Author's Notes: Thank you so much for all the reviews and alerts and favs! I can't believe how much response this has gotten! Please enjoy this chapter.

Phase Five: Transition

Chapter Ten

She was faintly aware of her surroundings as consciousness came back to her slowly, like a dripping faucet. Her left wrist throbbed with each pulse of her heart. She felt a light weight atop of her that generated warmth through her body, relaxing her muscles and soothing the sore bruises marring her flesh. The air around her face was much cooler and it carried a strange sent she wasn't familiar with. Beneath her was a supple pad, soft to the touch, and her head was propped up slightly with the same soft cushion. Faint sounds, muffled and warped, reached her ears and slowly, she opened her eyes.

Blearily, her eyes gazed out from behind their lids. Everything was a blurry mess with colored blobs. And it was bright! Too bright!

She squinted against the stinging radiance and turned her head away, groaning when her neck protested the movement with a sharp spasm. With a disgusted snort, Brea realized that the collar still clung to her neck. One hand reached up weakly and she grabbed its edge and started yanking at it, focusing all her energy, unorganized as it all was, into pulling the damn thing off.

She heard a sound, like a faint rev, and then shuffling that grew louder.

She flinched when something hard and surprisingly warm touched her hand, fingers wrapping gently around her wrist and pulled. Her fingers slipped away from the collar's edge and she docilely allowed her hand to be guided back down to lay across her lap, atop a material that was as sinuous as cloth but which felt like tin foil and made a faint crinkle as she lay her hand down.

"Hey now, don't go hurting yourself any more then you already are," A voice said soothingly from above her. She felt a hand touch the top of her head and run down the side of her face, fingers lightly touching her chin as they tipped her head back slowly, carefully tilting it this way and that before leaving.

She opened her eyes once more, but couldn't make anything out beyond the light that blazed above with all the furry of a supernova. Almost as if sensing her discomfort, the light suddenly swung off to her left and Brea took a few moments to blink away the dancing spots of colored light prancing across her vision.

When it finally cleared, she found herself looking up into the face of an unknown Mech; red helm and blue eyes peering down at her from atop a white chest. But instead of shying away at the sight of the stranger, Brea merely gawked, her fear stymied, when she realized…he was small. Well, smaller then any Mech she'd seen. He was practically human sized!

"About time you woke up," He said, voice slightly teasing. "The others were starting to think maybe you were too far gone for any of our help." He grinned. "I knew you'd come around though."

Brea blinked, still not trusting her eyes to be telling the truth. Did she hit her head or something without realizing it or remembering? She shook her head as if she thought it would clear the presumptive optical illusion, but only managed to make her slightly dizzy.

She opened her eyes again to find…nope, still small. She was laying in some sort of box, as big as a standard twin sized mattress, that had been padded with a cushion, similar to her old one, and the bizarre foil blanket had been draped over her and the sides tucked in beneath her. The Mech kneeled beside her 'bed', one hand clasping the edges of the box as he gazed down at her.

Brea recoiled when the stranger suddenly reached out with one hand to her face, brushing her hair away and forcing her eye lid open in one fluid motion. She tried to shy away, squeaking indignantly and pulled her good hand free of the blankets and raised it to her face in an attempt to pry his hand away.

"Calm down, I'm not gonna hurt you," He chastised as she flinched and tried to back away from him. Easily, he swatted her hand away. Bringing his other hand over to her, the Mech gently gripped her shoulder and held her still. Her hand reached out to grasp the Mech's wrist in almost a nervous gesture as he worked. His voice was calm and reassuring as he spoke, "Just checking for any cranial damage in case you knocked something out of whack in there. Just relax. Shhh…you're fine. You're fine."

The Mech might have been smaller then any she'd seen, but he was still a good two feet taller then her and much bulkier and his hands were very large. Brea endured the examination, heart pounding in her ears. After he seemed satisfied with her one eye, he switched to the other eye, having to hold her still once more when she flinched again at his touch. When the exam was through, the Mech's hands retreated and he sat back.

"Well," he said at last, "Doesn't appear to be any sign of cranial damage. Nothing serious anyway. A little bump maybe. Thank primus for small favors, eh?"

Brea rubbed her eyes with her one free hand before blinking and turning to face him. She stared timidly, unsure what to do or how to respond.

"No one's gonna hurt you," He assured calmly, presumably reading her expression and body language, "You're safe here. Primus knows, we didn't go through all that trouble just to kill you."

