Author's Notes: Hello to all my readers! I'm sorry it has taken me so long to post this chapter of "Can't Look Back". I don't know why I've put it off. I really like this story idea. The Present and Past segments are kind of like reading two separate stories, but the Past segments are there to show the contrast of Bulkhead's current relationship with Enamel in comparison to what they used to be. Eventually it'll show how they got to where they are now. Anyway, enough rambling. Thank you for reading, and please review favorite and follow to see more :)

Chapter 3

Released

The Present

Ratchet had worked on the frame and processor of the unconscious red femme for days. He monitored her closely, knowing she would awaken soon. He didn't recharge much in the cycles he spent tending to his new patient. He knew she would need to be briefed on everything that had happened on their world since she went into stasis lock. For one thing, she would be forced to learn that Cybertron was now a dead planet. He didn't look forward to telling her that.

It was oh-five-hundred according to the earth military clock installed in their base. Fowler had insisted on giving it to the 'Bots so they could keep track of earth time. Optimus had tried to explain that their computers had the correct time, but Fowler wouldn't hear of it. Ratchet just thought the government agent didn't know what else to give them, so he regifted that ugly olive green clock.

Ratchet hadn't recharged in three earth days, and he was starting to wear down. In order to keep himself awake, he went to the monitors to search for potential signs of Iacon relics. There hadn't been any lately, but one could never be too vigilant when the Decepticons were after some of Cybertron's most valuable treasures.

He watched the calm relaxing green and yellow lights of the scanners, and the glowing light blue Cybertronian text as it sped by in a straight line. It was so peaceful, and it made Ratchet feel so sleepy. Before he even realized it was happening, he was going into recharge at his work station.

Bulkhead had just woken up. It was oh-six-thirty and he was ready for his morning exercises. First he'd work the punching bag, then lob the ball for a little while, and then work on his hand to hand combat skills. He just hoped someone woke up to help him with that last part. Hand to hand didn't work with only one set of hands.

The first few minutes in the gym were uneventful. He rapidly punched the large 'Bot sized bag and allowed his processor to shut down. It was too early for thinking anyway.

Bulkhead's peace was soon interrupted however when he saw someone standing in the doorway looking in at him. The 'Bot was small but not as dainty as Arcee, so he thought it was Bumblebee.

"Hey 'Bee!" Bulkhead greeted his friend jovially, "Hey, come on over here and spar with me. I feel like kicking some tailpipe!"

"No, thank you," a deep feminine voice replied smoothly, "I haven't allowed you to hit me since the Golden Age."

Bulkhead gasped when he saw Enamel standing there, walking closer, with a familiar wry smile on her face plate. She seemed older in her mannerisms, but otherwise was virtually unchanged. It was as if time had reversed and Bulkhead was back in his home with her in Iacon, and he didn't like it.

"I must admit that I didn't expect to see you here, wherever here is," Enamel told him as she circled him appraisingly, "Let me guess, I'm dead and you're my punishment for overcharging my patients. I suppose that's fair, as long as you're only temporary."

"Hah hah, you come to some weird conclusions," Bulkhead replied with forced humor, "Actually, you're on a planet called earth, on an Autobot outpost run by Optimus Prime. We found you in stasis lock aboard a Decepticon prison ship. You were the only survivor. You've been out of it for a long time, so there's some stuff you need to know. For one thing-"

"All I need to know is the speed limit," Enamel cut him off before he could finish explaining her situation, "Oh, and where to find energon. I suppose that's important as well. Everything else I'll figure out. Thank you for your time, Bulkhead."

"Thank you for your-!? Enamel!" Bulkhead shouted when she started walking away, and he had to rush to catch up to her in the hallway, "Enamel, we were lovers and bondmates for 400 vorns! We shared our lives together, our hopes, our dreams, our bodies! How can you act like this is just a bad job interview or something?"

"Would you look at this scratch?" Enamel muttered as she examined her arm, "I have been unconscious for quite some time. There's rust in my joints! Ugh! All my hard work, ruined. What kind of cosmetic surgeon allows herself to turn to pot metal like this?"

