Chapter 5

Author's Note: Randomly discovered that 'The Plagues' by Hans Zimmerman and featuring Ralph Fiennes and Amick Byram is oddly appropriate for the relationship between Megatron and Optimus. It has no relevance to this story, but it's pretty cool. The song is from the movie "The Prince of Egypt."

Also, let me sincerely apologise for the lateness of this chapter. I currently have like no internet and lost my muse for a little while there. I've also got a bunch of horses to work and I've been working with my dad when I can so busy, busy, busy. This chapter is longer to make up for it though :D

A sincere thanks to my reviewers Reader103, Guest- ashryn, Dreaming Star Traveler, emzydatffan, HeartsGuardianSol, Guest- Emily Thacker, CarsCars2Fanatic.

Ashryn- I never thought of it like that XD Rewatched Thor and realised you're exactly right.

Emily Thacker – Writers mind spawning ideas for story with awesome kickass soldier… How cool would a Transformers, Halo X-over be?

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There was a long, intense and ridiculous drawn out silence with all of the Autobots looking at Sam expectantly, almost as though they expected him to just whip out the glasses and save our planet in an instant. Seriously guys, the kid would already have thrown the glasses at your feet if he had them on him.

"Please tell me that you have those glasses," Mikaela turned to Sam, almost begging. The poor girl was just about terrified out of her wits. I couldn't help but conceal a small, smug smile though; when I was her age there wouldn't have been an ounce of fear in me. I would have been hankering to learn more, to see it all and experience everything the newcomers had to offer. Then my private little conceited smile turned into a frown. Had I really changed that much? Had I become… domestic? Oh God, it was like I was already well into my middle-age.

I was tame, boring. What the actual hell? I don't remember allowing myself to becoming the very incarnate of the lifestyle I went through all kinds of trials to avoid. It must've been a slow change, creeping up gradually, year after year until I was exactly the kind of woman I had always swore black and blue that I would never be. Jackie would be wetting himself if he could have seen me. No! Goddammit, no thinking about that! Sorry, Jacks, but get outta my head before I lose it completely!

I ground a palm in my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut doing an extremely rapid and therefore rather pointless count backwards from ten. I opened my eyes and refocused my attention on my surroundings.

"Well I obviously don't have them with me," Sam was saying. Huh, my mental breakdown must've only taken a few seconds. Maybe that's telling me something about my mind. "They're back at my house. I had them for the project."

What project? I wasn't about to ask and frankly I didn't really care. I did, however, have a magnificent headache coming on. It was a slight pressure up behind my eyes, a stabbing pain blooming on the inside of my left eye like I was having a railroad nail hammered in there. I went to pat my pockets, wondering if I had a stray painkiller somewhere, before remembering that I was wearing nothing but a thin white blouse, short black skirt and black stockings. I hoped it wouldn't rain; the wet, see-through top would be the least of my worries.

Somewhere in the midst of my mental whine-fest it had been decided that we were leaving. Camaro-bot, er, Bumblebee, had already transformed back into his vehicle form with Sam and Mikaela climbing into the front seats. The doors shut and I made an intuitive leap that I apparently wasn't going with them.

"Come on, lil femme!" Jazz said, giving me a broad grin. He bounced up cheerfully. I felt terrible as I saw what was evidently the automatic reaction of my face in his ultra-shiny visor. Yeah, I looked shit-scared but then my scared face and my angry face were apparently pretty similar so I'm not sure what he saw. He kind of… wilted regardless. How can a massive, punk-ass robot pull of the kicked puppy guilt trip so well? It didn't matter; there was no way I was going with him.

"Er, I'm sorry, I just… you already nearly killed me once. And I've seen how you drive," I cringed, actually physically cringed as I spoke. I felt bad, but I just couldn't take another trip with that maniac.

I give him credit, Jazz bounced back like a crazy silver rubber ball. He shrugged his metallic shoulders before turning and pretty much diving into his vehicle form. I couldn't help but stare as the parts all shifted, splitting and remoulding into the snazzy little Pontiac Solstice. Then I stifled a laugh, because he stopped right next Ironhide whose truck form dwarfed the teeny-tiny car.

I glanced back at Prime, wondering who the hell was going to give me lift after that. He gave me an inquisitive look, seeming to wonder just why I was so freaked out by Jazz. I think he came to the resolution that he didn't actually want to know what his First Lieutenant had done in the interim between running me over and dropping me off with the rest of the Autobots.

There were only three choices left with whom I could go and Ironhide clearly was no longer included either. He just kind of ignored the situation, idling in his truck form. Optimus sighed at the attitude of his subordinates. I noticed he did that a lot. Optimus glanced at Ratchet.

"Ratc-"

"No,"

Wow, thanks Ratchet. I was gonna remember that one. That's an excellent disposition for a medic, by the way. Someone remind me why I turned down the only bot who wanted to give me a lift? Oh right, because he was a lunatic.

Ratchet took two steps before folding himself into his vehicle form, the vomit-worthy yellow search and rescue vehicle. Just looking at him gave me a whole new appreciation for Bumblebee's more 'ochre' yellow scheme. I resisted the urge to flip that bird at the medical officer, not knowing what kind of visuals the Autobots got while in car form. Better safe than sorry. Argh, there I go again! Not so long ago I wouldn't have hesitated, regardless of whether he was a sentient robot or not.

The sound of hissing and metal smoothly sliding over metal, pieces clunking into places and sorting themselves out had me leaping away before I had even glanced back to check whether or not Optimus was actually transforming. I think the tell-tale signs of it were burned into my mind forevermore. He had transformed, and I was grateful that I hadn't resembled a jumpy rabbit for no reason. The grill of the Peterbilt stood higher than me, the hood well above my head. In fact my eyes were about level with what must have been the Autobot insignia. I craned my head back to look at the Peterbilt. I could have stood on my own head twice and not been able to touch the top of the smokestacks. It was form wholly befitting of the massive alien leader. If I wracked my brain hard enough I thought that perhaps my father had driven a Peterbilt when I was a child, but I couldn't be certain. It could easily have been any other type.

The door to the cab popped open and I hesitantly walked around to the passenger's side.

"Are you …sure?" I asked, my throat suddenly scratchy. I deliberated with myself whether I was actually okay with getting inside one of them. I didn't know if my heart was okay with it. I mean, seriously, it might just randomly give out without a moments notice. On the other hand, it was Optimus, their apparently kind leader, and I was also getting tired of being afraid. I hope he couldn't smell as well as Ratchet because I was sweaty from fear and pretty sure I didn't smell too crash-hot. "I could catch a cab… or something."

Er, no I couldn't seeing as though I had no idea where I was supposed to go. Maybe I would just take off home, get piss-assed drunk and forget all about this night. Pass it off as a bad, alcohol and flu medicine dream. Not that I had the flu.

"It is no trouble Bonnie," Optimus said, his voice emanating from somewhere in the cab. I assumed it was the stereo like Jazz had done. I did feel rather gratified that he had evidently taken note of my name. "The others were just being inconceivably rude."

"Well, I wouldn't say inconceivably," I replied, chewing my lip as I climbed up the steps into the cab. I settled into the leather seat, numbly surprised by its gentle warmth. "I feel bad. About Jazz, I mean."

Let me just say, right here and now, that it is one weird experience trying to speak conversationally whilst there's no one around. Logically you are speaking to the robot who has taken form of the truck you're sitting inside, but you're brain tells you that you're being daft since there's no kind of feedback. You can't see any emotions or feel any air of what they might be thinking or feeling. It's like talking to a concrete wall and expecting it to reply. Only you know the wall can reply but you don't know if it's going to tell you to go fuck yourself or it's going to be really nice and understanding. So yeah, it was weird and uncomfortable. The only sound was the rumble of the engine as Optimus lead the way out of the alleyway. Then the radio buzzed back to life.

"Jazz frightened you. Fear makes us hesitant and resistant. Your reaction is understandable. Jazz should not be offended," Us. Optimus said 'us' when referring to experiencing fear. They could feel fear. Just like humans. And if they could feel fear they could undoubtedly feel other things like anger and offence, amusement and camaraderie. Why was such a revelation only hitting me at that point?

There was silence between us as I mulled over my thoughts. I was only mildly disturbed by the truck driving itself. I had already seen that with Jazz, though I had been on the driver's side that time around. The brakes hissed and the gearstick shifted down as we rolled up to an intersection. Optimus even flicked on the indicator though there was no one behind him but the other Autobots. The dull, rhythmic 'clunk, clunk, clunk' of the indicator was audible even over the rumble of the engine.

We rolled down a motorway and I was blessed with an opportunity to smile at the dumbstruck faces of people as they were overtaken by a semi truck doing seriously illegal speeds. I could only imagine their expressions as the rest of the amazing line up of vehicles raced past. Er, and then Ratchet somewhere in the middle. I thought, just maybe, that there was a sense of amusement exuding from Prime as some of the late-night pedestrians actually stopped and stared as we passed. But I was probably wrong. Probably sleep deprived too.

Optimus quieted the engine as we travelled through a well-to-do neighbourhood, many of the houses sleepy and dark at that time of night. I felt like we were getting close. I decided to just out and say what I had been mulling over the entire trip. A revelation that I was reluctant to acknowledge.

"You guys are like us, aren't you?" I said. Optimus had rolled the windows down for me and I had crossed my arms and leant them on the sill, supporting my chin on them and letting the wind blast my face and chill me to the bones. It was the first time in a long time that I hadn't felt cold. Probably since the interior of the cab was strangely warm, just like it had been with Jazz. The frisky breeze was actually welcomed since I didn't want to ask for the air-con.

"I- am unsure," Optimus ended up replying, before the radio snapped off once again as it seemed to do when he was finished speaking. There was a moment before it came to life again. "Is that your belief?"

"No," I replied simply, before fully laying my head down in my arms and closing my eyes. "I know it's true."

They were travellers from across the universe, foreigners from the stars and yet… they had what we called 'humanity' by bucketful. It practically oozed out of them. You couldn't look at any one of the Autobots and possibly conceive that they might have been mindless drones. They had personalities, attitudes, accents.

Maybe this whole thing wasn't just about the survival of my own race.

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Author's Note: Er, yeah this chapter I seriously have my doubts about. Feedback please?