Howdy, y'all! Didn't realize it had been a whole month since I updated this–where the slag did February go?! So, thanking my reviewers–MiniAjax, liv cahill (Jazz is like a toddler, he really wants a pet but probably shouldn't have one, right?), Teddy Bear 007 (me too), Muirgen79, Teletraan-1 (I do love me some banter, not gonna lie, lol), Amelia St. Claire, SunnySides (I need more information on this robot bulldog IMMEDIATELY, I couldn't find anything about it with google, TELL ME MORE, I DEMAND IT), himelove22, Isobel, Answerthecall, Black Raven Wolf, random lurker (the Tyrest Accord is a big part of the More Than Meets the Eye comics series, and is definitely worth looking up–Ultra Magnus is one of the enforcers and, well, it's just a big, BIG deal. And you would be right about Alias totally violating the Tyrest Accord except for one thing… they didn't give Autobot technology to the humans, they used it to STEAL a human. That's their story and they're sticking to it, dammit, lol! Thanks for such a lovely comment!), and Lunessa Mysteria!

Now for a new chapter… hope y'all like it!

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Three hours later almost to the second, Anna walked back out toward the barn. The sun was just starting to rise, bathing the sky in soft blues and violets–no pinks or golds yet. Those would come later. She loved sunrises.

She wondered what sunrise looked like on Cybertron.

The last twenty-four hours hardly seemed real. Surely things like this didn't really happen. It wasn't really possible that she could get off work on a Friday afternoon, go out to happy hour with her team, and come home with plans no bigger than whether or not to see a movie on Saturday, and suddenly have an alien robot crash-land practically in her lap. Surely it wasn't really possible that his alien robot friends had arrived and now her barn had been taken over by a freaking alien robot medic who had turned it into some kind of alien robot hospital. Surely it wasn't really possible that those alien robots could transform into seemingly normal human vehicles, hiding in plain sight.

It was possible that she was a bit hung up on the whole alien robot thing, but who could blame her? This kind of thing only happened in movies–crazy B-grade scifi, not even the good movies with the multi-million dollar special effects budgets.

But this was no movie, and the enormous, scorched crater in the previously grassy clearing between her house and the barn was no movie set.

The almost-identical twin truck currently parked beside hers in the driveway was no prop.

And the just-darkening bruises down the entire left side of her body, finger-marks from a hand much larger than she was, were certainly no special effect. She winced a little, rubbing the worst one on her hip, and made a mental note never to mention these to Optimus Prime. He'd been so worried when he opened his hand and looked down at her that she knew he hadn't meant to hurt her, and her mind kept returning not to the shock and pain of his unexpected grab, but to his instant willingness to put himself between her and danger.

To how safe she'd felt cradled against his solid metal chest.

To the light, so-very-careful caress of one giant fingertip down her arm when she'd been afraid.

For such an enormously strong being, he was actually surprisingly gentle. The dichotomy he presented fascinated her. He had no need to ask her for anything–it was beyond obvious that she was completely at his mercy should he decide to compel her compliance, but instead, he'd worried about accidentally harming her during his near-fatal crash, and spoken of being in her debt, and vowed that she would never come to harm by his hand.

But then his friends had arrived, and they were not merely 'friends.' NASA attracted loads of military employees. Even before Optimus had introduced them with their clearly martial titles, she'd recognized the bearing.

And that enormous gun Jazz had shoved in her face had been just a bit of a giveaway, too.

Optimus said they were here for peaceful purposes, but they were clearly well equipped to fall back on force if it became necessary. Gentle or not, he commanded a force of vastly powerful beings, and just because he'd been nice to her didn't automatically mean they had humanity's best interests at heart.

Anna had never been stupid. Jazz's first reaction to seeing her near Optimus Prime's spilled Energon had been to draw a weapon and she would be a fool not to keep that in mind. She could be as fascinated with Optimus as she wanted, but she couldn't afford to let that fascination make her blind to the possibility of danger.

