Mikaela sat in her room with her back against the wall, legs crossed, eyes focused on the wall.

Trying to shut Sam's sudden support of her fathers reason, telling herself that he didn't understand, hadn't understood her situation and never would. That he was just a nonentity in her life, a nuisance that was now taken care of.

No more awkward kissing or hugging or anything like that.

But even then, after all the reassurance and doubt, she was still empty. Carved out from the insides, the essence of her very being scooped out with a spoon.

It wasn't a good feeling.

Mikaela tried something else to pass the time, something Ratchet had taught her long ago, but she had never found much need to use it. Accessing the internet, logging into the network, was easy.

But finding out the truth, wasn't.

Everything regarding Mikaela Banes had been deleted. Her Facebook, gone. Some silly blogs she had made three years earlier, gone.

Her E-mail, gone. And so on.

Mikaela could only sit and stare as the information flashed across her eyescreen.

She had some vague idea of who had done it, but she was sure a confirmation would only set her off. And she was sure Megatron didn't want to be on the end of her wrath.

He was trying to persuade her. Get her to realize that the humans offered nothing. That he was the ultimate choice, the only choice in her pitiful existence and joining him would put her out of whatever misery she was enduring.

Mikaela leaned back, her head bumping against the wall, optics closing.

What an idiot she was, to think that her relationships would last. To think that Sam would still love her after everything she had been through.

But then again, maybe that was her. Maybe she had been the one forcing it, and Sam had just been the victim, as he always was. Before everything – before she had met the Autobots, before her horrible transformation – she had always played the mean girl. The one who got all the guys. The one who got all the toys.

And obviously the one with all the toys got to decide who else got to play.

She was just used to being the one who broke the boy's heart. Not the one who got her own heart broken.

Mikaela shook her head and eyed the little black box that she had placed somewhere in the corner, under her berth, hidden from prying eyes.

She was alone.

Maybe….

No! Don't give in to temptation. It only leads to bad things, and Mikaela had had enough bad things happen to her already.

But maybe….

Two battles raged inside her mind. One to open the box, one not to.

Oh, what the hell. She had nothing else to lose, anyway.

Mikaela's fingers closed around the cube and she lifted it up, running her fingers around the engraved black surface. It looked like an old Cybertronian relic. It even reminded her off the Allspark, with its surface radiating with power.

She found the crease in the box and popped open the top, reaching inside and pulling out a small microchip. Pinching it in between her fingers, she looked it over, an optic ride rising in curiosity.

"What the hell…." She breathed.

A note was inside. Typed, so she had no idea who wrote it.

Sweet dreams, femme. You know what to do.

Mikaela did.

She was lost.

She didn't know which way was up or which way was down. Didn't know if there was any difference.

All she could understand was that she was lost. Lost in a sea of emotions, each one piling on top of each other like Russian nesting dolls, one over the other over the other and there was nothing else Mikaela could do but watch.

And then, memories. Her memories.

Meeting Sam for the first time, meeting Bumblebee and seeing the Autobots for who they truly were.

Watching Sam die. Watching him come back to life and then watching Optimus do the same, the whole time raw emotions sweeping through her at the speed of light, her brain so slow as to comprehend them, her body trapped in an immobile state that made her seem weak.

But she wasn't weak. She was strong. And the strong survived, as Megatron had said, and she had to be strong and come back…..

"Mikaela!"

Don't fight.

"Mikaela!"

Hands were on her, hoisting her up and slamming her against the wall. Strong arms.

"Mikaela! Wake up."

Mikaela woke up, staring directly into a pair of bright blue optics not even an inch away from hers. Fingers digging into the seams of the armor on her arms, effortlessly pinning her down as if she were made of air.

"What…."

Optimus was still holding onto her, but after a few moments, his grip slackened and Mikaela was able to wriggle freed, sliding off her berth and trying to stand.

Her processors were still a jumbled mess, warning signs flashing across her vision, so bright that it just added to all the disarray. She stumbled and nearly tripped.

"What happened," she groaned, clutching her head.

"You tell me," Optimus reached down and picked up the box. "What is this?"

