Sorry about the huge hiatus. I'd like to thank everyone who's waited so patiently for an update, but it's been tough to find time. Test week plus new puppy plus Speech tournaments equals long hiatuses. Oi! But, aside from that, things should be getting more frequent, and I'll try to get more updates in, but I'm not sure how often these things will show up. Anyway, enjoy crazy, Gonna-Get-Hit-Over-The-Helm-With-Prowl's-Favorite-Cooking-Pot Jazz!

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[Autobot Headquarters, Six Days (and one annoyed medic) Later]

"Fuck me if I'm wrong, but do you want to fuck me?"

Bella's eyes shot open at the rude question, looking up to see a tall, black and white mech standing beside the tabletop upon which she was laid. His optics were covered by a visor ('Same shade of blue as their eyes, so why wear it?') and a blue stripe went down his chest ('Is that what it's called? Chest? Or something else? What was that car term, again? Chaser? Casting?') where a white number '4' sat atop a red, serious face ('Why do they all have that? Is it a cult symbol or something?'). Bella instantly recognized his alternative mode. Alice had been blathering on about how much she'd wanted one for nearly a month before she - 'A Porsche. He's a Porsche.'

"Jazz, that was hardly necessary," came a voice stoic enough to fit the symbol. Another black and white mech ('Nissan? Maybe? Definitely a Police Cruiser.') stood to Jazz's left, gaze piercing and stern. He looked like a military bot, strict and harsh. To Jazz's right stood Ratchet, nodding faintly in agreement with Military's comment.

"'Ey, Prowler, ease up! It got 'er ta wake up, di'n' it?" Prowler? Odd, but it sort of fit.

"Officer Jazz, need I remind you that my name is not Prowler, not is it Prowlie, Prowlster, or The Prowlinator. My designation is, and shall remain, Prowl, and I would thank you to remember it correctly. Or does Ratchet need to check your cranial circuits?" Wow. So, not Prowler, then?

And then Edward was there.

He was holding her hands, and talking to her in that voice that made her tremble like she could die if he stopped talking, and the room was spinning, and Jazz and Prowl were kissing, and she didn't notice a damn thing -

'Wait! Jazz? And Prowl? Are kissing? But- but- but-'

"Bella? Bella, are you alright?"

"Huh?" she asked, clueless, staring into Edward's eyes.

"I'm still asleep, aren't I? And late for dinner, I guess?"

A worried look passed over Edward's face, which he quickly sought to hide, jesting, "I know I could pass as a fairly frightening nightmare, but you've got to believe me, you're really in an alien spaceship."

"No," replied Bella, drawing the attention of the other six Cullens and the three robots. Her voice rose as she spoke, hysteria taking its toll, "No, I don't believe you. I'm not on an alien spaceship, you're not really here, and the boy in red died! I died! I got in a car crash today on my way to school and I either died, or got so torn up that I'm on enough morphine to make me think I'm dead!"

Silence permeated the room as her tirade ended, only to be broken as Jazz calmly soothed, "Babe, you're not dead, or torn up. Your body's been in shock for nearly a week. You're worn out's what's wrong. I know y'ain't gonna believe me, I figure ya'd rather think you're dead'n face the truth right now, but this really is Earth, 'n you're really here."

"Bella," breathed Edward, and suddenly, as though reaching the breaking point of all the hell she'd been through that week, Bella saw red.

"You left me! You left me, and aliens tried to kill me! You left me for dead, and aliens tried to kill me! And now, now that I'm safe, now that there's a place you can be where the Decepticons can't get you, you show up, trying to make things better? Like you think these past months are just gonna disappear? Well, I've got news for you! I have been thrown out of my own car, nearly squished, partaken in some bizarro alien-style water suicide attempt, been abducted, and nearly fallen to my death, and if you think, for one moment, that you being here, now, is gonna change a thing, you're fragging wrong!" she shouted, panting wildly as she finished her speech, glaring at Edward with all the power in her meek, human body.

Edward seemed rooted to the spot, staring incredulously at the girl he had left.

"Carlisle?" Bella began, turning to face the doctor. "Has Ratchet told you about the virus and Decepticons?"

The doctor nodded, approaching Bella with a guilty look on his face as he replied, "We didn't know this would happen, Bella. We never would have left if-"

"If what?" she shrieked, adrenaline pumping furiously through her veins. It felt so good, so wonderfully freeing, to just snap and scream and yell all the wrongs committed against her, as if she were the only important being in the universe, utterly selfish and loving it. "If you had known that the poor, pathetic human would become a basket case? Get to watch as her own father threw doctor after doctor out of the house because each one told him the same thing? That his daughter, his only daughter, was gone? Mentally dead? Catatonic? Or is it you never would have left if you knew that, because you left, Decepticons are now actively seeking to take you and your family hostage for alien experimentation? Is that why? Because as far as I have been told, you all knew that leaving would kill me, so I can only assume you meant the second! And don't try to act like you all care, now! If you cared, you wouldn't have left me, all alone, to rot! And you know what? I did," she sighed, dropping her gaze to the floor as she could not bear to see the sorrow in Carlisle's, Esme's, Alice's, Jasper's, Emmett's, or even Rosalie's eyes. They knew they were guilty. So, in hopes of keeping her nerve up, Bella glared at the floor.