The sound of voices coming through the still-open barn doors caught her attention as she approached the barn, and she identified Jazz and Ratchet by their voices. Her footsteps slowed when she noticed that they were speaking English now instead of that strangely beautiful alien robot (yeah, not gonna stop being hung up on that anytime soon) language they'd all been speaking earlier. She was near the generators now and she stopped behind them–not hiding, really, but not standing right out in the open, either.

"… sure likes that funny little creature, doesn't he?" Jazz was saying in an amused tone, and Anna realized with a start that they were talking about her.

Clearly they hadn't expected her to return so soon, but she'd never been able to sleep when she was excited about a project, and this was the most exciting thing she'd ever experienced.

"Yeah, and I don't like it," Ratchet replied. Anna moved to the other side of the generator where she could get a partial view through the window and saw the two Autobots standing beside Prime's prone form–she couldn't see his face, but his stillness made it seem likely that he was in recharge. "It could've done anything to him before we got here. He hasn't acted like this since… well, since before you were sparked, Jazz."

"Well, yeah, but he hasn't been hurt this bad in a long time, either," Jazz said, crossing his arms. "She pulled his ass out of the fire, literally from what I understand. He's grateful. He'll be his old serious self when he wakes up, Ratchet, just you wait and see."

Ratchet snorted. "I've patched him up from worse and he hasn't gone into grinning and laughing fits then," he grumbled. "Slag, he was still Pax last time I saw him laugh. I haven't seen him smile so much since before the Matrix chose him."

Jazz chuckled. "Didn't know he could smile, honestly," he said, and Anna frowned. She didn't understand all of what they were saying, but this didn't sound like the same person–robot–whatever, it didn't sound like the same Optimus she'd met. "Let alone laugh. Lighten up, will ya? It's probably good for him!"

Ratchet poked the smaller bot in the chest with one finger. "I will not lighten up, and you shouldn't either," he said, jabbing to emphasize every word. "I'm telling you that something's not right here. He's not thinking straight and there's no medical reason for it. We need to find out what's going on here and take appropriate action, do you understand me?"

Anna's heart began to pound as Jazz went serious. He stared up at the medic for a long moment before quietly saying, "You heard Optimus, Ratchet. He gave her his word that we wouldn't harm her. He might be acting a little strangely, but that was still the word of a Prime."

Ratchet growled in clear frustration. "Why does everyone immediately assume I'm talking about murder?" he said, throwing up his hands. "Has everyone forgotten that I'm a medic? I am not suggesting we, I don't know, go drown her in her pond or something! But containment isn't harm, is it? She has enough information to seriously hurt us and Optimus tied our hands with that damn peace bond. She could be perfectly safe and unharmed and in custody where she can't endanger us. Why am I the only one who thinks that taking some precautions is a reasonable step? For Primus' sake, Jazz, you've been trying to get us to make her our pet since we rolled up here! Are you seriously against this now?"

Her heart wasn't just pounding now, it felt like it was trying to crawl right up her neck and strangle her. Anna's feet were moving before her brain fully formed the thought and she was halfway back to her house before realizing she had even started to retreat. The two Autobots were still arguing and she thought they probably hadn't seen her, but the sky was getting brighter with each passing second and they could look up at any time.

She turned and ran, bursting through her kitchen door and barely stopping herself from slamming it behind her. The last thing she needed was one of them to hear that and realize she'd overheard their plans to lock her away.

Or worse, make her their pet. She could think of few things more demeaning than that. Jazz's frequent jokes about "keeping her" didn't seem quite so funny anymore. Would they expect her to do tricks? Entertain them for her food? That wasn't technically harm, but she would still rather die than live like that.

She forced herself to move. She couldn't cower against the door–the house wasn't safe. Even the smallest of them could easily tear the roof off and pluck her out. Anna raced through the house and grabbed her purse and keys–everything else could be replaced–and then ran out the front door.

