What an odd couple, Mikaela thought. Her and Sam, walking down the beach, Mikaela's heavy footsteps kicking up sand, and Sam's own footsteps making small grooves.
Sam, beside her, ten times her size, unable to hold her hand like a real couple would. It was Bizarre, really that Sam wasn't even commenting, staring up at her, dark eyes twinkling. Such pretty eyes he had, Mikaela thought. Why couldn't her eyes be like that? Why did they have to be like this? Metallic? Glowing? Unnatural to her.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"This is a nice surprise," Mikaela glanced out at the twinkling water and calm waves, the sun just beginning to set. She could see the back of the house, just atop the cliff. It was more of a lagoon, really, a private beach.
Mikaela wanted to keep it that way. Give her and Sam a special place to be human together. Or something like that.
Keep dreaming, Mikaela thought. Nothing was going to get her back to her original body. She had been able to put it in the back of her mind up until now. But she had known, and still knew now, that she would never be able to avoid it. It would always be with her, no matter how much Ratchet told her that the past was irrelevant, that she was different now, how Sam had to appreciate and accept the new her. He was partially right, of course, Sam did have to accept the new her. Maybe not appreciate it, but acceptance would work. And he was doing a good job at not cringing when they kissed.
Kissing him had been strange, she remembered. Alien. Just like her.
"Whatcha thinking about?"
"Stuff…" Mikaela said playfully, nudging him with her foot lightly enough that he laughed. He reached down and picked up a shell, running his fingers over it before tossing it to the side.
"This is a good spot," Mikaela said, sighing and flopping down on her rear. The motion sent sand flying, and Mikaela wiggled a bit to get comfortable. Beside her, Sam sat down and lay on his back.
"Ugh," Mikaela wiggled again. "The sand keeps getting stuck up under my armor."
"Well that's not a sentence you hear every day," Sam said, sighing and winking at Mikaela. "Seriously. No offense, but that came out really weird."
"Sucks for you. Sucks worse to be me," Mikaela replied.
"Yeah."
Silence.
"Bumblebee thinks it's his fault," Sam said without preamble. He had shifted so he lay on his side, gazing into Mikaela's glowing blue optics. But Mikaela knew that he was analyzing her, looking her over, noticing the worn symbols etched into the side of her helm.
"I know. It's not," Mikaela rotated her massive head to look at Sam. "I mean, he didn't mean to miss. He caught you, luckily. If not you would've ended up like me." Mikaela gestured down at her slim, metal body, grimacing.
She saw Sam shudder at the thought, then catch himself and give Mikaela a sullen laugh.
Yeah, Mikaela thought. That would have been ironic. Two humans with Shakespeare worthy history turned into machines and then paired up again, the perfectly dysfunctional Romeo and Juliet.
Both dead. But then, unlike Romeo and Juliet, both somehow alive.
"What a story that would be," Mikaela murmured.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You've been saying 'nothing' a lot, lately," Sam's skeptical tone had Mikaela groaning and she draped the back of her hand over her optics in exasperation.
"Fine. It's has nothing to do with you, Sam, I promise," Mikaela laughed and watched as Sam's mouth turned down in a scowl.
"Fair enough."
"Tell Bumblebee what I said, please. You're closest to him."
Mikaela hadn't even needed to plead. Sam nodded and sat up, taking handfuls of sand before letting it slide through his fingers. His mind was elsewhere, far away.
Mikaela had activated her holoform, the gesture becoming more and more natural to her now, like clapping your hands of blinking on command. Easy, right, except for the part where everything seems normal and abnormal at the same time. The surroundings were too small. Sam himself was too small, and too close.
He leaned in and kissed her forehead, Mikaela snuggling against his chest.
"I never thought that I'd be kissing you again," Sam said, his lips brushing against her ear.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Pulling away, Sam's dark eyes flew directly towards the ground again. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to form the words.
"I was scared. You know, when you were in the hospital and all. And Ratchet was screaming and I was screaming and you were…well….I don't know quite what you were."
"Yeah."
"I thought you were dead."
