Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The door bursting open with the violent ringing of a bell in its wake was an all-time familiar sound. One Breakdown didn't even flinch at hearing. Nor did he flinch at the shout of "Dad!!" that followed. It was one of Miko's excited shouts, not her panicked ones, so he just gave a call of "I'm in the back!" and continued peering at the engine on the table in front of him. The customer had complained that the engine kept overheating and for the life of him he couldn't figure out what the issue was. Not like he could just stick a cable into it and run a diagnostic. Damn these Earth machines.

The thud of Miko's sneakers on the hardwood floor grew louder as she approached, and crescendoed with her skidding to a halt in the doorway. "Hey dad! Look! I made a new friend!"

"That's very nice," he said without actually looking. She'd brought home a broad assortment of things before claiming them to be her new friends. Sometimes a small animal, more often a toy or some other inanimate object. She always lost interest eventually.

A huff. "You're not looking."

"Alright, alright." He stood up, turning away from the engine to face her. "Who's this--"

...That was a human person.

Short, obviously a kid. They looked younger than Miko but he couldn't be sure by how much. Miko's arms were wrapped around their (his?) chest, holding him aloft.

"Miko."

"This is Raf! It's short for Rafael. I met him in the back alley near the diner!" She hefted Rafael up a bit further. "That's my dad!"

"Hi, Mr. Nakadai." 

"Downey, actually. Call me Blake. Nice to meet you, kid." He looked at Miko with a brow raised. "Did you kidnap him?"

"Nah. Some freshmen were picking on him so I chased 'em off. I offered to walk him home but then he said his mom was busy with other kids so I offered to bring him here instead!” The kid seemed remarkably okay with Miko hauling him around like a stuffed animal. “Since there's no other kids here and, y'know, I just have the coolest parents."

"Flattery ain't gonna help you here, kiddo."

She squinted, thinking. Then spoke; "Hey, dad, can I invite my new friend who I met earlier today over?"

He stared at her, deadpan. "Sure, Miko, that's fine by me."

"Great! C'mon, lemme show you my room. I just got a new set of speakers and they're wicked." She started heading off through the door to the house, presumably to show Rafael her aforementioned new speakers. (They really were quite nice-- he’d retrofitted them with some sub-sonic technology he had lying around. Almost imperceptible to human ears, but it made some of the music she liked to blast a bit nicer for him to listen to.) As she went, Breakdown returned to the engine.

Then there was the soft patter of sneakers, and the door opened again.

“It’s coolant.”

Breakdown glanced over. Rafael was standing in the doorway, looking increasingly shy with the way his shoulders hunched and his eyes wouldn’t meet Breakdown’s. “‘Scuse me?”

“Coolant,” he said again. “The issue. With the engine? You can tell by the scuff marks there. Where it burned too hot for too long. It’s hard to tell that coolant is the issue with the engine isolated like that ‘cause you aren’t seeing it while it’s working.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Customer said they refilled the coolant before they came here.”

“Did you check?”

…Huh.

“Huh,” he echoed. “I guess I didn’t.” He really should have-- customers were prone to lying so they looked less stupid, especially those tough-guy types who liked to think they knew more about cars than him. Which, like, no? They didn’t?

Instead of showing pride at figuring out the answer, Raf just seemed to shrink further into himself. “Sorry.”

“What?” He was sorry? For figuring out the solution to a problem that Breakdown, who not only worked on engines for a living but also had an engine couldn’t figure out? “What’re you apologizing for?”

“I didn’t mean to get in the way of your work,” he said, impossibly quiet, and if Breakdown were human he probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it. “Or sound like a-- a smart-aleck. I’m sorry.” 

Oh.

Oh, boy.

“Ah, it’s alright, kiddo. I don’t mind. You really helped me out, actually, it would’ve taken me ages to figure that out on my own.” Maybe ages was a bit of an exaggeration, but the kid looked like he could use an ego boost right about now. Or just, like, any kind of reassurance at all. “Thanks, Raf. You’re pretty smart, y’know?”

Rafael flushed. “I--I dunno. I just read a lot, I’m not really… I can’t fix things like you can.”

“Maybe not, but knowing what’s wrong with it is the first step to eventually fixing it later on.” He tilted his head. It had worked with Miko, way back when, maybe… “You wanna watch while I work on this one?”

Shoulders hunching again, Raf lowered his head, and Breakdown silently cursed himself. Wrong words, apparently. “No, thank you. Miko seemed excited about her speakers. She’s probably gonna--” A distant shout. “...Wonder where I am.”

“Fair enough. She’s not the type who likes to be kept waiting.” He waved the wrench he was holding. “Let me know if you get hungry or something.”

“Alright.”

…He still wasn’t leaving.

Breakdown waited quietly. He was starting to get the sense that Raf was the kind of kid who responded best to being given a chance to figure out his words in his own time. 

“...Could-I-maybe-watch-another-time?”

“Say that again?”

“Could I maybe watch another time,” Raf repeated, slower and less of a jumble of words this time. It seemed like getting the words out took significant effort on his part. “I mean-- I wanna… hang out with Miko right now. But, um, maybe if I come hang out again later, and you have something to work on then… I could watch?” 

Breakdown grinned. “Sure thing, kiddo. You two have fun for now. I’ve always got something to work on, so come by whenever.”

Raf smiled then, small and shy, but still there. Then there was another slightly-closer shout and he turned and ran, letting the door swing shut behind him.

Shaking his head, Breakdown returned to the engine on the table in front of him. The issue almost certainly was the coolant, now that Raf had pointed it out it was almost glaringly obvious. He almost felt kinda stupid for not seeing it earlier. That did mean, however, that there wasn’t a whole lot he could do for it now. Next thing to do would be to call the customer and have them come in, then figure out how much he should charge them for wasting his time and lying to him. He liked to up the prices on douchebags like that.

He paused, glancing back towards the door. From deeper in the house echoed Miko’s uproarious laughter, followed by the thumping of some bassy rock song.

…He really had to stop collecting kids like this.

Chapter Text

"June?"

For some reason, Breakdown was suddenly struck with the oddest sense of deja vu.

"June."

The most significant difference was that this time it was June sitting there staring into space while he tried futilely to get her attention. She had come in to talk about her car (more specifically, for him to once again try to convince her that she needed to just suck it up and get a new one-- he was pretty sure he’d almost worn her down), but when he'd had her wait five minutes for him to finish up a phone call, she'd gotten lost in thought to the point that even waving a hand in front of her face didn't get much of a reaction.

"June!"

"What? What's wrong??"

"June. You've been staring into space for the past several minutes." He tilted his head. "Everything good?"

"Oh!" Her cheeks went rosy. It wasn't like she had fans, but he could imagine they would've clicked on if she did. "Everything's fine. Sorry. Guess I got a little lost in thought."

Oh no. She wasn't getting out of it that easily. "Lost in thought, huh?" He leaned forward on the counter. "Don't try and fool me at my own game, Darby, I'm the master of unrepentant pining. I'd know that look anywhere."

Her blush deepened, and she laughed a bit. A nervous sound. "It's a bit ridiculous. I'm too old to be fawning like this."

"Ah, no such thing. You're what, thirty?"

"Flatterer. I was thirty when I met you." She sighed. "You're not wrong, though."

"Congratulations, you managed to find the one thing that takes priority over your need for a new car. Give me details, Darby. You dragged a lot of info out of me back when. My turn."

"I guess it's only fair." She leaned back in her chair, and almost immediately her expression went a little distant. "She's… very sure of herself. Outgoing. Headstrong. Not usually my type, but… there's just something about her. We haven't even spoken that much.."

"If you'll recall, I talked to Aston once before falling head over heels."

"Yes, and now you've been married for over a decade, I know. That's because you're both stupid."

"Rude??"

"Apt," she corrected. "Anyway. She's on the taller side.  Very kind, though I think she tries to keep it quiet. Let's see…" She perked up. "Oh, she rides a motorcycle. You’d like it, I think. I don’t know much about cars or car-adjacent-things but it seems very advanced. I see her riding around with that bright red muscle car a lot. You know, the one with the gaudy hood ornament?”

And Breakdown felt his spark plummet into his fuel tanks.

"Oh," he said, somewhat weakly. He idly thanked Primus that June couldn't read EM fields. "That's pretty cool."

"Isn't it? Personally I've seen too many motorcycle accidents come through the ER to like them very much, but she just seems so sure of herself when she's on wheels. It's hard to worry like that." June waved a hand as though trying to brush away her thoughts. “Anyway. I met her about a week ago, when that friend of hers almost crashed into us. The way she chewed him out-- I thought she was about to curb-stomp him then and there. I’m just glad there was no actual collision or she might have really done it.”

Breakdown was a little busy having a minor crisis, so he was missing most of what she was saying, but he caught the part about the near-crash. “What? June, you should’ve told me you almost got into a wreck.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d worry. Like you’re doing now.” Oh, good, she attributed his visual distress to the wreck thing and not the she had a crush on an Autobot thing. “If we’d actually crashed, I would’ve said something. But we didn’t. Everything’s fine. Jack got to sit on her motorcycle and a day later I noticed him reading a driver’s manual, so I expect he’ll start asking me if he can get a license any day now.” 

“Those things are dangerous--”

“Blake, don’t you even start. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that time you drove past my house and Miko was sitting on the roof of your truck.”

He winced.

Right. His cavalier behavior had made it so that in June’s eyes, he wasn’t really one to talk about a lack of safety around vehicles. And it wasn’t as though he could just tell June “oh, no, she was perfectly safe actually, if she’d fallen or anything I would’ve just transformed my arms out of my chassis and caught her.” 

No matter how open-minded June might have been, there were some things he just wasn’t willing to risk. His family was one of them.

“I just want you to be careful, June. I mean this lady’s been in town for, what, a month? You don’t know anything about her. She could be dangerous. Hell, they could all be dangerous.” Probably not to humans-- Autobots usually tended to be kinda soft about organic life-- but it was more about the principle of things. No matter what, it was dangerous for organic life to get involved in Cybertronian affairs.