He realized his words didn't have the desired effect when Brea's timid expression morphed into outright terror and he quickly backtracked, raising his hands up in a defensive motion, "No, no, no, I didn't mean that. But believe me, you're safe. I'm a medic. I'm here to help you. See?"

He pointed to a red cross on his shoulder. Brea just blinked at him, heart hammering as inane thoughts swirling around in her mind.

"Alright?" He asked, voice attentive as he tried to coax her down from near panic. He raised one hand to her and she closed her eyes shut out of pure reaction. His hand came to rest on her head as he gently patted her like an edgy cat, "I'm not gonna hurt you."

A pause.

She opened her eyes and blinked up at him. He smiled reassuringly at her.

"You…" She began, but lost the words.

He tilted his head at her. "What?"

"…y-you're…small…" Brea blurted out frankly.

The Mech stared at her for a moment before his hand retreated and his mouth pinched into a strange frown. He looked almost…offended.

"I'm not small," He rectified, "I'm exactly the size I was designed to be. If you don't believe me, I'll go get the others to prove it."

Brea shook her head. "No…I mean…it's just that…"

He suddenly smiled at her.

"Nah, I know what you meant," The mini-Mech interjected with a dismissive wave. "I'm not like the other Mechs you've seen before, right?"

Brea nodded.

"I get that a lot from new arrivals. Well, it's 'cause I ain't the same as them," He explained, "I'm a Micromaster. We're designed to be this size."

"Oh…sorry."

"Don't worry 'bout it. You ain't the first one to notice," He told her with a smirk. The Micromaster took one long sweeping glance at her poor tired and battered body before looking her in the eye, the smirk having been washed away, "How're you feeling? Y'know, besides the obvious. Blue brought you in half frozen and we weren't too sure if you would thaw out enough to make it past the next few joors."

Brea turned her attentions to her body and began noting what hurt where and what hurt more. As she did so, she noted another sensation deep in her stomach that seemed more pressing in her weakened state.

"I'm Ok…I guess," Brea muttered, her mind still trying to get a grasp on her situation.

"You sure?" The Mech asked dubiously, "You're pretty beaten up there."

"Nah, I'm fine…just--" She hesitated.

"What?"

Her stomach answered for her in the way of a long rumble.

"…I'm a little hungry…" She admitted timidly, face burning in a blush. She found it oddly strange why she would feel an ounce of embarrassment about the occurrence, especially in front of a Mech.

But the Mech just grinned and chuckled as he pushed himself to his feet. "Alright. Just stay here and I'll be right back, OK? Don't go anywhere."

Brea watched as the Mech walked across the floor before suddenly stopping and looking down at his feet. Brea's eyes narrowed in confusion when she realized, much to her chagrin, that they were not on the floor as she first presumed in her muzzy state, rather they were perched atop the surface of a very long, very large, counter. And to add to her surprise, the Mech jumped off the edge. She gasped, sitting up with a start and ignoring the sharp pains the abrupt movement sent through her.

She heard the Mech climbing down something and she heard the faint clang when his metal feet touched the floor far below.

Following the fading sounds of his footsteps with her eyes, Brea watched the little Mech walk across the floor and then disappear through a large open door. She then lifted her gaze and found herself suddenly looking at the largest room she had ever seen. It was easily larger then a football field and twice as wide. Orange metal walls gave the room a warm atmosphere and vacant tables lined the walls on either side of her. She looked down to her right to see the counter stretch on for what seemed like forever and 10 feet above her head, parallel to the counter, was a line of overhanging cabinets. The counter was clear for the most part except for a few odd objects, many of which were beyond Brea's ability to name.

Her little box bed had been pressed into the farthest corner of the counter and beside her sat a very large lamp. The light shown brightly from its head, warm heat generating from its bulb, but had been turned away so the light did not shine on her. Using her good hand, Brea pushed and wiggled herself free of the foil blankets and into a sitting position, careful of the creaks and sores. She slowly stretched her stiff joints as much as the pain would allow. A startling jolt of pain from her left wrist made her hiss between her teeth and she gingerly pulled the appendage from under the foil blanket.

She grimaced at the sight.

Her wrist and lower hand was swollen and bruised, purple and green flesh marring her hand. She sighed to herself. "Great…"

A sound ahead of her made her jerk in surprise and she looked up to see an unfamiliar Mech walk unabatedly into the room and make his way to the counter, setting a box down atop the surface. The Mech wasn't any Micromaster; he was the normal size verity.

Eyes wide and startled, Brea slowly sunk into the folds of the foil blanket as she tried to make herself as small as possible and not draw attention to herself. The Mech looked down into the box and began rummaging through its content when it casually glanced towards her and its eyes seem to widen when it found her awake. She stiffened as its eyes locked onto her.

Oh my god…

"Ah…" The Mech said in mild surprise, "So you're awake then, hm?"

Brea gulped nervously and shied away, pressing her back deeper into the cushion under her, wishing she could simply sink into it and disappear. Too fast, everything was happening too fast. Her mind spun with having to cope with being in the company of yet another strange Mech who intentions were thoroughly unknown.

The Mech regarded her with a long-suffering stare and he sighed, abandoning the box and walking closer to her. He seemed to grow larger as he approached. She blinked and stared at the new, large, Mech with trepidation as he reached to the side beyond her vision and grabbed a stool, pulling it closer and sitting down in front of her. She jumped when he reached out and grabbed the edge of her little box and pulled it towards him slowly so as to not jar her. Her heart thrummed in her rib cage, sending vibrations through her belly and issuing faint throbs of pain from her abused anatomy. Crossing his arms over his boxy white chest, the Mech studied Brea for a moment, blue eyes peering out from under a black horn thingy that looked strikingly similar to the red one the Mech from before, the one called Bluestreak, had on his helm.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

She shrugged timorously, still trying her level best to dissolve into the cushion.

You're scary…she thought inanely. Go away.

His eyes narrowed incredulously.

"When you were brought in you're body temperature was twelve units below normal parameters," the Mech elaborated, "Were you trying to get yourself killed running off like that?"

Brea blinked in confusion for a moment before averting her eyes, having no ready answer for him.

"Show me your wrist," He ordered abruptly.

Brea flinched when he spoke, frazzled nerves keeping her on edge, and blinked up at him. "…Huh?"

The Mech's eyes narrowed further at her and he reached out in a quick motion with one red hand to gently nudge her left arm. "Show me your damaged wrist."

Wary of the Mech's narrowing eyes, she obediently extended her injured appendage out for him to see. One red finger swooped under her wrist to support it as the large stranger studied the bruises. "Does it hurt at all?"

"A little…yeah," Brea lied. It didn't hurt a little, it hurt a lot. She couldn't suppress a wince when the red finger under her hand lifted a little higher, sending a variety of unpleasant sensations up her arm.

It didn't go unnoticed by the Mech who sent her a look before huffing a short dry laugh and replying sardonically, "Really, is that so?"

A high pitch mewing escaped her as the finger tilted the hand this way and that, causing sharp pains to shoot up her arm. One strong spike in particular made her hiss painfully through her teeth.

"The endoskeleton structure is intact," the Mech muttered, making Brea curious as to whether he was talking to her or to himself. "But the radial collateral carpal ligament has beens stretched. It might take some time to heal. I will look into fabricating a brace for it."

His eyes left her wrist for a moment and took a sweeping glance of her and his eyes narrowed sharply. Brea suddenly felt entrapped in his eyes.

The red finger left her arm and gently pinched a corner of the foil blanket, pulling it away from her.

"What did all this?" He asked, voice stern.

Brea pressed her legs together, face heating in a slight blush when her form was suddenly exposed. She stared. "…What?"

"What gave you these injuries?"

Brea looked down at herself and saw the full extent of her wounds. Both arms were covered in dark patches of damaged tissue and her knees were scrapped along with her forearms. The dress she wore was torn, dirty, and ripped at the hem, revealing that her legs also adorned similar bruises as her arms. Brea felt a sickening feeling rise inside her when she thought back to how she had gotten the bruises and lowered her head, blinking rapidly to keep the sudden stinging in her eyes away. When she did not answer him, the Mech made a low sound, deep in his chest, and repeated the question with one amendment, "Who gave you these injuries?"

A heavy pause.

"…he did," Brea said so softly that she didn't know if the Mech had even heard her.

"You're owner?" He asked.

A burst of anger swept through her and Brea wanted nothing more then to shout at him for his choice of words. Her owner? No one owned her! She wasn't a slave!

But instead of speaking her mind and correcting the presumptive Mech…she merely nodded, miserably.

A harsh noise forced her to look up at him. His face was scrunched into a scowl, blue eyes flashing. For a fleeting moment, Brea feared he might go berserk, but he abruptly turned to level his glare at the cabinets above her. Reaching out to open one, he spent several long minutes rummaging through them, muttering darkly to himself, before he pulled back and shut the door with perhaps a little more force then what was necessary. Pinched between his two large digits…was a roll of gauze?

