling and shivering, blindly terrified again that her heart was going to give out and she was never going to see her brother again because she was going to die among strangers, wanting so badly to scream for Nolan to save her, for Elita to find her, but not being able to make a sound…

Aine curled a hand over her heart as the pit of her stomach turned cold.

Tentatively, fearfully, not wanting to know yet unable to avoid looking, Aine pulled up the Google search page, and typed in the search bar:

Heart attacks + teenagers

Two attacks in two days. That had never happened to her before, so whatever was wrong with her, it was getting worse. Finding out made her want to be sick, but she couldn't pretend it wasn't happening anymore, or that it was just going to go away on its own if she ignored it.

But the search didn't turn yield as much fruit she had hoped for and dreaded. Most of the sites talked about heart attacks in general, about how they were caused by high blood pressure and cholesterol and what not, and others mentioned that heart attacks in teens were highly rare but not impossible to diagnose.

Nothing she found matched her particular situation, since she ate healthy and, as far as she knew, her family didn't have a history of heart disease, not extensively anyway.

Is my condition that rare? Aine thought, feeling sick and cold with dread. Do I have some weird, rare disease hardly anyone knows about?

Aine shut all the windows and logged off the computer in a haze. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with her heart, her body?

"Miss? Miss, is everything okay?"

Aine looked up to see one of the library aides looking down at her in concern, and to her embarrassment she realized how watery her eyes were.

"It's nothing, I'm fine," she said automatically. "I'm just…it's personal, I'm sorr…I'm sorr..."

Quickly, before the tears could fall, Aine got out of her chair and hurried past the aide, leaving the printout and borrowed library card behind.

She made a bee line for the bathroom, thankfully unoccupied, and locked the door behind her.

The bathroom was a single room, large enough to accommodate a wheelchair and even possessing a fold down counter for mothers to change their babies' diapers.

There would be no witnesses to Aine's weakness.

Aine switched off the lights and sunk to the floor, back to the door, knees drawn up and hugged tightly to her chest as she sobbed soundlessly in the dark. Maintaining the silence was second nature to her now, after so many years of hiding her tears from Richard, who despised weakness in his kids, and Nolan, who had enough to deal with in his own life without Aine adding her own personal weaknesses and fears to his burden. Now, she wasn't sure if she possessed the ability to cry aloud even if she had wanted to.

What am I supposed to do now? Aine thought. I'm so scared, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Should I tell someone?

Even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't a real option, not now anyway. They still had to get Elita back to her friends, and with that Decepticon – Onslaught, that was what Elita had called him – after them, they didn't have time for her personal drama.

Besides, what has changed since yesterday really? What mattered more than anything was the tenuous balance she, Nolan, and Richard held at home. It was imperfect and nerve wracking sometimes, but it made life bearable and it was her duty to maintain that balance, just as her mother had before her.

If Aine came out with this, would the balance be broken beyond repair?

That frightened her almost as much as the possibility of death. She had no idea what would happen exactly, but she had seen firsthand how explosive and irrational Richard could get when he felt like his personal comfort was being encroached on, or his position and power as head of the family threatened. He liked to have things just so, and was happiest when Aine did what she had to do, and did not deviate from the status quo.

Come to think of it, that was a little like…

Aine shook her head. No, this was not the time to distractions.

I wish Mom was here.

That stray thought actually took the young girl by surprise. Her memories of her mother had dimmed, only a few strong ones here and there, most of her knowledge of the woman having been supplied by Nolan occasionally, and Richard when he was giving her new duties that the previous O'Connell matriarch had held. Aine couldn't even remember her voice, her last hug, her laugh, not even her face. But she did faintly remember a sense of trust, of comfort, of being able to talk to her about anything without fear of judgment or ridicule…

Elita.

Aine raised her head a little, only to let it sink down again. No, she couldn't talk to Elita about this. They had only known her for a couple of days, and she was a stranger to Earth to boot, unfamiliar with humans.

And yet…

She was sincerely interested in the things Aine had to say, had spent hours just listening to her ramble that first day, something no one else had done. Maybe Elita couldn't do anything to help, but she could listen.

Aine shook her head. They temptation to finally tell someone her secret fear was overpowering, but was it the best course of action?

It's too much, I can't think about it now. I'll think about it later, Aine decided as she stood, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. I'll just think about it later.

"Y'know, most people would assume it'd be a lot harder for a giant robot to find a good hiding place in a city the middle of the day."

"Most people would be correct, but I have had many years to practice finding strategic locations quickly."

"'Strategic locations.' Right. Can't you just say 'hiding place?'"

The strategic location, hiding place, fox hole, or whatever you wanted to call it, turned out to be a large, rustic brick building with big doors that were more that accommodating enough for a car to come through, once the lock was 'accidently' smashed. The whole place, while empty and spacious on the inside, reeked of age and dignity. It was close to a hundred years old, or so the plague outside had declared, and apparently had great historic value and whatnot for anyone who cared about that stuff.