“Hello? Pot, kettle? Didn’t you start crushing on Aston literally the day he showed up?”

Damn. He’d really ruined his own cred, huh?

“I’m just saying.” He grimaced. “I don’t want to see you hurt, June. Something about these guys makes me nervous.”

June softened at that, getting up from her seat and going over to the counter to set a hand over Blake’s. “I appreciate it. And you know I trust your judgement. But I need you to trust me when I say I know what I’m doing, and I can take care of myself.”

There was nothing else he could say without revealing too much. He’d done his best. It was in June’s hands now. 

“Just be careful, June.” He extracted his hand so he could pat hers a couple times. “So, Jack met her? What did he think?” 

“Well, let’s see. She’s a punk-looking lady with dyed hair who wears full leather and rides a motorcycle, and she let him sit on it.” She gave him a dry look. “Obviously he thinks she’s the coolest thing since sliced bread. Even if he’s at that age where he will never, ever tell her that.”

“Right, that part of teenager-hood. The part where they’re allergic to honesty?”

“That one. Is Miko there yet?”

“Miko has been allergic to honesty since day one. And trust me, spending time around Aston has not made it any better. It’s a miracle the two haven’t gaslit me into oblivion by now.” 

“Aw, man, they really team up on you?”

“Well, sometimes Miko is on my side, in which case she’s like a little superspy. Double agent. I’m pretty close to figuring out her process in deciding which one of us she’s gonna back on any given day.” The phone started ringing. He lifted it off the receiver and put it back down immediately. "Bribery works wonders."

"Don't you think it's bad form to bribe your kid?"

"Have you met Miko?"

"Fair point. How's she doing, by the way? Is she home? I haven't seen her in a little while, I'd love to say hi."

“She’s hanging out with a friend right now. Kid a bit younger than her. They met, eh, recently? Two-ish weeks ago? Apparently some kids were picking on him, so she stepped in, and they instantly hit it off. He’s a real bright kid. I’ve considered inviting him to work with me some days.” The phone rang again. He almost debated answering it, then decided whoever it was could wait until he wasn’t in the middle of a conversation. “Name’s Raf, though it’s short for--”

“Rafael? Esquivel? Shorter side, glasses?”

“You know him?”

“Yeah, actually. Jack used to babysit him sometimes when his mom was busy.” Her expression turned a bit somber. “He’s got a lot of siblings, apparently, and his mom runs a daycare on top of that. I don’t think he spends a lot of time at home. I’d wondered where he was going now that Jack wasn’t keeping an eye on him, but knowing now that he knows Miko… well, I’m glad he has you two anyway. I think he and Jack are kind of in the same boat in terms of positive male role models in their lives.”

Breakdown nodded absently. “I had a feeling. I see him here more often than not, and when I met him…”

“Right.”

The phone rang for a third time, and Breakdown decided if they were being this persistent it was probably important, so he sighed and leaned over to answer it. 

“Blake speaking.”

“Hi dad!”

Oh, no.

“Hey, Miko,” he said, keeping his voice carefully controlled even as June sent him a look of alarm. “What’s up, kiddo? Where’re you calling from?” Humanity had finally caught up with the rest of the galaxy in terms of technological advancement and invented the cellular phone, popularized for consumer use. They bought one for Miko as soon as they were able, of course (and maybe modified it just a tiny bit with some Cybertronian tech to make sure it’d still work even if she got stranded in the middle of nowhere), but this had the adverse effect of making it so they had no clue whatsoever where she was at any given time. Getting a call from her no longer guaranteed she was in a building somewhere.

“Ummm.” 

“Miko Nakadai Downey.”

“Does it help if I start with saying I’m totally one-hundred-percent safe and you really don’t have to be worried at all?” That didn’t help, actually, but she kept talking like it did. “I’m at, um. So Raf has these friends. Sort of. They’re kind of like his babysitters? Anyway, I just wanted to ask if I could hang out a little bit longer. They’ve got a really big TV here.”

Breakdown put a hand on his head. June stood from her seat just so she could go over and give him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. 

“...Alright. Fine. But-- don’t you dare hang up on me-- you have to have your phone on at all times in case I call, and you have to be home by dark. If you can’t walk home before it gets dark, have one of Raf’s friends drive you. They own cars, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, um. They do.”

There was something he wasn’t telling her and he did not like it.

“Miko.”

“I’ll tell you later! It’s okay, though. I promise I’m safe.”

Knock Out wouldn’t have done it. He would’ve demanded Miko spill every little detail about the people she was with, and that she be home by five PM sharp, and that she call every hour to give them an update. But Breakdown, damn his bleeding spark, couldn’t find it in himself to put any kind of strict rules on Miko. Maybe it was just how much he hated following them himself.

“Promise you’ll call if anything happens.”

“I will. Love you! Bye!” And she hung up.

Breakdown put the phone down, leaned on the counter in front of him, and put his head in his hands with a heavy sigh.

June patted his shoulder a couple more times. “Kids.”

“Yep.”

“What’s going on?”

“She’s hanging out with some of Raf’s friends, apparently. I-- and this sounds bad, I know-- but I didn’t know he had any friends besides her. And, I guess, Jack.” He sighed again. “I… I know they’re probably fine. Miko’s a great judge of character, and Raf wouldn’t hang around anyone who might hurt him. But…”

“You worry. I get it.” June laughed. “Such is the way of parenthood, right?”

“Right.” He patted her hand as if trying to assure her he was okay. “Anyway. The whole reason you came in here. June Darby, I will literally buy you a new car if that’s what it takes.”

“What about my insurance? It’s not cheap out here, you know.”

“I will pay for that too. I will pay you to get a new car. I will make you a new car with my own two hands if I gotta. Please. At this point that thing is older than both of our kids and it cannot be safe to drive anymore.” Plus it offended him, personally. He was surprised Knock Out hadn’t taken one of his circular saws to it in the middle of the night just to force June to get an upgrade. 

June said nothing, which was the shiniest beacon of hope he’d ever seen, because anything that wasn’t an instant denial meant she was actually considering it. 

“I guess it has been a while, huh?” She sighed. “You’re the expert. If you really think so…”

“June I have been trying to get you to get a new car since I l--” Wow, a near slip-up, he hadn’t had one of those in a while. “Got here. Don’t act like you’ve always been willing to take my advice.”

“Well, I had to be sure you weren’t some brutish mechanic trying to scam a poor woman out of her money. You know how it is, they take one look at me and think I don’t know what I’m doing, and that they can get me to spend all sorts of crazy amounts of cash on whatever upgrades they think they can convince me I need.”

Breakdown was sure if he’d been any less composed he’d be in hysterics right now. “When was the last time I actually made you pay for anything I’ve done to that excuse of a car??”

“You’re really worked up about this.”

“June.”

“Sorry, sorry. I know how much your profession means to you.” She had no idea. He wanted to tell her so bad, if only to make fun of her about it. “I have been thinking about getting a new car anyway. Mine hardly gets above forty without struggling anymore, and it’s making me late to work. I could use some advice or recommendations or something. You’d think with how long we’ve been friends I’d know more about cars, but it wouldn’t surprise me if some shady car salesman did manage to pull one over on me.”

“I’ll go with you,” he promised. “Hell, I’ll even drive you there, just so you don’t have to get in that deathtrap of a car anymore. I want it, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your old car. You’re not gonna get much for it for any kind of trade-in, and I’ve done enough work on it over the years I’d say I have a pretty decent holding in its shares.” She scowled at him, and he put on his best mimicry of one of Knock Out’s sleazy grins. “I’m serious. I can melt down the internals and do something with ‘em, and the frame’s still somewhat usable for spare parts. I’ve kept it in good enough condition over the years.”

“Oh, fine. Consider it paying you back for all those times you fixed it up for free.”

“Deal.”

They worked out the finer details for most of the afternoon. Neither of their schedules cooperated much with the idea of a day trip-- mostly due to the unpredictable nature of it all. June was almost constantly on-call for the hospital, and if Miko needed something Breakdown had to be there at the drop of a hat. But they eventually found a day a week or two out where Knock Out would be home in case Miko needed anything and June had just enough time for a vacation day saved up.

“I’ll just have to keep driving around in my current car until then,” June said with a sigh. “I’d ask you for a ride, but I don’t want to impose. Maybe if my hours were more standard…”

“Well, on the days you do work standard hours I can probably help. We’ve finally managed to convince Miko that school isn’t optional, so I can give you a ride whenever I gotta bring her to school, and I can either bring her with or leave her home for a little while to pick you up. You’re on your own for the middle of the night, though.”

He and Knock Out had fallen into the devious trap that was “getting a full night’s recharge every night” and it was not one that was easily escapable.

By the time they had everything ironed out, night was falling, and Breakdown abruptly realized that Miko was not in fact home yet. He hadn’t even realized the sun had started setting outside, caught up in the conversation as he was.

He was the worst parent ever.

“Miko,” he said abruptly, all but tipping his chair over in an attempt to reach the phone and dial her cell. As he was aiming for the first few digits, though, there was the rumble of an engine outside and the slam of a car door.

That had to be her, right? It wasn’t Knock Out’s engine, certainly. Not near smooth enough. No, it was still powerful, but much more rough around the edges.

“Oh, I know that car.” June flushed pink. Why on Earth would she--

Unless--

“I didn’t realize Raf was friends with the woman on the motorcycle. I mean, I’m guessing that he is, but I rarely see her without that red car, so that would make sense.” She hummed, resting a hand on her cheek. “Do you think it would be a faux pas for me to ask a child to introduce me to her?”

Thankfully, she was too distracted with whatever daydreams she was cooking up to notice Breakdown having a mild crisis over at the counter.

The Autobots.

Miko had gotten roped in with the Autobots.

Her vehement reassurances that she was safe suddenly made much more sense. As did her strange reaction when he asked if they had cars.

Had they told her? Shown her? Were they so bad at blending in that they couldn’t keep themselves secret from a child? Or did she just know because he and Knock Out had warned her so carefully about not trusting strange vehicles with little faces on them?

