Redline

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Part 3

Mikaela hadn't gotten to sleep until two in the morning. She'd taken care not to wake up Cal, but Bonecrusher was hyper and whining loudly at the sight of her, and had slobbered and jumped all over her as soon as she'd got in the door. After letting him out for a pee and giving him something to eat so he'd shut the hell up, she put on her pyjamas, brushed her teeth, and went straight to bed.

She had fallen asleep immediately, but it had felt like she had just briefly closed her eyes before she was awoken by the steady buzzing of her alarm clock. She groaned and reached out blearily to shut it off, almost knocking it over in the process.

She was not a morning person.

Climbing out of her comfy bed was difficult, but a glance out the window showed her the beginnings of what was sure to be another scorching, beautiful day—already, the sun beat down onto the weathered asphalt, frying the yellowing lawns on both sides of the street. Mikaela had always thought it was a miracle that grass could survive in Nevada during summertime in heat waves like this to turn green in the winter again—it was always so strange when the rains rolled around and made everything grow again. It looked like a different world.

Mikaela sent Sam a quick good-morning text telling him what her plans for the day were before she jumped straight into the shower. The water was cool and refreshing and she squirted a blob of her favorite, lavender-smelling shampoo into her palm and lathered up, scrubbing rigorously.

Her thoughts drifted to the coming day as she washed, wondering what she should expect. Although visitation at NEST was supposed to be under strict, very boring protocol, it was the Autobots themselves that made every visit unique with their interesting personalities. The last two visits her and Sam had had been week days, and NEST had been a flurry of activity and some of the 'bots were always out hunting decepticons and nobody had ever had much of a chance to chat—but as it was a Saturday this time around, Mikaela wondered if maybe, things would be more leisurely.

It would be nice to get out of the city for once, at least, thought Mikaela. It felt like such a long time since she'd been on a good, long drive anywhere.

After towelling off, Mikaela threw on a short jean skirt, white blouse, and a splash of make-up. It was already so hot out that bringing a sweater along with her was unthinkable. She probably wouldn't be out too late, anyways—Bee hadn't exactly said what time they'd be back home by, but she'd never had a visit at NEST that had lasted longer than half a day or so yet. This was mainly to do with the fact that visiting hours only ran until sundown.

Bee arrived right at nine o'clock sharp, just like he'd said he would. When she'd heard the sound of the Camaro sweeping into the driveway she'd said a quick goodbye to Cal—who had the TV on in the living room and was watching the morning news—with a hug and a kiss, and mentioned that she probably wouldn't be back 'til much later in the evening because NEST was a good hour or more's drive away. She then knelt down to scratch Bonecrusher behind his ears in goodbye, wrinkling her nose as he tried to lick her face—his version of a very sloppy kiss.

"No, Bonecrusher," she scolded him affectionately. "Down. I'll be back later, okay?"

He barked once, and Mikaela grabbed her purse, had a hard time closing the front door without letting Bonecrusher escape, and walked down to the driveway to meet Bee, where he was parked and waiting for her patiently.

She was thankful that he had the air conditioning running already because in the short time it had taken to get from her house and into the driver's seat, she'd begun sweating.

"God, it's so hot already," she gasped, closing the door before greeting the Camaro eagerly. "Good morning, Bee!"

"You excited?" he asked, revving his engine a little to express his own feelings of anticipation.

"Duh," she laughed. "It's not every day I get to go and hang out with you guys at your place, you know!"

"Hahhahhah." Bee chuckled as he shifted into reverse and started backing out of the driveway. "We're not that exciting…"

"Yeah, right! Well, compared to most of the people in this crumby city, you are. And that's without the whole 'being aliens' thing."

"I told Optimus you're coming with me this morning," said Bee casually as they turned right onto Santa Rosa Place, which would end directly at the freeway ramp. It was the I-65 they'd want if they were to be heading north toward NEST headquarters, so Bee took them the back way past Mike's again. The shop was in full swing already, just an hour past opening—no doubt everyone wanted to get their bike repairs done before the heat of the day really picked up. She was glad that Mike had given her the option of having weekends off. "And actually… I asked him what he thought about ya practicin' driving with someone while we're there…"

Mikaela, who had been halfway through a yawn, choked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. You're not mad, are you?"