Ten seconds later she was in her truck, speeding down the driveway with no firm destination in mind other than away from here. She clutched the steering wheel tight, keeping an eye on her rearview mirror and praying to a God she'd never much believed in that she could get onto the highway without them coming after her.

She did, but her fear only grew. Every silver car made her tense. Every ambulance made her shudder. "Anna, you are so stupid," she whispered to herself as she drove as fast as she dared through the light early-morning traffic, heading toward Houston with only the vague hope of losing herself in the enormous city. "So fucking stupid!"

"Oh, I dunno, you seem pretty damn smart to me," a voice answered from her truck speakers, and Anna screamed. Acting purely on panic, she slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel hard.

Nothing happened. The truck continued straight down the lane without so much as a wobble. "Well, now that you did that, I'm not so sure," Ironhide said dryly. "You do realize you could've flipped me with that, right?"

Anna scooted across the seat to the passenger side and tried to throw the door open. It only opened an inch before slamming closed again. The thunk of the lock was very loud. "Primus, girl, what's got into you? Are you trying to kill yourself?" Ironhide asked, but Anna was kicking at the window now with all her strength. If she could break that, she could jump out–yes, she was going fast, but maybe if she rolled when she hit– "Hey, human!" Ironhide shouted through the speakers, loud enough to hurt. "You're not going to hurt me, so talk to me. The hell is your problem right now?"

"Let me out!" she screamed, kicking the dash now, the steering wheel, anything she could reach. "Where are you taking me?"

"Girl, you're the one driving," Ironhide said, and she stopped and gave the empty driver's seat a look. He seemed to see it–how could he see inside himself?–and said, "Okay, yeah, I took over when you flipped out cuz I'm not gonna let you wreck me, but if you calm the hell down and tell me what's got into you, you can drive again. Okay?"

"If you want me to calm down, let me out," Anna bit out.

And to her complete shock, Ironhide immediately exited the highway and pulled over. As soon as he came to a stop beside a field, he popped open the passenger door. "Please don't run off," he said.

But Anna was already gone. "Scrap," he muttered, and she heard the door slam as she vaulted the barbed wire fence with the ease of one who had been doing it since her earliest childhood. "Anna, come back here and tell me what happened!" Ironhide shouted after her as she ran across the pasture.

She didn't run for long, though, before a combination of the bruises and nearly tripping on the uneven ground made her stop. Anna stood there, holding her aching side and panting, and she wasn't even surprised when the truck rumbled up beside her and parked. She didn't bother running again–there was nowhere to go out here.

Ironhide didn't say anything when he stopped beside her. The truck just sat there, idling, patient, and Anna sat down in the grass and put her head on her knees and cried.

There was really no escape.

"Aw, hell, would you stop that? That's just pitiful," Ironhide groaned, and she almost laughed at that–apparently the male response to tears transcended species. "Come on, Anna, talk to me. Last time I saw you, you were giving Ratchet hell like a pro. What happened to spook you so bad?"

She didn't pick up her head. "Did you smash through the fence?" It wasn't really important, but it was easier than answering his question.

"Nah, waited for a break in the traffic and stepped over when no one was there to see," Ironhide answered, and she had to smile at that. He seemed to accept her wish to talk about other things because he asked a question of his own. "Why were you limping?"

The bruises, but she wasn't going to tell him that in case word of it got back to Optimus. Then again, if she got out of this with only a few bruises, she'd count herself lucky. "Ratchet wants to lock me up," she said instead.

"No, he doesn't," he replied immediately.

She still didn't look up at the truck. "Yeah, he does. I heard him myself–he was trying to convince Jazz to do it. He thinks I did something to Optimus. Says I know enough to hurt you and I should be contained."

Ironhide groaned. "All right, now I understand why you freaked out, but Anna, no one's gonna lock you up. Optimus promised we wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

She sniffled and rubbed her temples where a headache was beginning to throb. "Ratchet said it wouldn't be hurting me, that I could be perfectly safe and unhurt and still be in custody."

