"So, tell me what its like?"

Mikaela dropped the weights and stared down at Trina, optics zeroing in on her small, lithe form. She had dropped the makeup it seemed, and had acquired a more unpretentious demeanor. Mikaela found herself crossing her arms and stepping forward. It occurred to her now that she was bigger, stronger in her new form, and that Trina didn't seemed the leas bit fazed.

But she was still her, right?

"What do you mean?"

Trina cocked one hip and crossed her arms, green eyes staring upward. She looked like a big, curious baby.

"What do you think I mean?" She snapped. "Being a Cybertronian. Is it different? Or, like, bad or good?"

"Well, Trina, why don't you think about that yourself," Mikaela couldn't keep the bitterness out of her tone. What was she asking? Of course it was different! Certainly not good. Why, she would trade her new body for her humanity anytime. "How would you like to have your humanity stripped away in the blink of an eye?"

"My bad for asking," Trina had paled dramatically in the course of a few seconds. Mikaela was intimidating her. And she usually didn't intimidate people. "It's been a month since the accident. I was waiting to ask you. You know, let you cool down a bit."

"Cool down? You think I'm not being calm about this?"

Trina seemed lost. She just dug her fingers into her pocket and pulled out a stick of gun, unwrapping it and shoving it into her mouth with vicious ferocity, trying to hide something. Ire, it seemed.

"Look, I know you're stressed. Have you sat down and had a good cry yet?"

Mikaela tilted her helm to the side, then sighed and leaned back so she could sit down. She reached back, running her fingers along the seams of her shoulder armor. She could feel the wires and the tire that connected her shoulder, and then her two door wings. She was a freak, she knew. A freak of nature that would never belong anywhere.

And she and Sam. Sam had always been her future husband, she knew. She had contemplated over the fact of marriage. They were old enough, anyway, and in the past Mikaela had always thought of them to stay human together.

This had never been part of the plan. Hadn't been part of anyone's plan, and for a moment a wave of rage washed over her. Rage at everyone and everything.

She found herself squeezing her armor. Scratching at it.

"Hey, Mikaela, its okay."

"You're twelfth person who's told me that today," Mikaela rounded on Trina, staring her down, like a hawk watching its prey. "You know, I get looks when I walk around the base. They think I'm a freak."

Trina opened her mouth to riposte, but closed it. Smart of her, Mikaela thought.

"Look," she said finally. Calmly. Much too calmly. "I know what you've been through…"

"You don't have to pity me," Mikaela said. She let her hand fall to her side, and, joints creaking ever so slightly, she stood, wobbling a bit. But she was as balanced as ever before. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, I was being an ass. It's not your fault."

"My bad for asking a question," Trina murmured, blowing a bubble. It popped, and she deftly sucked it back into her mouth. She turned and started towards one of the storage rooms, heels clicking. Likely going to go rummage for some more beauty products.

Mikaela sighed as Trina waved her away, and headed out the door.

"You should be able to go back in a few days," Ratchet told her. "I hear you have a house somewhere up by the beach, do you not? A secluded house where you could learn to control yourself away from the prying eyes of other humans?"

"Yep. If you want to put it that way."

Mikaela swung her legs back and forth, hearing the grinding of her internal structures as she did so. It sounded weird. Metal against metal. She had heard the sound so many times, but never imagined it would ever come from her own legs. Legs that were now coated in a shiny silver armor that, from what Ironhide had told her, had attracted the attention of Sideswipe and had caused him to do something akin to a wolf whistle at her. He had earned a wrench upside the head from Ratchet.

And Optimus. He hadn't spoken to her since he had helped her acquire her alt mode. Hadn't approached her and given her any Guru-like advice. No lectures or anything for that matter. He had pulled himself away, and some part of Mikaela knew why.

"Why isn't Optimus talking to me?" Mikaela wondered aloud.

Ratchet froze. Then continued working as if he hadn't heard Mikaela's question.

"Whoa! Whoa! What was that?" Mikaela found herself smirking. "What was that little paused there….it was like time had stopped or something. C'mon, Ratchet, you're hiding something."

"That is a question that should be geared towards Prime himself. Not his loyal medic," Ratchet practically spat. He sighed and went back to work, picking up a wrench and making his way over to Mikaela. Mikaela cringed as he began to adjust the gears in her left shoulder, just below one of her tires.

Mikaela made a noise a batted his hand away, crossing her arms and staring at him angrily.

"C'mon, Ratchet. It has something to do with me and this….Decepticon body," Mikaela shifted uncomfortable and looked down at her own frame. It didn't look like a Decepticon body. Her own optics were blue, but that had been Ratchet's doing. But there was no mistaking. The way her body was put together was crude, made it look like she had been built by a first grader. Crude, but not as crude as some of the other Decepticons she had seen.

"Roadrunner…she was a wonderful femme," Ratchet dropped the wrench on the table and stepped back. "So wonderful that she attracted the attention of two very important mech's. Now, this was before the war. Before Optimus and Megatron became what they are today."

"Don't tell me…" Mikaela breathed.

"You get the picture. Ultimately, Roadrunner chose to be a Decepticon. Took Megatron's side instead," Ratchet paused, then grumbled, "foolish femme. The only reason was because she wanted a good frag from a bad mech."

"Are you saying that she was a whore?"

"No," Ratchet rounded on Mikaela, optics narrowed. "Optimus loved her…and then, she died during the Egypt battle."

"And then I came along and stole her dead body," Mikaela slammed her fist down on the berth. "Gee, Ratchet, thanks for telling me this now. It makes me feel a whole lot better about myself."

"But it's not your fault, Mikaela, remember that," Ratchet placed a hand on her shoulder. "If anything…its mine. Roadrunner was the only available femme, and when we found her, she was so….mutilated that we could barely recognize her. It was only until after that we…"

"Yeah, yeah," Mikaela shrugged his hand away. "Optimus…oh, God…he probably hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. He's just is having a hard time accepting that you are not Roadrunner."

"Where is he?"

"Meetings."

"Meetings my ass. Erm…aft," Mikaela huffed and hopped off the berth, already striding towards the door. Ratchet arm stopped her.

"Where do you think you're going? You aren't done with your examination!"

"Whatever," Mikaela shoved Ratchet had away and pushed open the door. Walking down the empty hallway, arms hugging her body, guilt welling up inside her, threatening to spill over.

Her day had just gotten ten times worse.