"Mad? Bee, that's an awesome idea! I'm thrilled!" she grinned. "What did he say? Gosh Bee, you've been so helpful to me lately, I don't know how I'm going to repay you for all of this…"

"Forget about it, I still owe you, remember?" laughed the Camaro as he drove them over the overpass and around the clover-leaf that would take them onto the interstate, picking up speed all the while. "He said he was sure the guys wouldn't mind. Said it'd be really good actually, 'cause some of the guys tend to go a little nuts sometimes, never having any reason to get off base 'cept to go and hunt 'cons."

It was Mikaela's turn to laugh. "Yeah, I can see some of them being prone to cabin fever. Are you sure they wouldn't mind, though, Bee? I mean, I… I always feel kind of weirded out by the idea of actually driving you guys, to be honest. You're not just cars… you know? Sitting in the driver's seat when you guys are driving is one thing, and you remember how long it took me to believe you when you said you didn't care if I sat there…"

Bee laughed some more. "I remember. And being driven is different from driving, but it's fine. It just takes some getting used to, 'n after a while it doesn't matter anymore."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused. "What is it like, then?"

"Well, it's different for every 'bot…"

She'd never actually questioned the Camaro about it. She had her own ideas about what it would be like, but she was interested to hear what Bee had to say. "What about when Sam drove you?" she asked.

"Uh, well," said Bee, sounding awkward. "It was weird at first, but nice, after a while."

"Oh..."

Mikaela stared thoughtfully out of the window and was silent for a long time. They had merged onto the Interstate and were now heading north. They passed through dense industrial areas filled with warehouses, electrical substations, run-down bungalows, and auto wreckers, and eventually, these gave way to the city limit suburbs—which were large, fancy houses with sloping green lawns that were miraculously well-kept. The highway started to climb, and before long Mikaela found that they were on top of a harsh, high mesa.

The knowledge that Bee might have found being driven uncomfortable didn't really come as a great surprise to her. In her experience, it was hard sometimes, to be a passenger inside of an Autobot while sitting in the driver's seat. Your brain and body both wanted to take over automatically, and it took a lot of self-control sometimes to not just grab the wheel or step on the gas—something that she had always refrained from, having respect for the fact that the car was driving of its own accord and doing those things seemed like they would be a bit intrusive, even intimate.

It must be a similar awkwardness to that sensation of being useless, she thought, but in reverse—instead of feeling weird because of lack of control, it would be like being controlled, like a puppet, almost—and you'd willingly have to submit to that unholy feeling of being powerless. This was why her and Sam didn't drive Bee unless they absolutely had to, and they were both internally pretty glad that such a situation had not happened, yet—not since the Mission City days, at least. It was just something they couldn't imagine being all that pleasant for the Autobot.

Thinking about it was starting to make her feel really nervous, though. Because, while the idea of driving Bee was already so uncomfortable, considering driving an Autobot she didn't even really know and subjecting him to such an experience was even worse, and made her feel nervous enough to wish she had not brought the subject up at all.

She retained her silence as they made their way through the plateau, its red, dead earth eventually becoming covered with a wide expanse of desert shrubs and cacti. Great valley rifts trailed here and there, forming gaping canyons which their highway snaked around with no protection from a sheer drop of some fifty feet, save for rather flimsy-looking aluminum guard rails.

It was Bee who finally broke the silence. "I didn't make you feel bad, when I said that stuff 'bout driving us earlier, did I?" he asked innocently.

Mikaela chewed her tongue thoughtfully. "Well, a little," she said. "Not a lot, but… I don't know. I just keep thinking about what it's like when you drive me around as a passenger, and it's like you said—it's weird at first, but you get used to it. I just don't want to end up driving someone who doesn't like it, or something, is what I'm trying to say, I guess."

"It isn't that bad, Mickey. We get used to it a lot faster than you think, and after, it can feel kind of… good. Like… uhh," Bee paused, trying to think of a suitable metaphor, "Getting a back massage, or something. But like I said, ev'ryone's different. That's just how it feels for me."

Mikaela couldn't help but giggle a little. "If that's true, Bee… then I'm really surprised that you don't ask us to drive you more often…"

"Hah! Nah, it's cool. I like driving you guys around."

