Author's Note: This fic contains MASSIVE spoilers for our fic "Thicker Than Water." It also won't make anywhere near as much sense if you haven't read "Thicker Than Water" first. This story parallels the last quarter or so of TTW's timeline. That said, I hope you enjoy! - Eowyn77
I'd figured out a few years ago how to tell when Sam was in a bond dream: he didn't snore. If he was snoring, then Optimus was somewhere else and I was left to get a rough night's sleep, too, with him sawing logs beside me. So I was usually grateful for their bond dreams.
Not tonight.
Sam lay beside me in bed, his soft, even breathing telling me he was talking everything over with Optimus and maybe with the rest of the Prime clan, too. It's not that I resented them, or at least, I didn't think I did. But there was a part of me that was jealous of the support he had from them. They were probably going over everything from Daemon's kidnapping to the flight here to the news about 'Trice and my own DNA changes. And in the meantime, I was left to toss and turn and not talk with my husband.
Of course, a part of me was also terrified at the thought of someone else being that deep into my head. Sam was the exception, only because it was him, but it had taken more than a decade of marriage for me to begin to feel that way. To say I was a private person was an understatement, and I could no more open my heart or spark or whatever that way than I could transform into a Camaro.
And that was before Daemon was kidnapped. Sometime during the fight over the Pacific my emotions just…shut down. Worry still ate at me, crawling through my thoughts like a worm through an apple, and the only other times I'd felt this helpless were during the process of miscarrying. But all the rest – the panic, the mind-numbing terror, the need to cling to my daughter – it all tucked away some Pandora's box in my heart that was going to explode one day. It wouldn't be today, though, and that was good enough for me.
Decepticons had my son, and there was nothing Sam or Optimus or I or anyone else could do about it. We'd rescued Annabelle and Sarah from Decepticon clutches, and it had very nearly killed Annabelle. She was emotionally scarred from her ordeal – probably for life. So what the hell was going to happen to my son?
If by some miracle we were able to rescue him, what tortures would the Decepticons inflict on him? Arcee had saved Annabelle's leg, but what if he came back to me in literal pieces? What if his mind was as broken as his body?
What if he never came back at all?
The thought crushed tears from me that I didn't know I had left, and I angrily wiped them away. The thought was a black hole of endless ache that sucked at my soul. It was the same, devouring uncertainty that had endlessly plucked at me about my mother, and I had turned my back on her to get away from it. I couldn't do the same with Daemon, though. He was my son. I couldn't.
But what did that leave me? What hope was left?
I couldn't hope for closure, just like with my mother. No funeral, no memorial service, just the eternal waiting of a four-year-old girl who grew up but never grew beyond the loss. And now it was the ache of a mother's arms that might never again hold my firstborn. The thought of a second desaparecido in my life was more than I could bear, much less losing my Daemon that way. It couldn't go that way. It couldn't.
But it already had.
I swallowed hard and clenched my fists, resisting the thought.
That wasn't entirely true, I told myself. They were still in the solar system, somewhere. The space bridge hadn't opened since his kidnapping – we were watching it like a hawk. He was beyond our reach but not beyond our sight. The same sun still shined on us both.
My tossing and turning was interrupted when 'Trice, who was in a hammock, talked in her sleep. "But what about…" Her voice fell into mumbling and I couldn't make out the rest of her question.
'Trice had talked about "Besty" for years and never once had I suspected she was anything more than Beatrice's imaginary friend. The whole thing had been cute, an endearing quirk. Now it was kind of creepy. Like Sam, 'Trice wasn't here – she was off in the Cybertronian afterlife or something hanging out with Optimus Prime's fragging wife, for crying out loud.
If I'd doubted before, her interview with RaFly had cemented it in my mind: 'Trice was a Prime. She had been completely at ease, even though RaFly had been in her base form the whole time. 'Trice had talked about Iacon and Polyhex, described Alpha Trion and Jazz, gushed about hologram puppets and glowing sticks of gum RaFly had called "energon goodies." She'd never said anything about them to me or Sam because we'd never really asked. Once we figured out "Besty" wasn't a classmate, we assumed all the rest was just her imagination, too.