He peered through the window from his spot at the counter, watching as Miko walked up the sidewalk and waved to the car behind her. The windows were tinted, although the back one was rolled down to show Raf waving back. Once Miko was near enough to the door that the light outside illuminated the rest of her way, the red car kicked into high gear and peeled off into the night.

“I didn’t even notice it got so late,” June said with a sigh. “I should get home. Jack can take care of himself, but I don’t like leaving him alone if I don’t have to.”

“Right,” Breakdown said absently. The bell above the door chimed gently as Miko walked in. 

“Hi, Ms. Darby!”

“Hey there, Miko. I’m actually on my way out. Seems we just missed each other, huh?” She gave Miko a pleasant smile. “Feel free to come by anytime. I’m sure Jack would love to hang out again soon.”

“I will, Ms. Darby.”

With a last wave to him (and Miko), June turned and left through the door. It slammed shut behind her.

“So--”

“Autobots, Miko?”

“Aha. You noticed.”

“June has a crush on the motorcycle,” he said, gravely.

“Oh shit.”

“Language.”

“I mean, um, oh scrap.” Miko bit at her thumb nail. “That’s not good, right? I mean, I know you and pops both thought you were dating a human and it turned okay, but Ms. Darby is like-- actually human. Not just in disguise like you guys.”

“Right. And the Autobots are involved in an intergalactic war.” He scowled at her. “I thought we told you to stay away from them.”

“You did! And I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, honest. Raf just said he had some friends that he wanted to introduce me to and then this really big truck pulled up and I was just so excited I didn’t even look for the symbol, and then by the time we got to their base and I realized it was kinda weird we pulled inside and then there were just giant robots everywhere and at that point it was too late to say anything ‘cause I know they aren’t supposed to know you guys exist and if I knew they existed they’d wonder why and--”

He held up a hand and she fell silent immediately.

“Let me get this straight,” he said, parsing together what he could from her word vomit. “One of the Autobots took you to their home base. They were in root mode around you. And you couldn’t get away from them because you were trying to keep our secret.”

“Yep.”

“Primus.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You don’t have to be sorry. It’s fine.” He clasped his hands. He’d have to talk to Knock Out about this later, but… it had probably gone as well as it was going to. “You handled that situation the best you could. I would’ve preferred you were more attentive in the first place, but… well, if it had to be anyone, it’s best that it’s Autobots. I don’t much like ‘em but I know they wouldn’t hurt you. They have a bit of a savior complex when it comes to less developed organic lifeforms.”

“Less developed--?!”

“In their eyes! In their eyes, I know just how smart you are. But you gotta remember, kiddo, most of us are older than your entire species by several million years. To us, everyone seems kinda undeveloped. Like-- cell phones. Most of the galaxy has had wireless communication figured out for a while now. You guys are just getting ahold of this stuff.”

“Well, maybe if someone wasn’t super secretive with all his fancy space tech, we humans would’ve evolved more as a species by now. Ever think about that, smart guy?”

“Yeah, and here’s what I have to say-- you know me. You know Knock Out. And you know Windblade and Chromia. Now you know the Autobots. So far, that’s a decent chunk of us hiding out here on Earth. I ask you this-- if there are so many of us, why is it that not one has thought to share our tech with your species, huh? What are the odds of all of us having the same idea of keeping ourselves hidden unless we had a damn good reason for it?”

That seemed to get to her, and her adamant defiance wilted a bit. He instantly felt bad for being so harsh.

“I’m sorry, Miko. This is all way more complex than you, and I get that it can feel easier to simplify it. Hell, we make it seem pretty simple. But it’s not. Me and Knock Out have to be so, so careful all the time, or we risk getting ourselves and everyone around us into trouble. What do you think the big wigs in charge of this place would assume if they learned the truth, huh? That we legally adopted you in the eyes of the state? No, they’d assume we’d kidnapped you. They’d assume we were planning on burning this place to the ground or taking over the planet or something. You’ve seen the movies, kid, you know they don’t take well to invaders like us.”

“But you aren’t invaders,” Miko said quietly. It was so subdued compared to her usual chipper disposition, and he immediately got up from his seat behind the counter and went to kneel in front of her. “You live here. You’ve lived here longer than I’ve been alive. It’s not fair that you have to hide who you are all the time.”

“I know. And hey, to be fair, it’s not just the government we’re hiding from. There’s plenty of bad people on Earth, and you can’t forget, we’ve got a whole war going on up there. Armies of Autobots and Decepticons, each totally convinced they’re right and willing to rip each other apart over it. We have to hide so they don’t learn we’re here and bring their war to Earth.” It was a little too late with the Autobots being here, but at least Breakdown could be pretty sure they weren’t here because of him and Knock Out. If it was their fault, the ‘Bots would’ve probably shown up long before they did. “If they came here and started fighting, a lot of people could get hurt. They might try to drag us into it. They might try to hurt you to get us to cooperate. And even if they might not, we can’t take that chance.”

Mik looked like she was about to start crying. Breakdown reached forward and pulled her into a hug. She really was so small compared to him even in his holoform, and it was so much more noticeable like this. (If he really was so bulky, why did he feel like he couldn’t protect her?) 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I won’t talk to the Autobots anymore. I swear.”

“Aw, Miko, that’s not--” He sighed, leaning back so he could gently cup her cheek. Yep, her eyes were wet. Damnit. “That’s not what I’m getting at here. I didn’t mean to talk so much about all this awful scrap. You can keep hanging out with the Autobots if you really want, I just… I need you to be careful, okay? They wouldn’t hurt you on purpose but they’re still pretty new here and they might not realize how durable humans are. Or, aren’t. I just want you to be extra cautious when you’re hanging out with them. If it seems like they’re gonna get into a scuffle, run the other way. Don’t get involved. Can you promise me that?”

“I promise,” she said after a moment or two of silence, and that’s how he knew she was taking this seriously. When she made promises like that immediately he knew she hadn’t really been listening, but when it took her a second he knew that meant she was actually processing what he’d said. “I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you, Miko.” He leaned forward to bump his forehead against hers. “I know hearing it doesn’t make it sting any less, but I’m only so harsh ‘cause I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course.” She no longer looked like she was on the verge of tears, even managing a smile. “I know, dad. Not like you ever let me forget it. Like-- every conversation we have, you’ve gotta find a way to slip it in there somewhere.”

He laughed, scooping her up and jumping to his feet in one fell swoop. She shrieked, though it petered into a laugh as she grabbed at his shoulders. “I just gotta make sure you know! You humans have such short memories, after all, I can’t have you forgetting something so important. Gotta remind you all the time.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, still giggling. Then she blinked, pausing. “Wait a minute. When we were talking earlier, did I hear you say Ms. Darby has a crush on Arcee?”

“...Is that her name?”

“Oh my God.”

Chapter Text

Breakdown’s head was... fuzzy, for lack of a better word.

Fuzziness was not a feeling typically attributed to their kind. They were cold metal, sleek wires, polished struts. The only exception that came to mind was perhaps that one time Miko had left one of her stuffed toys (a multi-colored robot she’d won from a “claw machine” and found delight in comparing to her parents) in his interior and he’d transformed without removing it. 

Honestly, the feeling was comparable. Something thick and dense in his head like static along his processor kept him from being able to really register where he was. Or remember how he’d gotten there. 

His entire frame ached, though, which definitely wasn’t good.

What was the last thing he could remember? Taking a drive? Had he crashed, maybe? That would explain why he felt like he’d been put through the wringer, and why his memory banks didn’t seem to want to cooperate. If he’d hit his head hard enough...

...What that didn’t explain, though, was the dampness in the air. The chill could be explained away if he assumed night had fallen since he’d been gone, but the desert was never humid. 

It also didn’t explain the muffled voices his audials could pick up.

Human voices.

Worse, as his sensory net finished coming back online, he could feel cold metal under his digits.

His digits. Which he had. Because he wasn’t a car anymore, he was in root mode. And there were humans--

Still only half-aware of what was actually happening, he tried to tug on his t-cog and transform, but his plating got stuck on something before he could actually finish the sequence. More cold metal. Dense. Not strong enough to hold him normally. Now, though, disoriented and weak as he was? He could barely make his servos move, he wasn’t breaking anything any time soon.

Since the whole “moving” thing wasn’t panning out, his systems rerouted to get the rest of his senses online. His audials popped with static, and the voices which had been distant and muffled snapped into clarity.

“We’ll begin with the facial structure. What a mockery it makes of the human form.”

Bad words. Very bad words.

Ramming through about five different bootup sequences, he forced his optics online just in time to see the sharpened edge of a drill bearing down on him.

He barely had time to scream.

Emergency protocols kicked in, and his sensory net cut off with zero fanfare. Optics dark, audials silenced, and-- most importantly-- pain modules deactivated. His processor was still fully online, and he could feel the vibrations of the drill rattling his struts, but he couldn’t feel any of it. It was a safety measure that was standard in most bots to prevent trauma. Chromia had told him that most mecha involved in the war had it disabled, needing to continue fighting despite damage that would normally bring them offline, but Breakdown had never been involved in the war. Aside from the initial scuffles, he’d skipped town before it had really reached him. 

And then he’d never disabled the protocols. And they left him a prisoner in his own frame.

For his own peace of mind, he disabled his chronometer too. No need to drive himself crazy keeping track of how long he’d been there. 

However much time had passed, it had probably been long enough that they would’ve noticed he was gone, right? Knock Out would’ve gotten home from work (unless the track kept him late, like they were prone to doing), or Miko would’ve gotten home from school (unless she went home with Raf or Jack as she was prone to doing). And they would’ve taken note of his absence (unless they assumed he’d gone off for a house call without mentioning it. Like he was prone to doing.)

...Maybe they wouldn’t notice.

“Hey Ratch, can you come take a look at this?”

“What now, Bulkhead?”

“I don’t know. Computer’s showing an emergency broadcast signal across local frequencies. But... that can’t be real, can it? Thought those things weren’t in use anymore”

“They certainly aren’t commonplace. It’s possible it’s a rogue piece of Cybertronian technology, though.”

“Or it could be a Decepticon trick.”

“Or that. What’s the frequency?”