"I rotted for nearly two and a half months. I rotted from the inside out, and, in the end, the only thing that kept me going was the boy in red. And, if I'm right, he's been captured. Sideswipe has been captured. The only person, outside of my family, who stayed with me was taken captive by Decepticons because none of you were brave enough to stand up to Edward. I can't talk to you. I won't try. I'm not gonna tell the Decepticons anything, and I can't make you leave, but, from now on, you're all dead to me. For real, this time," Bella finished, glancing over at Ratchet and murmuring, "Is there anything to eat on this ship?"

The medic glared at each of the Cullens, his accusing gaze lingering on Edward for a moment, taking in the way he sat, hunched over, head in his hands, not breathing, not blinking, doing nothing, and thought, 'Serves him right.' Holding out his hand, he replied, "Wheeljack's been working on that, along with your quarters. Unfortunately, due to spacial issues, you'll have to share a room with them. However, we can separate your bunks if you wish."

Bella nodded and thanked him, telling Ratchet that was fine, and Carlisle piped up, "She should at least have a human doctor present, if only to insure that she doesn't get injured. May I go with her?"

Ratchet sighed, but allowed the two Earthlings onto his palm, then, with an order to the others to stay in the Med Bay and out of trouble, exited into a substantially smaller room. Reaching a platform that was the size of the first floor of the Cullen house and sat about fifteen feet off the ground, Ratchet released the two.

Bella noted several terrestrial objects, including four king-sized beds with plain, white sheets, two pillows per bed with white, cotton slips, an orange love seat, two red, two-person couches, a glass coffee table, and two small lamp tables on either side of the sofas. Then, there were alien-looking devices. One was a steel orb that seemed to levitate nearly two and a half meters off the ground ('Magnets,' thought Bella, getting a closer look.) and the other was a chair of sorts, with a hole in the seat.

'Oh, God,' thought Bella, flushing brilliant red. 'That had better not be what I think it is.'

"Ratchet?" she queried hesitantly, garnering the medic's full attention. "What are those for?"

"Oh? The sphere is for washing and the seat is for you biological waste products. Why do you ask?" responded Ratchet, cocking his head to the side.

"Humans prefer privacy for both of those, um, functions. Ratchet, is there any way to get curtains around them, or something?" Bella explained, blushing furiously.

Ratchet's gaze hardened slightly, but he conceded, stating that Wheeljack was already on it.

"How do you know?"

"What do you mean, 'how do I know'?" inquired Ratchet.

"I mean, how do you know he's working on it?" clarified Bella, glancing over to see that Carlisle had taken an interest in the topic.

"Internal Communication Orderly Mediators, or COM-units for short. Basically, it's a wireless internal network. The channels can be private, that is, they require a password, public, open to anyone in the faction with minimum security against Decepticons, or, in rare, high-risk situations, there are what are called Prime Channels. Prime Channels' passwords change for each mech once every breem, and no two mechs have the same password. Those channels are usually reserved for Officers, mainly Optimus, Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide, Red Alert, and myself. Though, sometimes, we'll have a solo mission for one of the other bots and they'll have access to the PC as well," explained Ratchet, leaving Bella with only more questions.

"What's a breem? And who are Optimist, Ironhire, and Red Alerter?" Ratchet chuckled at Bella's botched versions of his comrades' names.

"Optimus Prime is the Commanding Officer, and the kindest-sparked mech you'll ever find. Red Alert is our Security Director, a little paranoid, but in his line of work, it just means he's that much better at what he does. Ironhide is out Weapons Specialist, he may seem gruff, but he's, ah, I believe the term is a 'large softling'?" Ratchet finished, looking to Bella for reaffirmation on the correct usage of the earthen term.

Bella giggled, nodding as she corrected, "Big softie, but that sounds just as good."

Ratchet nodded once to show his understanding before continuing, "As for a breem, they are Cybertronian time units. You see, your planet has seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, and millennia, correct? Well, as Cybertron has a different rotation that Earth, our time units are vastly different. For starters, your system is based off twos, threes, and fives. Sixty seconds to a minute, twenty-four hours to a day, correct? Well, we tend to avoid fives, as an alien species called 'Quintessons', which you will learn of some other time, have been almost plague-like in our history, so we stick to twos and threes. Astroseconds are about eight point thirty-three seconds, Klicks are about thirty-three point two seconds, Breems are nine point ninety-six minutes, Joors are thirteen point nine four four hours, Cycles are three point four eight six days, Orns are twenty point nine one six days, Deca-cycles are thirty-four point eighty-six days, Vorns are one hundred ninety-four point seven oh oh six one six oh one six four two seven one years, and Mega-Vorns are one hundred ninety-four thousand, seven hundred point six one six oh one six four two seven one years. Do you have all of that?"

"Not at all, but I think I get the basic gist of it. If I need a reminder, I'll just ask, okay?" Bella answered, trying to think of how to phrase her next question.

Ratchet seemed to sense her internal struggle and cut her off, stating, "I am approximately two hundred twenty-two thousand, six hundred fourteen point five mega-vorns old, and was only about seventy-four mega-vorns old when the War started."

Bella just stared, as Ratchet continued, "And you should rest. When you wake up, there will be water and sustenance ready for you."

Ignoring Carlisle's attempts to speak to her as Ratchet exited the room to get the others, Bella laid down and tried to contemplate beings whose wars lasted longer than the planets upon which they fought.

When considering this, the fact that Edward had left her for several months seemed somehow inconsequential.

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