Optimus barely spoke on the drive.
Mikaela would have given anything to see what was going up in that mind of his. Mikaela would occasionally comm him to ask questions, simple ones, really, but each was met with the same respond. A cool, calculated yes or no or maybe.
Mikaela remembered what Megatron had said, about how 'no' was the only word in her supposedly vast vocabulary. It seemed that the notion could apply to Prime as well, though Mikaela wasn't about to tell him that. Though, it would be an attempt to make a conversation.
Even as cars passed them and Mikaela drove, already having master that art of turning and speeding up, slowing down at a stoplight, applying the brakes, everything, Mikaela couldn't help but wonder if their previous conversation had made some type of impression. She had been, after all, whiny and self-pitying, the opposite of what Prime thought of her to be. He had said it himself – or, at least implied it, using that insinuating tone of his – that she was strong.
But that didn't matter. Mikaela looked ahead, wondering about her father and what type of look would overcome his features when he saw her. She would be different, of course. The holoform hid all her previous imperfections.
Or maybe he would be able to sense that his daughter – or what had formerly been his daughter – was now a machine. A human mind crammed into the body of an alien, a mechanical alien whose violent past surpassed Mikaela's car-jacking, alcohol, abusive past with ease.
He would notice, of course. Mikaela knew that, and a part of her hoped he didn't jump to a conclusion before she had a chance to explain.
Mikaela's thoughts drifted and she increased her speed to catch up with Prime, whose driving seemed to reflect his personality. Eager. Eager to get away, to do something for a change instead of sitting back at home, head buried in the network, trying to figure out what Fisher what kind of crusade tactic he was going to try and pull next.
Don't get too ahead of yourself, Prime, Mikaela thought. The fun has only just begun.
Synapsis was twice the size of Mission City, and ten times more populated. And it wasn't just people that jammed up the streets and sidewalks. Pollution, cars spitting out toxins left and right. Vendors walking down sidewalks trying to sell this and that. Traffic was hell, the roads jammed by cars and buses filled with humans.
It was like one, big, open air prison. Getting out of the city was difficult enough, but Mikaela found it bizarre that getting in was just a walk through the park. And maneuvering through it sucked.
Oh, the joys of being a vehicle. Bird shit, parking tickets, and now heavy traffic.
"Where is he meeting you?" Optimus finally called, and Mikaela was relieved.
"Here," Mikaela replied, already pulling to the side near the familiar coffee shop, Optimus close behind.
She recognized the place. When her mother had worked in the city, they would come to the exact same place often. So often that she knew the menu, every coffee, every cappuccino, every latte, every warm blueberry muffin and bagel, by heart.
She still remembered and her mind found itself scanning through the menu, trying to pick out a favorite.
The feeling disappeared as soon at it had come, and Mikaela let out a sigh. Oh, right. Eating and drinking was now out. Old news.
"He should be here soon," Mikaela's holoform gripped the steering wheel, and she opened the door, ignoring a horde of crowing boys sitting on the hood of another car on the opposite side of the road.
A warm hand brushed against her shoulder, and Mikaela felt Optimus' own handsome, tan form stiffen. She tilted her head and looked into deep blue eyes, smiling.
"What about that guy you were going to meet?" Mikaela asked quietly, watching as a young couple entered the shop, a little girl holding onto them both, fingers coated in a sticky candy. She glanced back at Optimus. "They don't know that I'm here."
"The exchange will only take a minute," Optimus stepped back, leaning against his alt form casually. Off to the side, beside a sparkling fountain just near the crowing boys, another group of girls were putting on a little show, winking and casually lifting there skirts, putting on a little show.
Optimus jerked his chin and said, "over there."
Mikaela raised her eyebrows.
"Over there," he scowled and pointed past the fountain, presumably away from the giggling girls. "Primus, help me," he muttered.
"Ah."
"Be careful."
"I'm always careful," Mikaela waved her hand. "You go do what you need to do."
"I'll comm you if something is wrong," Optimus said, looking far more worried than he sounded. His lips pulled into a frown and he shoved a lock of black hair from his eyes, looking uncomfortable, and quite frankly, awkward. He wasn't used to the human form as much as Mikaela was. She chuckled internally. The roles had been reversed.
"Hopefully, nothing will go on," Mikaela muttered, watching as Optimus hopped into his alt mode and drove away without as much as a goodbye. Mikaela entered the coffee shop, the scent of coffee beans and chocolate and warm pastries invading her smell like a virus, impossible to block out.
It was almost overwhelming, the scent, and as Mikaela sat down, drumming her fingers against the tables hard glass surface, she made a mental not to ask Ratchet whether it was possible to turn off her sense of smell.
She waited.
Her dad arrived ten minutes later, and he didn't look the same. Sure, the same black hair and strong complexion, one of the features she had taken after, same pants, pants that weren't covered in grease. That was a change.
Mikaela rose, and they hugged, as always. Then they sat down and her dad smiled.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Great first words, Mikaela thought, now let us see where the conversation takes us.
"It's good too you," he said. "You've gotten taller."
Of course she had gotten taller. Her holoform was two inches taller than her original human body.
But Dad didn't need to know that.
It was for his own protection, of course. Protection from the truth meant protection from the risk of being hunted down, ripped apart by a Decepticon limb from limb. Another victim of a war never meant to enter the human world.