Knowing that it wouldn't be as awkward as she assumed it would be for her to drive an Autobot alleviated her stress a little bit, and she was able to fully enjoy the rest of the journey to NEST Headquarters without too many nerves. Still moving steadily north, they had descended from the high plateau into a country that was sparsely vegetated and somewhat mountainous; dried out creek beds followed the Interstate and high precipices dotted the horizon, culminating in rugged outcroppings of jagged, red rocks. It was a harsh place, and the wind drew steadily, blowing bits of loose, parched soil off of the barren rockfaces. Bee lamented that he'd only just had a wash, before they rounded a corner and a great, much greener valley came into view.

The highway began to descend into this. A series of switchbacks brought them low enough to make out a glimmering river in its midst, with many small houses surrounding its banks. A faded, green sign with white lettering told her that they were entering the town of Eugene, population 3,000.

Eugene's main strip was quiet, dominated by a wooden, vintage saloon and a single hotel with an old-fashioned, street-level pub; Mikaela also spied a tiny barber shop, a craft store, and a thrift shop. They stopped outside of a 1950's-esque diner where Mikaela ordered a hamburger for take-out and used the bathroom.

While she was waiting for her food, she looked around the place, and found a handful of weathered faces staring back at her. Even the waitress had given her a once-over and whispered something in her co-worker's ear before she'd disappeared behind the bar to go and refill a trayfull of glasses. The other girl had snorted in reply and went back to taking orders.

It was not the most welcoming place she'd ever been to.

When she got back in the car, Bee had informed her that they were currently three-quarters of the way to base, and that they'd be arriving there within half an hour. Which was fine by her, she had to admit—while Bee's air conditioning was a godsend in this heat, it left her mouth sticky and dry in a way that even the bottle of water she'd bought from the diner couldn't fix.

The highway continued to follow the river until they reached a smaller junction and took a right onto a less-travelled expressway that ran straight back into the desert. The landscape became dead and boring again and Mikaela found her thoughts wandering back to the Autobots and NEST; which did nothing to calm her mounting nerves and excitement.

She started wondering which one of them would be the best one to help her practice driving. She would have felt most comfortable with Bee, of course, but Bee would have to change his vehicle mode from automatic transmission to standard, which she really didn't want to ask him to do. He was doing a lot for her already, and besides, he was probably going to be busy. He didn't get to be on base as much as the other Autobots, as he was essentially Sam's guardian; so it was likely that he was going to be hailed by the other 'bots and NEST officials with updates on worldwide goings-on.

No, it looked like Mikaela was going to be stuck in the company of another Autobot for the afternoon. She supposed Ratchet wouldn't be too bad of a teacher—she'd only met him a couple of times and had never had a one-on-one conversation with the medic before, but she got the impression that he was the calmest and most serious out of all of the Autobots, aside from Optimus Prime.

There was also Ironhide—but the weapons specialist could be a little bit abrasive sometimes, and she was not so sure that he'd make a good instructor because of it. She knew that he meant well and was trying to be funny a lot of the time, but Mikaela didn't always find having a giant cannon shoved in her face all that hilarious. Besides that, though, he was about as serious as Jazz had been—which was to say, not very serious at all and actually pretty funny. She felt like she could get along with him for sure.

With a pang she remembered the spirited Autobot that Optimus had introduced as his Lieutenant, Jazz. Jazz would not be there, as he had been killed during the battle of Mission City. Bee never talked about it, but even Mikaela could sense sometimes that it still affected him, and it made her feel really sad to know that her friend had lost someone so close to him in war.

But there had been four new 'bots on base the last time she'd visited a couple months ago. She had not had time to be formally introduced to them, but Bee had helped her out with their names—one of them, who had been hanging around with Ironhide most of the time, transformed into a sleek silver Stingray; Bee had said that his name was Sideswipe. There were also two 'bots who had been referred to on base by Ratchet and Ironhide as 'the twins', but Bee had said that these 'bots were called Skids and Mudflap. The last of the four was a female 'bot after her own heart named Arcee—her alt mode was a motorcycle.

But Mikaela knew next to nothing about the four besides this information.

Last, but not least, was Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots. He would probably be the best trainer out of all of them, given his nature and experience. Endlessly valiant, calm, collected, logical, patient, and professional, and he had many years of knowledge of how best to command his fellow robots. Plus, his vehicle form was just plain amazing, and like she'd said to Bee the previous night, learning to drive truck was something she'd always thought about doing—but there was something about him that made her hesitate about asking him, even in the cool comfort of Bee's interior.

