Disclaimer : I don't own it.

Note : Ok, so I got a recent review on 'Undercover' a story that's a little like this one and has 'Bella/Ratchet' in it, and I just wanted to leave a comment.

First of all, just because a character's name is 'Isabella' and she prefers to be called 'Bella', does not mean she's a 'Twilight Marysue'. Second, I believe when I wrote and posted that story that I did say I got the basic idea for my character from Twilight. Now, if you can't read, that's not my problem. I just don't wanna listen to you bitch and moan that "Oh my fragging God, it's the Twilight girl!" because it's not.

There are similarities, yes, but guess what... Isabella is a common name. Isa is a common nickname. Bella is a common nickname. There is more than one fragging brunette in the world. There are also quite a few 'petite' girls out there. I'm honestly can't help but wonder if you run up to people in real life who are named 'Isabella' but prefer 'Bella' and start calling them 'Total Twilight Marysue's, too.

It's a character. It's an OC. It's a story. If you're gonna let the fact that my OC is named Isabella, and prefers Bella, take away from the entire story... Do me a favor and don't read this, because guess what? Oh my fragging God, it's Bella again! D:

Excuse me for ranting, everyone else whose enjoying this story, but that's kind of an insult. I mean seriously, I could handle a 'this story sucked big rusty Decepticon knockers' review, but to let one itty bitty thing like a name ruin a story for you??

For everyone actually enjoying this story, I will continue to post for you. And don't worry, now that my point's been made, you won't see anymore huge ass notes ranting about big mouthed anonymous reviewers who flamed a story because they didn't like 1 character. Promise. *Crosses fingers behind her back* XD

(Three Days Later, Normal POV)

His eyes darkened as he took in the now blocked window. Ever since his run-in three days ago, he'd found himself curious about the femmes in that small living apartment. The brunette of the two seemed to address him with more calm familiarity, relaxing in his presence.

That is, until he opened his holographic mouth.

The moment he first spoke, she'd seemed to be alarmed, but for reasons he couldn't fathom. She knew his cover name when he worked among the humans. She and her blonde friend both used Cybertronian curses, but when he called them on it, they both acted like it was second nature to them. Like they'd done so, often, for a long time. And yet, although his scanners appeared to be malfunctioning, his enhanced senses picked up the sound of a rapid heartbeat, the blood rushing through her veins, the smell of her sweat, the same feel to her skin as he'd picked up once in checking up on Mikeala.

They appeared to be human, yet their knowledge....

It was a rather disturbing thought.

What was even worse was the fact they mentioned it was from some movie dealing with 'Transformers' but when he searched every aspect of the worldwide web he could find, he found nothing to explain. Just what was 'Transformers'? Who were these femmes, and what did they want with him? They hadn't seemed to realize he was Cybertronian, they addressed him as a human, so he could only hope they didn't know his true nature.

But then... What about the tattoo the brunette femme had? Why would she have an Autobot insignia? And why hadn't his scans penetrated their bodies?

Frowning, his eyes flashed as he stared steadily at the curtained windows, his lips pursed as suspicion, confusion and concern all warred within him. That was all three days ago. Of course he'd reported to Optimus Prime about it, and his orders were to keep an optic on the girls.

So far, that hadn't been too difficult. The blonde had headed out that first day, but when he reported that, he'd been ordered to keep up the cover and keep an optic on the brunette instead. The newly arrived Arcee was apparently keeping an optic on the blonde.

A ping over his internal communications had him starting in surprise, momentarily forgetting that Optimus had earlier promised to call in for a report. Turning his holobody around, he moved it out of the sight of any possible watching humans, and allowed it to dissipate before opening the communications channel.

'Report.'

With a sigh, he kept his hidden optics on the apartment he'd managed to trace the girls' strange bio readings to, waiting for any sign of movement beyind the seeming pacing the single occupant was doing. 'I'm concerned...'

(Bella's POV)

I thought a lot of sleep would help. I thought, if I didn't have to get up, I didn't have to deal with the sickness, or whatever had burrowed up Richard's ass and died. I mean seriously, I still couldn't get over his odd behavior.

However, the only thing I succeeded in doing was throwing off my entire sleep schedule.

Finally after Lord knew how many days, I felt alert enough to quite literally crawl out of bed.

...And sprawl face first on the ground.

It took me a moment after that to get the energy up to move. I felt...hotter and heavier. My chest felt tight, and it was kind of difficult to breathe, but I could. My vision kept coming and going, like it couldn't decide whether I should have 20/20 vision or be blinder than a bat. And it didn't help I hadn't eaten in several days, it left me weaker than I would've liked.

Still, as I puttered around in the kitchen, searching for some herbal tea while my toast err toasted, I lost myself in thoughts about the other day.

He wouldn't have played a game like that over the gifts, would he? After all, he is a paramedic, and as he so uncerimoniously pointed out, I was sick. So wouldn't his first duty be to make sure it wasn't life threatening, then be an asshole?

And then there was still the eye thing.

He didn't look like he was wearing contacts, but... I could have been wrong. I've been wrong before. Multiple times. In fact, I was actually starting to believe he must've been wearing contacts when I saw him.

"But that doesn't make any sense." I grimaced as I pulled sweat soaked hair out of my face and shivered, still in my clothes from three days ago. "Why would he just start wearing contacts and what would make him chose colored contacts?" I buttered my toast as soon as it had popped, still not feeling up to eating, but knowing I needed to, in order to keep my strength. Maybe I should give this another try?

My eyes darted to the window of their own free will, even as I casually tossed the knife into the sink and sank my teeth into the crispy bread. Instantly, I groaned and stopped breathing when the buttery taste and smell hit my senses, and a fresh wave of nausea rolled through me. I struggled to chew the bread without breathing, or breathing through my mouth so I didn't smell or taste it.

I got about half the toast down before my body quite simply refused to take anymore.

And to top it all off, that effort cost me a headache and a dull pain in my chest, like a kink behind one of my shoulder blades or something. With a wince, I tossed the rest of the toast out and left the untouched tea in order to grab a quick, desperately needed, cool shower.

I don't feel quite as bad... I made a face as the water splashed over my head. Or maybe I feel worse, it's kinda hard to tell, but at least I feel like I'm in a better mood today. I showered quickly and hopped out, changing into slightly baggy jeans and a lose fitting t-shirt for comfort. Not very stylish, but right now it was function over asthetics.

Heading outside, I once again donned the sunglasses, even if it was cloudly out, which a quick flip to the Weather Network on tv told me it would be. Isn't it wonderful when the weather looks as shitty as you feel? I mused darkly as I rubbed behind the sunglasses, at my burning eyes. I hate light. I really really do. Once I was on the front step, I froze, my heart doing an odd little dance when I realized the Hummer was still in the empty driveway across the street, facing my way. As I watched, there seemed to be a flash, or something, and Richard exited the back of the vehicle, coming around to watch me warily.

He can't be acting, unless he's a damn good actor. Pursing my lips, I gathered my waning courage and walked over, stopping just off the road. "Hi." He simply nodded and I sighed. "Look, whatever game you're playing-"

"I'm not." His eyes had narrowed at my words, filling with annoyance. "I'm not playing a game. I don't understand what makes you say I am. I've never seen you or your friend before the other day."

"Well that's funny, because both Rika and I remember meeting you almost a month ago." I was aware my expression had darkened, but his attitude was hurting me. Are we that forgettable? Am... Am I...? Ignoring the way my heart clenched, I sighed and rubbed my aching temple a little, leaning against a street lamp for support. "We met, I bought you an ice cap, it was a beautiful thing." I know by this point I was sounding pretty mocking, but I was feeling annoyed myself. So much for my good mood.

He frowned deeply. "I've only been here two weeks. I have even asked the other workers-" He gestured vaguely with his hand. "-if they'd seen me talk to you before. You may ask them if you wish." Then he raised an eyebrow. "And I do not drink 'ice caps'. They are far from nutritional, with absurdly high amounts of caffeine and sugar."

My eyes cut over to where two other paramedics were watching us intently. Even they don't remember...? Nothing about this seemed right. Nothing at all. Especially after hearing his little rant about ice caps. "Yeah, because that orgasmic moan you gave when I bought you one didn't give anything away. Let's not forget the way you practically downed the whole thing."

"I am not playing a game, or trying to deceive you. I honestly do not know you." His voice had softened a little, but seemed to harden again after the third word.

"But then, what about the necklaces?" My fingers went to the chain. "The fake allspark shards?"

There was a sharp intake of breath. "There's nothing there." The voice hardened once again. "What do you know of the allspark? You have shards of it?" The more he spoke, the more anxious he seemed, and when I turned back to him, he'd taken two steps closer, looking agitated. "Who are you?"

Looking at him a moment, as much as I wanted to, I couldn't believe he was serious. Still, with a frown of my own, I took a step back. "Who are you? You're not the Richard Wrenchit I met a month ago." I still couldn't say the last name without a hitch in my voice, but I was proud of myself for not breaking into hyserics, like I was sorely tempted to do. "What's going on?" My head pounded and I groaned as I rubbed at my temples. "None of this makes sense."

"Perhaps if you tell me what it is I should remember? These shards, for instance?" There was a prying in his tone that only served to annoy me more. "Or perhaps your symptoms and how long you've been sick?" His head tilted and a frustrated look crossed his features.

I shook my head, and abruptly swayed on my feet as a dizzy spell hit me. Just as I stumbled, one of my knees locking up, warm hard arms wrapped around me tightly. This time, he leaned me against the Hummer, which I once again noticed was warm. Does he keep the vehicle on all the time, or something? Opening my eyes, I found him right in front of me and started back at how close he was. "Wow, heard of personal space before?" I pressed my hand against his chest until he took a step back, and blushed before pulling it away.

"That does not answer my question." It really was alarming the lack of the usually lighter, happier personality Richard had. Now he seemed easily aggravated and annoyed, and half of the time like he wants to throw things.

Hell, right about now he was the perfect example of Ratchet.

As absurd as that thought was.

I sighed. "I was perfectly fine four days ago. It was my best friend's and my birthday, and you..." Was it him? I internally cursed myself for actually believing that maybe, just maybe something happened and this wasn't the Richard I thought I knew. "Richard bought both of us fake allspark shards, because he knew how big fans we are of Transformers. He had to work though, so Ri and I watched the Transformers movies until we fell asleep. Then we both woke up hours later feeling horrible."

"Are you certain they were fake?"

The question had me starting and shooting him what I'm sure was a pretty incredulous look. "Did you hit your head?" Suddenly, it's like it all snapped into place. "That's it, isn't it? That's why you don't remember us." I smiled hugely, realizing that had to be the answer. "You hit your head." Then my smile faded and I stepped forward, threading my fingers into his hair. "Oh Primus! How bad is it? Are you ok??" I tugged lightly, and before I knew it, my arms had been practically ripped away from his head.

He blinked a moment and frowned. "I haven't hit my head. And even if I had, how does that explain the others not remembering us ever being friends?"

I swallowed heavily, looking from his eyes down to his hands around my wrists, where he was gripping a little too tightly for comfort, and didn't even seem to notice. "I don't... Richard, that doesn't make sense. Don't you see?" I looked up again, pleading with him to understand. "None of this makes any sense. I mean you know us. You know both of us! I mean, there's no identity mixup, you've already admitted to being Richard, and you have the Ratchet-mobile-"

I mentally skidded to a stop when I turned towards the Hummer, intending to point. My eyes locked on the door and the medic emblem on the side, and I felt my heart skip a beat. It's different... My eyes widened as I took in the little alien face in the symbols, that hadn't been there before. Turning back, my eyes landed on his shoulder, where the same face adorned the medic patch there too.

Finally, I dared a look at his eyes.

This time it was me to invade his personal space as I got up close, taking a good look at his eyes. This is a joke. This is a really bad joke. It's there, it has to be. I was looking for the tell tale ring around the pupil that spoke of contacts. I got so close looking for it, I could smell a hint of metal, and feel the warm breath caressing my lips, and eventually, he was the one to lean back, looking at me oddly. It wasn't there.

"'Ratchet...mobile...?" He tilted his head, the frustration filling his face once again.

It wasn't there. I took a step back, glancing at him and the Hummer respectively. This is a joke. This is a really twisted joke, that's the only logical conclusion. I stepped back again, and he stepped forward. "It's not possible." Suddenly I stopped, feeling horribly angry. "Stop it!" He'd been in the process of stepping forward, but my words caused him to freeze, his eyes widening at the vehemence in the tone. "Stop playing! It's not funny!"

"What's not?"

"This!" I gestured to the Hummer to him. "The contacts, the Autobot insignia on the Hummer and your uniform, the Ratchet-y personality. It's not funny! I'm really sick here, I haven't been able to eat in three days, and I keep swearing my head's gonna explode!" Shaking my head, I hissed as I swayed, stumbling into a light post. "If you're gonna keep playing, just... Just stay away from me!" I felt the tears coursing dow my cheeks, hot and burning. "When I find the shards, I'll give them back."

It felt like my heart was shattering, and I hated that feeling, mainly because I'd allowed myself to get too close too fast, and now the real guy was showing himself. Maybe this was a Transformers play or joke or something, but I have him a chance to back out, telling him I didn't like it, and other than taking on an incredibly concerned look, he seemed to refuse it.

I shoulda known better. Shaking my head, I turned and ran, fumbling with my keys and ignoring his call. It was easier when he didn't call me by name. Oh right, he doesn't even know my name! I unlocked the door and rushed in, turning and closing the door, jumping a little to see him almost right behind me, a pleading look in his own eyes, but I was in too much emotional and physical pain.

My chest hurt badly, and I turned again, allowing the tears to blur my vision as I ran. I ran up the stairs, only to skid to a stop when Mrs. Craven stepped into the hall on her way to check her mail. "Mrs. Craven." I stared at her a long moment.

"Oh, dear. What's wrong?"

"Mrs. Craven, I..." Shaking my head, I leaned against the wall. "Can I ask you a question, and I need a completely honest opinion." I'd made passing mention of Richard to her in the past, and she'd even seen us chatting on the front step, like twice. "Do you know a Richard Wrenchit?"

She paused and frowned. "No... I can't say I do... Should I?"

Old she may be, but her mind had always been sharp. If she'd seen or heard of him, she would have remembered. This only served to confirm his words, and I rubbed at my chest. "I dunno. I'm sorry but I need to go. Thank you." I brushed past her and rushed up to my apartment, crashing down on my bed as I lost myself in thought.

It's not just him. She doesn't remember him, the Hummer and his eyes have changed. The other paramedics, even don't remember. But how is that possible? The answer was simple. It's not. It's just not physically possible. Autobots don't exist, and neither do alternate dimensions or time travel.

Turning over in my bed, I ignored the pain in my chest as I thought over everything, my vision blurring with the tears.

The worst part is, I actually really liked him, and now he's a totally different person.

Eventually, I cried myself to sleep, feeling completely heart broken.

Written : Jan 21, 2010

Hope you like it.

R+R Please

Thank you

Tenshi