At Long Last, Getting to Know You 5
Getting to Know You
Chapter Five
Series: Transformers (2007 movie)
Rating/Warnings: T/PG-13, to be on the safe side. Really, the worst there is is mild swearing.
Characters/Pairings: Bec (OC) and Sunstreaker, but also Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Ironhide, Jazz, Sideswipe, Sam, Mikaela, Judy, Ron, Capt. Lennox and the rest of his team, Trent, Miles, Maggie, Glen, Defense Secretary Keller and probably others.
Non-pairing (gen) except for canon mentions of Sam/Mikaela.
Summary: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have arrived on earth. That means that all they need to do is track down Optimus Prime, get rid of the pack of Decepticons after them and not scare the local wildlife. That should be easy, right?
Thank you very much to my beta, mmouse15!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
And at FFnet
Getting to Know You 5
“We’re being called into the Autobot base,” Judy announced, walking into the kitchen. Her tone was worried. “There’s been more sighting of Decepticons-a lot of them. The government’s getting worried, and Optimus has decided it’s no longer possible to let us try and keep things normal-he says the risk to our lives is too great. Finish dinner and then pack what you need, alright? We leave in an hour, an hour and a half-around then. Barricade’s been staking out our region, and Tranquility in particular, so they might need to take the long way around to avoid him.”
Trent looked horrified; he didn’t have good memories when it came to that Decepticon in particular. Sam clapped him on the shoulder, a little awkward, trying to be reassuring. Trent looked at him, but stayed silent: the other boy appreciated it.
Bec looked blank, withdrawn. She stood without saying a word, scraping the last of her dinner into the kitchen garbage and setting her plate down gently in the sink, wandering out of the room as if in a daze. Judy gave the teenagers a worried look and then hurried after her, calling over her shoulder as she went.
“Sam! Call your father and tell him he needs to get home now!”
oOo
Judy caught up with Bec in the garden. The young woman was staring distractedly at a pot of annual flowers, old-fashioned summer things-marigolds, snapdragons, sweet peas. The heliotropes made the cooling air sweet.
“Are you alright?” Judy asked. She thought about reminding her that it wasn’t all that bad, that she was getting along well with Jazz and Bumblebee, at least, but didn’t. It would be a kind of back-handed insult to the woman, who was by no means stupid. Of course she remembered how she was starting to adjust to the Autobots, starting to grow comfortable with them.
“Yes,” Bec said tiredly, absentmindedly starting to pick the dry, dead flowers off of the nearest petunia plant. “I’m fine. I don’t think I’m very happy, but-I understand the necessity. It’s not-”
She broke off, staring out at the garden for a long, slow minute, then turning to look at a bloom that had faded earlier that day, still colorful and slightly sticky. “I know that there are, um...I know that the Autobots can be nice. I can-adapt to that, to living with them. But...but Sunstreaker-”
“He won’t be getting anywhere near you,” Judy promised.
“I hope that’s enough,” Bec replied, biting her lip. “But...
“Thank you, Judy, for everything. You’ve been-incredible.”
“Oh, psh-it’s nothing! You’re a friend, Bec, not a burden.”
oOo
They were a mismatched group, waiting in some vastly over-sized room in the Autobot base. There were a handful of soldiers (Bec assumed there were more, somewhere else) and then other government officials; Mikaela had met up with Sam, who was being shadowed by Miles and Trent; a man she didn’t remember (was his name Glen?) was there with an elderly lady who had to be his grandmother; Maggie, with a woman she’d never seen before-the unfamiliar one of the pair looked truly nervous, almost afraid, and Bec could understand; Judy and Ron were talking with a woman who had to be Mikaela’s mother; Sarah Lennox was holding her baby and juggling a radio and a bottle full of milk; and then, finally, another person she didn’t recognize, a sour-faced man who wouldn’t have stood out except that he was standing away from the main group, staring suspiciously at everyone and everything. A lot of people were glaring back.
There weren’t any Autobots there, not yet. Bec knew that was going to change. After all, this was-it had to be their home. For some of them, at least.
Maggie was waving at her. Bec smiled shyly, and waved hesitantly back. Maggie waved again in return, gesturing her over, and Bec obeyed, weaving her way through the crowd.
“Bec! How are you? Better, I hope.”
“Yes,” Bec said. “Much better. I’d have to be.” She smiled at her again, shyly. “Judy’s been wonderful, and I’ve been-I’ve been getting to know some of the Autobots...” She trailed off.
“Fantastic! That’s really great to hear, I’d been worried about you-”
“Thank you. How have you been, though?”
“Well, I can’t say this whole business doesn’t have me worried. Oh! Bec, this is Elizabeth, my girlfriend.”
“Oh!” Bec said, surprised-whatever explanation she’d been expecting for the shocked-looking woman’s presence, it hadn’t been that.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Um, it’s my pleasure,” Bec replied, reaching out to take the hand she’d been offered; she shook it. Elizabeth’s grip was firm, confident, not at all in keeping with the tired anxiousness in her eyes and the weariness, the wariness, in her voice. Bec could sympathize.
“Right-I’m new to all this. Found out yesterday-”
“It was quite the shock,” Maggie said dryly. “She was on a business trip.”
“And when I got back the apartment was empty. Maggie’d left a note, so I drove over to Glen’s house. She asked me if it was okay if we took a drive, and I said sure, even though I was kind of confused. I mean-why not? So then I realized there was an emergency hummer-I didn’t even know they made those-in Glen’s driveway, so I asked why...”
“And I told her I’d explain if she really wanted to know. I think she thought I was joking-”
“I did.”
“-so she said yes, she really did want to know. So I said I’d explain on the drive. I didn’t, of course-Ratchet did.”
“We drove up to the look-out, and-that transformation thing is just incredible, isn’t it? That was yesterday, yesterday morning-I think. Ugh, I’m so tired! ...Anyways, that’s my story. What got you all mixed up in this?”
Bec paused to collect her thoughts, not sure what to say. “An-Autobot found me,” she said lowly. “Or my father accidentally bought one for me, I suppose. He-forced me to drive him to where he could meet up with the Autobots, and then I hung around for a few more days, and that point I was...involved.” She shrugged slightly, just quickly hunching one shoulder. “It happens, I guess.”
“Her introduction was hard,” Sarah added as she turned around to join the little cluster of people, voice laden with sympathy, as she jostled her baby. Bec figured, not insulted, that she’d been listening in.
“Sunstreaker is an ass,” Maggie said bitterly. “I know that, and I’ve barely talked to him. He scared Bec badly enough that she was having asthma attacks,” she continued, for Elizabeth’s benefit. “And throwing up. -Don’t worry!” she hastened to add. “He’s the only one out of all of the Autobots here that’s anything like that. And you won’t be going anywhere near him-I think he’s been basically forbidden from interacting with any civilians.”
A silence fell, slightly uncomfortable. Sarah turned away after a few seconds, to answer some message she’d received on the hand-held radio she had.
“Anyway,” Maggie said, after a while. “Which Autobots have you been getting to know?”
“Jazz and Bumblebee,” Bec replied, voice going quiet again. “When they have time-I feel a little guilty about monopolizing them, or keeping them from their work at all-”
“Oh, don’t be!” Sarah said, swinging back around. “Making sure everyone’s happy-not panicking, at the very least, is one of the more important things we do around here.”
Bec shook her head firmly. “I thi-I know I've come far, far below saving the world, when it comes to priority,” she said. “That’s alright. I just really appreciate the effort. They’ve both gone out of their way to be kind to me...”
Elizabeth looked remarkably relieved.
“Sounds like Bumblebee,” Sarah said happily. “I don’t know about Jazz, though-his sense of humor seems to be kind of, well, odd.”
“It is, a bit,” Bec said sheepishly. “But I think he tones it down for me.”
“-Speaking of Jazz, looks like he’s decided to show up. Finally-he was supposed to be here five minutes ago.” Sarah turned back to her radio, pausing just briefly to point to the silver car that had arrived. It-he-transformed and turned almost immediately to speak with one of the soldiers.
Bec waved back at him, shyly, when he glanced over his shoulder at one point during his conversation and waved at her.
oOo
Bec chatted a little over the course of the evening. Mostly, though, she sat, and watched the crowd of people, talking when someone approached her but staying quiet for the most part. She was a little-overwhelmed. And everyone seemed very nice, but she just didn’t want to speak to them. Not for any real reason-she felt sort of guilty for feeling like that at all-but just because she was too overwhelmed. She wanted nothing more than to be home, in her own house and her own garden and her own room. If she was there, she could retreat to the back patio, where there were chairs and her potted plants and she could get herself a glass of lemonade and read, or she could sit on her couch and watch rain falling on her garden with a cup of hot cocoa if it was a bad day, and just relax and be herself, not have to worry about expectations or appearances or what to say or how to ignore her growing headache or the ever-increasing pressure on her bladder (she couldn’t bring herself to ask where the bathroom was, not now and not here) and maybe cry if she felt like it, or listen to embarrassingly bad teeny-pop music, or whatever she felt like. Home, where she had her books, for school or for gardening or bad romances just for guilty-pleasure reading, and her own kitchen and bedroom and bathroom, her yard and garden and a certain measure of privacy, where she didn’t have to deal with the Autobots or the threat of Decepticons-she woke up gasping when the Decepticon who’d been at the Lookout jumped out of her from shadowy corners in her dreams, even when it was totally illogical, sometimes several times a night-even if sometimes the Autobots were nice to her, or at least trying to be, where there was no Sunstreaker at all and she could pretend she’d never met him in the first place, that he didn’t exist at all, because it would be so easy, the whole thing was so fantastical, to put it out of mind and remember it, only vaguely, as a plot from a bad sci-fi film.
Eventually, Judy found her. “Bec! There you are-I managed to get some more details on what’s happening and what’s going to happen. Apparently the Autobots intercepted a Decepticon message, and from what they’ve been able to figure out-it’s coded-the Decepticons are moving in on us, and their current plan of attack is to go after the humans the Autobots have made friends with, because we’re more vulnerable. So this is a twofold security measure-for one, it keeps us better protected, and for two it means that the Autobots don’t have to divide their forces. Although there's some concern about them deciding to involve ordinary people as hostages...
“And then I found out where we’re staying. ...Well, I requested that we get shown to our quarters. Fairly forcefully, actually, it’s close to one in the morning by now and they-” she meant the Autobots, Bec assumed “-don’t need sleep the way we do.” She sounded guilty for a second, and Bec guessed she’d been overly short with someone or other. Or maybe several someones. She had the feeling that Judy could be like that, when she put her mind to it. Or didn’t, as the case may be.