It was because his presence always drew out certain feelings in Mikaela more than any other Autobot; he always made her feel so small and self-conscious, for starters. She supposed it was his size, voice, and his complete seriousness that she found kind of intimidating at times. He was just so regal and powerful, and always in control. She couldn't imagine what spending a day off of base with him would be like.

But the idea made her wonder—who was the Autobot leader really? He couldn't always be serious through and through, could he? When everyone was asleep, or between missions and only around maybe his closest friends, in situations where there were no more reasons to be endlessly brave and cool and distant with admirable self-control and professionalism, when he'd have an opportunity to really be himself—what was Optimus Prime really like under that stoic exterior?

There was actually so much that interested Mikaela about the robot, and this was just the beginning—not that she'd ever admit it to anyone. Even just the small things, like his voice, had stuck with her. Not even Bee had a voice like that—it was just so deep, so powerful, it reverberated right into her very soul sometimes when he spoke. Just the thought of it made the back of her neck prickle a bit.

Implausibly deep, inhumanly authoritive—and yet humanely compassionate and sensible. It was sensual, borderline kind of erotic—it was definitely not a voice that Mikaela was likely to forget any time soon.

It just made her even more curious.

"Hey, Bee," said Mikaela, spur-of-the-moment. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," said Bee, speeding through a part of the state that was quite boring—the landscape had been largely unchanged for the past ten minutes, revealing nothing but a wide expanse of reddish brown wasteland dotted with shrubs.

"Your boss—Optimus… I was just wondering something about him."

"Yea?"

"Does he ever, like… you know… relax?"

Bee played a laugh-track loudly over the radio complete with clapping and cheers. "Optimus Prime, relax? Oh, slag, no. Never. But we've always got a lot goin' on so maybe one day once the war's over, or something, he'll let go a little bit."

Mikaela whistled. "Damn. That must be hard on him."

"Probably. Hey—wait a sec. There was a time I saw Prime unwind, actually. Wasted on high-grade. Only by mistake, of course. One night we were all drinking and I think it was Sideswipe who got the awesome idea to switch the containers on him, and he'd been too tired to notice. Man, he was pissed the next day, though… poor 'Sides thought he was in big trouble, but Prime just told him not to do that again."

Mikaela knew what high-grade was from Sam—apparently, there had been a time about a year ago when Bee had gotten in a spot of trouble from ingesting some of the stuff. The Autobots' personal brand of liquor, she could only imagine what it would be like to be in a room full of giant robots who were all drunk—including Optimus Prime.

"What was it like?" she whispered.

"Oh, you know. For all the differences between our worlds and species, we're not that different when we're blitzed," he chuckled over the radio. "And Prime is no exception. Why're you so interested in him all of a sudden, anyway?" he asked, and Mikaela could hear his suspicion over the radio.

"No reason," she said coolly. "I was just thinking about who'd be okay with letting me drive. Obviously I'd pick you, but I know you're gonna be super busy… and I thought, not Optimus, 'cause he's so busy all the time, with hunting decepticons and all. I wouldn't want to waste his time with something like this… but, maybe Ratchet could, he seems like he'd be a pretty good—"

"No way!" Bee said loudly, making her jump. "Prime'd be pleased if you asked and I know it. Like I said, he never takes a minute off…"

"I don't know," said Mikaela, trying not to let her face go red at the thought of actually asking Optimus Prime to let her drive his—rather gorgeous—alternate form. "I—we'll see when we get there, okay? But I'm not promising anything."

"Whatever, suit yourself."

But Mikaela would be lying if she said that the idea of being trained by him was not… alluring, to say the least. She'd always had an admiration for his vehicle form, much like she'd had for Bee when they'd first met—only, with Bee, she'd been able to write off that attraction in the face of forming a respectable friendship instead, but… she barely knew Optimus Prime. She hadn't really had a chance to overcome her feelings—they weren't like, out of control, or anything… and she was in a relationship… but she was occasionally aware of just what kind of affect that big shiny chrome bumper and custom paint job could have on her.

A very sinful affect that she fully planned to never let anyone—ever—know about. Especially not him. God, no.

The last, somewhat shameful thought Mikaela had, before Bee had left the smooth asphalt of the Interstate behind and made a sharp right onto a half-hidden, overgrown and dusty dirt road seemingly leading into the middle of nowhere, was that the goddamned Peterbilt was fucking sexy, and the Autobot it transformed into kind of was, too.