The same plaque had also mentioned it was used nowadays for bazaars and farmers markets, hence the spacious interior, and that it was 'the heart and soul of the community.' All they cared about was that it was roomy enough for Elita to stand and stretch comfortably, and private enough to hide her from passer-byers (the windows were covered with wooden blinds, obscuring the view to outsiders).

Privacy assured, Elita had taken out a small (relative to herself) box from a folded compartment on her lower back, which turned out to be the Cybertronian equivalent of a first aid kit, except instead of band aids and gauze, she got to use what looked like welders, some clamps, and a few other tools Nolan didn't even have names for beyond 'eye-curler-monkey-wrench-hybrid-thing.'

She used the tools to tend to her repairs, and while Nolan couldn't help but cringe when he saw the occasional spark, except for a slight twitch in her expression or a momentary halt in her sentences, Elita showed no sign of feeling pain or discomfort.

Yes, sentences. While Elita worked, she kept up light conversation with Nolan.

"You're just covered in little hiding places for your stuff, aren't you?" the boy commented, tilting his head as he watched. "You're like, Batman or Inspector Gadget."

"It is the easiest way to carry essentials without being overburdened," Elita said (after she made Nolan explain who Batman and Inspector Gadget were). "Though there are obvious limits. I know that Wheeljack, a brilliant engineer for the Autobots, was working on creating sub-space compartments so that we might be able to carry more without hindrance, but his experiments were not going terribly well the last I heard."

"What happened?"

"His laboratory had exploded again."

"...'Again?'"

"Wheeljack is a true genius, but he is…notoriously explosive."

"As in, he loses his temper a lot and breaks things?"

"As in, he has had more limbs blown off and parts replaced than any other mech I have ever known"

"Whoa boy."

"Indeed."

Their conversation was light, and enjoyable, and Nolan found himself relaxing again. Mostly Elita asked about Nolan himself, what he liked to do, how his jobs were, and what his plans were for the future (which Nolan didn't want to talk about extensively and Elita politely changed the subject). Nolan tried to sneak in a few questions about Onslaught, but Elita cleverly deflected all questions and Nolan ended up learning nothing he didn't already know. But she also talked about herself a little, when Nolan asked.

"So why do you talk so freakishly formally all the time anyway?"

"Before the war, I worked in politics. I spent much of my time working with high ranking government officials and the aristocrats of the Towers, often acting as a liaison between the two. To speak in the vernacular in such situations would have risked creating an impression as being uncultured, and the Towers, if nothing else, were the Autobot epitome of high class and culture. I suppose after so long, speaking in such a manner simply became second nature to me."

"But it's not just that you don't use slang," Nolan pointed out. "I mean, you never say 'don't' or 'I'm,' it's always 'do not' and 'I am.' And you use fancy words to describe stuff too, like 'abode' instead of 'home.' Or 'strategic location' instead of 'hiding place.'" The last example was added with a smirk.

"It is a highly ingrained habit," was Elita's only answer.

Then came the part where Elita had to try and address the damage to her shoulder. That was proving somewhat difficult, since she couldn't easily reach it.

"So…d'ya need any help?" Nolan asked. Elita looked down at him thoughtfully.

"If you are offering, I could use your assistance."

She held up what looked like tweezers in her hand. "I can feel that I have several pieces of shrapnel behind my shoulder, but I cannot reach it on my own to remove them. Could you do it for me?"

"No sweat," Nolan said, getting up from his sprawled seat on the floor. "Just show me where to look."

Elita handed the tweezers to Nolan, who had to use both hands to use them, before turning her back and lying on her side, her left shoulder facing upward. Nolan could now see several pieces metal of various sizes peppering where her shoulder blade would have been, had she been human, leaking a pink liquid from the points of entry.

Nolan felt his stomach churn. Cripes, if he'd been hurt like that, he wouldn't be able to do more than curl up in a corner and whimper in pain, let alone get in a high speed chase immediately afterward and carry on a normal conversation.

"Cripes, doesn't that hurt??"

"My tactile senses are not nearly as sensitive as I suspect yours are, so it does not pain me as much as you are probably imagining. However, I would like them removed posthaste."

"No kidding. Hey, most of the pieces are pretty big, it'd probably be easier for me to use my hands instead of the tweezers."

"I would strongly advise against that. Do you see any energon dripping from the wounds?"

"The pink stuff?"

"Yes. It is harmless to organics so long as you do not touch it; otherwise it is potentially highly corrosive. Do not allow it to come in contact with your skin."

Nolan was suddenly very, very glad for the tweezers, not to mention a lot more nervous. He also made a note to talk to Elita about her defining a flesh-dissolving acid as 'mostly harmless.'