We hadn't cared to know, and now 'Trice belonged to the Autobots – to the Second Dynasty of the Primes – just like Daemon. I honestly wasn't sure which was the worse loss. We'd only guessed that he was a Prime and I'd spent more than a decade emotionally preparing for him to be whisked away to some otherworldly destiny. 'Trice was physically here still but was already so far gone. She'd been leaving me – leaving this plane of existence – for years already.
Optimus' statement – his reassurance, really – that he thought I was a Prime was the only thing holding me together right now.
Was I really part of what my family was becoming? Was I really a Prime? I didn't dream about ghostly Autobots. I definitely didn't have the genetics for it, with an absent illegal immigrant of a mother and a father who was a felon. No matter what my mitochondria said, a part of me would always feel like I was a criminal and a daughter of criminals.
But that looming role of Prime had overshadowed our whole marriage. It was a line between me and Sam, between me and Daemon, that could never be crossed. Except 'Trice had crossed it now, too, and I was cut off from the rest of my family. Or so I thought until we realized the genetic reason Daemon and 'Trice could be Primes wasn't because they were Sam's kids but because they were mine.
Holy slag. The thought still blew me away.
If Daemon and Beatrice were Primes, it was because of me. I had crossed that line, too, somewhere along the way and without even knowing it.
I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that, but the thought of that dividing line being gone was beyond mind-blowing. Our family could be whole, if we could just somehow get Daemon back.
That niggling, relentless worm of worry ate its way into my thoughts again. Getting Daemon back was my first priority – was everyone's first priority, really – but there was precious little we could do. Optimus was still in pieces, Mirage was in even worse shape, and Evac couldn't fly into space. That left Tracks and Sideswipe to go find and rescue Daemon.
When I'd brought this all up with RaFly earlier, she'd pointed out that both of them were painfully slow compared to a Seeker in space and no one was exactly sure where the Decepticons were taking Daemon, except "in the direction of Mars." They would be hopelessly outmatched if they followed Dirge, and she couldn't in good conscience recommend that the Autobots waste lives that way.
Besides, if they were going to take him through the space-bridge – assuming a human even could survive that – there was no telling where in the galaxy he'd end up. By the time Tracks and Sideswipe made it to Mars, Daemon could literally be anywhere.
And that was an even more overwhelming thought to consider. Mentally retreating away from it, I let sheer exhaustion quiet my thoughts and I slipped into sleep.
…
I woke up to Sam looking at me, his expression serious.
"Good morning," I mumbled, still half-asleep.
"You okay?" he softly asked.
I put my hand on his cheek and rested my forehead against his. Emotionally I went to the same place I had yesterday, that terrifyingly vulnerable place where I let myself feel how broken I was and how much I needed him.
He flinched under my hand and then pulled me closer. Again, his feelings enveloped me in something almost tangible – affection, compassion, his own grief, his need for me. I closed my eyes and wrapped myself up tighter in whatever this thing was between us.
"Love you, Mikaela,"
"Love you, too," I whispered. And for a few minutes anyway, we took solace in each other as if in the eye of the storm.
…
Eventually 'Trice woke up and came to jump on our bed and us, breaking the spell. "Momma! Daddy! Where are we? I'm hungry!"
"We're on New Archon, sweetie," Sam said, "and I'm sure we can figure out something for breakfast."
Sounds of transformation came from outside, and then Bumblebee peeked in through the open front door. "Morning. Aisake says he has enough to share breakfast with you all."
Sam wryly half-smiled. "It'll probably be all the food he has on the island, knowing him. We'll want to restock from the States as soon as possible."
"Yeah, well, everyone there who knows how to use a ground-bridge hitched a ride on Daisy yesterday," 'Bee pointed out as we made our way outside. 'Trice happily climbed up his arm to perch on his shoulder as if she'd done it every day of her life.
I watched with that sinking feeling again in the pit of my stomach.
"Even if it's MRE's from Diego Garcia, we'll survive," Sam said. "We'll need to evacuate all us humans – "
"Except Aisake," 'Bee interjected.
" – except Aisake," Sam agreed, "because New Archon just isn't ready for us yet."
To 'Trice, 'Bee said, "Hold still, and I'll show you a trick."