“Anyways, they don’t have space for individual rooms yet, since the base is so new-it’s still under construction. There will be more human-sized spaces in a year or two, but for now we’ll be doubling up. So it could be worse-anyways, I think you’ll be with one of the soldiers. Will wanted to put you in with Maggie, but I pointed out that she’d probably want to stay with her girlfriend. I think he was trying to keep that from happening, actually-but Sarah elbowed him and he relented. Oh, I hope that turns out okay. Maggie’s a good girl, excuse me, young woman, and I like Elizabeth too. Will’s a good man, though, so I think it should be alright. Anyways, I’ll see if I can find out who you’ll be rooming with, but it should be Mikaela, if everything goes well. There's a chance you'll get your own room, depending, I'll do my best! And don’t worry, it shouldn’t be too much longer before we all have real beds, and then we can finally get some sleep.”
“Thank you,” Bec said, trying to smile at her. She was pretty sure she ended up just grimacing. She felt glassy-eyed with exhaustion and immaterial, unimportant worries she just couldn’t let go of. “That sounds good.”
“Great,” Judy said, managing a real smile to return the attempt Bec had made, and she wandered off again, waving down the mech just entering the room as she did so. Bec made no moves to follow her; the new mech-red and blue, and big, so that had to be Optimus Prime; Judy had given her descriptions of each of the Autobots on earth, to help her-was intimidating, and she had no wish to get into a conversation with anyone, right now. Especially not with any of them.
oOo
It was after four before Bec finally stumbled into her newly assigned room. She slid off her shoes before climbing into bed, but nothing more. She didn’t know where her bag was, anyway, even if she had wanted to change into her pajamas.
She stirred briefly when her roommate came in, but nothing more. She was beyond exhausted, so tired it felt like it had seeped into her bones, painful, and she didn’t even fully wake.
Mikaela didn’t try waking her. She understood: she was just as tired.
oOo
“So how come you’re not rooming with Mikaela?” Miles asked. Sam “What, she didn’t want you there?” he added, unable to resist the temptation.
“Will handed out the room assignments,” he replied grumpily, turning over to face the wall on his side of the room. He knew Miles wouldn’t actually get what that explained, but hey-he was kind of a genius, when he thought about things. He’d figure out that Will was kind of old-fashioned, and didn’t think teenagers-even if they were older teens-should sleep together. “Now shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”
oOo
Trent looked at the soldier he was sharing a room with. There was a certain measure of trepidation in the expression.
William Hartt looked back. He did not look particularly impressed.
oOo
“Ratchet is a slaghead,” Sideswipe announced, waltzing into the room he was sharing with Sunstreaker. His brother looked over, disinterested.
Sideswipe waited a long minute before continuing. “Of course, Sunstreaker, thank you for asking. Of course I will tell you all about what happened.” He waited another short moment, to see if Sunstreaker would react. He didn’t, and Sideswipe continued. “He won’t let me meet any of the humans. It would have been interesting. And hilarious! Even better than that one time, with the really little mech-”
“So the medic’s not as stupid as he looks, then.”
“He-ey, Sunstreaker, that’s mean…”
“Yes. Look, slagger, I don’t want to get stuck on punishment detail because you fuck around with the squishies. And you will be in deep slag if you try it because they think we are the same person and they think I’m out to kill the useless little fleshbags.”
“-They probably think that because you are, bro. Or pretty damn close to it. I mean, you almost pulled it off with one. At least one. On the other hand, though, I am sooo impressed with you!”
“Shut up,” Sunstreaker ground out. Sideswipe dragging out the sing-song, mocking voice he’d used for his last sentence was never a good sign.
“I mean, you’re thinking ahead! And we’re not even in a fight! It’s about not getting in trouble. Every commander we’ve had would be checking their audio receivers for glitches right now, if they'd been here to hear that!”
“I want to get clean. And keep it like that. This planet is disgusting. And punishment detail means I have no time for the washracks. Don’t keep me from getting clean. And staying that way.”
“Geez, sheesh, whatever-you’re ridiculous. You know, you’re basically being punished right now-have you seen the map of the base? Yeah, I’d say you’re not allowed in a good sixty percent of it.”
“But I can get to the wash racks.”
“...Yeah, whatever. Crazy. Oh well-I guess I’ll find humans tomorrow. It shouldn’t be too hard, this place is overrun with them.”
“Sideswipe. Everyone here is ready to sign, stamp and slagging seal the authorization form for my offlining. They would be happy to. Everyone.” He paused, voice sounding ragged. “Optimus Prime, Prime, thinks I am-”
“I’m not sure I do. I’m sorry to intrude like this, but I wanted to talk to the two of you.”
Sunstreaker tensed before pivoting suddenly, body language stiff and aggressive. “What the slag are you doing here?”
“I am your commanding officer. I am here because I feel I need to be. Stand down, soldier. That is an order.” Optimus Prime, standing in the doorway to their room, cut an impressive figure.
Sunstreaker subsided even before Sideswipe-who was hiding his nervousness, barely-prompted him by elbowing him in the side. “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. I'd like to request that the two of you meet me in the small meeting room, at eleven this morning. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes,” said Sideswipe, grinning and managing to look only slightly on edge. “Sir,” he added, belatedly.
“Thank you.”
oOo
“Um,” Sam said, because it had been awkwardly quiet and someone needed to say something. He just didn’t know what.
He didn’t know where to go with that lead-in, either, so he feel silent again. Nobody replied. It was just the four of them: Miles, Mikaela, Trent and himself. They were sitting in a glum and painful silence on some couches the Autobots or someone had set up on a much larger table in the empty rec. room, and they all kept on yawning, because of the late night they’d had, waiting for room assignments-and for things to be worked out at all, really. They'd all been up before ten in the morning, too. Judy had taken it upon herself to rouse them and, really, considering the circumstances, only Sam had whined about it.
Mikaela sighed and shifted. Sam, tired of babying Trent’s too-delicate sensibilities, took the opportunity to sneak an arm around her waist. She relaxed into him, and he felt the familiar rush of warmth tug on the bottom of his stomach-the butterfly-feeling that kept on hitting him, a year later. He’d been so lucky-
Trent was twisted awkwardly, so he was staring in the opposite direction, away from the two of them. Miles’ expression was somewhere and wistful and envious and-to Sam’s annoyance-disbelieving.
His girlfriend was oblivious. Or apparently oblivious, but Sam had learned not to underestimate her.
Mikaela sighed happily. “It seems like too long since I just let myself relax!”
“I’m too tired to relax,” Miles grumbled, mock-annoyed and smothering another yawn. “I need to sleep.”
“But why would you recharge when you could be doing something?” asked a far-too-amused-sounding voice over the intercom system. All four of them jumped, Trent most spectacularly. He looked spooked; Miles, on the other hand, had a slightly wicked grin spread helplessly across his face. “Something interesting.” Sam didn’t recognize the voice, a neutral baritone: that meant it was one of the newcomers. Sideswipe, he thought. Good, because then he wouldn’t need to get snippy with him.
“Recharging isn’t like sleeping,” Mikaela said immediately. Sam smiled, proud and happy, and Miles looked interested. She drew in a deep breath before continuing, sounding just slightly nervous, unsure. “Recharge is an optional state which can be entered at will at any point, up to the moment when a mech’s energy stores are completely exhausted, at which point he will temporarily offline until a certain point-determined by individual mechs by a variety of factors, including circumstances, base programming and personal programming modifications-before onlining again. Sleep, on the other hand, is a necessity on a regular basis for humans, and functioning is impacted even with a slight surfeit of rest. Sleep is essential to human functioning, and loss of sleep impairs judgment and thinking, coordination, reaction time and energy levels, increases stress, has a negative impact on the immune system and, in extreme cases, causes reactions up to and including severe hallucinations.”
Trent was staring at Mikaela like he’d never seen her before. Like she was someone he’d never met, only more so: like he'd thought he'd known something about her, and been proved completely wrong on accident. Even though he’d dated her, he knew her.
He didn’t know this side of her, though.
Miles just looked extremely impressed. “That is so cool!” he announced, grinning and looking far too interested and excited for his own good. Or for the good of anyone else on the Autobot base, possibly the whole of North America, Sam decided privately. He’d had experience with Miles’ projects.
“Damn,” the Autobot said, sounding impressed (if slightly mockingly so) and, still, amused. “Humans do that? That is cool. Seriously? Hallucinations?”
Mikaela shrugged, face eloquent. She didn’t know.
“Yeah,” Miles said, suddenly. “People start going really crazy without sleep. Including full-on hallucinations. That’s no sleep at all for days on end, though. Once a DJ for some radio station in New Jersey was doing some marathon thing where he was going to stay up for days on end, and he ended up getting paranoid and barricading himself inside the broadcasting room and apparently things got really weird. And then the world record for days without sleep is eleven or something, but that was in a lab and the scientists kept on shocking him or something to keep him awake. I think legally that’s considered torture.”
“Why the hell do you know this stuff, Gillon? Er, Miles,” Trent demanded, sounding disbelieving and almost a little suspicious-like he thought he’d make up something like that to say.
“Good question,” added Sideswipe, snickering a little.
“It just-sticks, sometimes,” Miles said, off-hand. “And I remember it. I was on the knowledge bowl team for a while, but it was boring and I never knew anything helpful.”
“You are such a nerd.”
“Hey! -Well, okay, maybe you’re right, but you don’t need to be mean about it, Trent. So I’m a nerd. So what? You’re a jock. ...A jock with better grades than me. Damn. I need to work on that...”
“I have better grades than you?”
“Yep. I’m not very reliable when it comes to turning in homework. I always get a perfect score on tests, but daily work? It just-never seems to happen, I guess, funny how that works-”
“Funny how that works? Are you stupid, Miles? It’s your own damn fault! What the fuck are you thinking? Just not going to bother with college? You think I do want to do the homework? But I sure as hell always get it done-”
“Whoa, Trent, relax. I’ve got it all figured out. I go to hippie school, where I actually apply myself and pass. Voila, it works out!”
“I-you-”
“He has a point, Miles,” Mikaela said, sounding a little surprised that she was agreeing with Trent.
“I don’t know,” Sam said, feeling guilty. Miles was his best friend, after all, or one of them-his best human friend who wasn't also his girlfriend-and he did need someone to stick up for him. “Miles, you’re smart enough that you’ll probably be able to figure it all out even without a good college education. Going to change the world, right?”
“Damn straight!”
“You humans really are weird.”
Everyone ignored that little statement, except for Trent. “-Damn, that’s creepy,” he whispered, sounding distinctly unnerved. Sam felt guilty again, this time for not being more understanding of what Trent was going through. It had been hard for him, and Trent wasn’t him, really, it was messing him up more-and he should probably work on that, kind of like what his mom was doing for Bec, because it was the right thing to do, even if Trent had flicked spit balls at his head for years and tripped him in the hallways and-things like that. Just stupid stuff, but annoying, sometimes painful and always annoying stupid stuff.
Trent continued speaking, back at a normal volume. Sam realized that he should probably find a discreet moment to pull Trent aside and tell him that the Autobots were able to hear thing much, much quieter than a whispered human voice. And Miles. He didn’t think he’d told Miles that, either. “Whatever. It’s just-damn, Miles! This shit’s important. I fucked around when I was a freshie, but that’s going to get you in trouble. Seriously. I was looking at flipping hamburgers until I died-”
“Thanks,” Miles said suddenly, twisting around in his chair to look Trent square in the eye, looking deadly serious. “I mean it. I got things under control, but-thanks.”
Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Mikaela elbowed him in the ribs, and he shut up. She shot him a look he took to mean that she’d talk to him later.
They lapsed into a slightly awkward silence again. This time, Sam let it go.
oOo
Optimus looked at the two mechs sitting in front of him, clearly considering them.
I understand you’ve had some difficulties with past commanders.”
“Sort of,” said Sideswipe, brightly.
“Certainly your records show you do. I'm going to talk with each of you, separately, about that later. That will be for specifics.
“If I am honest, I can’t afford disobedience right now. This is a sensitive situation, both with the Decepticons and with Autobot relations with human governments. I need a strong, cohesive unit-one I can trust. Beyond that, I need to know that my rules will be followed. We do not harm the humans. Understood, Sunstreaker?”
There was a long silence.
“Sunstreaker?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. ...Do you have an explanation for your behaviors? Or anything else to say? Especially as it relates to Rebecca.”
Sideswipe looked like it was physically costing him to keep silent. He also looked mildly horrified.
“...Is that girl here on base now?”
Sideswipe took the opportunity to cut in. “What girl? Are you talking about the one you almost killed-Bed? Er, permission to ask a question. Sir.”
“For the last time, you stupid waste of bolts, her name is not ‘bed.’ That’s some weird human furniture or something. Her name is Bec.”
Sideswipe snickered into one hand, losing his pretense to seriousness. Sunstreaker glared at him until Optimus shifted slightly, drawing their attention, and started to speak again.
“Yes, Rebecca is here. She chose to remain with us, to see things through: she offered to help.”
Sideswipe snorted. “Ridiculous! Is she really that stupid, or did Sunny knock something loose?”
“I wouldn’t be so fast to dismiss humanity. Samuel Witwicky did what I could not: he killed Megatron. I owe him my life.”
“...That’s so weird.” The red Autobot shook his head.
“It does take a little...adjustment, but I have learned not to underestimate humans. You probably don’t know that the best hacker on the base is human. The best two, actually.
“Back to the subject, though, I’m going to talk to Rebecca soon, and offer her the chance to leave, because of-recent developments.” 'Because she’s being forced into close proximity with you' went unspoken. “You are both forbidden to approach her.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere near the-her,” Sunstreaker hissed, voice vehement. Sideswipe just shrugged. “-And her name is Bec. Not Rebecca. I don’t even care, and it’s like I’m the only one who can get it right-”
“‘Bec’ is a nickname. Something used to denote informality and friendship. It would be inappropriate for me to take that liberty.” Optimus Prime was cool, formal, and it was a clear reminder: If I am not close enough to use that familiarity, you certainly aren’t.
“Fine. Fine. Humans have stupid naming conventions. Whatever.”
“Anything else?”
“...No.”
Sideswipe elbowed his brother, again.
“No, sir.”
“Good. Alright, then. Thank you for speaking with me, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe.” Optimus Prime nodded once, cordially, and stood, his meaning clear: they stood as well, turned and left. The automated door hissed shut behind them, leaving them in the dark corridor. It didn’t matter: they didn’t have human eyes.
There was a moment of stifling hostility as the two started walking back towards their quarters.
“What the slag was that?” Sideswipe said finally. “And what in the Pit is up with you and the human’s name? I’d think you cared if I didn’t know better. And I do know better, because you almost killed her. And then you pull that with Optimus frigging Prime, glorious leader of the entire Autobot Army, and you’re all ‘I don’t want to go anywhere near her’ and ‘Is that girl here?’ and do you want to get us both killed? Are you seriously glitching that badly? Because you have already done a lot to make us irredeemable social pariahs and we are damned lucky that they are so short on troops that they can’t afford to put us in stasis or pit, just offline us, or whatever, banish us-because they could. That was what Optimus Prime was telling us with that ‘I can’t afford it’ stuff. He is saying that good relations with human governments is more important than the two of us, and that we are not going to come out ahead if it turns into that.”
“I know. I am not stupid, Sideswipe!”
“Then act like it! Primus, Sunny.”
“Just-shut up.”
“No,” Sideswipe said, grumpy, but he did fall silent.
“-It’s weird how the Prime didn’t call us to his office. Huh.”
“His office is probably in some area we’re forbidden to enter,” Sunstreaker pointed out, cynical.
“Yeah. You’re probably right.”
Neither of the two spoke for a long, long time, finishing the journey and entering their room in silence. It was very quiet in the room.
“Sunstreaker?”
No response.
“Why do you always remember that girl’s name? Bec’s?”
“I don’t know. I just-do.” He hesitated, looking troubled, before his face cleared again, contorting into his familiar scowl. “Why don't you?”
oOo
“-So this is the kitchen. Of course, all of this is inside of the general hang-out area, I guess that’s what you’d call it, for the Autobots, so make of that what you will. Anyways, there’s always food in the fridge, and there’s usually ice cream, I can’t decide if I love or hate that-”
“Maggie,” Elizabeth said, voice quiet but very serious. It carried a lot of weight. The Australian woman quieted and turned, expression set and faintly wary.
“Yes? Lissie?”
“How could you have not told me about this? You’re comfortable. You’ve been here before. How many of those 'business trips'...?”
“-They were business. But they were usually here. I’m sorry, you know. I couldn’t- I can’t-it was the government, sweet. I wanted to-I wanted to! The Autobots-they’re great, they’re a part of my life now, and I didn’t want to keep that secret, but I had to...”
“Maggie. Maggie. You were lying to me. And you just didn’t tell me. I don’t care about the damn government, and I thought that I knew that you felt the same, but you promised me you would tell me the truth. Remember? You could have even said that you couldn't tell me...! That's all it would have taken, I wouldn't have asked...”
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!”
“I know,” Elizabeth said, softly. “I know you’re sorry. It’s the only reason I’m here. But it...it...”
Maggie paused, suddenly. “Elizabeth-Lissie? Could we talk somewhere else?”
“What? Why?”
“Because-Because we’re being monitored.” Maggie almost cringed at the confession, knowing what her girlfriend’s reaction would be even before it happened. She was right: the woman went pale, a hand flying to her face. “It’s not like what you’re thinking! It’s just a security measure in the public spaces-I just don’t want to have this conversation where somebody’s listening in-”
“I don’t care about your stupid human issues,” announced a voice over the intercom system. Elizabeth went even paler and trembled a little. Maggie didn’t react to the voice, but reached forward as the other woman rocked back on her heels, shaky.
“Shut up, Ironhide,” she growled through gritted teeth as she pulled Elizabeth into a full hug, one that was returned, almost desperately, tightly enough that it almost hurt a little.
“I don’t care, woman. Stop it!”
“Christ, Ironhide! Where do you get the damn misogyny from? Where? You’re asexual, in that you’re not gendered! None of you are! It doesn’t make sense!”
There was no reply. The silence ticked on for three full long, slow minutes.
“Good,” Maggie announced at last. “He’s ignoring me. -Us, I guess.”
Elizabeth drew in a long, shaky breath. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this,” she said, voice weak. “But...but let’s go talk.”
“I love you,” Maggie whispered, softly. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of her, almost like she could fly.
oOo
The boy next to her on the couch was sitting so stiffly, so palpably uncomfortable, that Judy wanted to elbow him in the ribs, on top of reminding him that she didn’t bite.
Trent would probably have a heart failure if she did, though. Really. She had no idea why he was so nervous right now. After all, she’d had him as a guest in her home! He hadn’t seemed to nervous then-although he’d seemed considerably more dazed, stunned, really, so maybe that had something to do with it. Now that the panic had started to wear off (and she was certainly pleased to see that) the more mundane problems-such as nervousness around the mother of the boy he used to bully-could set in.
And she did know that a lot of the bruises that Sam had turned up with, almost all conveniently explained away with some excuse about PE class, or whatever, had been the handiwork of Trent or one of his friends. Nothing had actually been said to her, or around her, but really, she wasn’t stupid. Judy was more than capable of figuring out something like that. Especially with the boy living in her own house!
It had given her a special glow of pride, that Sam had been so accepting of him. True, there were little tiffs and ungracious moments, but he’d handled himself remarkably well for a teenage boy facing a barely-ex bully. On top of him being an ex-boyfriend of his girlfriend! Really, it was more than she’d expected, more than she’d even let herself hope for. She allowed herself part of the credit, for raising Sam right, her little Sam-boy, but she knew that most of the credit was rightly due to the Autobots. He’d grown up.
And Trent was learning to grow up. Slowly-well, no; very quickly, actually. He just had a lot longer to go than Sam had had, or Miles, and she put a lot of the blame for that on his parents, even though she’d never met them-but quickly or slowly, and definitely nervously, he was growing up.
Judy could help a little with the nervous part, at least.
She put down the scarf she was working on (she’d decided to take up knitting when Sam had started his senior year, figuring she’d need something more to do when he’d left the house, and it was going very slowly: she was still on her first, very basic pattern, and she never really seemed to find the time to work on it) with a decisive movement, turning to face Trent, catching him by the eyes.
“So, Trent. We haven’t really had a chance to talk.”
He swallowed, hard, and seemed almost to lean back. He wanted to escape: that meant he felt trapped. Yes, Judy’s best guess was that he was afraid of her judging him for what he’d done to Sam and Miles. She’d need to allay that fear, while making it clear what she thought of his past actions. A fairly tricky but far from impossible task. And he seemed like a sensible boy, one who’d have a good head on his shoulders in a few years. That helped.
“Y-yes, ma’am?”
“Oh, please. You’re worse than Optimus! It’s Judy. And-oh, relax. I just want to chat, get to know you! It’s always nice to meet more of Sam’s friends.” She didn’t pause there, didn’t even give him the chance to correct her. Or to think about the need to correct her. “What are you planning on doing after graduation?”
He swallowed, open his mouth to speak, closed it, swallowed again before actually starting. Judy felt sorry, suddenly-she hadn’t meant to give him a hard question. She’d thought that he’d have it figured out by now. It wasn’t going to be too long until it was June and he was a graduate-
“I was...I was thinking about the army. But-I don’t know. It’s. Um.”
“The army? Well, this is a great opportunity for you! Surrounded by all these military people. Have you asked any of them questions yet? Are you thinking the Army specifically, or something like the Navy instead? Are you going to try to get into West Point or some place similar, maybe?”
“I...I don’t know,” Trent said, looking still more uncomfortable. “I hadn’t...” He trailed off, looking lost and a little afraid. When he continued, his voice was faint. “I hadn’t really thought about...dying. I guess I hadn’t...”
Judy’s heart went out to him. It took every ounce of strength she had not to wrap him up into a motherly hug.