"I was dead," Mikaela closed her eyes, her perfect memory coming up with a replay of the event. She had never searched her memory 'files' for anything concerning the incident. It was the past, and, as Ratchet had drilled into her processors time and time again, the past was irrelevant. Forward was the only way to go, and looking back would just make everything worse.
But now that Sam had brought it up, she remembered everything. The doctors voices. Optimus speaking and people crying. People she knew but couldn't place under a correct name.
"But Ratchet saved you."
"Saved… placed under some awful curse…I don't know what it is."
"At least you're alive," Sam, kissed her again, once on the forehead, once on the nose, and then once on the mouth. "I'm okay with whatever form you take."
Liar. Mikaela could feel him, under her, hands trembling just a slight bit. Anxious. Afraid. The emotions radiated off him like a bad smell.
Mikaela ignored it and kissed him again because that was just the kind of girl she was.
"There," Ratchet said, fingers pulling at a wire in her shoulder. Mikaela winced and hissed, batting at his hand. "All done, finally."
Mikaela shifted her shoulder, feeling each joint rotate effortlessly. No more groaning and creaking, no more feeling like she had gotten hit by a bus. She moved her legs, sighing in relief when they didn't ache.
"You are fully repaired. Be grateful," Ratchet said, patting Mikaela on the back. "It could have been worse."
"It was worse."
"Enough with the self pitying," Ratchet snapped. He shook his head and rubbed his optics. "We've all heard enough of it already."
And then he was gone, leaving Mikaela sitting out in the grass and picking at each individual strand. She almost missed Optimus' heavy footsteps approaching, and didn't meet his eye when he sat down beside her.
"Ratchet's right, you know," he said sullenly.
"Eavesdropping?"
"I just happen to catch a segment of your conversation."
"Ah," Mikaela snorted, still not wanting to look him in the eye. "It makes for a nice change. You, talking to me and all."
"I understand."
"Yeah."
Mikaela felt Optimus shift beside her, flattening out a good portion of the grass. He gave a heavy sigh and asked the one question Mikaela dreaded.
"Have I done anything to upset you, Mikaela?"
Mikaela didn't know. Had he? Was her shocking theory right?
"No…" Mikaela played with the grass, pulling out handfuls and letting it drop, watching as it flowed in the wind, some blowing back and sticking to her own armor.
"Good," Optimus shifted again, and Mikaela finally found the courage to look into his drained, blue eyes.
The silence stretched on, Mikaela's finger plucking quickly at the grass.
"This is probably the most awkward conversation you've had in a long time," she finally said.
Optimus didn't respond, taking a moment to contemplate over her words, but his facial features betrayed him. Mikaela threw back her head and laughed into the warm night air, her whole frame shaking. "Don't worry about it," she said.
"Humans hate being put in 'awkward' situations, do they not?"
"Humans," Mikaela said, shrugging. "Not me," she sighed, fingers tightening around a fistful of grass. "Well, there I go again. Separating myself from them."
"You are not one of them," Optimus reached out, his fingers curling around Mikaela's deadly talons. "Mikaela, you must accept your fate."
"It's harder than it seems."
Optimus cycled his vents, his fingers curling around hers even tighter. "While I have never been in a predicament such as yours, Mikaela, I do know one thing. That you are a strong, determined femme who never gives up."
"Thanks," she replied bitterly. "Strong..."
"You sound doubtful."
"How am I supposed to sound? Full of joy and vigor at the fact that I've lost my humanity?"
"Ratchet did everything he could, but in the end, his results to revive you proved futile," Optimus was practically pleading as Mikaela stood up, brushing grass off her thighs. "Please just let us help you."
"Doing 'everything he could' would have been letting me die," Mikaela registered the hurt in Optimus' optics, a small flicker, and then, shaking her head, said, "but….I guess you're right. Acceptance is the only way."
Optimus was silent, his lip plates pulled into a tight line.
"I'm glad that you understand."
"Yeah. Me too," Mikaela gave a sad smile. "Now, I'm going back to my room."
"Yes. A nice, long recharge might do us both some good," Optimus began to stand, slowly, taking his time.
By her room, she meant her garage. But she was over that part. Over with everything else, really.
"Night, Optimus," she said softly.
"Goodnight."
She went without another word.