I'm sure many of you saw right away what I want to do with the story, in fact I've already gotten reviews and PMs both for and against it. I still haven't made up my mind on where this story will go, but I'm in the zone and it's going somewhere, darnit!

A big thanks to whitedino for encouraging me to write what makes me happy, and for digging me out of a plothole effortlessly. A big thanks to The Great Susinko as well, for fabulously detailed reviews that make me want to hug somebody! I appreciate all the feedback, ya'll!

I think Hotrod was more tired than he'd led me to believe, despite all of the chipper smiles and selfless interest in my well-being. He fell into what looked like a deep recharge, his eyes dimming down almost to the point of not glowing at all.

I ran my hand over the metal of his stomach, my cheek and ear pressed to him to listen to his hum. I'd been wrong on the way here. Hotrod did care about my feelings. He wanted to understand me, and somehow he'd known I'd been afraid of human contact. I hadn't even told him about what Bucklin had put me through. Then again, he hadn't been surprised when Carl Dicer had mentioned it; he'd probably seen or heard the news reports long before I had.

I let my mind wander back to those long weeks. I'd left my college and cut off all connections with anyone I knew for about a month and a half, living off the money I'd drained from my ample bank account. I'd started drinking heavily, visiting places I never would've dreamed of before. Bucklin had drugged me, taken all of my petty cash, and trapped me for over a month. I bit back a surge of resentment towards my old self for allowing the whole experience to go on for so long. The new me would have done things so differently.

I started to cry as images of the horrible things he'd done flashed through my mind. This was why I'd asked Skywarp to kill him. I didn't even hate the men in green or blue very much anymore, or the ones I'd drugged who'd never made it out of the trailer. I hated Red. Bucklin. As much as it tore me up to admit it, the desire to see him dead was still alarmingly strong.

After a while I reined in the feeling of helplessness and terror my memories had brought to life. I waited until I felt that'd I'd be able to pass the scrutiny of passing soldiers without drawing extra attention to myself with a pair of red, puffy eyes, then slowly began to remove myself from Hotrod's lap. I took my time, finally easing to the recharge bench and then slowly lowering myself from the edge, dropping four or five feet even dangling from my fingertips, fully extended. I surprised myself my rolling out of the fall and bobbing up on my feet again. An aikido instinct, apparently.

I froze to make sure my fall hadn't woken him, then made my way out, barely able to open the door enough to squeeze through. I'd never noticed how much stronger my right arm was than my left. Maybe I'd been in tennis in school. I muscled the door shut behind me, and after searching for the markings on the wall, headed in the same direction as the MESS & REC arrow.

I wasn't trying to get away from Hotrod, but I did want to sit down in front of the TV and watch the news. I didn't care if strangers would be there, I would just ignore them, or at least that's what I told myself. I didn't really know what I'd do if someone bothered me.

Skywarp was looking for me. I rubbed my arm, imagining I felt that tingly itch from before. Maybe he knew what was happening. Maybe it was supposed to do this, grow a little so the break was stronger. Then again, Skywarp probably wouldn't have planned to use my tracking chip, his failsafe, in order to heal me. No, this metal thing was a mistake.

I couldn't decide if I was flattered or terrified by the prospect of Skywarp's search. What girl wouldn't love to be that important to someone? But then… Skywarp seemed a little crazy, over the top, or maybe just misunderstood. Something was up with him, no matter how tender he'd been to me the last time we'd spent time together.

I finally made it to the rec. hall and wasn't surprised to see even more men in the room than before. The couches around the TV were almost full, so I went and stood nervously behind one. They were watching a boxing match and every few seconds they'd collectively roar or moan, depending on who was punching or getting punched. A head turned to look at me, and I saw that it was the guy from before. I couldn't remember his name.

He smiled and waved. "Hey, Bravo! You wanna watch the match? It just started."

I hugged myself nervously. "Ah… I was hoping to see the news, but… I'll come back later."

He jumped to his feet. Some of the other guys were watching. "Hey, hey, come on now! Sit down, grab a coke. We don't bite!"

I hesitated, and he took this as an assent. He came to me and took my hand, leading me back to the couch. I sat down slowly, squeezed as far to one side as I could get without touching the guy who'd been sitting on the other side. The friendly guy sat down next to me, not bothering to keep his distance, throwing his arm over the back of the couch.

He whispered into my ear, "We're rooting for Williams on this couch, so you probably should too."

I nodded, leaning away from him. The guy on the other side of me was grinning. "Who's your friend, Zeke?"

That was his name. "This is the mysterious Bravo. She came with the red one."

"It's Bravura." I said meekly.

"What are you doing in a place like this kid? It's so restricted we're not allowed to tell anyone where we are, even on our own soil! How'd you get clearance?"

"I know people."

"The Autobots." Zeke volunteered. "Did you see her laughing with that one at lunch?"

"Yeah, man…"

Apparently Williams landed a good hit, because the three guys on my couch leaped to their feet cheering. Zeke grabbed my hand to drag me up to celebrate, but when he pulled, something like fire, or ice, or a lightning bolt shot through my arm to my spine and I gasped, wrenching away from him and falling back into the couch. He turned to stare at me. Nobody else noticed. I choked on a breath. The feeling was excruciating, and it wasn't stopping.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean-"

I shook my head and lurched to my feet, cradling my arm. Before he could protest anymore I ran out of the rec. hall and down the hallway following the MEDIC arrow and as soon as I could focus long enough to make out the words.

I didn't run long, but it felt that way. Several men tried to stop me, but I danced out of their way and kept going. When I saw the keypad I fell against it. It beeped and the buttons flashed red. I gasped, cradling my arm, which was now alternating between moments of manageable pain and white-hot needles racing through my arm. I leaned over it, waiting for the pain to subside again before trying to remember the code.

It hit me, and I punched 9-8-7, almost crying with relief when the door hissed open.

"Ratchet," I croaked. I couldn't find my voice. "Ratchet!" My voice barely rose, but he heard me, appearing from a room off to the side.

"Bravura? What's wrong?"

"It hurts. Guy pulled on it… Like if someone set ice on fire - and wrapped it - with a power line and stuck it IN MY ARM!" My voice rose as the pain intensified, reaching its crescendo and making my head swim.

Ratchet had me up off the floor and on the exam table before I realized what he was doing. His tools were on me, and within seconds I pitched myself onto my side, shrieking, "Stop! Stop it! Please make it stop!" I wouldn't have believed it before, but it was possible for the pain to get worse. It doubled or tripled, or intensified to the nth degree for all I cared. This was almost like being under Skywarp's machine all over again.

Ratchet withdrew in seconds, and the pain eased back to its former intensity, which was suddenly a blessing in comparison. "The metal in your arm is dividing. It's normal in sparklings and younglings, but you aren't compatible with this. Some sort of strain must have set it off. Is it still hurting?"

I nodded, sweat dripping into my eyes. I felt like I would throw up at any minute. My spine was beginning to tingle.

"Help me, Ratchet. Make it stop." I opened my eyes, and looked up at him, begging.

He stared at me helplessly. "I don't know how."

The pain began to taper off again. I took a moment to catch my breath, then formed the words of the treacherous idea I'd had. "Skywarp."

Ratchet began to glare, then his posture sagged and he nodded in understanding. "He's responsible for this. He might know how to fix it. Primus, this is going to be dangerous…"