“Uhh... Buncha numbers, designation starts with a ‘B.’”

“A ‘B’?”

“Hey, those numbers kinda look like...”

“Miko?”

“...Bulkhead, is an emergency broadcast signal what it sounds like?”

“Used to be our frames would send them out when we got too damaged and went into emergency standby. But most everyone had ‘em disabled after one too many ‘Cons used them to track down injured Autobots.”

“So if there was a mech who wasn’t involved in the war, is it possible they would still have it enabled?”

“Yeah, but-- Woah, Miko, what’s goin’ on? What are you doing?”

“He could be in trouble!! We have to help!”

“Take it easy, Miko!”

“We have to help him!! Please!”

“Miko, just--”

“We can’t go tracking down any random signal that happens to pop up. If the Decepticons are trying to lure us into a trap, we don’t have the resources to risk... Optimus?”

“While the chance that it could be a Neutral is slim, it is not impossible. And it is our duty to help any Cybertronian in need. However, Miko, you must stay here. If it does turn out to be a Decepticon trick, we cannot guarantee your safety.”

“Whatever! Just go!!”

The drill did retract eventually, though was quickly replaced with sawblades at his chest, which just made him feel even worse, with the vibrations from that assault rattling his spark chamber. A quick diagnostic reported back that not only was his optic non-responsive, but the asset appeared to be missing entirely.

Really, really not good. Where the hell was he gonna find a spare one of those lying around? And furthermore, what humans had the technology to not only fully incapacitate a Cybertronian, but dismantle them with such ease?

At least sitting there waiting for his systems to deem him “not damaged” enough to come out of emergency standby left him ample time to get his memory banks back up and running. Once he did, they helpfully provided him with the file detailing exactly how he was ambushed on his drive. He’d gone farther outside of Jasper limits than he usually preferred, the need to move and a desire for a change of scenery urging him onward. He was halfway to Reno and pretty thoroughly in the middle of nowhere when he’d been struck from behind, several million volts sending him offline immediately and forcing him back into root mode. Which, obviously, was where the memory ended.

They’d... known. The humans had known. They knew what he was, and they’d specifically targeted him with electricity, because they’d known he was vulnerable to it.

This was those damn Autobots’ fault and he knew it. 

Although speaking of the Autobots--

Thudding pedesteps rumbled up through the metal keeping him pinned. He only just barely recognized them as pedesteps-- he and Knock Out didn’t exactly make a habit of stomping around anywhere. But he’d spent more time listening to his fellow Cybertronians than humans, even if it didn’t feel like it sometimes.

His self-repair hadn’t been knocked offline, thank Primus, and it had gotten to work as soon as the drill had stopped its attack, so his sensory net came online just in time for his singular optic to flicker back on and reveal Optimus slagging Prime standing at the other end of the room.

Hell’s bells. What mess had he been dragged into?

His audials rebooted as well, picking up Prime’s speech in the middle of a sentence; “...What manner of information they may be planning to use against us.”

“On it, Prime.” Another voice. Its owner was a blue mech, on the skinny side, and-- if he had to guess-- sporting the alt-mode of a sleek motorcycle. (Arcee, his processor helpfully provided.) She gave him a narrow look as she walked past him. “Eesh, they weren’t playing nice with you , were they?”

“Do they ever?” Another voice-- how many people was he gonna have to deal with seeing him like this??-- which got closer as a red-and-white mech stepped up next to where Breakdown was pinned. “Though this is... quite brutal. Bulkhead, come here, I need you to remove these restraints so I can see the extent of the damage. And you-- do not try and sit up once you’re free. Your plating is already dislodged, and I don’t want you making it any worse.”

A medic, then. His snappish tone was familiar enough that Breakdown almost cracked a smile. “Not goin’ anywhere, doctor. Trust me.”

The medic sniffed. “Not likely. Bulkhead! The restraints!”

“I will, doc, just gimme a second. There’s something-- oh, scrap, not again--”

“Dad!!!”

No. No way. God. Damn it. He was gonna kill these Autobots. Even if they were presently in the middle of saving his life.

“What did you just say??”

Tiny footsteps, an indignant sputter from the medic (she was climbing up his leg, wasn’t she? Little spitfire), and organic heat at his side. Soft hands against his plating.

“Hey,” he said, voice cracking. She was on his blind side. Even if he’d been able to tilt his head just-so to see over his own chest plating, he didn’t have an optic to do it with anymore. She was probably crying, though. She was a tough kid, no denying that, but she wasn’t as tough as she liked to pretend. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. What happened? What did they do to you??”  

“Miko, hey--”

“Your chest-- your eye!! I’m going to kill them,” nails scratching, he could picture her baring her teeth, “I swear I’m going to kill them.”

“Easy, sparklet. It’s alright. Take some deep breaths for me, okay?” His functional optic flickered first over to the medic, staring at him incredulously, then back over at Prime. The faceplate made his steady gaze unreadable. “I think our audience here has got some questions for me. Let’s take care of that, and then we’ll worry about everything else. Okay?”

Miko sniffled-- she had been crying-- and moved down to stand by his pedes. 

“...If everyone’s done being insane for a few moments,” the medic said, “Bulkhead. The restraints?”

“Um. Right.”

A heavy presence stepped up to his blind side, and after a moment or two, the metal keeping him pinned was unceremoniously ripped away. Immediately the medic moved closer, optics narrowed as he nudged Breakdown’s chest plating back into its proper position. It had been sawed clean in half, leaving his internals exposed. Though, thankfully, it hadn’t broken the barrier of his spark chamber. That would’ve been pretty disastrous. 

“Hrm. Looks worse than it is,” the medic said. “Your optic’s gone, and that plating isn’t going to stay in position without a fix, but you’ll be fine. If you stay seated so we can make sure you’re not a Decepticon before we let you go.”

“He’s not--!!”

“Miko,” Breakdown said sharply. Once the medic leaned back, he sat up, and was immediately beset by a teenager throwing herself at him. He managed to reach forward and catch her before she brained herself on the edge of his chestplate, gently cradling her in one servo in the best approximation of a hug he could manage at this size. “They’re right to be wary. It’s sweet you wanna defend my honor, kiddo, but I’ve got this.” 

He looked up and over at the Autobot that had freed him. Big, green, decidedly confused. Bulkhead, the medic had called him.

“Thanks,” he said first, then sighed. “...I’m guessing you’ve all got questions.”

“Uh, yeah, first question,” Bulkhead said, pointing first at him and then down at Miko. “What?”

“Long story.”

He huffed. “That’s not gonna cut it. We saved your life, pal, you owe us.”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

“So you would’a preferred we just left you there??”

“ Primus you guys are the worst,” Miko groaned, flopping back into his palm. “Stop being proud for like five minutes. You do kind of owe them. And me. Do you know how much of a hassle it was for me to get them out here to help you?”

“Whose side are you on??”

“That’s something we should be asking you,” the medic snapped. “Talk. We need an explanation. A real one.”

Breakdown sighed again. He wasn’t getting out of this one, was he?

“My name’s Breakdown,” he said, resting his servo near his chest so Miko could press herself against the surface of his plating. He’d discovered the thrumming of his spark was soothing to her after she’d fallen asleep in his cab enough times. “Neutral. I escaped Cybertron before the war really got bad, traveled for a while, then landed on Earth about a decade and a half ago. Ended up nearby. Set up shop in Jasper. Couple years later, met Miko. Her birth parents weren’t the best, and I ended up adopting her.”

The medic scoffed again. He really liked making that noise, didn’t he? “Seriously?”

“That really so hard to believe? Not much different than whatever situation you’ve all got goin’ on with Raf. If a little more legal.”

“How do you know about Raf?” Arcee had apparently finished whatever she’d been sent to do with the computers, and was glaring down at him from the platform above.

He gave her a narrow look. She was the one that June... right. Maybe he should try a little harder to get her to find someone else to make goo-goo eyes at. This one seemed kind of prickly. “Miko told me. One of the caveats for hangin’ around you guys is that she’s gotta report back about what goes on there.”

“You sent her to spy for you??”

“I didn’t send her to do anything. In fact, if it were up to me, she never would’ve met you bozos in the first place.”

“Hey!” Bulkhead slammed his fist against the table. It left a sizable dent. “These bozos saved your life!”

“And I appreciate it. Least my conjunx won’t have to wonder if I skipped town and ran out on him. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re also the reason it had to be saved in the first place. I was on Earth for a decade without anyone finding out who I was. I managed to lie to every single human I met. Not a single person even had reason to suspect that there might be somethin’ weird goin’ on. Then you guys show up and, what, half a year passes and suddenly humans just happen to know about Cybertronians? Happen to have the tech to take one down? As subtle as you might’ve tried to be, you weren’t subtle enough, and now my family’s in danger because of it. What the hell were you thinking bringing a kid on a mission like this?”

“Technically we didn’t bring her, she kinda snuck in--”

“Did you say conjunx--”

“It’s not their fault, dad--”

“I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped. He turned his glare on Prime. “We were fine here. We were happy. Then you all brought the war here, and you’ve got the gall to throw accusations at me and act like I’m the one you’ve gotta be wary of. So yeah, if it were up to me, Miko would’ve stayed far away from your bullshit and never gotten involved in the first place. But since she did get involved, I gotta do my best to make sure she stays safe, and that includes getting information about what kinda shit you’re dragging my kid into.” 

Silence followed. In hindsight, Breakdown did kind of regret his spiel. He’d been wanting the chance to tear into the Autobots for bringing their war to Earth (to his planet, his home), but doing so while outnumbered and injured was probably not his smartest move.

Smarts were Knock Out’s thing. He was the dumb bruiser.

Prime walked forward. Bulkhead and the medic stepped back. Breakdown hurried to set Miko down on the ground and nudge her off to the side.

“What--”

“Move back, Miko,” he hissed. He glanced at the approaching mech, broad and tall and expression unreadable behind his mask. Most of his war news was gotten through the filter of Chromia and whatever sources she had, but he was well aware of the powerhouse that was Optimus Prime. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Dad, no--”

“Just stay there for now, okay?” He didn’t actually think they’d hurt her. But if they decided Breakdown was a threat, he didn’t want her getting in the way. “It’s gonna be alright. Don’t worry.” 