"You're not listening to me!" Bulkhead shouted, "This is so typical of you! Whenever I would try to talk to you about a problem you would ignore it and change the subject! You need to know what's happened to Cybertron, so you're going to listen to me! Sit down so we can talk!"

Enamel's mood shifted suddenly, just as Bulkhead expected it would, to a look of hurt feelings and submission. She was very quick to shift her moods, and no matter how hard Bulkhead tried he often had trouble getting her to focus on a single topic. She sat down near the entrance to the medbay, and Bulkhead sat across from her trying with all his might to look calm and approachable. She really did know how to push his buttons, so he would have to work hard not to yell at her again.

"Enamel, I know this is going to be hard for you to accept," Bulkhead said gravely, "But Cybertron is no more. There is no energy on the planet, and everything has died except for the scraplets."

"Seriously?" Enamel replied flatly as she placed her servos on her lap, "Those blasted scraplets will probably outlast every black hole and star system known to Cybertronian kind. I hate those things so much…"

"You and me both," Bulkhead agreed, "Listen, Megatron and his forces are on earth too. Several Iaconian relics were placed on this planet for protection, as well as some Decepticon WMDs. We're outnumbered, outgunned, and currently living in an old missile silo left over by one of this planet's major governments. They're working with us, and we have human allies to help us stop the 'Cons, but it's gonna be a rough fight. We need every 'Bot we can get out there. I know we have our differences, and frankly I wouldn't ask you this if we weren't desperate, but will you join Team Prime to stop Megatron's tyranny once and for all?"

Enamel look at him for a long awkward moment with her steely yellow optics, and then barked out a single humorless laugh.

"Hah! You must be joking," Enamel scoffed as she stood up and wiped the dust from her thighs and arms, "I'm not joining anything, especially not the losing side! I tried that once, if you'll recall, and I got burned for it. I'm not siding with the underclass ever again, so you can just take your modified fists and your rhetoric somewhere else. As soon as I get a map and some energon I am leaving."

"Where will you go?" Bulkhead asked skeptically, "You don't know anything about anywhere now. You've been in a coma for too long."

Enamel turned away from him, knowing he was right but unwilling to admit it. She huffed, but when she looked back at him her face displayed pure misery and sorrow.

"I cannot stay here," Enamel repeated, but with less conviction than before, "You don't want me here, and eventually we'll just start fighting again. Believe it or not, I don't enjoy hurting you or being hurt by you. I am neutral. I have been neutral because it is the most prudent course. You can always side with a winner after the fact, but if you choose a side and lose, there is no mercy."

"So you're afraid to fight?" Bulkhead asked accusingly.

"I am a plate surgeon," Enamel protested, "I'm a medic on my best day, and a femme that buffs out scratches on my worst. All I've ever wanted was to make the universe a more beautiful place one frame at a time. Now all that exists is ugly, and I can't fix it. Bulkhead...I don't want to take orders from you, but you seem to be the only one in this room that knows what they're doing. Until further notice, I will play this game your way. Just remember that I've already been tortured once. If it happens again, I'm blaming you."

Bulkhead laughed despite the harshness of her tone. On some level he had missed the irritable femme. She could be annoying at her worst, but lively and passionate at her best. He remembered when arguments like this would lead to make-up sessions in their berth room. Now all he had to look forward to was begrudging tolerance and a cold shoulder. Somehow this didn't seem fair.

The Past

Bulkhead couldn't believe he was in jail! This wasn't fair! He wasn't even a part of the protest on Silicon Street. He was just trying to get through the crowd of picketing factory laborers on his way to work. If Bulkhead were being honest with himself though, he didn't believe any of these other mechs belonged here either. They were just upset that automation was taking their jobs and forcing their families onto the streets. It was something Bulkhead likewise feared every day he lived.

He sighed, hoping that Enamel had gotten his embedded message. He hated asking her for money so soon in their relationship. They had only been going out for a few orns, but things were going pretty smoothly so far. Well, they were, until he called her asking for bail. He was sure she would dump him for this. They'd only been out on 4 dates. That wasn't long enough to make it a solid relationship.