"So," Mikaela's father began by twisting his fingers together. "You want anything to drink?"
"No thanks," Mikaela replied. Rule number one: always use your manners.
"Oh, okay," he nodded in understanding. He looked over her features with a raised eyebrow. "When you and your mother used to come here, you would always get…" he trailed off, looking as if he had said too much. His hands shot down to toy with the hemline of his shirt. "I guess nothing has changed," he gave a shaky laugh.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Pretend that you think I'm the same."
Her father's mouth turned down in a nasty frown and he scratched at the stubble on his chin. "Well, growing an inch really isn't that big of a deal, now that you think about it…"
"Yeah. I guess you're right."
"Is there anything you want to tell me? Anything that you didn't mention on the phone," her father leaned back in his chair. "I know you, Mikaela. You're always up for a latte or too."
Mikaela bit her lip.
"Don't make me tell you."
"Mikaela…"
"You should already know."
"I already know that you've been lying to me for the past three years," louder, this time, her father spoke with conviction, his words harsh and cold.
"It was a lie meant to protect you, not hurt you," Mikaela sat up straighter and looked her father straight in the eye. The truth was inevitable, now, and she knew her father. When he raised his voice, he meant business.
"You were throwing yourself into danger, involved in a war of all things. A war that you didn't bother to tell me about? How do you think I felt…?"
"I know how you feel."
"No, you don't."
He was right. She didn't.
Mikaela's head swam as the sickly sweet smell of coffee invaded her sense of smell. She shook her head. Maybe it was her imagination.
"Who told you? I know you didn't just come to the conclusion yourself, Dad."
Her father leaned back and smoothed out his shirt. "Someone named Optimus Prime."
Mikaela sucked in a nonexistent breath.
"How long ago?"
"You know how long ago."
Right. The accident. It had almost flown from her mind, so long ago, it seemed, even though she had been trapped in her cursed Decepticon body for almost six months. Six months that her Dad had to recuperate and pull himself together and figure out what in the hell was happening to his perfect, drug filled world and his beautiful, perfect delinquent daughter.
Six months to decide whether or not to call her and see if she was all right. But then again, he had more important things to do.
"The accident was pretty bad, huh?"
"They told you all about that?" Mikaela was practically ready to leap off her toes, wrangle the truth from her father. Did he just know about the accident? Had the ever-so-adroit Optimus Prime manage to state his words carefully and precisely so to delude her father into thinking that the accident was just an untimely circumstance? That her brain hadn't been cut out, frozen, sliced, scanned, and then downloaded into another mechanical body?
A body that her father would hate, of course. Mikaela wasn't shying away from that fact. She didn't even know if he knew, wanted to know if he knew. The fact that he was taking his time, leaning back in his chair, trying to contemplate over what he would say next wasn't helping her case at all.
"They would fix you, they told me."
"Uh-huh," Mikaela said, trying not to widen her eyes.
"W…what did they do to you, Mikaela? What did those aliens do to you?"
"They aren't aliens, Dad, they're my friends."
"You have other normal friends. You have me. I'm not a machine."
I am, she wanted to say, but for some reason her mouth couldn't find the words. Her nails gripped at the white tablecloth.
"Whatever they did to you…I got help. People who want to help you and see that you're…."
He got help. Mikaela couldn't imagine what kind of help he had gotten.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm sorry I had to do this, sweetie. I'm really sorry…." Her fathers look was pleading. He was begging her to understand without using any words.
Mikaela was up, knocking her chair back.
"Mikaela?" Optimus' voice boomed in her head, and Mikaela instinctively swatted at her ear.
A cry. The screeching of tires. Screams of terrified humans.
"What did you do?" Mikaela rounded on her father, teeth bared.
"What did they do?"
"They…." Mikaela looked through the glass windows, saw her original form outside, parked on the curb.
Ditch or stay, ditch or stay. The familiar tune played through her head.
Staying hadn't helped her last time.
She threw herself away from her father, just as he reached out to grab her.
"Mikaela!"
She had literally disappeared before he could say another word. Systems came back online, more acute and alert than ever before, her systems on overdrive.
She drove.
"Mikaela? Mikaela, can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear, boss."
"What ha-"
A grunt, a curse, and then the link went dead.
"Shit…" Mikaela cursed and sped up, careening to the side, knocking over a trash can. People flew out of the way, horns blared, and, as fast as she was and as slow as her pursuers were, part of her knew that she would be out of the city in no time.
Just drive, she willed herself. Drive fast and don't stop.
Just keep driving and –
The pain came out of nowhere. An electric jolt, followed by a burst of agony so great that it scrambled her systems.
She slammed on the brakes. Just outside the city limits, she was, so close to freedom…
She just sat there stunned, confused, the noise of blaring horns so close to her audio receptors that it should have caused him to ring, but they were already ringing from the fresh waves of pain flowing down her frame.
She was not afraid, she told herself. Told her scrambled processors as they tried to apprehend what was going on around her, which way was up and which way was down and why there was a man, a familiar man, walking towards her with something in his hand.
A gun. The man had a gun. But it wasn't normal gun, it was far too large. She had seen guns up close. And this was a gun, but at the same time it wasn't.
She wasn't afraid.
"Thank you, creature," he said, "for making this interesting."
Five minutes later, she found herself immobile, frozen. Again, being hooked up to the back of a truck. But this time, it wasn't Optimus.
They took her away.