Brea blinked at it stupidly before he abruptly dropped it in her lap.

"When Fixit gets back he'll wrap your wrist for you," He said, the anger from his voice having disappeared. "He's better suited for these kinds of things," He raised one hand and wiggled his fingers, "Small hands."

Brea nodded numbly.

"Was he the small one…who was in here before?" Brea asked.

The Mech nodded. "His name is Fixit; my assistant. Treating humans isn't exactly easy for average sized Mechs. Better to have Micromasters around to handle the dainty stuff."

Brea nodded her understanding and then froze as her brain went waitaminute…

"…you treat humans?" She asked. "So is this like…a hospital?"

"No, not really," The Mech answered, "The humans who come here aren't brought here because they've been injured, even though the majority of them are or they're ill. They've been rescued."

"…rescued?"

The Mech nodded.

"Some have been rescued from abusive homes, a couple have been bought off the market, and the rest were smuggled out of euthanizing compounds."

Brea nodded slowly, the sick feeling inside rising again.

"But you," He said pointedly with a smirk, "Are the first runaway we've gotten."

She pondered that statement before frowning.

"I didn't run away…" She argued.

"From what Bluestreak told me, you certainly tried," The Mech remarked. His voice was incredulous when he added pointedly, "And almost got yourself killed in the process."

She frowned.

"Oh…that. Well there was a crazy robot trying to kill me so it wasn't like I planned it or anything. So it doesn't really count…"

The large Mech smiled before suddenly turning and glancing towards the door. Likewise, Brea also turned to see what and where he was looking.

The little Mech from before, Fixit, walked into the room, holding something in his hands that Brea couldn't quite make out from where she was.

"You'll need to wrap her hand," The Mech told the little 'Bot in Cybertronian. "She's sprained the slag out of it."

"Sure thing Ratchet," Fixit replied.

"Also, see if we have anything we could use to fabricate a brace. She might end up making it worse if we just leave it bandaged."

"I think I have something we could use…"

As the Micromaster approached them, the larger Mech bent down and gave the smaller Mech a helpful hand up to the counter.

"Thanks," Fixit said and made his way towards Brea. As he neared her little box bed, he gave her an encouraging smile and kneeled down next to her. He handed her a lump of something that had been wrapped in the same type of supple foil cloth that her blanket was made of. "That should hold you for a few joors. Just make sure to take it slow. We don't need you to overfill your fuel tank and start discharging unprocessed fuel everywhere."

He seemed to grimace at the mental image.

With her right hand, Brea peeled the foil cloth from the football sized lump. As she began to unwrap it, a familiar smell filled the air and she quickly tore off the remaining foil with a fervent incredulity.

It can't be…

She stared at the brown loaf sitting in her lap. She smiled.

It is!

"Where'd you get this?" She asked disbelievingly the Mech beside her, pure astonishment plastered across her face.

There's no way alien robots know how to make bread!

Fixit couldn't help but smile and he shrugged at her question, "From the pantry. Antoinette makes them whenever she has the means. You needed the carbohydrates so I swiped one."

"She's going to kill you for that," Ratchet muttered casually.

"She can try," Fixit replied with a laugh.

Brea eagerly pulled off a large piece of the (still warm) bread and greedily fed it to her mouth.

The smaller Mech scowled.

"Hey, didn't I just say to take it slow?" Fixit snapped.

Brea glanced at the Micromaster and obligingly slowed her eager devouring of the bread. Satisfied that she wasn't going to choke on the food-stuff, Fixit turned his gaze to her bruised and swollen wrist. Deftly, he reached down and picked up the gauze and started to unroll it.

"Give me your hand," He ordered. Brea obediently extended her wounded hand to the Micromaster who gently took it in his and began to wrap it in the gauze. Brea sat perfectly still, munching on the bread, while Fixit bandaged her up.

She flinched and pulled her hand away when Fixit wrapped the gauze too tight causing a pain to shoot up her arm.

"Ah!" She hissed.

He just reached out and snagged the hand again, "Stay still."

"It hurts! It's too tight."

"It has to be tight," He told her. "When Caleb finally gets that little ice box thing to actually work we'll be able to ice down the swelling. But for now you'll have to wait and settle for the gauze."

Brea moaned uncomfortably, taking another bite of bread, and endured the treatment.

Author's notes #2: Kind of a silly chapter. lol