It was slow going, but Nolan was able to pull out all the shrapnel he could find, and did his best to make each removal as smooth and quick as he could, though he had to jiggle a couple of the more stubborn ones to get them out. Elita bore it all gamely, though she did clench her hand sporadically.

Finally it was done, and Nolan handed the tweezers back to Elita as she got back up. "Shouldn't we do something about the bleeding? Slap on a giant metal band aid or something?"

"The damage is otherwise minor; my self-repair systems will be able to handle it given time. The energon loss is not particularly dan…danger…dan…"

Elita's glowing eyes flickered on and off, and she actually swayed a little as she trailed off.

"Elita?" No response. "Elita?!"

"What?" Elita snapped back to attention, 'blinking' her eyes on and off again, looking a little dazed and confused. "My apologies, I drifted off for a moment."

"No kidding. You okay?"

"My energy reserves had been a little low ever since I landed, below fifty percent capacity, and I have not been able to refuel since then. Not to mention the fight with Onslaught drained me even further, more than I would like."

Nolan turned her words over in his head for a moment.

"So…you're saying you're tired and hungry?"

"More or less. Do not worry, I will be fine."

"What d'ya guys do for food or whatever?"

"We refine energy into a liquid form called energon and drink that."

"Energon? Like that pink stuff you were bleeding?"

"Yes."

"You guys drink BLOOD??"

This prompted the merriest laugh Nolan had ever heard from Elita. "No no no, nothing quite like that. We do not consume energon that has come from within a fellow Cybertronian, except under the most extreme life or death situations."

"But…you guys drink your own blood…"

"And you meaty organics eat flesh."

"….Good point. Hey, you turn into a car, can't you use gas?"

Elita grimaced a little at that. "Perhaps as a very last resort, but I would greatly prefer a cleaner energy source that did not put quite as much tax on my systems to process."

"Fair enough. Can you 'refine' some energy into energon now though, if you wanted?"

"No. I do not have the equipment for that. I could no more create my own energon any more than you could create bread with grain and nothing else. If I wish to reenergize, I would essentially have to 'scavenge for food,' if you will, and make do with baser energies, such as electricity. It would be a little harder for my systems, but I do not have many options. But that will have to wait."

Elita tucked her first aid kit back into its proper place and transformed, now looking as good as new, dent gone and window repaired (when did that happen, Nolan wondered?). She popped open the driver door and Nolan took the hint.

"Onslaught suffered greater damage than I, especially to his chassis," Elita said as Nolan slid behind the wheel. "He will need more time to repair, and probably scavenge parts to repair the damage. We have a bit of time, but we cannot waste this chance."

Nolan readily agreed.

Elita drove out of the semi-historic building through the same doors they came in, which gave way easily to Elita. However, once out, she insisted Nolan get out and make sure the doors were closed firmly behind them, even using the broken remains of the heavy lock to hold them in place.

It was only polite.

It occurred to Aine, once she had the printouts in hand and had returned the library card to its proper owner, that in such a large library it would be hard for Nolan to find her one his own, and since she didn't have a cell phone he wouldn't be able to call her and let her know he was coming.

So when Elita and Nolan drove up, the former looking much better (dent gone and window fixed, most notably), they found Aine waiting patiently, sitting on the library steps with the printouts in her lap.

Happy face happy face happy face… she chanted mentally as she stood, dusting off her bottom.

She plastered on a wide, bright smile and waved as she came down the rest of the stairs. "Hi! Glad you remembered to come back for me!"

Aine entered the car and let Elita close the door behind her.

"So, I figured out that we ended up in Kentucky, which really surprised me, since I didn't think we went that far. But at least we didn't back track or anything, so we're still okay. I think if we take I-85, we might be able to get as far as Jefferson City in Missouri by tonight, if we don't stop. Any thoughts?"

"Is everything alright Aine?"

The girl started at Elita's query. "What? What do you mean?"

"You do not seem quite…yourself. You don't seem as cheerful as you normally are."

"'Not as cheerful?'" Nolan repeated with a quirked brow. "Eltia, have you met my sister lately?"

"Y-yeah!" Aine asserted with an exaggerated nod. "Everything's fine, really, I'm totally over the near-kidnapping thing."

"If you insist," Elita said, and Aine could barely hide her relief that the femme seemed willing to leave it at that.

How wrong she was.

The Femme Commander was far from satisfied with Aine's answer. She couldn't put a finger on what it was exactly, but her instincts were telling her there was something off with Aine, like she was trying too hard to be cheerful. In Elita's experience, people who tried to put on a cheerful façade usually did it to cover up their real pain or sadness they didn't want others to see. What was with the mask all of a sudden?

Discreetly, Elita scanned Aine, just to check, and found no evidence of physical trauma.

Well then, what had happened while Elita and Nolan where gone?

