Leaning Away
Part 2
Written by Dreaming of Everything for Dayari, betaed by mmouse15!
Hope was smiling and humming happily even before she saw Starscream, so he prepared himself mentally to fake honest surprise for some stupid little ineffectual unimportant 'success.'
"Starscream!" she called out as she saw him.
"Hope," he said in return, nodding his head in greeting. He refused to do anything like wave to the girl. Touching her whenever it was truly unavoidable was bad enough. He would not lower himself to that level.
"Guess what?" She didn't even pause to let him try and answer, irking him even more—although maybe it was for the best. It gave him less opportunity for sarcastic retorts which, he reminded himself, would not be in character. "I talked to my great-aunt, and she's got a house she's letting me use in Maine! So I can live there and work until I get residency, and then I'll be able to afford the college I want! I'm so happy!"
"Congratulations!" he managed, trying to keep the sneering condescension out of his voice. As always, his voice didn't help. He'd tried again, fruitlessly, to override the voice-programming built into his system the night before. Like always, he hadn't gotten anywhere, but he'd let it go. After all, it wasn't like he could suddenly change his voice patterns without alerting the human. Although he could just enact a few subtle alterations, slip it in for essential moments when he needed to come across as caring, supporting, sympathetic—it would mean he wouldn't need to struggle so hard with his tone. It would give him a bit of leeway.
"Thank you! Oh my God, I'm so happy—I can't believe it's all working out!" She laughed, apparently just with sheer joy and disbelief. Such an absurd display was almost sickening.
Hope paused momentarily before she started speaking again, smiling shyly up at him. "Starscream? Thank you for your support."
"You're welcome," he said, graciously. "It was nothing—you deserve it."
A little less than a week later, Hope didn't notice the huge black truck that followed her to the trail head parking lot. She was on her way to meet Starscream, and still nervous and excited and unbelieving, although less so all the time.
It wasn't her fault that she didn't realize. Ironhide had stayed out of sight, which was very easy for him. After all, her truck had been outfitted with a tracking signal, and he already knew where she was going; staying a few cars behind, or driving slowly so that she was always a turn ahead of him was no problem at all.
She didn't even know that she was being tracked.
As usual, Hope didn't pass anyone on her hike up. It was a pretty remote trail, and it was an overcast Monday morning. She didn't notice anyone following her, either, because nobody really was.
She was happy to come out into the field. She looked forward to seeing Starscream. He made her feel more confident, happier; he made her feel like she was a better person. He just—he was supportive, and he listened, and he talked back to her, like her opinion really mattered, and he just—he wasn't involved. He only knew her. No nerves, no history, no nothing. He—he listened. And he believed her.
...There he was! He looked—too-serious, this morning. There was some glint in his eye that put her on edge. He looked almost predatory. Although that was probably just the way he was built. He looked almost like a bird of prey, the way his legs were, and he was kind of—spiky, really.
"Hope," he said. "Hello. How are you?"
"Oh, hello, Starscream! I'm—pretty good, I guess! Getting better all the time, I'm starting to get ready to leave for Maine, I'm really excited—how are you?"
"Glad this is ending," he said, breaking into a full grin, a shark-like expression that was almost a smirk, and then he was leaning down, and grabbing her, and pulling her up, holding her up in the air and squeezing almost too tight.
The Autobots had found him. That was a pity—he hadn't wanted to reveal his presence back on Earth so soon—but those things happened. He'd have to find out how they'd figured it out—later, though.
He had other things to concentrate on, at the moment. Even beyond the absolutely delicious expression of sheer terror contorting Hope's face. The wait always made these things better—and it was a personal revenge, best of all, for all the hours of irritation she'd caused him—listening to her, to her damn petty 'problems,' her stupid, insipid little life—everything.
It was funny. She'd thought she'd known him.
But he knew that the Autobots would be arriving. Doubtless they'd laid plans for any attempt to leave by air. Nothing he couldn't avoid—he was the best flier in the Decepticon army, and even an average Decepticon jet wasn't going to be outmatched by Autobots, flighted or not, let alone humans—but he had a much safer bet as to how to get out.
He had a hostage.
Hope was going to see her usefulness out to the end. She'd provided some useful data, and now she was going to provide him with a clean getaway.
Bleeding-heart Autobots—it was so easy to manipulate them. It was hardly any more sporting that playing with Hope had been.
Not that Starscream cared about that.
Hope had almost passed out with sheer fear when the other set of robots had shown up.
That had to be the other side, in the war Starscream had told her a little about.
...She didn't trust him anymore, but she didn't trust them either. Was she going to die no matter who won? Probably, she thought.
She was so, so scared.