She didn’t try to keep herself from laying a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, though. “I understand,” she said, voice just as soft. “I hope it all works out for you. I’d still recommend you talk to one of the officers. Maybe Sergeant Epps, or Captain Lennox. Maybe ask that William Hartt since you’re sharing a room. I know the first two would both be happy to talk to you, and I'd assume the same about William, although I don't know him well.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“Alright, then. I hope you figure it out, though. I-I know this might sound strange, since we hardly know each other and I'm hardly an expert in much of anything, really, but if you've got any questions for me, I'm more than happy to answer them.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking away kind of desperately.
“Good,” Judy replied, smiling warmly at him and waiting until he met her gaze. “Now, then. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” he said, a little rebellious-sounding now, looking away. Judy backpedaled, realizing that she'd hit a nerve.
“I hope you find the right person for you, then. It can take a while-oh, the absolute losers I used to date! That was long before Ron, of course.” She smiled again, happy. “It worked out in the end. It almost always does, you know! And I'm sure there's any number of young ladies who would date someone like you.”
He was blushing, heavily. Judy hid another inner smile.
“There's time for that later, right? Oh, I remember now! I was going to ask one of the Autobots to show you around the base-would you be fine with that? I know I was a little overwhelmed my first days here-” Well, honestly, a little more than overwhelmed... “-so I'd like to see if there's something that can help it, right now. Would you be up for a tour with one of the Autobots? Jazz, maybe-or no, Bumblebee might be better-oh, I'll ask around.”
“Thank you,” Trent said, looking a little dazed, and Judy reminded herself to stop running over the kid quite so much. Even if it made things easier. That tactic would only work for so long, and for so much...
“I'm babbling though, aren't I? I have trouble with that! Are there any questions you'd like to ask me? Anything you'd like to talk about?”
“Thank you for letting me stay at your house...”
“Oh, of course, Trent! I'm always happy to have Sam's friends over, and it was so much more than that-I can't imagine what it was like for you. Is like for you, I imagine. I'm just sorry I couldn't do more.”
“...Ma'am-Mrs. Witwicky-I don't really think Sam is my friend. I...I... Used to-”
Judy leaned over and patted his hand, looking at him kindly. “I know, dear. But I think you might be wrong about what he thinks of you. Sam's a good kid, and you are too. And you've been through a lot.”
“But...”
“Can't people change?”
Trent couldn't seem to come up with anything to say to that.
oOo
Bec looked over at Judy and then down at the table, drawing in a deep breath. She let it out with a sigh and then turned, determined, back to the older woman.
“Alright,” she said, an unexpected note of strength in her voice. Reaching over, she drew a piece of paper closer to the two of them. “This is an overview of your current gardens. Here are the side views-”
Her voice was confident, professional, excited. Not at all what Judy had come to expect from the girl. It was a nice change. Still, she couldn’t help herself- “Did you draw these yourself?”
And there was the Bec she’d gotten to know again. “Yes,” she said, blushing and looking down.
“They’re good!”
“No, no, not at all! I just had a lot of lessons as a child. My mother was an artist before she went into fashion design. It’s-it’s just the ability to give the sense of something, right? It’s not art. Look, the perspective's off, and my sizing-it's just scribbling!”
Judy wasn’t sure she agreed, entirely, but Bec had a point and she let it go. “Alright, then. Continue, please?”
“Alright,” Bec said, again. “Okay- So, looking at the overview, your beds and patches are all very disjointed. You keep on adding one, every few years, right? It wasn’t planned out all at once. So you’re lacking flow...see, if you connected this bit here, put a path through here-nothing much, just sawdust, or stepping stones and a hardy groundcover-there’s a greater continuity for the garden as a whole. On a more practical level, it means that people are more likely to explore the more hidden areas-it invites you in. If you feel ambitious-when you retire, maybe, or when Sam leaves home-you could add in something here, here and maybe here-that’s a lot more garden to take care of, but it would vastly increase the illusion of space, of distance, in the yard. See? It separates it all off into separate areas with very little visibility in-between if you plant it right, so the usable individual spaces increase…”
“Wow,” Judy said, squinting at the piece of paper and the rough pencil strokes-in varying colors, for each set of suggestions-Bec had filled in on it. “Yes-I think you’re right! That’s genius. I never would have thought of it like that-thank you!”
Bec blushed again. “You’re-You’re welcome,” she said, sounding pleased, and almost as if she was unused to praise. “Now,” she continued, after a brief pause, voice oddly almost-businesslike again. “Your garden uses mostly plants commonly found in what I’ll call the ‘average’ garden. Things with history-daisies, a lot of annuals like petunias, marigolds, modern hybrid roses, a few hydrangeas… All very nice plants. Where did you grow up? Somewhere on the East Coast?”
Judy smiled, a little sheepishly. “You’re right. How did you guess?”
Bec hesitated for just a brief second, wavering. “The plants you’re growing-they’re all very nice, but they’re not well-suited for growing conditions in Nevada, especially not in a sustainable, low-effort and natural method. I know that I can’t grow good roses up where I am, in Oregon. And they’ll never be their best, even with all the babying they probably need to survive...”
“I don’t really want one of those, those...” Judy trailed off, apparently searching for appropriately diplomatic wording. “I don’t want some garden filled with shrubby and unattractive plants, even if it means that they don’t need much watering or weeding. -I mean, some of the things I’ve seen in gardens are weeds themselves!”
“Oh, no, that’s not what I’m talking about!” Bec said immediately, laying a hand beseechingly on Judy’s forearm. “No, I’m just talking about mixing in a few more non-traditional plants in with everything else. And some that are a little more unusual, but still a good history of use in gardens, like red hot pokers-Kniphofia species. Here.” She reached over and pulled up a laptop, flipping it open and then pulling up a webpage. “Like this.”
“Oh-that’s pretty,” Judy said, sounding slightly surprised.
“It’s a succulent, or close to it, I think, so it won’t need much supplemental water. And it’s got a nice vertical, very structural shape to the leaves-so even when it’s not blooming it won’t be dead space. And then… California poppies. You probably know the plain orange, but if you don’t like that color there’s salmons, yellows and reds available, now, and they’ll self-seed, so you won’t have to replant each year, and they'll be fine off doing their own thing. And California lilacs, they might work, their Latin name is Ceanothus...have you ever thought about ornamental grasses?” (1)
oOo
(1) I’m taking liberties when it comes to the hardiness of these plants in Nevada, seeing as none of them would survive long in true Nevadan conditions. (Zones 1 and 2 using the system in the Sunset Western Garden Book.) Since canon is very very iffy when it comes to where the movie was actually located-the plants they showed weren’t going to be growing in those zones either, and then Californian license plates-I’m going to go with it. If this bothers you, play pretend. You can use Russian olives, crababbles and Clematis armandii instead.)
oOo
Sunstreaker sat silently, but he felt like cursing. Loudly. At length. But that would just catch the attention of the grumpy Autobot he was sitting with for monitor duty-Bumblebee seemed to hate him even more than most of the other Autobots did. And then he’d probably get shot, because he would be cursing at Bec and they would almost definitely take that as a threat to her.
He’d never-never-heard her sound like that. It was like she was somebody else! Was she crazy or something? Because he’d watched her for weeks. And then driven her to the rest of the Autobots.
And he’d never heard her sound so confident. Or happy.
oOo
It was, Elizabeth decided, kind of like having an audience-a rapt audience-as she ate.
The table-actually several mismatched tables, pulled together in a best-fit answer and covered with a tablecloth-was full of humans, all eating and chattering. Elizabeth herself had been having a conversation with the man next to her, one of the soldiers (she should know his name, but remembering names had never been a real skill of hers...) but now he’d turned to talk about some sort of orientation or training the government-types were going to be running for new recruits with some other men further up the table, and the woman next to her-Judy; she remembered her because of what she’d been told, on top of witnessing the woman in action, which was quite impressive-was talking with the shy girl-Bec?-and was deeply involved in the conversation, which seemed to be about plants. It also seemed to be totally, unnecessarily complicated, and involve far too many words that weren't in real English.
So she’d fallen silent, not really all that upset about the lack of a conversational partner. It was nice to just lean back, eat her food and-not interact, she guessed. Catch her breath. Assess the situation. Something like that.
She’d been doing that. But the way there were Autobots clustered around the table they were at-a lot of them; comparatively, she meant-had derailed her. It was kind of-creepy, honestly.
Well, it would be normal, if-
That was the key word. If. If they were-well, human. Even if they were able to eat with them. That would make it okay. It would just be normal, then, a chance to talk (which they were doing, but that wasn’t the point of a dinner table) but the way things were? It was creepy. Because they were watching them eat. Which just rubbed her wrong. Instinctively, she supposed. Or maybe it was because of her mother’s table rules, which included feeding anyone who stopped by and never, ever, under any circumstances eating in front of someone else.
That was kind of it. She wanted to feed them. But she couldn’t. Because-of course!-they weren’t human. Or even something vaguely humanish. If they just had something remotely analogous to eating! But they didn’t (well, Maggie had been telling her something about energy intake, which was necessary, of course, but that didn’t translate, not with the form it took and then cultural implications on top of that and really overall it just wouldn’t help, it’d just make everything worse) so-
They didn’t eat, in short, so she’d need to learn to deal with a whole group of giant robots-mechs-observing her.
While she ate.
God damn. It went across every bone in her body! And that it bothered her so much just irritated her even more.
oOo
“I think I’m short a card again,” Miles said, looking at his hand with a good measure of confusion.
“Oh, please,” Fig muttered, eyes cast heavenwards, as if he was communing with God. “Look, chaval, this is the fifth time. How do you keep on ending up short? You always take a putamadre card. Always. Everyone does.”
Mikaela snorted into her own hand. Sam cast her a sideways look.
“Yeah, but I’ve only got eleven-”
“¡Madre! Me cague en la leche-”
“What?” Miles looked even more confused.
Trent cut in. “Do the, uh, steps have to be the same suite?”
“Yes, yes, how many times do I have to tell you that? Miles, you’re only supposed to have ten cards-”
“How do you end the hand, again?” Mikaela asked.
“Cieres-”
“Fine. Cieres.”
“Aww, dang!” Sam said, throwing his hand down. “I was so close-”
“No, no, Mikaela, chica, it’s ‘ciero’ if you’re the one speaking because of the conjugation-”
“How does this work again? I’m not sure if I have a set-”
“Wait, can I combine my two twos with Miles’ two to make a set?”
“¡Joder!”
“This is why we just stick to poker,” Epps said, looking up from the Sudoku puzzle he’d been working on. “Not any damned weird games, like this shit. Hey, Fig, I think someone walked off with your scorecard again.”
“¡Ay!” The man stomped off, muttering viciously in Spanish.
“...Anyone want to play Go Fish? Or Spoons?”
“Fuck off, Witwicky.”
“I’d love to play, Sam,” Mikaela said pointedly.
“Me too,” Miles added, although he didn’t place an arm around Sam the way the his girlfriend had.
Trent paused. “Alright. Sorry. Who’s dealing?”
On to part 2
Chapter Five
Series: Transformers (2007 movie)
Rating/Warnings: T/PG-13, to be on the safe side. Really, the worst there is is mild swearing.
Characters/Pairings: Bec (OC) and Sunstreaker, but also Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Ratchet, Ironhide, Jazz, Sideswipe, Sam, Mikaela, Judy, Ron, Capt. Lennox and the rest of his team, Trent, Miles, Maggie, Glen, Defense Secretary Keller and probably others.
Non-pairing (gen) except for canon mentions of Sam/Mikaela.
Summary: Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have arrived on earth. That means that all they need to do is track down Optimus Prime, get rid of the pack of Decepticons after them and not scare the local wildlife. That should be easy, right?
Thank you very much to my beta, mmouse15!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
And at FFnet
Getting to Know You 5
“We’re being called into the Autobot base,” Judy announced, walking into the kitchen. Her tone was worried. “There’s been more sighting of Decepticons-a lot of them. The government’s getting worried, and Optimus has decided it’s no longer possible to let us try and keep things normal-he says the risk to our lives is too great. Finish dinner and then pack what you need, alright? We leave in an hour, an hour and a half-around then. Barricade’s been staking out our region, and Tranquility in particular, so they might need to take the long way around to avoid him.”
Trent looked horrified; he didn’t have good memories when it came to that Decepticon in particular. Sam clapped him on the shoulder, a little awkward, trying to be reassuring. Trent looked at him, but stayed silent: the other boy appreciated it.
Bec looked blank, withdrawn. She stood without saying a word, scraping the last of her dinner into the kitchen garbage and setting her plate down gently in the sink, wandering out of the room as if in a daze. Judy gave the teenagers a worried look and then hurried after her, calling over her shoulder as she went.
“Sam! Call your father and tell him he needs to get home now!”
oOo
Judy caught up with Bec in the garden. The young woman was staring distractedly at a pot of annual flowers, old-fashioned summer things-marigolds, snapdragons, sweet peas. The heliotropes made the cooling air sweet.
“Are you alright?” Judy asked. She thought about reminding her that it wasn’t all that bad, that she was getting along well with Jazz and Bumblebee, at least, but didn’t. It would be a kind of back-handed insult to the woman, who was by no means stupid. Of course she remembered how she was starting to adjust to the Autobots, starting to grow comfortable with them.
“Yes,” Bec said tiredly, absentmindedly starting to pick the dry, dead flowers off of the nearest petunia plant. “I’m fine. I don’t think I’m very happy, but-I understand the necessity. It’s not-”
She broke off, staring out at the garden for a long, slow minute, then turning to look at a bloom that had faded earlier that day, still colorful and slightly sticky. “I know that there are, um...I know that the Autobots can be nice. I can-adapt to that, to living with them. But...but Sunstreaker-”
“He won’t be getting anywhere near you,” Judy promised.
“I hope that’s enough,” Bec replied, biting her lip. “But...
“Thank you, Judy, for everything. You’ve been-incredible.”
“Oh, psh-it’s nothing! You’re a friend, Bec, not a burden.”
oOo
They were a mismatched group, waiting in some vastly over-sized room in the Autobot base. There were a handful of soldiers (Bec assumed there were more, somewhere else) and then other government officials; Mikaela had met up with Sam, who was being shadowed by Miles and Trent; a man she didn’t remember (was his name Glen?) was there with an elderly lady who had to be his grandmother; Maggie, with a woman she’d never seen before-the unfamiliar one of the pair looked truly nervous, almost afraid, and Bec could understand; Judy and Ron were talking with a woman who had to be Mikaela’s mother; Sarah Lennox was holding her baby and juggling a radio and a bottle full of milk; and then, finally, another person she didn’t recognize, a sour-faced man who wouldn’t have stood out except that he was standing away from the main group, staring suspiciously at everyone and everything. A lot of people were glaring back.
There weren’t any Autobots there, not yet. Bec knew that was going to change. After all, this was-it had to be their home. For some of them, at least.
Maggie was waving at her. Bec smiled shyly, and waved hesitantly back. Maggie waved again in return, gesturing her over, and Bec obeyed, weaving her way through the crowd.
“Bec! How are you? Better, I hope.”
“Yes,” Bec said. “Much better. I’d have to be.” She smiled at her again, shyly. “Judy’s been wonderful, and I’ve been-I’ve been getting to know some of the Autobots...” She trailed off.
“Fantastic! That’s really great to hear, I’d been worried about you-”
“Thank you. How have you been, though?”
“Well, I can’t say this whole business doesn’t have me worried. Oh! Bec, this is Elizabeth, my girlfriend.”
“Oh!” Bec said, surprised-whatever explanation she’d been expecting for the shocked-looking woman’s presence, it hadn’t been that.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“Um, it’s my pleasure,” Bec replied, reaching out to take the hand she’d been offered; she shook it. Elizabeth’s grip was firm, confident, not at all in keeping with the tired anxiousness in her eyes and the weariness, the wariness, in her voice. Bec could sympathize.
“Right-I’m new to all this. Found out yesterday-”
“It was quite the shock,” Maggie said dryly. “She was on a business trip.”
“And when I got back the apartment was empty. Maggie’d left a note, so I drove over to Glen’s house. She asked me if it was okay if we took a drive, and I said sure, even though I was kind of confused. I mean-why not? So then I realized there was an emergency hummer-I didn’t even know they made those-in Glen’s driveway, so I asked why...”
“And I told her I’d explain if she really wanted to know. I think she thought I was joking-”
“I did.”
“-so she said yes, she really did want to know. So I said I’d explain on the drive. I didn’t, of course-Ratchet did.”
“We drove up to the look-out, and-that transformation thing is just incredible, isn’t it? That was yesterday, yesterday morning-I think. Ugh, I’m so tired! ...Anyways, that’s my story. What got you all mixed up in this?”
Bec paused to collect her thoughts, not sure what to say. “An-Autobot found me,” she said lowly. “Or my father accidentally bought one for me, I suppose. He-forced me to drive him to where he could meet up with the Autobots, and then I hung around for a few more days, and that point I was...involved.” She shrugged slightly, just quickly hunching one shoulder. “It happens, I guess.”
“Her introduction was hard,” Sarah added as she turned around to join the little cluster of people, voice laden with sympathy, as she jostled her baby. Bec figured, not insulted, that she’d been listening in.
“Sunstreaker is an ass,” Maggie said bitterly. “I know that, and I’ve barely talked to him. He scared Bec badly enough that she was having asthma attacks,” she continued, for Elizabeth’s benefit. “And throwing up. -Don’t worry!” she hastened to add. “He’s the only one out of all of the Autobots here that’s anything like that. And you won’t be going anywhere near him-I think he’s been basically forbidden from interacting with any civilians.”
A silence fell, slightly uncomfortable. Sarah turned away after a few seconds, to answer some message she’d received on the hand-held radio she had.
“Anyway,” Maggie said, after a while. “Which Autobots have you been getting to know?”
“Jazz and Bumblebee,” Bec replied, voice going quiet again. “When they have time-I feel a little guilty about monopolizing them, or keeping them from their work at all-”
“Oh, don’t be!” Sarah said, swinging back around. “Making sure everyone’s happy-not panicking, at the very least, is one of the more important things we do around here.”
Bec shook her head firmly. “I thi-I know I've come far, far below saving the world, when it comes to priority,” she said. “That’s alright. I just really appreciate the effort. They’ve both gone out of their way to be kind to me...”
Elizabeth looked remarkably relieved.
“Sounds like Bumblebee,” Sarah said happily. “I don’t know about Jazz, though-his sense of humor seems to be kind of, well, odd.”
“It is, a bit,” Bec said sheepishly. “But I think he tones it down for me.”
“-Speaking of Jazz, looks like he’s decided to show up. Finally-he was supposed to be here five minutes ago.” Sarah turned back to her radio, pausing just briefly to point to the silver car that had arrived. It-he-transformed and turned almost immediately to speak with one of the soldiers.
Bec waved back at him, shyly, when he glanced over his shoulder at one point during his conversation and waved at her.
oOo
Bec chatted a little over the course of the evening. Mostly, though, she sat, and watched the crowd of people, talking when someone approached her but staying quiet for the most part. She was a little-overwhelmed. And everyone seemed very nice, but she just didn’t want to speak to them. Not for any real reason-she felt sort of guilty for feeling like that at all-but just because she was too overwhelmed. She wanted nothing more than to be home, in her own house and her own garden and her own room. If she was there, she could retreat to the back patio, where there were chairs and her potted plants and she could get herself a glass of lemonade and read, or she could sit on her couch and watch rain falling on her garden with a cup of hot cocoa if it was a bad day, and just relax and be herself, not have to worry about expectations or appearances or what to say or how to ignore her growing headache or the ever-increasing pressure on her bladder (she couldn’t bring herself to ask where the bathroom was, not now and not here) and maybe cry if she felt like it, or listen to embarrassingly bad teeny-pop music, or whatever she felt like. Home, where she had her books, for school or for gardening or bad romances just for guilty-pleasure reading, and her own kitchen and bedroom and bathroom, her yard and garden and a certain measure of privacy, where she didn’t have to deal with the Autobots or the threat of Decepticons-she woke up gasping when the Decepticon who’d been at the Lookout jumped out of her from shadowy corners in her dreams, even when it was totally illogical, sometimes several times a night-even if sometimes the Autobots were nice to her, or at least trying to be, where there was no Sunstreaker at all and she could pretend she’d never met him in the first place, that he didn’t exist at all, because it would be so easy, the whole thing was so fantastical, to put it out of mind and remember it, only vaguely, as a plot from a bad sci-fi film.
Eventually, Judy found her. “Bec! There you are-I managed to get some more details on what’s happening and what’s going to happen. Apparently the Autobots intercepted a Decepticon message, and from what they’ve been able to figure out-it’s coded-the Decepticons are moving in on us, and their current plan of attack is to go after the humans the Autobots have made friends with, because we’re more vulnerable. So this is a twofold security measure-for one, it keeps us better protected, and for two it means that the Autobots don’t have to divide their forces. Although there's some concern about them deciding to involve ordinary people as hostages...
“And then I found out where we’re staying. ...Well, I requested that we get shown to our quarters. Fairly forcefully, actually, it’s close to one in the morning by now and they-” she meant the Autobots, Bec assumed “-don’t need sleep the way we do.” She sounded guilty for a second, and Bec guessed she’d been overly short with someone or other. Or maybe several someones. She had the feeling that Judy could be like that, when she put her mind to it. Or didn’t, as the case may be.
“Anyways, they don’t have space for individual rooms yet, since the base is so new-it’s still under construction. There will be more human-sized spaces in a year or two, but for now we’ll be doubling up. So it could be worse-anyways, I think you’ll be with one of the soldiers. Will wanted to put you in with Maggie, but I pointed out that she’d probably want to stay with her girlfriend. I think he was trying to keep that from happening, actually-but Sarah elbowed him and he relented. Oh, I hope that turns out okay. Maggie’s a good girl, excuse me, young woman, and I like Elizabeth too. Will’s a good man, though, so I think it should be alright. Anyways, I’ll see if I can find out who you’ll be rooming with, but it should be Mikaela, if everything goes well. There's a chance you'll get your own room, depending, I'll do my best! And don’t worry, it shouldn’t be too much longer before we all have real beds, and then we can finally get some sleep.”
“Thank you,” Bec said, trying to smile at her. She was pretty sure she ended up just grimacing. She felt glassy-eyed with exhaustion and immaterial, unimportant worries she just couldn’t let go of. “That sounds good.”
“Great,” Judy said, managing a real smile to return the attempt Bec had made, and she wandered off again, waving down the mech just entering the room as she did so. Bec made no moves to follow her; the new mech-red and blue, and big, so that had to be Optimus Prime; Judy had given her descriptions of each of the Autobots on earth, to help her-was intimidating, and she had no wish to get into a conversation with anyone, right now. Especially not with any of them.
oOo
It was after four before Bec finally stumbled into her newly assigned room. She slid off her shoes before climbing into bed, but nothing more. She didn’t know where her bag was, anyway, even if she had wanted to change into her pajamas.
She stirred briefly when her roommate came in, but nothing more. She was beyond exhausted, so tired it felt like it had seeped into her bones, painful, and she didn’t even fully wake.
Mikaela didn’t try waking her. She understood: she was just as tired.
oOo
“So how come you’re not rooming with Mikaela?” Miles asked. Sam “What, she didn’t want you there?” he added, unable to resist the temptation.
“Will handed out the room assignments,” he replied grumpily, turning over to face the wall on his side of the room. He knew Miles wouldn’t actually get what that explained, but hey-he was kind of a genius, when he thought about things. He’d figure out that Will was kind of old-fashioned, and didn’t think teenagers-even if they were older teens-should sleep together. “Now shut up, I’m trying to sleep.”
oOo
Trent looked at the soldier he was sharing a room with. There was a certain measure of trepidation in the expression.
William Hartt looked back. He did not look particularly impressed.
oOo
“Ratchet is a slaghead,” Sideswipe announced, waltzing into the room he was sharing with Sunstreaker. His brother looked over, disinterested.
Sideswipe waited a long minute before continuing. “Of course, Sunstreaker, thank you for asking. Of course I will tell you all about what happened.” He waited another short moment, to see if Sunstreaker would react. He didn’t, and Sideswipe continued. “He won’t let me meet any of the humans. It would have been interesting. And hilarious! Even better than that one time, with the really little mech-”
“So the medic’s not as stupid as he looks, then.”
“He-ey, Sunstreaker, that’s mean…”
“Yes. Look, slagger, I don’t want to get stuck on punishment detail because you fuck around with the squishies. And you will be in deep slag if you try it because they think we are the same person and they think I’m out to kill the useless little fleshbags.”
“-They probably think that because you are, bro. Or pretty damn close to it. I mean, you almost pulled it off with one. At least one. On the other hand, though, I am sooo impressed with you!”
“Shut up,” Sunstreaker ground out. Sideswipe dragging out the sing-song, mocking voice he’d used for his last sentence was never a good sign.
“I mean, you’re thinking ahead! And we’re not even in a fight! It’s about not getting in trouble. Every commander we’ve had would be checking their audio receivers for glitches right now, if they'd been here to hear that!”
“I want to get clean. And keep it like that. This planet is disgusting. And punishment detail means I have no time for the washracks. Don’t keep me from getting clean. And staying that way.”
“Geez, sheesh, whatever-you’re ridiculous. You know, you’re basically being punished right now-have you seen the map of the base? Yeah, I’d say you’re not allowed in a good sixty percent of it.”
“But I can get to the wash racks.”
“...Yeah, whatever. Crazy. Oh well-I guess I’ll find humans tomorrow. It shouldn’t be too hard, this place is overrun with them.”
“Sideswipe. Everyone here is ready to sign, stamp and slagging seal the authorization form for my offlining. They would be happy to. Everyone.” He paused, voice sounding ragged. “Optimus Prime, Prime, thinks I am-”
“I’m not sure I do. I’m sorry to intrude like this, but I wanted to talk to the two of you.”
Sunstreaker tensed before pivoting suddenly, body language stiff and aggressive. “What the slag are you doing here?”
“I am your commanding officer. I am here because I feel I need to be. Stand down, soldier. That is an order.” Optimus Prime, standing in the doorway to their room, cut an impressive figure.
Sunstreaker subsided even before Sideswipe-who was hiding his nervousness, barely-prompted him by elbowing him in the side. “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. I'd like to request that the two of you meet me in the small meeting room, at eleven this morning. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes,” said Sideswipe, grinning and managing to look only slightly on edge. “Sir,” he added, belatedly.
“Thank you.”
oOo
“Um,” Sam said, because it had been awkwardly quiet and someone needed to say something. He just didn’t know what.
He didn’t know where to go with that lead-in, either, so he feel silent again. Nobody replied. It was just the four of them: Miles, Mikaela, Trent and himself. They were sitting in a glum and painful silence on some couches the Autobots or someone had set up on a much larger table in the empty rec. room, and they all kept on yawning, because of the late night they’d had, waiting for room assignments-and for things to be worked out at all, really. They'd all been up before ten in the morning, too. Judy had taken it upon herself to rouse them and, really, considering the circumstances, only Sam had whined about it.
Mikaela sighed and shifted. Sam, tired of babying Trent’s too-delicate sensibilities, took the opportunity to sneak an arm around her waist. She relaxed into him, and he felt the familiar rush of warmth tug on the bottom of his stomach-the butterfly-feeling that kept on hitting him, a year later. He’d been so lucky-
Trent was twisted awkwardly, so he was staring in the opposite direction, away from the two of them. Miles’ expression was somewhere and wistful and envious and-to Sam’s annoyance-disbelieving.
His girlfriend was oblivious. Or apparently oblivious, but Sam had learned not to underestimate her.
Mikaela sighed happily. “It seems like too long since I just let myself relax!”
“I’m too tired to relax,” Miles grumbled, mock-annoyed and smothering another yawn. “I need to sleep.”
“But why would you recharge when you could be doing something?” asked a far-too-amused-sounding voice over the intercom system. All four of them jumped, Trent most spectacularly. He looked spooked; Miles, on the other hand, had a slightly wicked grin spread helplessly across his face. “Something interesting.” Sam didn’t recognize the voice, a neutral baritone: that meant it was one of the newcomers. Sideswipe, he thought. Good, because then he wouldn’t need to get snippy with him.
“Recharging isn’t like sleeping,” Mikaela said immediately. Sam smiled, proud and happy, and Miles looked interested. She drew in a deep breath before continuing, sounding just slightly nervous, unsure. “Recharge is an optional state which can be entered at will at any point, up to the moment when a mech’s energy stores are completely exhausted, at which point he will temporarily offline until a certain point-determined by individual mechs by a variety of factors, including circumstances, base programming and personal programming modifications-before onlining again. Sleep, on the other hand, is a necessity on a regular basis for humans, and functioning is impacted even with a slight surfeit of rest. Sleep is essential to human functioning, and loss of sleep impairs judgment and thinking, coordination, reaction time and energy levels, increases stress, has a negative impact on the immune system and, in extreme cases, causes reactions up to and including severe hallucinations.”
Trent was staring at Mikaela like he’d never seen her before. Like she was someone he’d never met, only more so: like he'd thought he'd known something about her, and been proved completely wrong on accident. Even though he’d dated her, he knew her.
He didn’t know this side of her, though.
Miles just looked extremely impressed. “That is so cool!” he announced, grinning and looking far too interested and excited for his own good. Or for the good of anyone else on the Autobot base, possibly the whole of North America, Sam decided privately. He’d had experience with Miles’ projects.
“Damn,” the Autobot said, sounding impressed (if slightly mockingly so) and, still, amused. “Humans do that? That is cool. Seriously? Hallucinations?”
Mikaela shrugged, face eloquent. She didn’t know.
“Yeah,” Miles said, suddenly. “People start going really crazy without sleep. Including full-on hallucinations. That’s no sleep at all for days on end, though. Once a DJ for some radio station in New Jersey was doing some marathon thing where he was going to stay up for days on end, and he ended up getting paranoid and barricading himself inside the broadcasting room and apparently things got really weird. And then the world record for days without sleep is eleven or something, but that was in a lab and the scientists kept on shocking him or something to keep him awake. I think legally that’s considered torture.”
“Why the hell do you know this stuff, Gillon? Er, Miles,” Trent demanded, sounding disbelieving and almost a little suspicious-like he thought he’d make up something like that to say.
“Good question,” added Sideswipe, snickering a little.
“It just-sticks, sometimes,” Miles said, off-hand. “And I remember it. I was on the knowledge bowl team for a while, but it was boring and I never knew anything helpful.”
“You are such a nerd.”
“Hey! -Well, okay, maybe you’re right, but you don’t need to be mean about it, Trent. So I’m a nerd. So what? You’re a jock. ...A jock with better grades than me. Damn. I need to work on that...”
“I have better grades than you?”
“Yep. I’m not very reliable when it comes to turning in homework. I always get a perfect score on tests, but daily work? It just-never seems to happen, I guess, funny how that works-”
“Funny how that works? Are you stupid, Miles? It’s your own damn fault! What the fuck are you thinking? Just not going to bother with college? You think I do want to do the homework? But I sure as hell always get it done-”
“Whoa, Trent, relax. I’ve got it all figured out. I go to hippie school, where I actually apply myself and pass. Voila, it works out!”
“I-you-”
“He has a point, Miles,” Mikaela said, sounding a little surprised that she was agreeing with Trent.
“I don’t know,” Sam said, feeling guilty. Miles was his best friend, after all, or one of them-his best human friend who wasn't also his girlfriend-and he did need someone to stick up for him. “Miles, you’re smart enough that you’ll probably be able to figure it all out even without a good college education. Going to change the world, right?”
“Damn straight!”
“You humans really are weird.”
Everyone ignored that little statement, except for Trent. “-Damn, that’s creepy,” he whispered, sounding distinctly unnerved. Sam felt guilty again, this time for not being more understanding of what Trent was going through. It had been hard for him, and Trent wasn’t him, really, it was messing him up more-and he should probably work on that, kind of like what his mom was doing for Bec, because it was the right thing to do, even if Trent had flicked spit balls at his head for years and tripped him in the hallways and-things like that. Just stupid stuff, but annoying, sometimes painful and always annoying stupid stuff.
Trent continued speaking, back at a normal volume. Sam realized that he should probably find a discreet moment to pull Trent aside and tell him that the Autobots were able to hear thing much, much quieter than a whispered human voice. And Miles. He didn’t think he’d told Miles that, either. “Whatever. It’s just-damn, Miles! This shit’s important. I fucked around when I was a freshie, but that’s going to get you in trouble. Seriously. I was looking at flipping hamburgers until I died-”
“Thanks,” Miles said suddenly, twisting around in his chair to look Trent square in the eye, looking deadly serious. “I mean it. I got things under control, but-thanks.”
Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Mikaela elbowed him in the ribs, and he shut up. She shot him a look he took to mean that she’d talk to him later.
They lapsed into a slightly awkward silence again. This time, Sam let it go.
oOo
Optimus looked at the two mechs sitting in front of him, clearly considering them.
I understand you’ve had some difficulties with past commanders.”
“Sort of,” said Sideswipe, brightly.
“Certainly your records show you do. I'm going to talk with each of you, separately, about that later. That will be for specifics.
“If I am honest, I can’t afford disobedience right now. This is a sensitive situation, both with the Decepticons and with Autobot relations with human governments. I need a strong, cohesive unit-one I can trust. Beyond that, I need to know that my rules will be followed. We do not harm the humans. Understood, Sunstreaker?”
There was a long silence.
“Sunstreaker?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. ...Do you have an explanation for your behaviors? Or anything else to say? Especially as it relates to Rebecca.”
Sideswipe looked like it was physically costing him to keep silent. He also looked mildly horrified.
“...Is that girl here on base now?”
Sideswipe took the opportunity to cut in. “What girl? Are you talking about the one you almost killed-Bed? Er, permission to ask a question. Sir.”
“For the last time, you stupid waste of bolts, her name is not ‘bed.’ That’s some weird human furniture or something. Her name is Bec.”
Sideswipe snickered into one hand, losing his pretense to seriousness. Sunstreaker glared at him until Optimus shifted slightly, drawing their attention, and started to speak again.
“Yes, Rebecca is here. She chose to remain with us, to see things through: she offered to help.”
Sideswipe snorted. “Ridiculous! Is she really that stupid, or did Sunny knock something loose?”
“I wouldn’t be so fast to dismiss humanity. Samuel Witwicky did what I could not: he killed Megatron. I owe him my life.”
“...That’s so weird.” The red Autobot shook his head.
“It does take a little...adjustment, but I have learned not to underestimate humans. You probably don’t know that the best hacker on the base is human. The best two, actually.
“Back to the subject, though, I’m going to talk to Rebecca soon, and offer her the chance to leave, because of-recent developments.” 'Because she’s being forced into close proximity with you' went unspoken. “You are both forbidden to approach her.”
“I don’t want to go anywhere near the-her,” Sunstreaker hissed, voice vehement. Sideswipe just shrugged. “-And her name is Bec. Not Rebecca. I don’t even care, and it’s like I’m the only one who can get it right-”
“‘Bec’ is a nickname. Something used to denote informality and friendship. It would be inappropriate for me to take that liberty.” Optimus Prime was cool, formal, and it was a clear reminder: If I am not close enough to use that familiarity, you certainly aren’t.
“Fine. Fine. Humans have stupid naming conventions. Whatever.”
“Anything else?”
“...No.”
Sideswipe elbowed his brother, again.
“No, sir.”
“Good. Alright, then. Thank you for speaking with me, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe.” Optimus Prime nodded once, cordially, and stood, his meaning clear: they stood as well, turned and left. The automated door hissed shut behind them, leaving them in the dark corridor. It didn’t matter: they didn’t have human eyes.
There was a moment of stifling hostility as the two started walking back towards their quarters.
“What the slag was that?” Sideswipe said finally. “And what in the Pit is up with you and the human’s name? I’d think you cared if I didn’t know better. And I do know better, because you almost killed her. And then you pull that with Optimus frigging Prime, glorious leader of the entire Autobot Army, and you’re all ‘I don’t want to go anywhere near her’ and ‘Is that girl here?’ and do you want to get us both killed? Are you seriously glitching that badly? Because you have already done a lot to make us irredeemable social pariahs and we are damned lucky that they are so short on troops that they can’t afford to put us in stasis or pit, just offline us, or whatever, banish us-because they could. That was what Optimus Prime was telling us with that ‘I can’t afford it’ stuff. He is saying that good relations with human governments is more important than the two of us, and that we are not going to come out ahead if it turns into that.”
“I know. I am not stupid, Sideswipe!”
“Then act like it! Primus, Sunny.”
“Just-shut up.”
“No,” Sideswipe said, grumpy, but he did fall silent.
“-It’s weird how the Prime didn’t call us to his office. Huh.”
“His office is probably in some area we’re forbidden to enter,” Sunstreaker pointed out, cynical.
“Yeah. You’re probably right.”
Neither of the two spoke for a long, long time, finishing the journey and entering their room in silence. It was very quiet in the room.
“Sunstreaker?”
No response.
“Why do you always remember that girl’s name? Bec’s?”
“I don’t know. I just-do.” He hesitated, looking troubled, before his face cleared again, contorting into his familiar scowl. “Why don't you?”
oOo
“-So this is the kitchen. Of course, all of this is inside of the general hang-out area, I guess that’s what you’d call it, for the Autobots, so make of that what you will. Anyways, there’s always food in the fridge, and there’s usually ice cream, I can’t decide if I love or hate that-”
“Maggie,” Elizabeth said, voice quiet but very serious. It carried a lot of weight. The Australian woman quieted and turned, expression set and faintly wary.
“Yes? Lissie?”
“How could you have not told me about this? You’re comfortable. You’ve been here before. How many of those 'business trips'...?”
“-They were business. But they were usually here. I’m sorry, you know. I couldn’t- I can’t-it was the government, sweet. I wanted to-I wanted to! The Autobots-they’re great, they’re a part of my life now, and I didn’t want to keep that secret, but I had to...”
“Maggie. Maggie. You were lying to me. And you just didn’t tell me. I don’t care about the damn government, and I thought that I knew that you felt the same, but you promised me you would tell me the truth. Remember? You could have even said that you couldn't tell me...! That's all it would have taken, I wouldn't have asked...”
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!”
“I know,” Elizabeth said, softly. “I know you’re sorry. It’s the only reason I’m here. But it...it...”
Maggie paused, suddenly. “Elizabeth-Lissie? Could we talk somewhere else?”
“What? Why?”
“Because-Because we’re being monitored.” Maggie almost cringed at the confession, knowing what her girlfriend’s reaction would be even before it happened. She was right: the woman went pale, a hand flying to her face. “It’s not like what you’re thinking! It’s just a security measure in the public spaces-I just don’t want to have this conversation where somebody’s listening in-”
“I don’t care about your stupid human issues,” announced a voice over the intercom system. Elizabeth went even paler and trembled a little. Maggie didn’t react to the voice, but reached forward as the other woman rocked back on her heels, shaky.
“Shut up, Ironhide,” she growled through gritted teeth as she pulled Elizabeth into a full hug, one that was returned, almost desperately, tightly enough that it almost hurt a little.
“I don’t care, woman. Stop it!”
“Christ, Ironhide! Where do you get the damn misogyny from? Where? You’re asexual, in that you’re not gendered! None of you are! It doesn’t make sense!”
There was no reply. The silence ticked on for three full long, slow minutes.
“Good,” Maggie announced at last. “He’s ignoring me. -Us, I guess.”
Elizabeth drew in a long, shaky breath. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this,” she said, voice weak. “But...but let’s go talk.”
“I love you,” Maggie whispered, softly. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of her, almost like she could fly.
oOo
The boy next to her on the couch was sitting so stiffly, so palpably uncomfortable, that Judy wanted to elbow him in the ribs, on top of reminding him that she didn’t bite.
Trent would probably have a heart failure if she did, though. Really. She had no idea why he was so nervous right now. After all, she’d had him as a guest in her home! He hadn’t seemed to nervous then-although he’d seemed considerably more dazed, stunned, really, so maybe that had something to do with it. Now that the panic had started to wear off (and she was certainly pleased to see that) the more mundane problems-such as nervousness around the mother of the boy he used to bully-could set in.
And she did know that a lot of the bruises that Sam had turned up with, almost all conveniently explained away with some excuse about PE class, or whatever, had been the handiwork of Trent or one of his friends. Nothing had actually been said to her, or around her, but really, she wasn’t stupid. Judy was more than capable of figuring out something like that. Especially with the boy living in her own house!
It had given her a special glow of pride, that Sam had been so accepting of him. True, there were little tiffs and ungracious moments, but he’d handled himself remarkably well for a teenage boy facing a barely-ex bully. On top of him being an ex-boyfriend of his girlfriend! Really, it was more than she’d expected, more than she’d even let herself hope for. She allowed herself part of the credit, for raising Sam right, her little Sam-boy, but she knew that most of the credit was rightly due to the Autobots. He’d grown up.
And Trent was learning to grow up. Slowly-well, no; very quickly, actually. He just had a lot longer to go than Sam had had, or Miles, and she put a lot of the blame for that on his parents, even though she’d never met them-but quickly or slowly, and definitely nervously, he was growing up.
Judy could help a little with the nervous part, at least.
She put down the scarf she was working on (she’d decided to take up knitting when Sam had started his senior year, figuring she’d need something more to do when he’d left the house, and it was going very slowly: she was still on her first, very basic pattern, and she never really seemed to find the time to work on it) with a decisive movement, turning to face Trent, catching him by the eyes.
“So, Trent. We haven’t really had a chance to talk.”
He swallowed, hard, and seemed almost to lean back. He wanted to escape: that meant he felt trapped. Yes, Judy’s best guess was that he was afraid of her judging him for what he’d done to Sam and Miles. She’d need to allay that fear, while making it clear what she thought of his past actions. A fairly tricky but far from impossible task. And he seemed like a sensible boy, one who’d have a good head on his shoulders in a few years. That helped.
“Y-yes, ma’am?”
“Oh, please. You’re worse than Optimus! It’s Judy. And-oh, relax. I just want to chat, get to know you! It’s always nice to meet more of Sam’s friends.” She didn’t pause there, didn’t even give him the chance to correct her. Or to think about the need to correct her. “What are you planning on doing after graduation?”
He swallowed, open his mouth to speak, closed it, swallowed again before actually starting. Judy felt sorry, suddenly-she hadn’t meant to give him a hard question. She’d thought that he’d have it figured out by now. It wasn’t going to be too long until it was June and he was a graduate-
“I was...I was thinking about the army. But-I don’t know. It’s. Um.”
“The army? Well, this is a great opportunity for you! Surrounded by all these military people. Have you asked any of them questions yet? Are you thinking the Army specifically, or something like the Navy instead? Are you going to try to get into West Point or some place similar, maybe?”
“I...I don’t know,” Trent said, looking still more uncomfortable. “I hadn’t...” He trailed off, looking lost and a little afraid. When he continued, his voice was faint. “I hadn’t really thought about...dying. I guess I hadn’t...”
Judy’s heart went out to him. It took every ounce of strength she had not to wrap him up into a motherly hug.
She didn’t try to keep herself from laying a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, though. “I understand,” she said, voice just as soft. “I hope it all works out for you. I’d still recommend you talk to one of the officers. Maybe Sergeant Epps, or Captain Lennox. Maybe ask that William Hartt since you’re sharing a room. I know the first two would both be happy to talk to you, and I'd assume the same about William, although I don't know him well.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“Alright, then. I hope you figure it out, though. I-I know this might sound strange, since we hardly know each other and I'm hardly an expert in much of anything, really, but if you've got any questions for me, I'm more than happy to answer them.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking away kind of desperately.
“Good,” Judy replied, smiling warmly at him and waiting until he met her gaze. “Now, then. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No,” he said, a little rebellious-sounding now, looking away. Judy backpedaled, realizing that she'd hit a nerve.
“I hope you find the right person for you, then. It can take a while-oh, the absolute losers I used to date! That was long before Ron, of course.” She smiled again, happy. “It worked out in the end. It almost always does, you know! And I'm sure there's any number of young ladies who would date someone like you.”
He was blushing, heavily. Judy hid another inner smile.
“There's time for that later, right? Oh, I remember now! I was going to ask one of the Autobots to show you around the base-would you be fine with that? I know I was a little overwhelmed my first days here-” Well, honestly, a little more than overwhelmed... “-so I'd like to see if there's something that can help it, right now. Would you be up for a tour with one of the Autobots? Jazz, maybe-or no, Bumblebee might be better-oh, I'll ask around.”
“Thank you,” Trent said, looking a little dazed, and Judy reminded herself to stop running over the kid quite so much. Even if it made things easier. That tactic would only work for so long, and for so much...
“I'm babbling though, aren't I? I have trouble with that! Are there any questions you'd like to ask me? Anything you'd like to talk about?”
“Thank you for letting me stay at your house...”
“Oh, of course, Trent! I'm always happy to have Sam's friends over, and it was so much more than that-I can't imagine what it was like for you. Is like for you, I imagine. I'm just sorry I couldn't do more.”
“...Ma'am-Mrs. Witwicky-I don't really think Sam is my friend. I...I... Used to-”
Judy leaned over and patted his hand, looking at him kindly. “I know, dear. But I think you might be wrong about what he thinks of you. Sam's a good kid, and you are too. And you've been through a lot.”
“But...”
“Can't people change?”
Trent couldn't seem to come up with anything to say to that.
oOo
Bec looked over at Judy and then down at the table, drawing in a deep breath. She let it out with a sigh and then turned, determined, back to the older woman.
“Alright,” she said, an unexpected note of strength in her voice. Reaching over, she drew a piece of paper closer to the two of them. “This is an overview of your current gardens. Here are the side views-”
Her voice was confident, professional, excited. Not at all what Judy had come to expect from the girl. It was a nice change. Still, she couldn’t help herself- “Did you draw these yourself?”
And there was the Bec she’d gotten to know again. “Yes,” she said, blushing and looking down.
“They’re good!”
“No, no, not at all! I just had a lot of lessons as a child. My mother was an artist before she went into fashion design. It’s-it’s just the ability to give the sense of something, right? It’s not art. Look, the perspective's off, and my sizing-it's just scribbling!”
Judy wasn’t sure she agreed, entirely, but Bec had a point and she let it go. “Alright, then. Continue, please?”
“Alright,” Bec said, again. “Okay- So, looking at the overview, your beds and patches are all very disjointed. You keep on adding one, every few years, right? It wasn’t planned out all at once. So you’re lacking flow...see, if you connected this bit here, put a path through here-nothing much, just sawdust, or stepping stones and a hardy groundcover-there’s a greater continuity for the garden as a whole. On a more practical level, it means that people are more likely to explore the more hidden areas-it invites you in. If you feel ambitious-when you retire, maybe, or when Sam leaves home-you could add in something here, here and maybe here-that’s a lot more garden to take care of, but it would vastly increase the illusion of space, of distance, in the yard. See? It separates it all off into separate areas with very little visibility in-between if you plant it right, so the usable individual spaces increase…”
“Wow,” Judy said, squinting at the piece of paper and the rough pencil strokes-in varying colors, for each set of suggestions-Bec had filled in on it. “Yes-I think you’re right! That’s genius. I never would have thought of it like that-thank you!”
Bec blushed again. “You’re-You’re welcome,” she said, sounding pleased, and almost as if she was unused to praise. “Now,” she continued, after a brief pause, voice oddly almost-businesslike again. “Your garden uses mostly plants commonly found in what I’ll call the ‘average’ garden. Things with history-daisies, a lot of annuals like petunias, marigolds, modern hybrid roses, a few hydrangeas… All very nice plants. Where did you grow up? Somewhere on the East Coast?”
Judy smiled, a little sheepishly. “You’re right. How did you guess?”
Bec hesitated for just a brief second, wavering. “The plants you’re growing-they’re all very nice, but they’re not well-suited for growing conditions in Nevada, especially not in a sustainable, low-effort and natural method. I know that I can’t grow good roses up where I am, in Oregon. And they’ll never be their best, even with all the babying they probably need to survive...”
“I don’t really want one of those, those...” Judy trailed off, apparently searching for appropriately diplomatic wording. “I don’t want some garden filled with shrubby and unattractive plants, even if it means that they don’t need much watering or weeding. -I mean, some of the things I’ve seen in gardens are weeds themselves!”
“Oh, no, that’s not what I’m talking about!” Bec said immediately, laying a hand beseechingly on Judy’s forearm. “No, I’m just talking about mixing in a few more non-traditional plants in with everything else. And some that are a little more unusual, but still a good history of use in gardens, like red hot pokers-Kniphofia species. Here.” She reached over and pulled up a laptop, flipping it open and then pulling up a webpage. “Like this.”
“Oh-that’s pretty,” Judy said, sounding slightly surprised.
“It’s a succulent, or close to it, I think, so it won’t need much supplemental water. And it’s got a nice vertical, very structural shape to the leaves-so even when it’s not blooming it won’t be dead space. And then… California poppies. You probably know the plain orange, but if you don’t like that color there’s salmons, yellows and reds available, now, and they’ll self-seed, so you won’t have to replant each year, and they'll be fine off doing their own thing. And California lilacs, they might work, their Latin name is Ceanothus...have you ever thought about ornamental grasses?” (1)
oOo
(1) I’m taking liberties when it comes to the hardiness of these plants in Nevada, seeing as none of them would survive long in true Nevadan conditions. (Zones 1 and 2 using the system in the Sunset Western Garden Book.) Since canon is very very iffy when it comes to where the movie was actually located-the plants they showed weren’t going to be growing in those zones either, and then Californian license plates-I’m going to go with it. If this bothers you, play pretend. You can use Russian olives, crababbles and Clematis armandii instead.)
oOo
Sunstreaker sat silently, but he felt like cursing. Loudly. At length. But that would just catch the attention of the grumpy Autobot he was sitting with for monitor duty-Bumblebee seemed to hate him even more than most of the other Autobots did. And then he’d probably get shot, because he would be cursing at Bec and they would almost definitely take that as a threat to her.
He’d never-never-heard her sound like that. It was like she was somebody else! Was she crazy or something? Because he’d watched her for weeks. And then driven her to the rest of the Autobots.
And he’d never heard her sound so confident. Or happy.
oOo
It was, Elizabeth decided, kind of like having an audience-a rapt audience-as she ate.
The table-actually several mismatched tables, pulled together in a best-fit answer and covered with a tablecloth-was full of humans, all eating and chattering. Elizabeth herself had been having a conversation with the man next to her, one of the soldiers (she should know his name, but remembering names had never been a real skill of hers...) but now he’d turned to talk about some sort of orientation or training the government-types were going to be running for new recruits with some other men further up the table, and the woman next to her-Judy; she remembered her because of what she’d been told, on top of witnessing the woman in action, which was quite impressive-was talking with the shy girl-Bec?-and was deeply involved in the conversation, which seemed to be about plants. It also seemed to be totally, unnecessarily complicated, and involve far too many words that weren't in real English.
So she’d fallen silent, not really all that upset about the lack of a conversational partner. It was nice to just lean back, eat her food and-not interact, she guessed. Catch her breath. Assess the situation. Something like that.
She’d been doing that. But the way there were Autobots clustered around the table they were at-a lot of them; comparatively, she meant-had derailed her. It was kind of-creepy, honestly.
Well, it would be normal, if-
That was the key word. If. If they were-well, human. Even if they were able to eat with them. That would make it okay. It would just be normal, then, a chance to talk (which they were doing, but that wasn’t the point of a dinner table) but the way things were? It was creepy. Because they were watching them eat. Which just rubbed her wrong. Instinctively, she supposed. Or maybe it was because of her mother’s table rules, which included feeding anyone who stopped by and never, ever, under any circumstances eating in front of someone else.
That was kind of it. She wanted to feed them. But she couldn’t. Because-of course!-they weren’t human. Or even something vaguely humanish. If they just had something remotely analogous to eating! But they didn’t (well, Maggie had been telling her something about energy intake, which was necessary, of course, but that didn’t translate, not with the form it took and then cultural implications on top of that and really overall it just wouldn’t help, it’d just make everything worse) so-
They didn’t eat, in short, so she’d need to learn to deal with a whole group of giant robots-mechs-observing her.
While she ate.
God damn. It went across every bone in her body! And that it bothered her so much just irritated her even more.
oOo
“I think I’m short a card again,” Miles said, looking at his hand with a good measure of confusion.
“Oh, please,” Fig muttered, eyes cast heavenwards, as if he was communing with God. “Look, chaval, this is the fifth time. How do you keep on ending up short? You always take a putamadre card. Always. Everyone does.”
Mikaela snorted into her own hand. Sam cast her a sideways look.
“Yeah, but I’ve only got eleven-”
“¡Madre! Me cague en la leche-”
“What?” Miles looked even more confused.
Trent cut in. “Do the, uh, steps have to be the same suite?”
“Yes, yes, how many times do I have to tell you that? Miles, you’re only supposed to have ten cards-”
“How do you end the hand, again?” Mikaela asked.
“Cieres-”
“Fine. Cieres.”
“Aww, dang!” Sam said, throwing his hand down. “I was so close-”
“No, no, Mikaela, chica, it’s ‘ciero’ if you’re the one speaking because of the conjugation-”
“How does this work again? I’m not sure if I have a set-”
“Wait, can I combine my two twos with Miles’ two to make a set?”
“¡Joder!”
“This is why we just stick to poker,” Epps said, looking up from the Sudoku puzzle he’d been working on. “Not any damned weird games, like this shit. Hey, Fig, I think someone walked off with your scorecard again.”
“¡Ay!” The man stomped off, muttering viciously in Spanish.
“...Anyone want to play Go Fish? Or Spoons?”
“Fuck off, Witwicky.”
“I’d love to play, Sam,” Mikaela said pointedly.
“Me too,” Miles added, although he didn’t place an arm around Sam the way the his girlfriend had.
Trent paused. “Alright. Sorry. Who’s dealing?”
On to part 2