Elita made a mental note to speak to Aine about this later, when Nolan wasn't nearby and they had a moment of privacy. Aine clearly wanted them to believe she was perfectly fine, and Nolan was effectively and far too easily for Elita's comfort, fooled. Aine might be more willing to open up if she had privacy.

First I speak to Richard, then Nolan, and now Aine, Elita thought in amusement as they left the library behind them. At this rate, I am going to become the O'Connell family psychologist.

Of course, the Blue Car Crew wasn't about to forget their ordeal against the Giant Robot of Doom (as so lovingly dubbed by Kyle); especially after they confirmed that their video evidence was undamaged.

Unfortunately, it turned out that not having physical proof wouldn't have been their biggest stumbling block.

"No sir, I am not making this up. All my friends saw it, and we even got it on video. One of them even started talking in the third person once! You don't believe me, just look at the….hello? Hello?"

Clarisse slammed the phone back down with a growl.

"Let me guess," Kyle drawled from his place lying down on the couch, one leg propped up on the back. "They hung up again."

"Shut up Kyle."

"Don't go hatin' me just because I'm right."

The five friends were now resting/hiding in Mike's house, as it had been the closest (if you can call an hour drive 'close'), and had spent the last three hours trying to get in touch with someone on a position of power to show their evidence.

This had proved more difficult than anticipated.

"So much for the State Troopers," Danny commented, crossing them off the list. "Next is…um…"

"Nobody!" Kyle exclaimed. "People, we've been calling every government organization we can think of. NO ONE is going to listen!"

"Who's 'we'?" Clarisse questioned. "Danny, Mike, and I are the one's doing all the work, Jaycee is still traumatized, and all you've done is lie there and complain."

"The FBI, the CIA, the NSA," Kyle counted off his finger, ignoring Clarisse, "City Hall, the Governor, the Senator, the National Guard, the local police force (and someone's gonna have to explain to me why Danny has all these numbers), and if we're lucky, the guy on the other end will be nice enough to listen long enough to tell us we're stupidity incarnate before they hang up. Enlighten me, what's the point in having proof of anything if no one's willing to suspend disbelief long enough to look at it?!"

"Well we can't just give up!" Clarisse countered forcefully. "That thing has two kids with it. They could be in danger. They could be hostages! We can't just forget about them! We have to keep trying until we get someone who can help those kids and be willing to listen to us!"

"That girl said that a lot too, that we needed to just listen," Jaycee muttered quietly, curled up in a comforter cocoon on the armchair. She had been too quiet to be heard by the others.

"I vote we forget the official channels and just go public with this," Mike said, raising a hand. "We were in the wrong place at the wrong time and we could have gotten killed for it. We need to let everyone know what's going on before someone gets hurt."

"What a shock, the journalism major wants to break the story," Kyle observed dryly. Clarisse looked ecstatic.

"Yes, yes! Mike, you're a genius! If everyone knows what's going on, the government will HAVE to do something about it!"

"Whoa whoa whoa, time out people!" Danny interjected, making a 'T' with his hands. "We can't just blab this to the entire country. If everyone thinks there's an alien invasion or whatever, the entire nation is going to freak out. I'm pretty sure mass hysteria and confusion is going to be counter-productive here."

"You have no faith in humanity, do you?" Mike said. "Look, a lot of people will freak out, I'll give you that, but if everyone knows about it, that'll be 600 million pairs of eyes that'll be looking for the robots. How long can it hide like that?"

"Plus, if everyone knows, that's 600 million who might end up being in the right place at the right time to save those kids," Clarisse reminded them. "Remember, those kids safety comes first and foremost."

"Uh, hello? Am I the only one who thinks this is way over our heads?"

"Yes Kyle, you are."

"We don't know what's really going on," Danny went on. "For all we know, the government already has a bead on this thing and us going public will just screw everything up."

"The public needs to know about the danger!"

Kyle gave a shrill whistle to grab everyone's attention. "Here's an idea: hide the tape, get back to our summer break, go back to school in the fall, and keep our heads down in the meantime. We're not cops or government agents or freaking superheroes. We're just five soon to be collage juniors who wandered into a bad place. We have no training, no contacts, and no clue. Besides, if either of those honkin' huge robots carryin' the major firepower finds out we blew their cover, don't you think it might come to kill us?"

"The red one didn't want to hurt us," Jaycee said, a little louder. This time, she was heard.

And brushed off.

"It said it had no reason to kill us," Kyle corrected. "It probably figured no one would believe us any way, so it might as well save itself the trouble. Heh, it was right about that. Personally, I say we don't push our luck."

"So you solution is to forget everything?! What about those kids, you want to just abandon them? I can't believe you're being so heartless!"

"It sucks for them, but we're not the help they need!"

"That's why we have to keep quiet until we find someone willing to listen who HAS the power to help them."

"No, that's why we have to get this footage out to as many people as we can before someone else gets hurt!"

Danny held up his hands as if acting as a barrier between two opposing forces.