They were bargaining over her, she thought. Or bargaining over something. Why hadn't they attacked? Both sides had weapons, all clearly visible—she hadn't realized they could make themselves, or parts of themselves, into weapons the way they could turn into planes, or cars, she guessed, since some of them had wheels, and it was a lot less cool, it was kind of horrifying, in fact, because they were weapons and now that she knew that—but they hadn't started shooting, or any other sort of fighting. They were just sort of standing there.
She was having trouble following the conversation, even though she thought it was mostly in English. Or at least partly in English. Starscream's voice sounded—triumphant. Was that really his name? Clearly, he'd lied about some things. Had he lied about everything? Right now, she'd believe it.
She just didn't understand why. And how...
Hope was moving again. Being moved. She screamed, but the wind rushing past her caught the words and she fell, roughly, dropped the last few feet, to the ground; she lay there, panting, and waiting for death.
It didn't come. Instead, there were the sounds of Starscream taking flight, transformation, and a soldier came to help her up, while the sounds of a battle started up above her.
Patience Lans wasn't expecting to find her daughter, pale and horrified-looking, bruised and scratched up, and covered in mud, twigs and leaves in her hair and clothes, when she opened the door. She hadn't expected to find a soldier with her, a clean-cut, responsible looking young man.
She gasped, and dropped the mug of coffee that had been in her hand. "What happened?"
"Nothing to worry about, ma'am," said the soldier, voice crisp and professional. "We think your daughter fell and hit her head—she's got a little amnesia, the basic signs of a concussion. We found her when she wandered into a practice drill, and we wanted to make sure she was okay. She's a little dazed, and confused. If she says anything that doesn't make much sense, don't worry too much about it. And if you have any questions, here's my business card."
"Thank you," said Patience, stunned, automatically reaching out to take the proffered card. "Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?"
"No, thank you," he said—Captain Lennox, the card read, but she didn't know if it was his or someone else's—smiling at her. "I'm looking forward to going home. Thank you, though. I hope your daughter's fine."
"Thank you," said Patience, running on autopilot, and she reached out to her daughter, pulling her close. The soldier left, and Hope started crying into her shoulder. Patience worked her inside, slowly and gently.
"You are never going camping alone again," she said, simply, after she'd gotten Hope a bowl of soup, the two of them sitting at the kitchen table.
"Okay," said Hope, shivering again, and suddenly Patience felt like crying. She wasn't ready for this—she couldn't handle this. But she needed to. She needed to be strong, for Hope. And for Faith, her baby girl. She needed to be strong for herself.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said again, wrapping her daughter up in another hug, breathing in the smell of her. She couldn't imagine losing her daughter, and she'd come far, far too close to it, twice now.
"It's not your fault, Mom."
"I should never have let you go out on your own. Not the first time, and especially not after you fell—"
"You can't protect me forever." Were there—odd overtones to that statement? Maybe. It was probably just shock.
"But I want to try."
"Hey, Hope."
"Hay is for horses, Faith."
"Whatever, jerk. Did you really get a concussion and end up walking into a bunch of soldiers and then one of them brought you home? Or did Mom finally have her breakdown?"
"Yeah."
"...Were they hot?"
"What? What is wrong with you—"
"You're the freak. Did you get any phone numbers?"
"No! I had a concussion!"
"Laaame."
"Geeze, give the hormones a break. You're ridiculous."
"I'm going to laugh when you die a virgin. At age ninety-five."
"Oh, shut up."
"Make me."
"I can't move. Everything hurts too much."
"Does that mean I can get into your closet and take—excuse me, borrow, anything I want and you can't do anything about it?"
"No, it does not—hey! Hey! Don't you even dare—no! That's my favorite shirt, get out of my clothes! —Mom! Hey, Mom! Come here, make Faith stop taking my clothes!"
"Really, Hope. Hay is for horses. And you shouldn't yell at our dear mother like that."
"You little snot."
It was Sunday, and Hope had decided not to get up. Instead, she was eating leftover Girl Scout cookies in bed, and rereading The Lord of the Rings. She'd been working hard, and she didn't want to face the outside world. Her day off, and she was going to spend it doing absolutely nothing productive.
A knock at the door made her start guiltily. She hastily swallowed her mouthful of cookie and shoved the box under her pillow. "Come in!"
"Hey, Hope," her mother said gently, leaning in the doorway for a second before she walked in, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hope pulled up her feet to make room for her, sitting up, and hoping that the crinkling sound of the cookie wrappers wasn't as loud as it sounded to her.
"Hi, Mom. What is it?"
"I'm—I'm just a little worried about you. I know this has been a hard year. I feel like I should have encouraged you more to go off to school..."