Mikaela gulped and watched Prime held the box tighter, the metal groaning in protest.

"Mikaela…."

"Starscream gave it to me."

Mikaela wasn't exactly blaming the Seeker. The emotions…the experience had been a rush. Like nothing she had ever felt before, like nothing she would ever feel before. It was something utterly, creepily human.

She could dream again.

"They're dreamers…." Optimus turned it around, holding it in his palm and staring down at it. He then gave a small, mirthless laugh. "I haven't seen one of these since the fall of Cybertron."

Mikaela crossed her arms and stared at the Prime.

"I didn't know…."

"I know."

"It felt wonderful."

"I know it does," Optimus closed his fingers around the box. "Why did Starscream give this too you?"

Mikaela didn't know. Was it a gift to woo her into becoming his new toy, or a gift out of the generosity of his spark? From the way Prime had described them, the boxes were a rare treasure.

And Starscream, the little freak, wasn't the type to give out of pure kindness. He was unpredictable and wild, like a tornado. And that was what made him so dangerous.

"I don't know," Mikaela shrugged her shoulders. "Megatron's orders?"

"Highly unlikely."

"Yeah. I guess."

The silence stretched on, Optimus shifting back and forth on his pedes, looking as if he wanted to say something, but had been sapped of all confidence. For the first time, a shadow came over his features. A shadow of vulnerability and doubt.

"We brought some of your personal items," Optimus said. "I assumed you would do what you want with them later."

She didn't want things that would remind her of her past, but she didn't tell Optimus that. She didn't want pictures and video's of her and her parents, back when her mother was still alive and her dad wasn't as cracked up as he was now.

The thought to her father sent a pang of guilt coursing down her frame. Her father, the one she supposedly hated, was sitting in jail while his own daughter betrayed everyone and everything she cherished just for the sake of his own freedom. Just so he could go and screw her over again, like he had the last time.

For the millionth time she cursed Megatron. Him, Starscream, and above all else, her and her imprudence.

She just murmured, "thanks."

"Are you feeling well?"

"Not so good, now that I'm boyfriend-less."

"You mean single?"

"Yeah. That too," Mikaela's lips pulled upward in a fake smile. She shook her head, swinging her legs rhythmically back and forth. Optimus watched her, optics focusing more on her body than anything else.

"Listen, Sam - "

"I know about Sam. He's a naïve little moron, okay. And Trina….well….lets not even go there with her."

"Trina still cares for you," Optimus waved his hand. "She's still upset over what happened with the Brotherhood. If I were you, Mikaela, I would give her some time."

Again, the guilt came back, full force and Mikaela found herself gesturing to the dreamer clutched firmly in Optimus' hand.

"Can I have it? The dreamer," she was already reaching for it, hand outstretched but blocked by Optimus, who grabbed her wrist.

"No," he said firmly, and released her.

"Why?"

Optimus contemplated for a moment before opening his palm and staring at the device. Sullenly, he said, "there is a reason I do not let my soldiers use these. They can be….addicting."

"I wonder why…." Mikaela murmured, holding her arms against her stomach.

"Most Cybertronians's view them as an escape from the real world. They try to separate themselves from all the war…all the hardships, and end up losing track of what's real and what's not. I've seen mech's and femme's alike trap themselves in a virtual world, unaware that it is not real."

"In other words, their bodies remain while their minds take a permanent vacation," Mikaela's own hands shook, and she had to grip the edge of the berth to make them stop.

"Yes. Now do you understand why I don't advise the use of these?" he shook the dreamer in his hand, not taking his eyes off Mikaela. "It's for your own safety, Mikaela, trust me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't know."

"I should have," Mikaela chuckled. "Yeah, stupid me. Yeah, it was like, Starscream, a Decepticon, mind you, gives me a present and I don't even check to see if it was a bomb or whatever."

She had just wanted to get away, and as Optimus bid her a farewell with the dreamer in his hand, she couldn't help but crawl onto her berth and beat the metal with her fist until it hurt.

Yeah. Smart Mikaela. Smart stupid, stupid smart.