Prime stepped up to stand at his side. The side with his still-intact optic, thankfully. And as much as Prime wasn’t in charge of him in any way, shape, or form, he still felt compelled to bow his head and hunch his shoulders. Primus, he wished they’d never come to Earth. They all would’ve been so much better off.

“If you’re gonna kill me,” he uttered, too low for Miko to hear, “don’t make her watch.” 

“We will do no such thing.” Prime knelt. He knelt, looking up at Breakdown like he was the herald of their god and not the other way around. “Breakdown, you have my deepest apologies. It was never our intention to put anyone in danger, nor was it our desire to bring war to this planet. We were unaware of any Cybertronians located here or elsewhere in the galaxy. If we had known, we would have made efforts to be more cautious about our presence. However, since we cannot change the past, allow me to make amends for the future; I promise you that as long as my spark is beating, no harm will come to you or your family. We will make sure of it.”

“No more harm, you mean,” Miko muttered from a few paces away.

“Miko!” Breakdown hissed. He hoped his fluster wasn’t obvious. He knew Prime meant well, but this was... kind of really awkward. The guy was on his knees making an impassioned speech. What the hell was Breakdown supposed to say to something like that?? 

“What? You lost an eye, dad. And your chest got ripped apart. Pops is gonna be so mad at you, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m hoping he’ll go easy on me once I explain what actually happened.” He looked back towards Prime. “Um, thanks. Appreciate it. And hey, I’m sorry I shouted, I’ve uh. Got a bit of a temper on me.” 

“It’s no matter. You were well within your rights to be angry. Centuries at war have made me forget what it is like to be a civilian.” Prime stood, stepping back, then gestured to the medic. “As recompense for our accusations, Ratchet will assist you. He is the finest medic I have ever known. Rest assured that you will be back in peak condition in no time.”

The medic-- Ratchet-- seemed displeased about it, but moved forward as directed all the same. 

“Uh, wait,” Breakdown said quickly, holding up both hands. “I mean, I appreciate it, really, but if anyone else tries to fix me, my husband is gonna throw a fit.” 

Ratchet raised a skeptical brow. “Your ‘husband’?”

“Partner. Conjunx. Whatever you wanna call him. He’s also a medic, and he gets a little tetchy when it comes to my healthcare.”

“ Our healthcare,” Miko grumbled. She’d apparently grown tired of waiting off to the side, and had clambered up onto the table again to plant herself on Breakdown’s leg. “Remember that time I broke my arm?”

Breakdown winced. “Okay, yeah, our healthcare. I’d rather not risk making him any more ticked off.” 

“Another Cybertronian?”

“What, you think I’d marry a human? Barring present company and like two-- three other people,” because Raf had recently joined the list of humans Breakdown actually liked, “those guys are the worst.”

“To be fair,” Miko said, a shit-eating grin on her face, “you would’ve married a human, if it didn’t turn out--”

“Ah, bap-bap-bap, they don’t need to know about that.”

“But it’s so funny.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Breakdown muttered. The story of how he and Knock Out had met was sort of devastating at the time, but now with hindsight and several years of being happily married between them, he just found the entire debacle thoroughly embarrassing. “These guys have already seen me at my worst, I gotta hold on to some kinda dignity. Although, speaking of that.” 

Thank the Primes (literally), his holomatter generator had gone untouched in the humans’ assault on his frame, and it took little effort to summon his avatar a few paces away from Miko. She immediately leapt off where she was balanced on his leg and threw herself into his arms. 

Much as it was nice being able to cradle her safely in one hand at his usual size, the soft warmth of hugging her through his holoform really was one of the best feelings he’d ever experienced, surpassing even the feeling of Knock Out kissing him senseless against his hood. She exhaled against his shirt, and he could physically feel the tension fading from her body as she relaxed into his embrace.

“I’ve got you, kiddo,” he murmured softly, pressing a kiss into her hair, “it’s okay.”

“I was so scared,” she whispered. An admission she’d never make known in any situation but one this serious. “I only recognized your number on the emergency signal ‘cause it was the same as your long-ass cell phone number. I just keep thinking what if I hadn’t recognized it and you’d been-- If I couldn’t get the Autobots to come help you they might’ve--”

“Hey, hey, Miko, take a deep breath for me, okay? In and out, just like that.” She usually called the phone in the shop, since that’s where he spent most of his time, but he and Knock Out had both given her their comm numbers for emergencies as well. It had taken a little finagling to get her cellphone to be compatible with Cybertronian technology, but it wasn’t like they had a shortage of scrap lying around. He never expected him to be the one having the emergency, though. “It’s alright, kiddo, I’m okay. I promise. Don’t make yourself sad thinking about stuff that didn’t happen, alright? You did know it was me. You did get the Autobots to help. Knock Out’ll fix me up, and I’ll be right as rain. It’s all okay.” 

She nodded against his shoulder. There was a sensation of warmth against his shoulder, and dampness, and he just hugged her tighter. He could feel the gash in his chest mirroring the one on his actual body, and he was pretty sure his holoform was missing the eye, too, but he could tweak that later.

“Ratchet to base,” the medic muttered from off to the side, clearly awkward in the face of such an affectionate display, “situation secured. Sent you the coordinates. Bridge us back, Bee.”

“We arrived here via a groundbridge,” Prime said, and Breakdown zoned back into his actual body to meet his gaze. (It was weird, being in both root mode and his holoform at once. Not something he did very often.) “Since our base of operations is located near Jasper, we will bring you back the same way.”

With a crackle of energy in the air, a swirling portal opened before them.

Bulkhead immediately made his way through, though Arcee paused just before entering the bridge. “Optimus, are you sure that’s a good idea? Bringing a stranger into our base?”

“We had few reservations about Miko and the rest of our human friends,” Prime said in reply to Arcee’s skepticism, and if Breakdown wasn’t imagining things, his tone was almost mischievous. (How many humans did they have?? They already knew he was familiar with Raf, was there another kid who had been dragged into their nonsense?) “Breakdown, I understand you are concerned about Miko spending time around us. I would like to offer you insight into how we operate here on Earth so it may ease some of your concerns.”

“Ooh, yes!” Miko leaned back, tears cleverly wiped away on Breakdown’s shirt to hide the fact  that she’d been crying from the Autobots. “It’ll be great. I can show you our setup, Raf has a Nintendo, and I absolutely kick butt at Mortal Kombat.” 

“You’ll have to show me.” They’d definitely be having a more in-depth discussion about all this later on, once it was just them and Knock Out. Once they didn’t have an audience. An audience who kept glaring at them critically when they thought they weren’t looking, Ratchet. “Scoot back, kiddo, I’m gonna dismiss this thing so I don’t have to worry about two bodies at once.” 

She did as told. Once his holoform was dismissed back into light particles, he scooped her up in one hand much to her amusement. Her giggling was short lived, though, as he went to stand up and immediately listed to the side, optic fritzing and processor stuttering. He carefully tightened his grip enough to be sure he wouldn’t drop Miko, though kept it gentle enough to not risk doing any damage. She made an alarmed noise, wriggling out of his grip and clambering up his arm to cling to his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” he wheezed, belatedly realizing that Prime had moved to steady his other arm when he’d stumbled. “Just a little outta sorts. I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe you should sit down,” Miko said, warily. “We can wait a minute, right?”

“No, no. We should go. I don’t wanna be here any longer than I’ve gotta be.”

The muggy air and shadowy corners of the... abandoned train tunnel? Was giving him the heebie-jeebies. 

“Of course. Right this way,” Prime said. Arcee and Ratchet had already gone ahead, and much as it might’ve been yet one more hit to his pride, Breakdown allowed Optimus to support him as they followed suit. 

They emerged from the bridge into... a cave. Literally a cave, with some metal supports and structures tucked into various corners. Computers and other paraphernalia. His GPS suggested they weren’t far outside of Jasper, tucked away inside some of the desert’s various rock formations. Primus, he’d probably driven by this exact spot multiple times. 

“Feel free to sit down if you would like to rest,” Prime said, stepping away once Breakdown was securely leaning against one wall. “You may depart whenever you would like.”

Breakdown glanced at him skeptically. “I don’t have to worry about you following me home or anything?”

“I would like to send Bulkhead out after you just to ensure that you are not attacked while trying to return to your place of residence, particularly when you will be carrying such precious cargo, however I will not give such orders without your permission.” In the safety of the base, his mask retracted, and for a moment Breakdown was struck with the realization that he looked incredibly young for someone who was supposed to be Primus’s chosen emissary. His gaze and voice were both soft as he continued. “You are a non-combatant, Breakdown. You are within your rights to refuse any part of this war that you so choose.” 

Huh. “Kind of expected you to be a little more gung-ho about recruitment. Figured if you found out we were here, I’d have one of your mechs turning up on my doorstep every other day trying to drag me into fighting Decepticons.” 

“Perhaps, once upon a time, we might have tried harder to seek your assistance. However, I am not willing to force a mech who has found peace into giving it up. You are free to live your life however you would like, Breakdown.” He glanced over at Miko, still perched on Breakdown’s shoulder, with a smile. “And with whomever you would like to live it.” 

With that, he stepped away to join Ratchet at one of the computer consoles. Miko tugged on one of Breakdown’s shoulder spikes to draw his attention.

“So this is the base,” Miko said, gesturing broadly. He had to admit, seeing the staircases and the railings and the platforms at Cybertronian-height did actually make him feel a little more comfortable with this whole arrangement. He never thought Miko was in danger of intentional harm from the Autobots, but in danger of getting under-pede and getting squashed by virtue of hanging out with Cybertronians unaccustomed to accounting for tiny lifeforms wandering around? Maybe that one. “And the TV is over there.” 

She pointed at one particular platform, where there was a cushy-looking sofa set up in front of a massive television screen. Definitely Cybertronian, if only because he’d never seen a human-made monitor that large. 

