Brav's watching a story about a guy who had chest pain, thought he had cancer, surprise! You've got a baby tree in there! Makes my lungs hurt just thinking about it… Speaking of medical junk, be sure to keep an eye on the swine flu. Wash you hands often, don't touch your face, and try not to cough all over people if you're sick. Stay home. Be healthy, kiddies :)

I was watching an incredibly disturbing clip from the news when I heard the clank of metal feet coming up the stairs. I turned to look, though my sensors could tell that it was Hotrod. I smiled, logging off the Internet and beckoning for him to come sit next to me.

"Did you have a nice recharge?" I hoped so, it was past 6 in the evening. I'd been on the Internet much, much too long.

He settled next to me, nodding. "Yes."

I nodded uncomfortably, and we watched the scenery for a while.

"Hotrod?" I leaned over and touched his hand. "We're good, right?"

He looked down at our hands, then up at me. "If you say we are, we are." He didn't say it in a snotty or inflammatory way, just with complete honesty in his voice.

"Then we're good."

He nodded, and then lifted my hand, turning it over. He traced my palm, and much like every time I'd wrestled with Mirage, I was amazed at how soft his metal felt when every little contact made a soft clink or scratching sound.

"I have something to tell you," he murmured.

I scooted a little closer so I wouldn't have to lean so far while he held my hand. "What's that?"

"You know how Perceptor and I helped save your memories and personality?"

"Yeah, Ratchet told me that the first day."

"Um… I was the one who carried them while your body was developing. I had to encode everything so it would read into your empty memory processors. I… saw all of your memories. All of them, even the ones you couldn't remember before."

I raised my optics to his, not sure how to feel. "You… oh. I didn't know that." I was suddenly nervous. He knew that I'd asked Skywarp to execute another human being.

He must've seen my guilt in my face, because he clasped my hand in his much larger ones. "I saw everything, even the things you were ashamed of."

I wanted to dig myself a hole and never come out. "Are you trying to say you hate me?"

He smiled and shook his head. "Of course not. I may have seen those memories, but I felt what you were feeling, too. I would've done the same thing. You don't even have to explain, I already understand."

"Ok." I looked back out the window, suddenly highly aware of how close I'd scooted myself to the Vanquish.

"So… what've you been doing all this time?" He asked, shifting innocently so that the space between us decreased just a little a more.

"Well, spending time with Mirage mostly. We play a lot of games, run around, scare the living daylights out of soldiers… You know, ever since they got here, I can barely remember this place is supposed to be Autobot City. It's just a base."

"Someday we hope it will be more of a city. We'll build on top of this place, if we ever get the chance." Hotrod didn't seem to plan on releasing my hand any time soon.

I was getting uncomfortable sitting so close to the red mech. It wasn't that it was unpleasant to be near him, more the opposite. It felt too nice.

"When are you getting an alt mode?" He asked conversationally.

"Ratchet says I can in a few months," I grumbled, faintly bitter. Being cooped up in this sterile place for that long was going to be tough.

"Wow. That's… that just sucks."

I laughed and unconsciously leaned towards him, surprising myself when my shoulder touched his arm. To my even greater surprise, I couldn't bring myself to pull away again. I mentally sighed. You can't keep doing this, my logic processors chided. You either love him or you don't. You can't play with him like this. And what about Skywarp? You keep thinking you have to be the one to mend the rift, but you see this Autobot for two minutes and you forget all about it.

I leaned away unwillingly, and I could tell Hotrod was disappointed by the way his shoulders dropped. Just a little, I wouldn't have noticed in my old body.

"What will you choose?" he continued on as if nothing had happened. I started, thinking he was reading my mind, and realized he was talking about the alt mode.

"I don't know. Maybe a little Geo or a Mini Cooper."

He snorted. "You don't want to pick a Geo. Come on, you can choose whatever you want! Why not something flashy and fun?"

"Like what? I'm kind of on the small side, in case you didn't notice. Not much comes in the mini department that I would describe as both flashy and fun."