"No one's locking you up," Ironhide repeated firmly. She finally looked at him and he made a pained sound. "Your eyes are still leaking. I thought you were going to stop that."

She laughed and wiped her eyes with a sleeve. "You men are all alike. A few tears and you go to pieces," she said, but her heart wasn't in it.

"Yeah, but can you really blame me? I'm metal, I could rust," Ironhide teased back gently. He opened the driver's door invitingly. "You don't have to, and I'm not going to make you, but if you want to get in, I'll take you wherever you want to go. And I'll leave you there, too, if you really want me to. I'll prove to you that we're not going to make you a prisoner."

Anna stood up, wincing a little, but she didn't climb in. "You said Optimus promised, but you didn't hear Ratchet and Jazz talking," she said, not quite daring to take Ironhide's word for it. "They sounded like they'd really like to take matters into their own hands. How long until they decide he's not competent to have made that promise and outvote him on this?"

"There's no voting to be done, girl," Ironhide told her. When she raised an eyebrow doubtfully, he sighed as though pointing out the painfully obvious. "Optimus is our Prime. What he says, goes, and he's given you his protection. That means you've got all our protection and yes, that includes Jazz and Ratchet. There's no voting and no one's locking you up–that's a promise from me. I swear on my spark, Anna, you are the safest human on the planet right now."

She cupped her right hand around her bruised upper arm, remembered how Optimus had snatched her away from danger and put himself in her place without a second thought. Protection and harm all in one instant–one intentional, one not. "Collateral damage," she whispered, unaware that she'd said it aloud until Ironhide answered.

"We're not going to be here long enough for you to be in that kind of danger," he said firmly. "I neutralized the Energon spill while you were sleeping and Ratchet will have totally decontaminated your barn by the time we leave. We know how to leave no trace of our presence behind–it's kind of what we do. When Optimus is healed up and we roll out of here, we will ensure that we've left nothing behind that will ever connect you to us. Our main goal right now is to get Prime up and get out of here without impacting your life any more than we already have. All we want is for you to be able to go back to your life, safe and free and whole. All right?"

Anna wished he was in his robot form now because it was impossible to read expressions from a truck, and she would dearly love to see his face to gauge his sincerity. But he sounded so earnest, so sincere, that it was hard not to trust him.

She hesitated long enough that he spoke again. "In case you're wondering, Optimus is awake and wondering where you are. All I've said is that you're with me. Should I tell him that you're not coming back? I only ask because earlier you seemed pretty concerned that he might leave without telling you goodbye."

Anna closed her eyes and rubbed her temples again. She felt like going back home was just asking for trouble, but then again, it wasn't like she could make much of an escape now. Even if Ironhide took her into the city and dropped her off, he would know exactly where he'd left her. If they wanted to get her back, it wouldn't be hard. Optimus had an internet connection in his head and Houston had cameras at every traffic light and ATM and high-rise. If the Autobots decided to do something to her, there was really very little she could do to stop them.

She was in too deep now. Ratchet was right–she already had enough information to harm them, whether she'd intended to learn it or not. She'd brought Optimus back from the brink of death. She'd talked to him, accepted a promise from him and given him one of her own to help synthesize Energon if she could. Even if she tried to go for help, who would believe her? It was too late to try to take it all back.

Her chance to get out of this had been when Optimus had first crashed, and she'd made her choice when she'd hooked him up to her tractor and towed him into her barn to try to repair him.

No, before than, when she'd listened to the instinct to help a living being in pain and had run for the fire extinguisher.

Her choices here weren't go back or get away. Her choices were really trust that Optimus meant what he said, and learn everything you can, and get the most out of this incredible experience as possible before they leave and it's over, or run away with the full knowledge that you're not going to stop them from doing whatever they want to you, and miss out on what might be the most amazing thing to ever happen to you.

She rubbed the bruise again, thinking of the difference between intentions and results.

"I'll go back," she sighed at last, and got back into the truck.