Mikaela got the call the next day.

Of course, the theory that others out there, her relatives, close friends, maybe, were worried about her had practically flown from her mind. There was just now, there was no then. Then was irrelevant, as Ratchet had so boldly stated. Here is here, now was now.

Mikaela had been smart enough to read between the lines, too understand what the med bot was really implying. Letting go of her past human friends was the first step into acceptance. The first, and the easiest, Ratchet had said, since Mikaela's popularity in Tranquility was dwindling. After her breakup with Trent, not many guys had lusted after her. Rumor had already spread that she had cheated on Trent. A lying, deceptive slut, they had put it, hanging around with that nonentity Sam Witwicky.

Whatever. Let them hate, Mikaela thought as she plucked a leaf off her arm, and then let them gawk when they saw what she had become.

But then again, her change had been for the worse, not the better. Trent and his lackeys would probably deprive pleasure out of seeing her, the mighty Mikaela Banes, her humanity shredded away and replaced with cold metal. Even as her human form sat in Sam's lap, not the least bit cold as a sharp wind brushed across her arms, the thought hit her like a ton of bricks.

"You cold? Sam wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.

"No, I don-"

"Mikaela!" The shrill cry nearly caused Mikaela to topple off Sam's lap and into a heap on the wooden porch floor. Trina was bounding outside, a glittering red cell phone at hand. A cell phone that Mikaela's remembered all to well.

"You got a call."

"Who?" Mikaela eyed the phone as if it would give her the answer. But she already knew, having a vague premonition by the way Trina's lips pulled upward in a smile.

"Your dad."

Mikaela blinked. Sam's eyebrows rose.

"What?"

"Yeah," Trina shrugged as if it were no big deal. "He wants to talk to you."

Mikaela's fingers curled around the phone, and her mouth opened and closed, opened and closed like a fish out of water. Sam cleared his throat, patting Mikaela on the back, and going inside with Trina without another word.

Mikaela pressed the phone to her ear, the metal sensitive against her fake skin, the noise sensitive as it vibrated through her fake eardrums.

"Mikaela?"

Mikaela sucked in a breath, her fingers tightening around the device so tight that, for a moment, she feared it might break. His voice was so familiar, yet so alien. But she had missed that voice.

"Hi, Dad," she replied softly.

"W-where are you? I tried to call you…you didn't answer…"

"I know," Mikaela looked up at the sky for a moment before answering. "I'm with some friends. I'm fine, Dad."

Her Dad laughed. "I know that you're a big girl, Mikaela. You can take care of yourself. But sometimes…"

"…You worry about me. I know," Mikaela laughed. "I get it. God, I haven't seen you in so long. Ever since…." She trailed off, biting her lip.

Mikaela didn't even know if he knew about the accident. She had thought, originally, that he had been alerted, but he had never called. Optimus hadn't spoken to him, she was sure, or he would have been at the hospital with her. Would have been gawking up at Ratchet probably, and mourning over his dead daughter. His dead daughter whose fate was worse death itself.

She hadn't recognized him in the chorus of crying voices that day.

"Mikaela…" he said reluctantly.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

Here he was, playing the role of mommy. Mikaela had known him all her life, but had never heard him sound so worried.

"No, I'm fine."

A noise in the background, then a heavy sigh. Mikaela held the phone, waiting for a reply with baited breath. A cool breeze wafted across her skin, and she shivered. But not because of the cold.

"Do you want to meet somewhere?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know that you're with friends and all, probably partying or whatnot, but can I meet you somewhere? Just so we can have a father-daughter chat?" His voice was suddenly full of humor as he said, "you always loved those. Father-daughter bonding."

Mikaela laughed. "Yeah," she said. "I remember."

"So…wherever you are."

"Wherever you are."

"I'm in Synapsis."

Mikaela breath hitched and she said, "oh, the loveliest city in California. Tell you what, Dad, I'll meet you there tomorrow. We can just call and navigate ourselves to each other when we get there. I mean, you know Synapsis better than I do, apparently."

"Sounds good."

"Okay," she replied. "Well…I guess that this is bye."

"Yeah. Later. I love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too, Dad."

She hung up.

"You aren't going."

Mikaela wanted to slap Ratchet. Slap the jerk right out off him as he stood with his back too her, Optimus beside him, facing her with his arms crossed over his massive chest.

Mikaela cycled her vents and held her hands up in exasperation.

"Look, he's my dad, no some psycho creepo dude," Mikaela words came out harsh and clipped.

"I'm not worried about 'psycho creepo dudes,' Mikaela," Ratchet replied. "You know what I mean. You aren't going there by yourself."

Mikaela gulped, like there was anything to go down in the first place, and planted her hands firmly on her hips. She shot Optimus a glare and gestured with her hand.

"Are you really going to let him…" Mikaela's lips couldn't find the right word. "Whatever he's doing? C'mon, at least back me up a little."

"I somewhat agree with Ratchet when it comes to sending you off on your own. We cannot risk losing you a second time, Mikaela," his words were firm, but his gaze was soft as he stepped forward. "I know that your father means a lot to you, Mikaela."

"No shit, Sherlock," she responded.

"That is why I will accompany you."

Ratchet turned, wrench in hand, reared back and ready to swing. Mikaela waited, but he dropped his hand, sighed, and shook his head. "I hope you know what you're getting into."

"We do," Optimus replied, turning and addressing Ratchet. "It will benefit both of us. N.E.S.T has requested to meet me later tomorrow, to pick up a few things."

"What things?" Mikaela asked.

Optimus didn't respond. Mikaela watched as he shot Ratchet a look, and Ratchet nodded apprehensively going back to work, only to drop his things and turn again when Mikaela decided to make herself heard.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Mikaela threw up her hands. "Are we working on the buddy system now? I'm a big girl. Synapsis is just a few miles away. Plus, the city is full of humans. Making a scene would just be a one way ticket to getting blown apart by N.E.S.T."

"Fledglings who leave the nest too early only end up in the jaws of a beast," Ratchet called.

Mikaela hated it when he pulled the need-too-know poetry shit on her. It only made her feel weaker.

"The less risk we take, the better," Optimus finalized Ratchet's words with a shake of his head. "My decision is final, Mikaela."

Mikaela huffed, but did not respond. She didn't know what was worse, the fact that she would be spending several hours enduring the joy that was having Optimus Prime, the mightiest of the Autobots, as her personal chaperone, or the fact that she was already beginning to dread the meeting with her dad. There were jagged edges to be smoothed in their relationship, she knew, and when he found out – if he found out – that his daughter wasn't human, his reaction wouldn't be helping Mikaela's case.

Better to be on the road, Mikaela supposed, than to be back here basking in the stink of Trina's desperation. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy staying on the California coast, the beach less than a mile away, Sam less than a hundred yards away. But the place made her feel like she was in a prison, sometimes, shut out from an outside world where she no longer belonged.

Like that was her fault.

"We'll meet him tomorrow," Mikaela muttered, brushing past Ratchet, ignoring his rolling optics and Prime's pitying look.

How wonderful her day had ended up. An tomorrow would be better. Endless hours of Optimus the ever-so-silent Prime had Mikaela practically bouncing off her pedes.

Not.