"Alright everyone, take a deep breath and calm down for a second.

"The way I see it, we have two options right now: go public with everyone," Mike and Clarisse nodded, "or keep quiet, at least for now if not indefinitely." Kyle almost said something, but bit his tongue and just nodded in agreement.

"So, let's take a vote. You think we go public? Raise your hand."

Up went Mike and Clarisse.

"Surprise, surprise," Kyle muttered.

"All who think we don't?"

Up went Danny, Kyle, no surprise there either. The REAL surprise came when, from deep within the recesses of the huge comforter, came a pale thin hand, raising as slowly but surely as new growth in the spring.

Clarisse was incredulous. "Jaycee? Why?"

"It's…it's not that I agree with Kyle or Danny," she said quietly, not making eye contact with anyone. "But, I don't think we should tell anyone about this, ever."

"Finally! Someone who get's it!" Kyle crowed, pumping a fist into the air.

"No."

"No?"

"I don't want to keep the secret because I'm afraid the robot will come back and hurt us. I want to keep the secret because, I don't think she's really dangerous."

"You…don't think 'she's'….dangerous?" Mike repeated slowly, disbelieving. Jaycee nodded.

"That girl, she kept saying the red one was her friend and one of the 'good guys.' And the robot herself, she could have killed us, but she didn't. She, she didn't even yell at us. That girl, and her brother, they went with her willingly. They, they weren't scared of her. That girl kept defending her. And that boy, he said all they wanted was his sister back.

"I don't know what's going on either, but…I don't think it's dangerous. And if it's not dangerous, I don't want to cause her any trouble. Besides, if she's one of the 'good guys,' I don't want to get in the way of her fighting with the bad guys."

No one had an answer for that.

"Well," Danny said at last, "that puts the vote 3-2, in favor of keeping quiet." He checked his watch. "Look, I'm tired, hungry, and stressed out. I, for one, can't think straight when I'm tired, hungry, and stressed. How about we put this on the back burner for now, order a pizza, and pick this up later in an hour or two?"

There were nods all around, two more reluctant than the rest.

The friends dispersed, Danny to call Papa Johns, Clarisse to the kitchen, Kyle to the cabinet where Mike's family kept the DVD's, Jaycee sinking into the comforter again for a light nap, and Mike himself upstairs to his room.

He trudged up the stairs, the discussion, and Jaycee's observations, heavy on his mind.

Now that he thought about it, Jaycee was right. The red robot scared them, sure, but it hadn't done anything to hurt them, even when it had the chance. It had bumped up against them during the chase, but never hard enough to do more than freak them out.

But more importantly, Jaycee had reminded them that Red wasn't the only problem: it had been fighting against a Green Robot, the larger and more heavily armed of the two.

Mike didn't know what the whole story was, but he couldn't, in good conscience, sit back and do nothing after what he saw. He and Clarisse thought alike in that sense.

Mike opened the door to his room. As always, the first thing he saw, across from the door, was his desk and his computer, powered down and waiting for his return.

For a second his resolve wavered, but his sense of duty wouldn't let him turn back now.

The public needs to know.

With their supplies gone, and retrieving them being a non-option, Nolan had no choice but to fork over some of his money for a light, if late, lunch. Didn't mean he couldn't be stingy about it.

"A chilidog and a soda from 7-11," Aine observed with a wry grin. "Oh joy, the luxury is simple mind boggling, how can we ever afford it?"

"It was a major sacrifice, but you're worth it," Nolan explained solemnly, before breaking out in a grin of his own. "I even sprang for chips just for you!"

"Le gasp, Nolan, I am simply overwhelmed."

After a bathroom break and food purchase, the three of them had decided that the humans would lunch while Elita drove them out of the city, and by the time they had finished eating the city had been left far behind them.

They were all quiet for a few moment, comfortably so, the siblings lost in their own thoughts and looking out the window.

The silence was finally broken by Aine herself, asking the question that took her nearly five minutes to summon up the courage to ask.

"So Elita, that guy you were fighting: who WAS he? I mean, I figure he's a Decepticon, but he acted like he knew you personally, and you called him Onslaught. Do you two have a history, or something?"

Elita was silent for a long moment. "Yes," she said at last, "I know who he is. You both deserve to know, after what he forced you to go through. But to understand who Onslaught is, and why he hates me so, you first need to understand gestalt teams.

"Gestalt teams?"

"The Allspark is the source of all life on Cybertron, but most of its creations were born as self-sufficient and adult (if inexperienced and naïve) individuals. But gestalts can only come from the Allspark. They are a group who were born together, to work together, to be together, and hold the unique ability to come together and form a single, gigantic Transformer with a single mind."

The two teen's brows shot up. "Wow. That's like, spark-bonds meet Power Rangers." Nolan said.

"What are 'Power Rangers'?"

"Nothing, I'm just being stupid."