He looked down at me, and I could see he had his own idea. I suddenly got an image from him of a sleek foreign car with weird doors.

"What's that?" I asked, trying to seem only vaguely interested.

"It's called a Marussia. There aren't many of them, they're still in the concept stage."

I logged back onto the Internet and looked it up for myself. Seconds later I chuckled. "You would pick out something like this! It's a mini on crack."

"Yeah, but you'd look really damn good in it."

"I'd look like you."

"Like I said, damn good."

We both burst out laughing, and somewhere in the midst of it he put his arm over my shoulders. I tried to ignore my nervousness. "I didn't know you were so vain!"

"Oh, every mech's got a little vanity stored away. Even Ratchet picked a yellow ambulance. To really make my point, though, Optimus has flames."

"I see you're point. But how would I get my hands on one to scan it? They're concept cars."

"Well, you see, I know for a fact there's one in California, on a Hollywood set for some big movie."

"Oh, only just a few hundred miles away. No biggy for me or anything."

He squeezed my lightly. "Bee and I have been e-mailing about it, and he and Mikaela thought of something."

I looked up at him. "Ratchet said to wait, Hotrod."

He grinned as much as a mech can. "When have I ever followed the rules exactly? You need an alt, and we want to help you."

"No, I don't need an alt down here in the City," I sighed. "Just… it would be cool. But I'm not saying I'll pick the… Marussia? What kind of name is that anyway?"

"It's just another silly human name. That's not the important part. Look at it!"

He sent me another picture, the one I'd already been eying from my own search, and I nodded in defeat.

"Atta girl! You've always had a weakness for good looking cars." He said with a grin, giving me a squeeze. "Now, how about that movie?"

I was vaguely disturbed by him saying I'd 'always' had a weakness for nice cars. He'd seen all of my memories, even the ones I didn't remember. How was that fair?

Hotrod had wrangled up the movie projector we'd once used to watch the Notebook. There was a small library for us to choose from now, instead of bootlegging a copy like we'd done to watch the romance. I let Hotrod pick, and he came up with Alien Vs. Predator.

He was watching an alien wreak havoc. We'd been sitting casually, but by now he was leaning forward, one hand gripping my knee almost too tightly.

"Bam! Haha, that's why you duck, smartaft! Look at that, it has ACID blood!"

I giggled. The Vanquish had seemed perfectly happy watching the Notebook, but I could tell that action was his style, especially when he crowed as a Predator got offed.

Several soldiers in white tanks had pulled up chairs to watch with us. Thankfully Zeke was not among them. At first they'd been put out by Hotrod's very vocal viewing habits, but soon enough most of them actually joined in, and together they screamed advice and criticism to the victims as they were picked off.

I didn't really get into it until the woman and the Predator teamed up. It was only vaguely reminiscent of my own situation, but close enough.

She was eye to eye and shoulder to shoulder with an alien that would've barely blinked at killing her before, both fighting for their lives. I was optic to optic with a whole new species, trying to find a way to work things out with a mech who had very limited concerns for my old species, and trying to control my feelings for yet another who was maybe a little too forgiving.

Most of the other soldiers had already seen the ending to the movie, but they still had a good laugh when Hotrod flipped, screaming, "Holy- Did you see??? It's got the face fingers! It's gonna be a super Alien! They've gotta kill it now! Wait, what? Credits? They're just leaving it there? What in Pit? That's the worst ending I have ever seen!"

It was getting a little late for the guys, most of them had to be up early. They dispersed quickly, and I did my best to placate the fuming Autobot.

"I think they did a Christmas one too, maybe that one will show them killing it?" I honestly had no idea, I'd never seen the latest one, but the idea had Hotrod nodding.

"Right, of course. It's just to keep us coming, right? What is that called? A cliff jumper? Funny, I know I guy name Cliffjumper.

"It's actually called a cliffhanger. How'd your friend get a name like Cliffjumper?"