The TV was on, displaying some video game or another (he could never keep track of what was hip with the kids these days), though the two humans sitting on the sofa seemed more enthralled with Breakdown’s presence than their game. One was Raf, staring at him with more curiosity than wariness, and the other was--

“Jack??” He sputtered, more on instinct than anything, instantly wincing as Jack’s slightly skeptical expression turned to one of alarm. In for a penny, he supposed. “What-- How long have you been involved?”

“Oh,” Miko muttered, voice small, “did I forget to mention?”

“That little detail might’ve been skipped over somewhere along the line, yeah,” Breakdown said wryly. He turned to an increasingly confused Jack with his arms crossed, a severe expression on your face. “Does your mother know you’re here? She’s got enough on her plate without having to worry about you getting tangled up in all this business--”

“Hey!” Arcee snapped, stepping between them and getting up in Breakdown’s face (as much as she was able, given her height) with her teeth bared and her chest puffed up. “Back off! Just because Optimus let you into our base doesn’t mean you can go around harassing our friends--”

“Blake?”

Arcee went quiet. Breakdown looked up to meet Jack’s wide-eyed stare.

His righteous anger in June’s defense faded. Damnit-all, he really was a bleeding spark, wasn’t he? “Hey, kiddo,” he said, voice soft. “Can’t say I ever expected us to meet like this.”

Jack was silent. Raf looked at him, then at Breakdown, then back at Jack, then over at Miko where she was sitting quietly on Breakdown’s shoulder. Then his eyes widened. Breakdown had no doubts that he was connecting the puzzle pieces in his head.

“Mr. Downey?”

Smart kid.

“Yeah,” he said with a heavy sigh. When did his life get so complicated? (Probably about the time he decided to get involved with humans. He really couldn’t regret it, though.) “Yeah, this is... It’s a long story. But this is me. Always has been. I’m sorry I never told you, but... I think you can understand why.” 

“It’s okay,” Raf said quietly. “I probably would’ve kept it a secret too, if I were in your shoes.”

Breakdown looked at Jack. The kid was silent, staring at him, looking as young as he had back when he’d barely reached the top of the counter in Breakdown’s shop. He knew Jack, and he knew how much the kid hated doing anything that might make him feel like a burden to his mom, which meant he knew that there was no way in Hell that Jack had told June about all this Cybertronian business. She’d worry her ass off if she knew he was involved. Part of him wished he’d told her about him and Knock Out sooner, before the Autobots had arrived and made a mess out of things. Too late now, he supposed.

“Jack?” he asked quietly, because he was still just staring. “You okay, bud?”

And then, without warning; “Is that why you never stayed for dinner??”

Miko clapped her hands over her mouth to cover her cackling laughter.

“Oh my God,” Jack said. “Mom always thought you guys just hated her cooking. Or were on some weird diet and didn’t want to bother her with having to make something separate. But no, you guys never stayed to eat because you were giant alien robots-- How the heck did you pass for human so well?? You felt so real!”

“Holomatter generator,” Breakdown said, because explaining the mechanics meant he wouldn’t burst out laughing at the kid. “We can use hard light to create solid holograms. Controlled remotely. Look and feel convincing, but they aren’t so great at some of the finer points of being human. Like eating or getting injured. S’ why me and Aston-- uh, Knock Out, that’s his real name-- never really looked all that different all the times you saw us. We kind of forgot that humans actually aged.” 

“Mom thought you guys just had really good skincare and hair-dye routines,” Jack muttered. “All this time. The whole time I knew you. So you guys came to Earth and, what, opened up a mechanic shop and got a doctorate?? In Jasper? Why?”

“‘Cause we thought the war was a load of scrap,” he grumbled. Miko tugged on one shoulder spike, and he absently reached up to let her down onto the platform with the other kids. As he did, she pulled out her phone to dial someone. “We left separately, and we got here separately, but our reasoning was pretty similar. Neither one of us wanted anything to do with the Autobots or the Decepticons. But everyone knew that if you stayed on Cybertron long enough you’d eventually get dragged into it, so we left. I opened up a shop ‘cause I knew how cars worked, and I figured I could make a living off of it. Happened in Jasper just ‘cause it was the closest town to where I landed.”

“So it really was just a coincidence, huh?”

“Yep. Sheer chance.”

“Huh,” Jack said. He frowned, glancing away. “When I was younger... There was one Christmas you guys came over, and you mentioned you didn’t really have... parents. I get now that it’s ‘cause some Cybertronians really don’t have parents like we do, but you mentioned you were raised by your siblings, was that...?”

“You remember that?” That was, what, like ten years ago at this point? Sheesh. The memory on that kid. “Uh, yeah, yeah no that was true. Technically, I mean-- they weren’t really siblings like you humans have. But... Have any of these guys told you about Combiners yet?” 

Jack tilted his head. “Uh, no?”

“They told me,” Raf piped up. “They were Cybertronians who were able to basically fuse into one bigger Cybertronian. Were you a Combiner?” 

“Sparked and raised.” He didn’t miss the rest of his gestalt (except Dead End, but that was besides the point) but he did still feel the tiniest bit of pride for his former role. There wasn’t much of a place for them on Velocitron, but when they had the chance (and could get along long enough for it), being Menasor was an experience like no other. “Part of being a Combiner is that your sparks gotta sort of... hum at the same frequency. Won’t work otherwise. And the easiest way to get that is to find enough sparks that were uh... grown? In the same place? Knock Out would explain this better. 

But our sparks came from the same place, and they were made of the same stuff, and the closest word to that in the English language is siblings. So it was true, as far as you gotta be concerned.” He shook his head. “Gotta tell you, though, I far prefer the idea of siblings that you’ve got here on Earth. Motormaster would’ve sold me for spare energon the second they thought I was--”

“I’m sorry,” Ratchet interrupted, not sounding very sorry at all, “did you say Motormaster? As in, leader of the Stunticons?”

Breakdown gave him a confused look. “The what?”

“Motormaster, Wildrider, Drag Strip, Dead End, Offroad,” he listed to Breakdown’s increasing horror, “those were the original ones, at least, ‘til a couple of them were offlined and got replaced with Heatseeker, Slashmark, Wildbreak--”

“Offlined?”

Ratchet paused, taking in the open anguish on Breakdown’s face and wincing. “...During the war. They aligned with the Decepticons. Menasor was... a significant danger, on the battlefield. The Autobots decided the best way to deal with it would be taking out its individual components. Only... Motormaster was known to be ruthless, and often returned with new mechs to combine with--”

Primus. 

He didn’t miss his siblings. He didn’t. (Except maybe Dead End, who never begrudged him for being slower than the rest and sat with him when Motormaster’s latest barb left him feeling like an outcast in his own gestalt and supported him when he made the decision to split the bond and leave and--)

“Shut up, docbot!” Miko scrambled over to the nearest platform, reaching out and setting a hand on Breakdown’s arm. “Dad? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he wheezed. He needed to be anywhere but here right now. Without any prelude, he transformed, ignoring the way his plating shook unsteadily and flicking open his door. “Miko, get in. We’re leaving.” 

Thankfully, Miko’s usual stubbornness was nowhere to be found, and she simply clambered down the nearest staircase and-- after waving goodbye to the other two kids-- hopped into his passenger seat. He slammed the door shut behind her with perhaps a little more force than necessary.

“Where’s the exit?” he said tightly, and Ratchet pointed towards a particular tunnel without any attempt to make conversation.

At least for all his pride and bluster, he knew when he’d gone too far.

Maybe another day, when he hadn’t already been assaulted and violated (whirring saw blades inches from the outside edge of his spark chamber, they stole his optic) he might’ve been able to stomach the knowledge of his siblings demise (and he hadn’t felt it, he hadn’t known, he split the bond and they died on the battlefield and he didn’t even know, had to hear it from someone else, Motormaster replaced them) but as it stood, he was barely holding himself together enough to drive like a normal person and not a maniac. As it stood he was probably speeding.

Silently, Miko shifted over to sit in the driver’s seat. She wound her arms through the gaps in his steering wheel and set her chin on top of it.

“I called pops while you were talking to Jack and Raf,” she said softly. “I told him something happened and that he didn’t need to worry, but he should come home. I said we’d meet him at your spot-- the one on the hill? I figured you didn’t want to risk getting spotted while he fixed you.”

The tempest in his spark eased slightly. Primus, he had a great kid. He didn’t deserve her. “Thanks, Miko,” he said softly, voice slipping through the radio in his dashboard. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this.”

“I’m glad I was there. They might not have gone to help you otherwise.” 

Breakdown huffed. “True.” 

Having her warmth against his interior did help calm him further, and by the time they’d reached the other side of Jasper (it wasn’t a lengthy drive) and he was pulling up to where he could see Knock Out idling in the empty lot at the top of the hill, holoform leaning against his trunk with a cigarette between his fingers, his spark no longer felt like it was about to spin out of his chest.

Miko stepped out first, going up to hug Knock Out (whose cigarette disappeared instantly-- the goofball, projecting that kind of thing just to keep up appearances) then turning to wait for Breakdown to transform.

He did.

He wasn’t sure whether the open horror would’ve been preferable on Knock Out’s Cybertronian face or his human one. 

In the end he didn’t have to choose-- it was terrible on both faces, as became clear when his holoform bustled Miko off to the side to curl up with her on a bench (and offer her comfort while also keeping her out of the way) and he transformed to step up in front of Breakdown. One shaking servo settled on the gaping split down Breakdown’s chest, while the other reached up to cradle the side of his helm where he was missing an optic.

“Primus on high,” he uttered, dismay lacing his words, “what have they done to you?”

“I’m okay,” Breakdown murmured back, cupping one servo around Knock Out’s where it was settled on his helm and leaning down to kiss him. “I promise. It looks worse than it is.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not still bad, considering it looks awful. Kneel down.” Breakdown obeyed instantly. Knock Out leaned down to get a better look at the hollow space where his optic used to be. The pointed end of his thumb traced along the empty socket. “Oh, Breakdown. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

“I’m not. Something tells me they wouldn’t have hesitated to take you out, too, and I can’t fix you up like you can fix me.”

Knock Out pursed his lips. “You fix me just fine. You’ve done it before, right?”