"In any case, your illustration is a little inaccurate, but not entirely incorrect. They do share a bond unlike any other. Not as tight and binding as twins that share the same spark, or as intimate as bondmates, but something else entirely. It is…difficult to explain or understand, if you are not a gestalt member yourself. I have been told it is being your own person, yet knowing, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you are not alone."

"Like family," Aine said. "Like brothers. Or sisters."

"Yes. Onslaught was the leader of his own gestalt, the Combaticons, who combined to form Bruticus."

Nolan tried, and failed, not to snort. He was sure that, in Cybertronian, Onslaughts team name didn't sound nearly as stupid or obvious. Clearly, something was getting lost in translation here.

While Nolan tried not to laugh, Aine frowned.

"He 'was'?" Aine repeated. She started getting a sinking feeling in her stomach about where this was going, and why Onslaught had targeted Elita. "What happened to…"

"I was supposed to arrive with my Division, but I had to separate from them to lead off a persistent group of Decepticons…I had dispatched the last of them when we received the transmission from Prime."

Aine felt hollow in her stomach. "His, his brothers…you…?"

"Starscream had taken one of their members as a part of his own team when he left to search for the Allspark and Megatron, the one called 'Brawl'. They could not form Bruticus without him, and their team harmony and cohesiveness suffered for the absence. They, or rather Onslaught, underestimated how vulnerable that left them."

"So you just…his entire team?" Aine said weakly, shaking her head a little, not wanting to hear how her gentle, patient friend killed someone else's family in cold blood. "Did, did you really have to do that?"

"Do not sympathize too much for Onslaught," Elita warned. "They were soldiers, intent on my capture for interrogation, or my deactivation. Onslaught himself is a dangerous enemy, without mercy or compassion. He does not target me to avenge his team, he targets me because I was able to bring about the destruction of his entire team single-handedly, something that will stain his reputation for as long as I live. He will not allow that.

"As to your question: had I wished to spare their lives, I could not because I lacked the equipment to detain so many. I would not let them capture me, I would not let them kill me, and I would not let them escape to attack other Autobots because I would not do what was necessary.

"So you don't…I mean, I understand you had to protect yourself. But doesn't it bother you that you had to k…that you couldn't find another way?"

"…I performed my duty. I have no regrets."

Aine started at the coldness of Elita's tone. At her last four words, Aine felt like her esophagus was clenching shut. She had known, in her head, that Elita was a soldier, but only now was it sinking in what that actually meant.

It was so easy to forget that, for all her gentle nature and sophisticated speech patterns, Elita One was a hardened war machine.

Aine's tentative decision to talk to Elita about her episodes shriveled up and died.

"How'd you do it?" Nolan asked curiously. "You against, how many? I mean, no offense, but you looked like you were having enough trouble with Onslaught one-on-one. How'd you pick off the entire team?"

"Without Brawl, their team only numbered four. But this is not the appropriate time for such stories," Elita said, firmly but not angrily. Nolan glanced over at Aine, and suddenly wanted to kick himself for being so insensitive.

Those Decepticons may have had it coming (in his humble opinion), but they had still been living people, and Aine, the more sensitive of them, did not want to hear how they died.

"So what's gonna happen now?" Nolan asked instead.

"I estimate we have most of today to put as much distance as possible between us and Onslaught," Elita answered. "We will continue for the rest of the day and night, non-stop, and in the morning we will find a large city where the two of you will secure public transit back to Rochester."

Aine and Nolan blinked. "What?"

"Now that Onslaught is targeting me, it is no longer safe for two of you remain within close proximity of my person. So long as you are with me, you will be in danger. I am grateful for your help, but I will not knowingly keep you in the line of danger."

Nolan nodded. Elita was right; it was too dangerous now for them to stay together. They got lucky this time, but next time they might not.

Besides, his ultimate goal had been to get Aine out of Richard's house, and if Elita just dropped them off (and didn't ask to check the tickets), they'd go their separate ways and he'd never have to explain why they're NOT going back. His only requirement for a new home was 'not in Rochester.' He didn't care if they set down new roots in Nevada, Connecticut, or Canada.

Well, maybe not Canada. Their healthcare systems were supposed to be notorious.

"No!"

Nolan blinked.

"What?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I said no!" Aine repeated. "I, I'm not ready to quit! Elita, you said you needed help getting to Tranquility and remaining unnoticed between here and there, right? That hasn't changed."

"My discretion and convenience is not worth your lives," Elita countered firmly, brooking no argument.

"With all due respect, ma'am, I think what I do with my life is my decision to make."

"No it's not!" Nolan protested. "Aine, I know how you feel, but this is getting too dangerous now. You were nearly killed and kidnapped in ONE morning! Doesn't that tell you anything?"