Hotrod grinned, leaning back, his bulk much too close to me for comfort. "Not everybody takes to steering an alt mode right off the bat. Let's just say, sometimes they forget how to turn."

"And he just rolled right off a cliff?"

"More like blasted of a cliff in the exact opposite direction of the way he was supposed to be going."

I laughed, but I wondered if I'd be that way someday. Hopefully I wouldn't earn any embarrassing nicknames in the process.

We sat in silence for some time. I was sitting up and he had reclined, lounging back on one elbow, putting us at more or less the same level. He was just barely touching me, and the longer I sat there with him on the soft, hard concrete, the easier it was to ignore my logical side and just be with my Guardian. I mused at the size difference. He was around ten feet taller than me, standing, but somehow that didn't seem to be a deal breaker in their culture. It certainly didn't seem to deter Skywarp, who was probably more like 20 feet taller.

We sat in silence for a long time, both highly aware of the other, but afraid to speak for fear of ruining the companionship we'd managed to put back together. At least that's why I was quiet. I didn't notice at first, but I'd slowly leaned into the bigger mech, and he'd tilted his head towards me, giving us the look of an intimate couple who'd overcome something but still couldn't find the words to comfort each other.

"Bravura," he whispered, optics not quite looking at me. "You don't have to choose me. I'd never make you do something you didn't want to… but please. Please don't choose the Decepticon. Anyone but a Decepticon."

My chest felt tighter, but I reached up and touched his face, getting a sense of déjà as my fingers brushed his face. "I'll find a way to make everything work out."

He didn't seem satisfied with my answer. He straightened up a little, looking down at me. He took my hand from his face and held it. I felt like a child next to him.

"You can't choose him. He's evil, he's killed so many innocent people that if you knew you wouldn't even be able to look at him much less let him touch you! Do you know why they call them Seekers? They would seek out their targets, and they were good at it. They always found what they were looking for, and their orders the last time were to kill all of the femmes. If you had changed before the Allspark was destroyed he would've killed you. It would have as easy for him as stepping on an insect."

"I'm not a real femme, Hotrod. I'm in between."

"You look like a femme, you were raised female. You can't help what makes up your spark."

I smiled to myself. He would make a good transgender spokesman. "Ratchet says I can't reproduce. I wouldn't be a threat to their plans. Not that it matters now."

Hotrod looked at me sharply. I could see him thinking it: Why did you ask Ratchet about that?

I was surprised when he took a completely separate track. "You mean we can't… I mean, you can't ever have sparklings?"

"Ah… that's right." I shifted slightly so that I didn't have to look at him anymore. "That's ok, I've never been that crazy about kids anyway."

He nodded, a pained look crossing his face.

I clenched my fists and rose to my feet, ungraceful and jerky. "Well, it's getting late and I really should be recharging. I've got another busy day tomorrow, you know."

"Doing what?" He got up to, and then crossed his arms.

"Whatever the hell I want, Hotrod. None of your business!" I felt hideously childish, but the fact that he'd taken for granted some sort of relationship between us enough to plan having kids just took it too far.

I stalked away, relieved when I didn't hear him following. He probably noticed I turned the wrong way for the sleeping quarters but I didn't care. I was heading for the upper deck. I was going to e-mail Mirage and beg him to come back, frag Hotrod and his beauty sleep. Frag his stupid alt mode idea and frag his plans.

I stomped up to the upper deck, my feet pounding more loudly than usual. I snatched up a small picnic style table that had been placed up here for the humans and flung it as hard as I could against the stone wall of the deck. The metal table made a satisfying boom and screech as it bounced off and then slid across the natural rock of the floor. I half ran to the table and gave it a swift kick, feeling my foot dent it and getting a sharp pain of my own as I sent the table on another short flight.

"That's not going to fix anything." Said a voice just behind me. I spun so quickly that I went off-kilter for the first time in days and almost fell, catching myself before I went down. As I straightened up I realized Prowl was standing behind me, hands slack at his sides instead of crossed over his chest in disapproval.

"Sorry. I know. I just… needed an outlet."