Bulkhead was sure she would probably just leave him there to rot. She had no obligation to help him, after all. Why risk her social standing by being seen in a jail surrounded by large filthy lower caste mechs? If her family found out it would be a huge scandal. He sighed again, and scowled when a dull grey mech pushed past him to get to a seat on the far corner of the cell.

After half a joor one of the guards came over. There were jeers and curses flung at the officer as soon as he approached, and Bulkhead almost felt sorry for the scrawny two-wheeler as his pedes shifted nervously.

"Um, excuse me! Attention please!" The guard shouted to get everyone to be quiet, but it barely lowered the volume level in the room at all, "Excuse me! Is there a mech here named...Bulkhead?"

"That's me!" Bulkhead stood up from the back of the room and raised his servo so he could be seen.

"Bulkhead? You made bail," The two-wheeler announced.

Bulkhead was cleared to step through the energy field that held the prisoners back, and walked slowly to the front desk with the guard by his side. Once they were out of earshot of the other detainees, the guard asked "So, who exactly owed you a favor? Are you blackmailing someone? You can tell me. I won't tell."

"What are you talking about?" Bulkhead asked; confused.

"I'm talking about your bail," The guard said slyly, "They sent some tower femme to spring you out. She looks like her detailing alone is worth more than my house. So, how'd you manage it? You have a relative that works in her home or something? Maybe you owe her something? Come on, what's the story?"

Before Bulkhead could answer him they were at the front room of the police station, and Enamel was sitting in a chair by a desk waiting for Bulkhead to arrive. When she saw him, a relieved smile crossed her face plate and she walked up to him with hurried steps to ensure he was, in fact, actually alright.

"Listen Enamel, I can explain-" Bulkhead said worriedly.

"Don't," Enamel cut him off sternly, "I don't care what happened. Just tell me you didn't harm anyone, and that you weren't mistreated in that cell."

"I didn't, and I wasn't," Bulkhead told her with a grateful smile, "I can't believe you drove down here. This is a bad neighborhood."

"Every place you take me to is a bad neighborhood," Enamel pointed out, "I know you worry, but I can handle myself. Besides, you called me."

"Uh, miss?" The two-wheeler guard called out tentatively, "If you don't mind my asking, what is this mech to you? Is he an enforcer for your family's business? A secret lover? A day laborer you felt sorry for? Come on! This doesn't happen! You've gotta tell me!"

"No I don't," Enamel replied curtly; shutting down any further argument by walking away with Bulkhead holding her servo.

After they had walked for a few blocks, laughing every few seconds about the look on that guard's face, Bulkhead finally stopped and grabbed Enamel to turn her around to face him.

"I can't believe you actually did that for me," Bulkhead said in wonderment, "I know you and I like each other, but I still didn't actually think...I was just desperate to get out, but I didn't think you would really…"

"Save your aft?" Enamel finished for him, "I don't mind. Besides, to say I like you is the understatement of the vorn. You're the last thing I think about at night, and the first thing I think about in the morning. There are times when I long to touch your smooth chest plate, or look into your small yet bright blue optics. You know, only in Iacon is it common to find laborers with blue optics. In many regions only the wealthy can afford them. Fortunately cobalt is cheaper here than it is in most places. I'm sorry. I'm rambling. I suppose it isn't easy for me to relay my deepest feelings. My family isn't the type to speak many words of substance. It's all empty promises and small talk. You though, you share your spark's desires with me. You share your dreams and your fears with me. Forgive me for saying this but...I love you, Bulkhead."

Bulkhead openly gaped when Enamel said those words. He didn't expect her to care about him after having to bail him out of jail. The last thing in the universe he expected was for his new girlfriend to so quickly confess that she loved him! He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He didn't know if he loved her or not, but then again after seeing the way she handled herself and the way she risked her reputation for him...he was beginning to think that if he didn't love her yet, he could get there very soon.

"I'm sorry. Too soon, right?" Enamel asked sheepishly.

"Maybe, but I don't mind," Bulkhead replied with a small smile of his own, "Maybe I love you too. I don't know. Are we moving too fast?"

"Yes," Enamel said unabashedly, "But I'm a racer. My frame type always moves fast. I want to thank you Bulkhead. You've taught me more about the world and about myself in a few orns than I learned from my sheltered tower in a lifetime."

"I just wish the strike didn't have to happen," Bulkhead commented ruefully; changing the subject, "Why can't the higher-ups just pay us a living wage? I mean, I don't want to join the strike and break the law, but things are getting really out of hand. It seems like when the high caste mechs look at us all they see is disposable junk."

"Bulkhead, did I ever tell you about when I was 12 vorns old and received my second upgrade?" Enamel asked.

"No, what about it?" Bulkhead asked; confused by yet another change in subject.

"Well, when I was 12 vorns old there was a shortage of metallurgists to make new frames, so many younglings including myself were forced to adapt to used frame," Enamel recalled, "My frame was, to put it lightly, bulky. I was much wider than I should have been, and I transformed into a truck instead of the sleek race car I was meant to be. Don't get me wrong, I still had my expensive detailing and shiny red nanites, but I found it difficult to move in the bulkier frame."

"I don't find moving around hard, and I'm bulky," Bulkhead pointed out.

"Yes, but you were meant to be bulky," Enamel explained, "Your center of gravity is meant to handle the extra width, but mine wasn't. Anyway, one orn I went to the hardware store with my family's groundskeeper because I was just so desperate to get out of the house. He was such a nice mech. I remember his name was Meticule. But I digress. I went to the hardware store with Meticule, and while there I started wandering down the aisles. My frame was big, but I still managed to navigate the aisles without getting stuck. That is, until I made it to the internal circuitry aisle. When I got there I was confronted with the largest mech I have ever seen! He was huge, so much so that his body took up the entire aisle! I could tell from his frame that he was either a construction worker or a miner. Well, I stared up at the mech with wide optics. I was thinking to myself that there was no way we could squeeze past each other because we were both too fat."

"Heh heh heh...Oh, sorry," Bulkhead apologized when Enamel stared at his snickering, "It's just hard to picture you as big."

"I was wide, not tall," Enamel clarified in a flat tone of voice before continuing, "As I was saying, when this gargantuan mech saw me, a high caste femmeling staring back at him with wide optics, he cringed and said 'I'm not bothering you. I'm not bothering you'. He just muttered that several times as he backed away from the aisle to get away from me. He was afraid of me, because he didn't want to be accused of anything. I wanted to tell him that I wasn't judging him because of his caste or his size. I just didn't know how to get past him because we were both too fat. If anything it was something we had in common, but I never told him. I didn't say anything to him, because I was young and shy. It was all just a misunderstanding, but I never saw him again, so I could never tell him. I never told anyone this Bulkhead, but it has always bothered me that I allowed that laborer to fear me simply because we were from two different castes."

"Well, you were afraid of me when we first met," Bulkhead shrugged, "I think it's natural for low and high castes to be wary of each other. We don't always understand each other. Enamel, my people have been harassed and belittled for centuries. After so long of being treated as thugs and slaves, you tend to see it everywhere you go. Better safe than sorry, after all."

"I know. My people feel the same way. Better safe than sorry..." Enamel said in a soft regretful voice, "Bulkhead...Let's join the next protest."

"What? Are you kidding?" Bulkhead scoffed, "You're a tower femme. You'll be torn apart by that crowd of rioters!"

"Not with you there to protect me," Enamel said; her optics shining with confidence in him, "Bulkhead, this problem will never get better unless tower mechs and femmes acknowledge that our current system isn't good enough. You're a major part of my life now, so your struggles are my struggles. You deserve more energon and more time off. I just want to help you get what you deserve."

"You'd really stand out in the open street and carry a sign?" Bulkhead asked with a chuckle.

"Only if you'd do it with me," Enamel replied.

"Well...alright. Let's do it!" Bulkhead exclaimed as he picked Enamel up and planted a kiss on her lip components, "Let's change some processors all over Cybertron!"

Enamel whooped as Bulkhead twirled her around in the streets, and several onlookers stopped and stared at the unlikely couple. Bulkhead felt like he could conquer the world with Enamel by his side, and Enamel felt like she could trust Bulkhead with her very life. It seemed like nothing could slow down the young lovers.