"I don't want to quit halfway!" Aine argued sharply. Nolan reeled back in astonishment, but Aine wasn't done yet. "I made a promise, and I'm going to see it through. I know the risks, but as long as we don't let Onslaught catch up out in the open again we'll be okay. He won't attack you where there'll be a lot of witnesses, right?"

"It is unlikely he would," Elita admitted. "He would not be so foolish as to draw attention from your military forces. He is proud, but not stupid.

"But that precaution will not be enough," Elita added. "Sooner or later, Onslaught WILL attack me again, and if you are with me, you will be in danger as well. The only question is whether you will be targets, hostages, or mere collateral damage."

"Listen to the Lady, Aine," Nolan said in a tone that hovered between an order and a plea. "It's too dangerous now, and Elita's got the maps and directions, and if she faces Onslaught again she's better off if she doesn't have to worry about us."

"Indeed. You need not concern yourself with my welfare, I will be able to navigate myself from here on out."

Aine set her lips in a thin line. "Elita, how far could you get before someone notices the car driving itself? What if you're forced off track again? What if other humans notice that you're not a normal car? When we met, you said you needed human guides to get to the Autobot base. THAT hasn't changed. I promised you that I'd help, and I won't back out of that.

"Nolan, I won't ask you to stay too. You can go home if you want, I'll understand. But I'm going to stay with Elita, keep my promise, and finish what I started.

"That's MY duty."

Nolan stared at her, slightly open mouthed in shock. He had never seen Aine like this before, with her heels dug in so firmly, so unwavering in her conviction. Then again, she had never had to before. She had usually just listened to him or Richard and just went along with what everyone else wanted to do. She had never resisted him like this, had never talked back to him like this.

But worst of all, she was talking like she didn't need him, like she could do just fine without him. She had no idea how much he was willing to sacrifice for her sake. Did she forget how much he's done to take care of her? How much he's protected her? He wasn't going to finish high school or go to college, all because he was trying to take care of her! Why, why was she talking like this now?

Why couldn't she see reason and just follow his lead, like she always had before??

When it became clear Nolan wasn't going to be able to respond for a while yet, Elita took up the reins of the conversation.

"Aine, I appreciate your loyalty, and I admire your willingness to complete what you set out to do, but I am not certain you appreciate fully the danger that you are subjecting yourself to. I was able to force Onslaught to withdraw last time, but I will not be able to do so again. I cannot condone you…I cannot…"

"…Elita?" Aine asked, and Nolan snapped out of his stunned funk as déjà vu set in.

Elita swerved a little to the left and right, and drifted into the next lane.

"ELITA!" the humans shouted as at the same time the car next to them honked in a panic.

The commander quickly righted herself before she could crash into the other vehicle and retreated two lanes over, putting plenty of distance between herself and other drivers.

"My apologies. I seem to be a little more drained than I thought."

"Elita, please tell me you didn't nod off while driving."

"I did not slip into momentary recharge while driving. I merely blacked out for a second or two."

"WHAT?!"

"My reserves are low. It would seem I will not be able to continue for the next sixteen hours as I had hoped. Do not panic Nolan, I will stop and find whatever energy source I can tonight. Until then, I request you both remain silent. I need to concentrate if I am to avoid another relapse."

Nolan and Aine exchanged a look, and while they had absolute trust in Elita's judgment and driving skills, they both couldn't help but discreetly check their seatbelts.

And so the 'convince-Aine-to-jump-ship-with-Nolan' talk was put on hold, at least until tonight.

Later that afternoon of the same day (about 5:45, if you want to be specific), Maggie Madsen was in her new corner office in the Pentagon, going over important printouts her team had pulled together for her.

After Mission City, Keller had offered her a promotion, a place on his own staff, and (you guessed it) a corner office as the cherry on top. It came with her own team that she got to hand pick herself, along with a pretty door that introduced her as Maggie Madsen, Senior Analyst. It still gave her a fuzzy feeling when she thought about it, since she was the youngest person to currently hold that title, not to mention the only woman.

And, secretly, she loved scandalizing some of the older staff with her nose stud and Chinese character tattoo on her neck.

Maggie's phone rang, and she marked her place before answering.

"Senior Analyst Madsen here," was Maggie's first response. Or it should have been, except she only got as far as "Sen-" before she was drowned out.

"MAGGIE! Get on YouTube right now, you've gotta see this!!"

Maggie held the phone away from her ear in the interest of preserving her hearing. Glen Whitman was in fine form today, if he was able to hit those kind of decibel levels right off the bat.

"Glen? Glen, what are you talking about?" Maggie asked, once she deemed it safe to put the phone back to her ear.

"If I told you, you won't believe me, so I'm telling you instead to get on YouTube and see it for yourself."

Maggie rubbed her temple and briefly wondered what possessed her to insist having Glen on her team.

Oh, right. Genius hacker, and all that.

"Glen, if this is about another 80's cartoon someone uploaded…" Maggie growled.