Prowl nodded. "I understand, but please don't destroy anything else. If you need an outlet I'll give you a gun and let you loose in the shooting range."

I smiled weakly and shrugged. "I think that would be a bad idea. I feel better already, anyway."

Prowl glanced down at my foot and gestured slightly. "You cut an energon line."

I followed his gaze and I gasped. A faintly glowing blue liquid was trickling from the complicated supports that made up my foot and pooling on the stone floor. "What is that?!"

Prowl looked at me quizzically. "It's your energon. It both acts as coolant and releases the energon you ingest to your systems. You've never seen it before?"

I shook my head. As much trouble and Mirage and I had gotten into, I'd never gotten hurt. "Is it serious?"

"Not really, but it will leak for a while if nobody closes it. How would you like a lesson in field repairs?"

I nodded weakly, unable to decide between staring at him and staring at my foot. "Will it hurt?"

"It will be a twinge, like getting a hard pinch. Sit down."

I sat, and he knelt in front of me. He lifted up my foot with one hand and I watched as two of his fingers turned into a wicked looking little tool. "Watch closely," he said calmly. "You don't actually have the equipment to do this, but you might some day. It doesn't do any good to be squeamish about it."

His little tool sparked white, then he reached in and touched it to the source of my energon leak. It didn't technically hurt, but a sharp pinch was a fairly accurate description. I leaned in to watch as he delicately applied little touches from his sparking hand tool. Bit by bit the leak closed up, and he leaned back, giving me a rare smile. "There, all done."

He surprised me by sitting down completely rather than getting up, so I just stayed where I was and watched.

"You know, Jazz used to act the same way about energon line repairs. As tough as he was in a fight, he hated the feeling of line repairs. He said it reminded him of getting bitten by a retro-rat."

"Jazz?"

He looked at me as if were surprised. "I guess you haven't heard much about him… He was of the first five Autobots here. He died taking on Megatron in Mission City."

He'd died long before I'd entered the picture. "He must have been pretty brave to take on Megatron."

"A core of platinum. We had a lot of missions together, a lot of close calls. I never thought I'd see him go… I wish I'd-" He paused, looking at me with a little embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok, I know how it feels to lose the people you care about. Sometimes you just want to talk about it."

Prowl nodded, looking towards the glass wall. "We were very close. We had a spark bond," he murmured, reaching up to his chest with one hand, placing it where his spark would be. "I felt it when he went, but I didn't really believe it until… Optimus gave me the news."

"A spark bond? Like, you were together?"

"Probably not the way you're thinking. We shared a special connection. We relied on each other for strength and support."

"What's it like, having a spark bond?" I asked, gingerly touching my repaired energon line to avoid looking at the strategist.

"You'll find out, someday. Maybe sooner than later, from what I'm gathering between you and Mirage."

I jerked, causing a sharp sting when I jounced the cooling line. "Mirage?" I asked, incredulous. "We're just friends."

"He spends all of his time with you. He made a special request to Optimus to be the one to watch over you in the next few months. He acts like a youngling around you. I've known Mirage for a long time, and he's never acted quite like this. He's always been a free spirit, a little unsure about the cause, but loyal. But he seems truly happy when he's with you."

I laughed nervously and shook my head. "We're just friends. He just likes being able to goof off instead of work."

"You think he likes spending all of his time below ground? When you've known the vastness of space, a hole in the dirt tends to weigh heavily on one's spark."

I looked down. "It's not like that," I insisted. "He's just a really great friend."

Prowl smiled knowingly and rose up slowly. "Whatever happens, I hope you keep the temper in check."

I nodded sulkily and watched him leave. I did not have a temper, frag it!

Yes you do, my logic processors chirped.

"Shut up!" I screamed into the empty room. "Nobody asked you, piece of junk computer!" I leapt to my feet and walked quickly to the glass wall, leaning heavily on it and staring at the wide-open landscape. I opened up my Internet connection, but instead of opening my e-mail to contact Mirage, I sent a short request to Bumblebee.