“When you were in vehicle mode. I can’t fix mechs.”

“Oh, it’s the same parts, just in a different order.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“It’s mostly true.” One of his servos transformed to a soldering iron, and he pushed on one of Breakdown’s shoulders to get him to lie back. He might have been unsettled being on his back again so soon, but the dry heat of the desert and warm dirt beneath his back were different enough from the cold humidity of the tunnel that he was able to dismiss the burst of fear easily. Knock Out still felt it in his field, though, based on the way he frowned. “This won’t take but a moment. Though none of this situation is lucky, at least the damage is clean enough the edges fit back together neatly.”

Breakdown held still as Knock Out welded his plating back together. He offlined his optic against the bright flashes of fusing metal, and only opened it again once the buzzing stopped. It would need sanding and some fresh paint to cover it, but his chest plating was all but good as new.

Knock Out transformed the iron away, nudging Breakdown upright again and reaching up to once more trace his missing optic. “I don’t have this sort of spare part,” he murmured. “I can put a patch over it, but you’ll have to reach out to Windblade to ask about her Cybertronian sources. I’m sure one of them must be either Neutral as well or willing to go behind the backs of their faction to distribute parts to those unaffiliated with the war.”

“Here’s hoping. The patch’ll be fine for now.” 

“I’ll need to clean it first.” He pulled a cloth and some solvent from his subspace (and of course he just carried those around, vain thing that he was) and got to work. As he rubbed the dirt and soot away from the empty socket, he spoke up again; “...You once said that you weren’t going to let this war take our home away.”

“I did.”

“You had to face it on your own.” He sighed, servos going still then settling in his lap. “I don’t like this, Breakdown. I know, we were here first and we have a right to this place, but... what if you’re put in danger again? What if Miko is put in danger? We haven’t had any run-ins with Decepticons yet, but this just proves that there are other dangers on this planet. I’m not saying we should go to another one, if only because I don’t think there’s any other planets hospitable for humans in this quadrant, but... perhaps we should leave Jasper. At least until this all cools down a bit.”

“No,” Breakdown said immediately, then backtracked. “I get why you’re worried, Knock Out. You think I’m not? We can’t let this one little incident scare us off. I know you don’t like the Autobots-- I don’t either-- but they will do their best to keep Miko and the rest of the planet safe.”

“Yes, but what about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“But you weren’t,” Knock Out said. “This might happen again. It could be worse next time.”

“Or it might not. It could be a one-time deal that we never have to worry about again. We can’t live our lives based on what might happen, Knock Out. We’ll drive ourselves crazy.” He gently took both of Knock Out’s servos in his. “The Autobots know my signature now, if I get into trouble they’ll come running, and they’re not entirely useless. I’ll be more cautious, and I won’t stray so far from home. I’ll set up a protocol to send you an alert if I’m incapacitated. We won’t be caught off guard like I was today. If it does happen again, we’ll deal with it like we always have.”

Knock Out sighed. “Together.”

“There’s my mech.” He pulled Knock Out forward to draw him into a kiss, one servo clutching his and the other clasped around the back of his neck. Knock Out hummed, leaning into it, all but sprawling across Breakdown’s lap.

Miko, from off to the side, made gross gagging noises at them.

“I think our daughter has complaints,” Knock Out murmured against his lips. 

“Let her complain,” Breakdown replied. “We’re preoccupied.”

“You guys are so gross!!”

She sounded happy, though. 

Despite it all, Breakdown was too.

Chapter Text

His holoform lost the eye. 

Breakdown knew that if he really wanted to put in the effort to redesign it, he could probably manage a work-around, but whatever batshit technology Perceptor had used when he'd designed the holomatter generators meant that the holoform mimicked a mech's identity signature to near perfection. And as far as Breakdown's processor was concerned, he only had one optic. So that was what his avatar displayed. 

Windblade hadn't gotten back to him about a replacement. Knock Out installed the patch. That didn't carry over for whatever reason, so he specifically had to remember to put the thing on his holoform every morning or risk exposing some poor customer to what the inside of a hard-light avatar looked like. ("Fucked up and weird," he believed was the technical term for it.)

He hated Cybertronian tech. It was so inexplicably redundant. Not that human tech was much better, but at least that malfunctioned in predictable ways.

June hadn't stopped by since the incident. He really didn't want to have to explain how he'd somehow managed to lose an entire eye without consulting his closest friend who happened to be a doctor. And he doubly didn’t want to deal with her trying to take a look at it herself to make sure it was healing properly. There was no way she’d believe that he’d completely recovered in the week and a half it had been since he’d seen her, and he hadn’t even come up with a good cover story yet. None of his other customers were brave enough to ask.

Then again, she knew Aston and she knew what his pride was like when it came to his medical skills, so maybe she'd understand. 

Actually, it was kind of weird that she hadn’t been by at all. Normally she made a habit of stopping by on her way home from work, at least once a week if her schedule didn’t allow anything more. But two weeks had gone by, and he hadn't heard from her or the kid. And Miko would've told him if it were something 'bot related.

...Probably.

Even if she'd been getting more and more cagey about all that as time went on. 

Still, he had to trust her, or this whole thing fell apart. So he'd allow her the typical amount of teenage avoidance before he decided he needed to set stricter rules.  

He was broken out of his musing when the chime above the door rang cheerfully. There was the squeak of a chair on linoleum. Then silence.

A customer would've tapped the bell on the counter to get his attention. Knock Out or Miko would've called for him to start a conversation. That left either parties unknown, or-- more likely-- his errant human friend, based on the weight of the footsteps.

"June," he said without looking up as he headed into the lobby area from where he’d been doing his best to salvage an oil-coated transmission, "been a minute, huh? How have you--"

And then he did look up, and wished he had done so as soon as she'd walked in, because she looked like shit. Her skin was paler than usual, her hair was a mess, the dark circles under her eyes could be mistaken for bruises. She was leaning on her knees, hands clasped, and one leg bouncing anxiously.

"June!" he immediately tossed the dirtied towel in his hands aside and hurried out from behind the counter to kneel in front of her. "June, what happened? Are you hurt? Where have you been?"

"I'm fine," she said quietly. "Honestly, Blake. You're such a worrier."

"Of course I'm worried. June, you look like you've been through Hell." He set a gentle hand on her knee, heedless of how dirty it was. She seemed out of it enough that she probably wouldn’t care. He wasn't the best at comforting people, but years of raising Miko had definitely given him a leg up on the situation. "You don't have to tell me everything if you don't want to, but you've gotta give me something, here. You know if you're in some kinda trouble, I can help, right?"

At that, June burst out laughing. The sound lacked any humor and only served to make Breakdown more concerned. 

"I appreciate the sentiment," she said, voice hollow. "But I don't think you can."

And that? That was scary. June was one of the most level-headed people he knew, booted from the number one spot only by Windblade, whose patience was literally otherworldly. Even when June was freaking out she was somehow composed about it. So to hear her sound so terribly shaken sent cold worry through Breakdown’s spark.

“I’d still like to try. Please, June,” he took her hand. “Talk to me.” 

She glanced down at his hand for a moment, and the contact seemed to return some of the clarity to her eyes. After several seconds of staring she looked at him with an unreadable expression. “Do you believe in aliens, Blake?”

He blinked. 

“Um,” he said, lying through his hard-light teeth, “...no?”

“Of course not. You’re not the superstitious type. I wasn’t either, for the longest time. I mean, aliens? Come on. Ridiculous, right? Life’s not a movie. That kind of thing isn’t real.” She shook her head, squeezing Breakdown’s hand tight enough that he could feel nails biting into the false skin. “Do you know what it’s like having your entire world view ripped up by its roots and thrown out the window? It’s not fun, I’ll tell you that much.”

“June,” he said, more patient than he would’ve been for anyone who wasn’t his friend of over a decade, “what happened?”

“I met an alien,” she said. “Actually, I met several. And they’re made of metal, and they turn into cars, and they’re from another planet. They’re here on Earth because they’re hiding from other robot aliens, except those ones are evil, and there’s apparently been an intergalactic war going on for longer than humans have existed. And not only that, but Jack knows the aliens! He’s friends with them! And he’s been friends with them for months now, just-- just hanging out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Right under my nose! He wasn’t even going to tell me!! The only reason he explained anything is because we got kidnapped by one of the evil ones. Oh, and get this-- it gets even worse-- that woman I’ve been talking to? Apparently she’s one of them! They can-- disguise themselves, I guess. And this has all been going on for-- for years, and... Oh, Blake, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

...Damn Primus to Hell and back.

Every day he wished more and more that the Autobots had never come to Earth. Or if they had, that they’d gone anywhere besides Jasper. 

He spent years doing everything he could to keep the truth from everyone around him. Especially June. He struggled through more dinners than he ever would have otherwise, he played the part of a human with an amount of skill that would put the most well-trained actors to shame. He hid his culture, his past, himself. 

And it was all for nothing.

“June...”

June’s head snapped up, and the distant hysteria on her face was instantly replaced with sharp awareness. “You don’t sound surprised.”

Shit.

“Blake, why don’t you sound surprised? Or-- or skeptical, or something. This is insanity, no one would believe this. Or, maybe they would, but they’d at least sound a little shocked.” She abruptly ripped her hand out of his, and he stood and shuffled back to allow her space to jump to her feet. He didn’t want to make her feel cornered. “What happened to your eye?!”

“Take it easy,” he said, keeping his voice as low and calm as he could. Stars, but he wished Knock Out were here. He was so much better at handling these kinds of delicate situations. Breakdown didn’t know the first thing about precision. “I can explain everything, but please, please don’t freak out.” 

At the same time, he booted up his oft-unused comm-link and addressed one of the four numbers on his list of contacts. Knock Out was probably busy, but he could spare a few seconds. [Knock Out,] he sent, attaching an urgent marker to the message, [June knows.] 

The reply was immediate. [Knows what?]

[About the Autobots.]

[Oh, shit,] his conjunx replied emphatically. [Does she know about--]

[Not in so many words, but she suspects.] Breakdown paused. [I’m not gonna do anything without your permission.]