"Okay?" she said, tilting her head curiously. Then Bumblebee gingerly picked her up and transformed around her so that she was in the back seat of his alt and buckled in.
"Whoa!" I heard her exclaim through his open window. "That's so neat!"
The mama bear part of me growled a little in my head, but I hushed her. This was Bumblebee, after all.
…
Aisake Bauro…was Aisake. He was the sort of person who, even when he had next to nothing, would give us his best cushions to sit on while he served us tea, and he was the most kind and attentive host in the world. Without meaning to at all, he was so full of gratitude and a zest for life that he made me (who technically spent most of my childhood living beneath the poverty line) feel like I had no appreciation whatsoever for all the amazing riches I had.
His grandchildren could afford to go to Harvard now (and graduate without student loans), thanks to the deal the Autobots cut with him and the other natives of what was now New Archon. But he still lived here, in a house that was best described as a hut, next to the ocean and a few yards away from where his wife's bones were buried. He'd already marked out where his own grave would be, right beside hers.
As I climbed out of Bumblebee's cab, I wondered what that kind of permanence would be like.
That kind of certainty.
Again, with surprising intensity, I wished I had Daemon in my arms, even if he didn't survive, so I could know where his bones lay and grieve at his grave.
And I felt like a wretched parent and horrible human being for it.
Even as I sniffed back the tears that threatened to spill over, I knew it wasn't really him – or at least not just him – that I ached for.
My mother and my son. I needed them both and they were both lost to me now.
Bumblebee transformed, and 'Trice skipped over to scamper over his frame again.
All of my babies were lost, one way or another.
Sam reached for my hand, and belatedly, I felt his kind, gentle concern whisp across my mind. I pulled my hand away, not wanting to burden him with this, too. No doubt he had his own grief to deal with, plus all the other stress that came with being a Prime while Earth was under Decepticon attack.
"Sam! Mikaela!" Aisake called behind us.
I'd been expecting him in his house, but he was walking toward us from some shrubs.
"Aisake," Sam said, plastering on a fake smile and stepping forward to shake his hand.
"Come, it is more pleasant to eat outside this morning," he invited, leading us toward the shrubs. One of them was tall enough to cast some shade and was pruned like a tree. Under it, Leo and al-Sharif were already waiting, sitting on dining mats, but his best cushions were set out for me and Sam, along with a royal spread of fruit: pineapple, mango, papaya, and banana. He'd even made sweet rice with coconut and raisins. And, of course, tea. For all of us.
"And for you, my friend Bumblebee, I'm afraid all I can offer you is sunshine," he added, grinning up at 'Bee.
"It's delicious," 'Bee assured him.
Aisake chuckled once and gestured for us to sit.
"This looks amazing," I said as I sank to sitting, wondering if I'd be able to force myself to push past the gnawing worry and eat any of it.
"Thank you for being so gracious this morning," Sam began. "I'm sorry we came on such short notice and so ill-prepared."
"You had no choice," Aisake answered, suddenly more solemn than I'd ever seen him. "Mohammed explained it all. And your son…"
My breath caught, and the empathy in his kind eyes said he understood loss, he understood fear and uncertainty, and he had found solid ground despite all that. It was uncanny, especially after the whole quasi-bond or whatever it was between me and Sam. "I will pray for him," he quietly said. Al-Sharif solemnly nodded in agreement.
I swallowed hard. My mother Consuela had come from a long line of devout Catholics. I had been whatever it took to survive. But whichever deity or higher power had created and shaped a person like Aisake was one I could at least respect. "Thank you."
He said grace over our meal, and then I accepted the cup of tea he pressed into my hands. "To keep up your strength," he earnestly said.
My voice failing in the face of his genuine kindness, I could only nod my thanks, and then sip at the tea, letting the warmth of the cup in my hands draw my focus, centering and grounding me.
"Can I have an apple?" 'Trice suddenly said.
"Beatrice, that's rude," Sam said in a low voice. "Just take what he offers you."
"But it's for Daemon," she protested.
"'Trice," Sam wearily said.