"Mom, don't feel so guilty! It was my own decision, and I'm happy with it. And since I talked Aunt Prudence, and she said I can stay in her vacation home for a while, I can get residency, and that's fantastic. So it's good I waited, right?"
"I'm just a little worried, sweetheart. You're my baby, and you've seemed so depressed these past few weeks. Are you sure you're fine?"
"Yes, Mom. I know I can talk to you if you need it, but I'm fine now. Things are a—a little hard, but I'll live. It'll all be fine."
"Okay. If you say so. You know I love you, right?"
"Of course, Mom. I love you too."
"You're late, Hope."
"I know, Mr. Olson. I'm sorry, it won't happen again."
"It better not. If you go missing again, or whatever—I've got other people to give this job to."
"I'm really sorry, but I didn't try to get hurt out in the woods, I swear, you can call my mom—"
"Does she have a signed note for you, too? You're not in kindergarten anymore. Get in there and work."
Hope did, her eyes starting to prickle with tears. Nothing to do but ignore it, and hope she could get into the bathroom soon. She could cry there.
Hope had never thought that she'd end up missing high school.
"Hey, Chrissy, it's me!"
"Oh—Hey, Hope. How are you?"
"Okay—I'm still kind of getting over the break-up with you-know-who, but it's getting better. One of the guys I work with is cute. Hey, I was thinking—want to get together this weekend? There's the horror movie marathon on TV, and we've made a point of doing it the past few years..."
"Is that this weekend? Oh, damn—I'm so sorry, Hope, I already made plans! I'm getting together with a bunch of the girls in my dorm, and we're going to go out to this party—I'm sorry, and it's all people you don't know, so I couldn't invite them—it's a university thing, right?"
"Oh... Okay, then. Maybe some other time. There's always next year, right?"
"Right. We'll have to get together soon!"
"Yeah."
"Great! Bye, Hope, I hope we can see each other soon!"
Hope tried not to flinch too obviously when she heard a plane. She didn't want to worry her parents, and there was no good reason to explain her sudden fear. At least, no reason that didn't involve telling the truth. And that was the last thing she wanted to do, most of the time.
She did fairly well, she thought. But her mom looked at her oddly, sometimes. And then, it was all Hope could do to keep from telling her everything.
I had a friend. He was a robot. But he turned out not to be... No, he was still a robot. He could turn into a plane. But he was never my friend. I really, really hate him. I hope I never see him again.
"Oh no! The movie marathon's this week? I don't know what Chrissy was thinking, inviting me to that thing of hers—"
"You're going too?"
"Well, I was... Tell you what, I'll call her and tell her, and then she can reschedule it later. Are you going?"
"Lisa... Chrissy isn't inviting me. I just called her about it, and she's not going to be there. It's okay, we can do it the next year—"
"No! It's a tradition, you can't mess around with that stuff. I'll still come. Even if you're not there!"
"No, don't worry, I'll be there. Thanks, Lisa."
"Don't worry about it! I wouldn't miss this for the world. Mind if I bring a friend? Since it looks like Chrissy's crapped out on us."
"No problem."
"Good. So, I guess I'll see you Friday—"
"Yeah."
"Oh, and Hope?"
"Uh-huh?"
"Don't worry about Chrissy. She's a bitch."
Hope couldn't quite bite back her (slightly guilty) giggle—it made her feel better, but at the same time, Chrissy was still her friend. Or had been. "Okay. I'll do my best. See you Friday—I can't wait to meet your friend!"
"What are you doing?"
"Studying," Hope said, the reply automatic. "Go away, Faith."
"Studying? Ew." Faith wrinkled her noise, face expressive. "Why'd you do that when you don't have to?"
"Because I think it's important stuff to know."
"Nothing is worth that."
"To you, maybe. But I want to know where all the different countries are. I mean, it's important stuff."
"Whatever, crazy."
The human's life was still incredibly boring to watch—although he had fewer means of collecting data, now, which was a disappointment. And it wasn't worth it to try getting into her cellphone again. It would just revive suspicions about Starscream's continued presence. No, he was stuck gathering bits and pieces of information wherever and whenever he could. It was frustrating, especially since what he gathered was so often of so little use.
Home. Work. Friends. School—even though she wasn't currently enrolled in an institution. All petty, inconsequential annoyances. The carbon-creature's life seemed to revolve around the pointless.
On the other hand, she demonstrated a remarkable ability to recover, and to cope—comparatively speaking. She was still vastly inferior, an organism. Nothing was going to change that.
He wondered if it was typical of the species, or fairly unique, or a freak coincidence, even. That was worth a little further study. It had the potential to affect future plans; it was something he could monopolize on, or something that could undermine a plan, if not taken into consideration. Important things. And for such an unimportant species... He knew more about the physiology of the carbon constructs, the autotrophic ones, than he did about the human systems.
Starscream had priorities, after all.
Hope had been looking for a new park to go to, some place away from the hustle of the city and her family, someplace she could get away from everything. She'd found a small lake, and it had looked perfect.
It was. The lake, and it was just hot enough—an unseasonable day—that she'd been able to dabble her feet in the water. There were some nice trees, and some picnic tables. It was out of the way, isolated and remote but not eerily so, and there was no one there on a school day in September. Just what Hope had wanted.
She lay back in the grass, staring at the dazzlingly blue sky until she let her eyes drift closed, breathing in the clean air and letting the scent and sound and feel of it all surround her.
Hope screamed, involuntarily, when there was the sudden roar of a jet approaching, far too fast. She forced herself to calm—she knew the military was around, maybe they were just practicing?—but her nightmares just ended up coming true.
Starscream. And she couldn't pretend it wasn't him when he landed, transforming to touch down with a spectacular splash into the shallow pond. Waves of sun-warmed water, discolored with algae, went splashing up onto the banks.
Hope didn't even realize she was drenched. She'd moved with alacrity, but she knew better than to really try to run. Her back was pressed up against a tree, and she quivered with suppressed fear and emotion.
Silence.
There was a displaced fish, gasping and flopping for air on the banks. Hope wanted to run up and push it back into the lake, but she didn't dare. Not when it meant moving towards Starscream.
What was he doing here?
It couldn't be for her.
It couldn't be good, and it couldn't be for her. He had to have some reason for this—was he just trying to get rid of his loose ends? By killing them.
She had to try to call someone. She had her cellphone with her. Did she dare...?
It wasn't like she was going to live. Might as well die a hero...
Eyes still fixed on Starscream, she reached on hand into her pocket, pulled out her cellphone. She fumbled with the buttons, dialing from memory: the number the soldier had given her, to call if something went wrong, badly wrong. She guessed this counted. She couldn't think of anything much worse.
The call didn't go through, even though it said she had reception. It didn't work the second time. Nine-one-one didn't work either.
Starscream smirked at her. "I'm blocking cellphone reception in the area," he said, voice apparently casual but with a heavy satisfied note to it. He was enjoying this. "You have no way of getting in contact with anyone." There was a pause. "It's the only reason you're not dead right now."
Hope started crying, perfectly quiet except for her harsh, gasping breaths. The silent sobs shook her body. At first she tried to stay standing, but she fell to her knees, and then curled in on herself, crying into the dry dust she was kneeling in. It had been a hot dry start to the fall, and her tears left wet spots on the earth, where the ground hadn't already been soaked by pondwater.
She didn't stop, just clutched herself tighter. After a while, she was almost ignoring the Decepticon still towering above her.
The sounds were starting to grate on Starscream's nerves. He scowled, shifted slightly, but the human's concentration didn't turn back to him. No, that wasn't quite it—she was still more than aware of his presence, but she wasn't paying strict attention.
"Stop," he demanded, at last. He was tired of listening to her. It was time for the conversation to proceed.
Hope stilled suddenly, her breath stopping with on last gasping lungful of air, and she looked up, shaking, dumb acceptance in her numb eyes.
It changed into something else. She—crumbled. Fell apart.
The noise of her cries echoed off of the trees, off of his own self, off of the hill behind her, rebounding and echoing, rising up.
Somewhere in there, in-between the sobbing and crying, was a plea: Please, God, just go, just leave me alone, I hate you, I hate—fuck, just, please. Leave, go away!
His demands had just made things worse. He wanted—he needed her to stop the infernal racket, to just stop crying—
"Silence," he said again, kneeling and reaching towards her, a hand moving out reflexively—although it wasn't a reflex, or not one he was supposed to have. Transformers didn't touch, and Decepticons didn't comfort—but there was no time to think about that.
"Get away from me!" The words were screamed, and he could hear the strain in her voice, the words too loud and too high-pitched and for a second she almost sounded something like him.
The human was moving, pushing away from him, violently, scrabbling in the dirt, trying to get away. There was the expected satisfaction, but not enough of it. Hardly any at all. Revenge...
She was pathetic.
Starscream reached out again. Hope flinched, repulsed, as he touched her, fingertips tapping into her, nothing to him but enough to push her onto her side. She lay where she fell. The fight had gone out of her.
He withdrew.
A while later, she started crying again. She didn't stop for a long, long time.
After an hour, Starscream left.
--End chapter 2--
(Thank you very much, all my reviewers! SpartanSith, I'll thank you here specifically since I can't reply to your review; thank you to my anons as well, Ever Free, Erin and D.J.A! D.J.A, I'd like to thank you in particular—that is an incredible compliment.)