Knock Out knew what he was thinking without him needing to put it into words. He seemed to have a knack for it. [If you want to tell her the truth, I’ll trust you to do that. Just let me know if we need to skip town sooner rather than later so I can pick Miko up from school.]

[I don’t think we will,] he replied, [but I’ll tell you if something goes wrong.]

The entire conversation had taken less than a few seconds in reality-- Breakdown wasn’t the smartest, but his processor could still work faster than any human-built computer could ever hope to-- so there was no awkward stretch of silence between his pleading for June to stay calm and her reply of; “You’d better start explaining, Blake. I’ve pretty much used up all my tolerance for bullshit this month.”

“I will. But-- Not here.” He held out a hand, daring to crack a smile. His usual humor would either go over really well or really poorly. “I know you’re going through a lot, but do you think you can still trust me enough to get in my car and let me drive you to an undisclosed secondary location?”

He could see the way she was fighting not to smile in the twist of her mouth. They’d been friends for long enough that she had to know he’d never do her any harm. Right?

“...Fine,” she said, though she didn’t take his hand (instead crossing her arms belligerently), so he retracted it. For someone who was done taking bullshit (this month), she was being remarkably patient. “But if I think for a second that you might be up to something, I will throw myself out onto the road no matter how fast you’re driving.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” He made a mental note to drive as slow as he could without seeming suspicious.

It was always weird driving his own chassis around, even so many years after he’d first gotten to Earth, particularly when his passenger was a human who wasn’t aware of their whole situation. When he played chauffeur for Miko he kept his holoform in the front seat for appearance’s sake, but he was never too particular about moving his hands or feet to match the movement of his wheel or gear-shift or pedals. But with June, he had to remember to angle his foot down as he accelerated or risk revealing the whole thing way sooner and with way less fanfare than he’d intended.

“Can’t believe you were so up my ass about getting a new car when you’ve had the same one since we met,” June muttered, her cheek squished against his upholstery as she stared out the window. “Hypocrite.”

Breakdown laughed, more out of relief that she was still willing to banter with him than because anything was actually very funny. “What can I say? I’m into the classics. Besides, I can fix anything-- I’ve got more mods on here than are probably street legal.” Technically not lying. If a cop ever got a look under his hood he’d be impounded faster than he could blink. 

“Your husband likes the newer models, right? Foreign ones?”

“Yeah. Aston’s got, uh, expensive taste.” And he liked switching it up. Human-made cars just had so much more variety than Cybertronian alts, he’d always said, and they cared way more about appearances than Cybertron ever did. At least before the war, everything on Cybertron and its colonies had been made for function over style. Made to work as efficiently as possible. But human cars were chic. “And he came here from overseas, so he’s still kind of attached to the way they make ‘em.” 

June hummed, idly scratching at a small scuff on his door. He stifled a shiver at the odd sensation. “I don’t think I actually know a whole lot about his past.” She looked up at him. “Or yours.”

“It’s... not something either of us like to talk about.” He drummed his hands on his wheel. He and Knock Out made sure to transform regularly to prevent any kind of complications, but he was still antsy with the prospect of getting to stretch his legs again. (With all these people learning about the existence of Cybertronians, maybe one day he’d be able to walk around town in his true form without causing a panic. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.) 

“Still, even after a decade of being friends...”

“I think you underestimate our ability to avoid things,” he said, gravely. “You don’t know how far we've gone to escape our problems.”

She shot him a look of alarm. 

And he abruptly realized how that could be taken. “Hell-- we didn’t kill anyone, June, good grief. I mean it literally. The both of us traveled a really, really long distance just so we didn’t have to deal with some stuff we didn’t wanna deal with.”

“I don’t know! How was I supposed to know that wasn’t what you were getting at?? You’re acting very strange here, Blake, and I don’t appreciate all this secrecy. I’ve already dealt with enough lying from my own son, I don’t need you contributing to it.” Breakdown winced. Of course Jack hadn’t told her. (Then again, Miko hadn’t told him that June had gotten involved either, and they were gonna have a serious discussion about that once they were both home.) “Where are you taking me, anyway?” 

“Just a little ways out of town. There’s a spot Aston and I park ourselves at when we need some peace and quiet.”

That little plateau had probably gotten more use in the last decade than in the fifty years leading up to it. It was a good thing no tourists ever came out this far, or they’d be in some serious hot water. 

He glanced over at June. Her lips were pursed, and there was discomfort written all over her face.

“You can call Jack or someone and let them know where we’re at if you want,” he said softly. “I know how all this might seem. I know you’ve got a real good reason to be nervous, even if we’re friends, and I know you took a chance trusting me. I appreciate it. And I promise you, nothing’s gonna happen to you, alright? I’d die before I let that happen.”

A couple years ago, he might’ve faltered at the acknowledgement of his willingness to put his very long life on the line for organisms who wouldn’t be around for much more than a century or so, if that. 

He wasn’t faltering now.

“I’m bringing you out here for my safety,” he risked continuing. “It’s got nothin’ to do with you.” 

“...Alright,” June said. “I want it on record that the only reason I’m even humoring you here is because of how long I’ve known you. And the fact that I've left you alone with my son, and he's only ever had good things to say, and apparently he's a better judge of character than me."

"I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit--"

"Not now, Blake."

Right. Okay. They'd come out here for a reason. 

He pulled to a stop, at the last minute remembering to put his hand on the gear stick before shifting into park, and unlocked the doors to allow June to climb out. He got out too, though stayed waiting near the door, and when she looked at him curiously, he waved her back a few feet. Stepping on her wasn't even close to something he was worried he might do, he had enough practice moving with tiny humans clambering all over his pedes (because once they'd learned the truth and gotten over themselves about it, in Jack's case, the other kids had been just excited as Miko to investigate his true form. Probably a little of it was excitement at meeting a new Cybertronian who wasn't trying to kill them) that he knew quite well how to judge distance.

But he wanted to give her space. In case she had a... not-so-good reaction.

"Gonna ask you to trust me again," he said, regretfully. "And to not freak out?"

Sudden fear flickered over her expression.

“And June? I promise,” he said, the same thing he’d said to Miko when they’d gone through the whole rigamarole with her, “I would never hurt you.” 

“Blake? What are you--”

Breakdown wondered what it must have been like to be on the other side.

What was it like, for their human companions, to see a completely innocuous-looking vehicle twist apart in a mess of metal plating, only to reshape itself into something mimicking the human form? Did they find it at all fascinating? Or was fear the only thing in their minds when they looked upon something so undeniably alien? Did it hurt their organic brains to try and rationalize what they were seeing?

Did it feel like a betrayal? 

June... definitely looked betrayed.

Breakdown stared down at her for several seconds as all his parts settled into their proper places. Then he hunched his shoulders as best he could, reaching up to rub at the back of his helm awkwardly.

“I’m sorry. I would’ve-- It’s not that I didn’t trust you, it’s just--”

“How long?”

With the distance between them, it was almost too quiet, and Breakdown silenced his own vocalizer to allow her to speak.

“How long have you been... hiding?”

“Um, the whole time I've been here,” he said, then cringed. “Technically even longer. I left pretty much as soon as the war started getting bad, which was. Uh. Millions of years ago. And traveling through space isn't super fast if you're working with a sub-light engine, so. It took a while to get anywhere."

"And why-- Jasper?"

"Honestly? Coincidence. I landed a little ways out into the desert, and Jasper was the closest civilization I could find, so I just... stuck around. I didn’t think far enough ahead to do anything else.”

June’s eyes swept over his frame, pausing briefly to focus on certain parts. His chest, his shoulders, his helm-- it took him a few moments to realize she was looking for an insignia.

“I’m not a Decepticon,” he clarified. He doubted she understood the full scope of the faction conflict, but if she knew about the existence of his fellow mechanisms, she probably had at least a cursory understanding of which ones were good and which ones were bad. “Not an Autobot, either. I dunno exactly how much you’ve been told, about Cybertron or the war or any of that, but uh... I got the heck outta dodge before I was forced to pick a side.”

“Hm. Sit down,” she ordered, and he immediately obeyed. Once he was settled in the dirt, she asked; “How many others are there?”

“Uh, aside from the ‘Bots, you mean? Just me and KO, as far as I’m aware. Oh, and Windblade and her conjunx-- sorry, wife-- but they live down in Tucson.” He felt a little bad giving up their secret so easily, but he figured if June could be trusted to keep quiet about the Autobots, she wouldn’t go blabbing about a couple of mechs she’d never met. It was more important that he didn’t lie to her any more. 

“KO?”

“Aston,” he corrected, then forced a grin on his face. “Hah, remember when I told you we were incompatible, back when he first rolled in? Um, funny story, I didn’t realize he was a Cybertronian at first. I hadn’t figured out that our holoforms gave off any kind of signal yet, and I guess he hadn’t either, ‘cause we both thought the other was a totally normal human until--”

“Stop,” June interrupted him, and he abruptly cut the connection to his vocalizer. “Just... stop, okay? You’re trying to pretend that everything is normal, like we’re just-- just bantering like we always do. But this isn’t normal. None of this is normal, and I need you to stop acting like it is.”

Breakdown stifled a wince. He really had all the subtlety of a Wrecker in a china shop, didn’t he? He kept his voice soft when he replied with a subdued; “Okay. Whatever you need.”

June took several deep breaths, smoothing her hands first over her flyaway hair then down the front of her shirt, presumably to dry her palms. Breakdown waited quietly for her to get her bearings. 

He had been trying to pretend everything was normal. Mostly because he didn't know what else to do. He wasn't... Good, at this kind of thing. These sorts of situations demanded sensitivity and caution, which were pretty much the opposite of his wheelhouse. He was big. He was big and bulky and really good at breaking things. He fixed cars for a living, sure, but he also broke them down once they'd outlived their use. And he could do it so easily. Sometimes, when he was certain he didn't need to worry about being seen, he'd go out to the far end of their property so he could transform back to root and flatten scrap with his bare servos instead of needing to use the hydraulic press.

Right now, June needed someone who could be careful with her. Who could be delicate. