I feel too young and too old to understand what Ratchet is saying. No, she can't be dying. No, we can't be dying. No, this can't be happening. In some part of my mind, I know it is. Fuck. Shit Damn. Slag. None of these word can contain this emotion. I'm stuck with the feeling of helplessness and I hate it.

My fists are clenched as I look over at her. Harmony is quiet and dismal. She shouldn't be.

"It might be possible to take it out, but that would result in serious injuries, if not death. If you all decide to keep them, you have a fifty-two percent chance of survival."

"Fourty-eight isn't that much less."

"Well, you'd be surprised when that four percent difference does matter." One of them says. I make a show of not looking at their faces. I don't want to get to know them, to remember more of this fucked-up-ness. I thought we'd be released, left on our own. But of course not. Stupid government. Stupid alien pregnancy. And then the thought comes to me: what if they want me to keep it so that they can use them? The sterilization applies to both factions. I push the thought away,

"Why me? Why are you asking me?" My voice cracks. I can't look up. I won't look up. Fuck. A tear falls from my eye, splashing on the ground. It resounds as loudly as a gunshot in my

head. A show of weakness that just keeps on playing.

No. I wipe my eyes. I am not weak. I will not choose to be weak.

"You are legally old enough to be her guardian and considerably the best choice to make this decision." Prowl takes over, taking a step closer. I hold in a growl as he continues. "Unless you would prefer the government make her a ward of the state."

Harmony shrinks back, her mind cluttered with foster home horror stories. I don't want to.

You won't. I assure her, before pushing her out of my mind the best I can.

"But why me? Shouldn't her family be in charge of that? Of her?" My voice sounds less pathetic now, much closer to my usual nonchalant tone. I want her to be my family, to replace what I've lost and for her to do the same; but how can I? I'm not good enough to be her family. I'm a horrible person, even before the Decepticons made me one.

"Everyone you knew is dead." I freeze at those words. I know this and I've known it for a long time. It doesn't make it hurt any less.

"I know."

"So what are you going to do about it?" The voice is annoyingly emotionless, yet somehow mocking. I glance up at the speaker- a mech with a chevron and police markings- and take note of him. I don't trust him; he's too alike Shockwave.

"Okay. Do whatever you think is best. I won't interfere. I'll sign whatever you need," I pause, looking up but not meeting anyone's eyes. "But if you hurt her, there will be hell to pay."

There is silence and I wonder if they can see the fire in my eyes; it's the same fire Megatron posesses and I know they'll recognize it. Finally Ratchet speaks.

"Lennox will get it legalized then. I-" A loud crash interrupts him and all heads turn. A mech with head fins is stained black, holding a severed arm. An oversized wrench is crushed underfoot.

"Wheeljack! I needed that. And I told you not to do anymore experiments until the last weld solidified. Get your aft over here." During Ratchet's rant, Wheeljack just stood there uncomfortably while I snickered. Prowl had left sometime during the conversation.

With his attentions on the injured bot, I finally could sleep. I could push it all away if I really wanted; sleep is the only place where we can pretend. I pulled the slid under the covers next to her and closed my eyes. The sound of the welder was like a soft hum in the background, blocking out the thoughts that continued to buzz around inside. Why was this happening to us? Why did Harmony block out that memory? And finally: Why did they ignore my threat?

I don't remember falling asleep and I don't remember waking up. The smell of oatmeal is all I register. I hate oatmeal, but right now I could care less. I can't remember the last time I've actually tasted something. I can't remember the feeling of chewing or the sense of taste.

"Good morning Fleeta." His holoform appeared on the other side of the berth holding the source of the smell: two trays of oatmeal and orange juice.

"After I finished fixing him up, I scanned you two again. Though you are not malnourished, your stomach was empty and it appears it has been for a while. Whatever fluid you were on in captivity didn't have vitamins or minerals that you need. It was mostly meant to nourish the sparking. You need to eat food to have all of the nutrients you need. This-" He puts my tray next to me. "is probably the best for you to eat right now." He places the second tray next to Harmony.

Har sits up suddenly, fear in her eyes. It is quickly replaced by joy? or maybe it's just relief that there is food in front of her. Ratchet's eyes meet with mine and I nod slightly. I got this. He dissipates and his bot form reanimates on the other side of the room.

Wake up Har. Your food is getting cold. Her food begins to disappear before she answers.

I'm up Flee. Are you going to eat that? She points at my untouched food with one hand, not looking up from the bowl. It's already half empty.

I slap her hand away, grinning. Of course, silly. Stay away from my precious! I turn away. She smiles before stealing a spoonful.

"Oh yeah Har? Two can play this game." I say aloud as I swipe her cup and take a sip.

"Both of you stop it and eat." Ratchet calls sternly.

I take a final sip from her cup before returning it with a smirk. She pouted but said nothing.

We continue eating in silence. Her tray looks as if nothing had ever been in it when she bends over it.

"Nghh!" The sound of projected food reaches my ears.

It hurts. She whines before throwing up again. I rub her back as Ratchet races over.

She pauses for a moment and the tray is visible. I have a strong stomach, but the sight of purple mixed in makes me feel sick too.

No, it's not the the throw up. It's the food. My stomach is rumbling, turning over. Hot acid flows upward stinging more than anything else before.

"The food appears to have an adverse affect. Perhaps the energon in your blood is the cause." Ratchet muses, passing each of us a towel. They look so small in his hand.

Flee, Har? Don't eat anythin'. It made me sick. Purple blood comin' up an' ev'rythin'.

A wave of nausea flows through the bond. We retch simultaneously, but I have nothing else to throw up.

"Skye's on her way. She's sick too." I say, my voice raspy.

"All of you sick...well it's not a virus. Most likely the food was rejected because it cannot be converted to something usable for the sparkings. Fascinating how far these protocols are." He mumbles to himself. After a while I tune him out, instead fascinated with the tools he pulls out. There's the usual needles and IV's, but curiously there's also a three pronged scalpel. I shiver at the memories that tool brings before checking out the vials. There are

sixteen in total varying in shades of silver, purple and blue.

"Hey, Doc bot! Skye starting throwing up the oatmeal and there was purple stuff in it." Epps calls as he carries her in. The berth is too high to reach on his own, so Ratchet pauses and lifts him up.

"Yes, yes. I've noticed. Just put her down. I have to mix the Synthin before I do anything else." He switches to his holoform and appears on the berth next to the tools. His bipedal form emits a blue light and I feel a slight tingle. He turns back to the assorted tools, moving faster than I can follow.

"I don't detect anything abnormal. Your energon levels are normal, mineral composition is a little low, but not terrible. I suppose I'll have to put you on a drip to receive everything else. Possibly injections." He holds a syringe up to the light as he draws a murky purple liquid into it.

"Ratchet, that's not normal." Epps says. Even though he is a trained military soldier, he is still just a father. I can see how worried he is for his daughter. I wish I had someone to worry for me.

With an eyeroll, the medic replies, "Normal for them. This should get rid of the nausea." He says, holding up a syringe. I tried to ignore the feeling of the needle in my arm, but I couldn't deflect the memory.

"Is it supposed to be blue?" I asked, pointing at the syringe. It was only half empty now that he'd had his shot.

"It's normal for them to be that color. Joy may look weird but I promise it's okay. I would never give you anything bad, sweet." He smiled as he held up the syringe.

His hand shook slightly as he passed it to me. "Get happy with me, Felicity." I was almost going to put it down. And then I saw his smile.

That smile was mine. I was the only recipient, the only one who could call it into existence. When he smiled at me like that, I knew he loved me. He would never hurt me.

With a steely resolve I slid the needle into my flesh, and jammed the plunger down. I placed the empty needle on the table and looked over at my sweet.

He was an angel in the darkness, holding out his hand. Join me. It said. I placed my hand in his as we watched the colors in the empty trailer.

"I love you." He whispered.

"All done." The holoform was gone and his body came back to life. "Harmony, you appear to be well enough to walk around though you should stay with someone who can speak for you. Fleeta, I found some interesting traces in your blood. I'll discuss it with you later when the results are in. For now, you can run off. Just don't eat any food or do any strenuous activities." He said, clearly dismissing us.

I stood up and followed the others into the hallway but I could not get my mind off of that memory. He was my only family. He was my love and now he's dead. Megatron will pay, I thought, my fist tightening around Harmony's.