"I swear on my Grandma's grave that this is a for real emergency! And don't pretend you weren't happy to watch the classic Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles again!"

"You're grandmother isn't dead, Glen, that doesn't mean anything," Maggie pointed out, deliberately ignoring his last comment.

"Not the point!"

Now, Maggie had two choices: tell Glen to stop goofing off and get back to work, in which case he'd protest and keep calling her until she relented, costing her time and patience, OR she could humor him and get it over with, on the off chance that Glen actually had a valid concern…on YouTube.

"What am I supposed to be looking for?" Maggie asked, pulling up the internet window and resigning to her fate.

"It's only been up for a few hours, but it's so popular it's still on the front page."

"What were you doing on YouTube in the first place, anyway?"

"I was on my break!"

"Glen, you'd better not have been goofing off…" Maggie spied the little box and suspicious title seconds after the window loaded, "…again."

The title was "Real Danger – Invasion and Robots", the screen shot of one mechanical person firing a weapon with glowing blue eyes. Maggie was already getting a very, very bad feeling about this.

"Wait 'till you see the video," Glen said, somehow managing to sound both apprehensive and smug at the same time.

With a growing sense of dread and disbelief, Maggie obediently clicked it.

For nearly five minutes, Maggie watched a pitched fight between two gargantuan (the trees made for a good reference for size) robotic beings being recorded by an amateur filmmaker, one red and lithe, the other green and hulking. In the last few seconds, a hand covered the lens, and the camera jostled violently for a few seconds before the hand moved to briefly reveal a boy in his late teens or early twenties, presumably the original camera man, before the camera itself was hurled down and the screen went black.

Now, Maggie didn't recognize either combatant personally, but after pausing and examing the screen (read "stare dumbly") at several key points, she couldn't deny the increasingly obvious.

"Oh my god," she said.

"Yep," Glen replied, still on the phone. "Looks like a couple of bona-fide Cybertronians to me. Some guy caught them on Candid Camera and uploaded the video a few hours ago. Looks like he knows what he saw."

Maggie pulled her eyes away from the video and read the filmmakers comments in the grey box to the right of it:

"If you're reading this, you're now one of the people who know what's going on. This morning, I found these two fighting, and my first thought was that it was a movie set or something, before one of the missiles went off over my head and nearly killed me. One of them turned into a car and chased me down when I tried to escape, but I was able to save the tape. I don't know what they are or what they're doing here, but everyone's in danger and everyone needs to know these things are out there. They can pretend to be regular cars and stuff, but if everyone looks out, they can't hide forever. Call your police, the FBI, the Army, anyone you can. We have to work together if we're going to protect ourselves from these things.

"The red one had two humans with it, kids, a boy and a girl. I don't know what their story is, but they might be in danger. If you find yourself in a position to save them, DO IT. They're counting on you.

"This is NOT a trick, a trailer, a trick with Photoshop, or anything fake. This is REAL, it's happening to us NOW. You have to believe me, or we're all in serious trouble."

Maggie read it over three times, shaking her head. "How…what…how'd this happen? Never mind. Glen, can you get this off the internet and find this guy? And make a copy of this video, for Keller and the Autobots?"

"Video copy? No problem. Make the video disappear? After I pose as an admin and freeze the guys account, no problem. That'll take down all his videos automatically. But you want me to find this guy, that'll take a while, and I'll have to do it before I freeze him, otherwise I'm just covering his tracks for him and it's a no-go."

"How long will it take?"

"Hour, hour and a half at most. More if he's a hacker too and knows how to hide."

Maggie rubbed her temple for a few seconds in thought.

"Fine. Find this guy first, and then freeze him." Maggie scrolled down to read some of the comments being left for the video. "Most people think it's a trailer for a movie next year or something, so at least no one's taking it seriously. But this guy needs to be stopped before he does any real damage."

"On it Maggie. Later!" Click, and the hacker was off to save the day, Glen-style.

Maggie hung up her own phone, and watched the last few seconds of the video again, as the camera was stolen and destroyed.

"Someone didn't want this getting out," Maggie commented to herself. One of the 'hostages' perhaps? She picked up the phone again, this time to dial her direct like to Defense Secretary Keller himself.

But as the video played again, a realization hit Maggie with such force, her finger froze in mid dial. Her mind blanked for several seconds before spinning around again at warp speed, completely unprepared with this new realization, this new clarity, of something so shocking and unexpected.

"I can always deal with Decepticons. Elita One has no fear."

That voice again, icy, powerful, and unmistakably feminine.

Alien robots have genders??

AN: The 'drinking blood' thing isn't mine, but it was just too good to pass up.

I got it from another story I read, written by Stormy 1x2 and called "Unlikely Partners." It's in the Ninja Turtles section, but it's a crossover with Transformers. It's only three chapters on, so it's great for a quick read. AND it's got Sideswipe in it, what more can you ask for? Go check it out! :)