"Don't you remember, Daddy? In my dream where Fancy and Daemon ride the roller coaster, Besty and I had tea afterward and all Daemon wanted was an apple. Because he's weird. And so I need an apple for him."
"Wait…" Leo began, glancing uncertainly between Sam and 'Trice. "Isn't Besty…?"
"Yes," Sam snapped.
"Besty said so," 'Trice said, her voice taking on a pleading tone that was pushing into a whine. "She said to hold on to hope. Mom has tea like the tea party Besty and I are going to have, and that's why I need an apple, too. So I can be ready when Fancy and Daemon come home safely."
Sam heaved a sigh and rocked back on his cushion. "I don't even know what to do with that."
"We'll put some apples on our 'grocery order' of goods from the States," I said, finally finding a little strength and my voice. God bless Aisake and his tea. "In the meantime, you need to apologize to Aisake for being rude and then you need to eat your breakfast. We don't know what today will bring."
…
I hadn't gotten a good look at Daisy when we arrived on New Archon. We'd all been whisked away right after we landed. Seeing the C-17 now as we approached Autobot HQ, I was stunned that we'd actually survived. RaFly wasn't kidding when she'd said half the wing was gone. There was no way we were taking that plane to Diego Garcia. The flight from island to island wasn't our usual halfway-around-the-world trip, but it was still more than 1000 miles.
Prowl was the one who greeted us, and he led us toward the med bay. I half-smiled. Prime was their leader, Prowl was his right-hand mech, but Ratchet was the one nobody dared to cross. If we were meeting in the med-bay, it was because Ratchet said so. 'Bee came with us, of course, and Arcee and Evac were there with Ratchet (working on Optimus and Mirage), but none of the usual human repair crew were present.
"I received this morning's briefing," Prowl began, turning his attention to me where I was holding hands with Sam. "Our first order of business is to determine how publicly you would like us to use your correct title, Mikaela Prime."
It was the first time anyone had called me that. and it really rubbed me the wrong way.
"You can take your time," Sam quickly said. "You don't need to rush into anything. I mean, you are a Prime, or at least, I think you are, and so does Optimus and everyone else, so it's not like anyone's questioning, but…"
"Sam," I interrupted him.
"I'm babbling," he said. "Shutting up."
I squeezed his hand in gratitude, even though I didn't let him in just then. (Or, at least, I didn't think he could get in.) "Let's deal with one thing at a time," I decided. "Daemon should be our focus right now. Let's just shelve the whole 'Prime' thing for me until..." Until he came home? 'Trice thought he would, but I honestly wasn't sure if I could muster real hope for that. "...until later."
"That is wise," Optimus said from the repair berth.
I wasn't sure if that was his genuine opinion or if he was trying to butter or build me up now that we were apparently kin on a Cybertronian level and not just on a human one. It was a rather unpleasant surprise to find myself distrusting Optimus' opinion. Still, for the sake of keeping the focus on Daemon, I simply said, "Thank you."
"In that case, our next order of business is evacuating you humans to Diego Garcia, along with our most vulnerable allies still stateside."
"What about Daemon?" I blurted out. "Shouldn't he be our first priority?"
"Until we know more about the Decepticons' intent in kidnapping him, there is little we can do. It is more likely than not that pursuit will get him killed."
I rocked back on my heels a little at his blunt pronouncement.
Prowl seemed to notice, and his doorwings eased down slightly. "You were not present for most of our strategy discussions yesterday, but I know RaFly had orders to keep you updated. I assume you are aware that we cannot overtake the Decepticons who kidnapped Daemon before they reach the space-bridge. If their intent is to take him through, we cannot stop them. If their intent is to use him as leverage to help them produce energon, we already have predetermined conditions and criteria for negotiations. And one of those conditions is that Daemon be kept alive, healthy, and in-system. I tell you as his mother and a Prime that one of the purposes for that criteria is so that, once Mirage and Optimus are sufficiently repaired, we can mount a rescue attempt. To date, we have done all that possibly can be done for Daemon, and so I am turning my attention to the next-most pressing matter: the remaining human Primes."
"Right," I softly said, that worry eating its way through my soul again.
"There are currently two C-17's on their way, one from Diego Garcia and one from Australia. The one from Diego Garcia is a decoy. Upon its arrival, we will refuel it and send it back with Tracks, Bluestreak, Ironhide, Chromia, and the Lennoxes aboard. If they are not attacked within a few hours of departure, you will follow with Bumblebee, Arcee, Trailbreaker, and Hound on the Australian one."
"We can't ask that of Sarah and Annabelle." It would break me to have their deaths on my hands.
"One male and two female human VIP's," Prowl replied. "They all agreed to this."
"It's asking too much."
Sam interrupted with, "Could we, um, have a few minutes alone with Optimus? Me and Mikaela, that is?"
I frowned, but the others respectfully nodded and left (except for Evac, who quietly said he'd mute his audials and then kept working on Mirage).
Sam led the way up onto the repair berth so we could look Optimus in the optic.
"You are brave in battle," Optimus said to me, "even though you are not a soldier. You are not a general, either, but you must likewise understand that your life is more valuable than even my own at this point."
"Because I'm the fragging queen mother?" I snapped, surprised by my own anger.
"Because you and you alone have been chosen by the Matrix of Leadership – by the All Spark itself – to humble my entire race. To make us dependent on humanity. Not just for a few years or even a lifetime, but in perpetuity. Your frame is the only one right now capable of ensuring our race's survival. Regardless of whatever hopes we might have in the future for Beatrice, right now, that gift and weight of responsibility rests squarely on you." He smiled ever so slightly. "And Prowl was the head of the Temple guardians before he became my chief strategist and second-in-command. He takes that kind of responsibility very seriously."
I pursed my lips. "It's still too much to ask of the Lennoxes, particularly Annabelle."
He nodded. "The first C-17 arrives in less than four hours. You're welcome to try to talk them out of going on it."
I narrowed my eyes at him and, for the briefest of seconds, wished I had a bond with him so he could feel how angry I was at him for allowing this kind of gamble with human lives, much less encouraging it. Then I sharply nodded and climbed down the stairs, taking him up on the challenge.
…
I tracked down the Lennoxes in the shade of what would eventually be the Autobot's main barracks. Will greeted me with a warm, "Hey, Mikaela," but Sarah's smile faded as she took in my expression.
"What's the news?" she asked as I drew close enough for comfortable conversation.
"Prowl told me about using you guys as decoys. I don't want you to do it."
Will opened his mouth as if to say something and then shut it again with a look of consternation. Apparently, I'd caught him flatfooted.
"But you're our femme commander," Annabelle protested.
"No, I'm not," I firmly replied, all my frustration with Prowl's scheme overflowing into my voice. "I'm your family friend. You aren't really an Autobot any more than I am. We're friends of them – good friends and essential allies – but I don't have the spark or hardware to really call myself an Autobot, much less a femme commander. And neither do you. It's fine when it's just fun and games, but there is no rational reason for any of you to risk your lives for me."
"I gave up on 'rational' about the time I saw Sam come back from the dead," Will said. "Seeing Optimus come back too just cemented it."
"Maybe for them, the risk would be worth it. Maybe. But not for me."
Annabelle and Sarah exchanged a look and Annabelle declared, "We're going."
"No, you aren't!" I growled. "Not again!"
Annabelle froze as she figured out what I meant by that about half a second after I did. Will put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and she squeezed it. With a half-smile at her dad, Annabelle again looked my way. "We're going. It's our risk, and we're taking it."
Grasping at straws, I said, "As your femme commander, I forbid it."
Annabelle jutted out her chin, suddenly reminding me of Will. "You hate that title."
"As the Autobot's den mother, not even you can stop me," Sarah answered with a sad, little smile. "I'm no Prime, but I take care of my 'bots, and their allies."
"Mikaela," Will said, his voice so serious I felt drawn to meet his gaze. "No matter what happens, this is not your fault. It's our choice, we've already discussed this amongst ourselves, and we've agreed. Despite what you seem to think, you are worth it, both individually and collectively as the human Primes and tactically valuable VIP's."
I could feel the tears pricking at my eyes, and I angrily turned and stormed off before they could spill over. Each stomp of my feet shoved my hurt and anxiety into a deeper pit of anger until all that was left was fury.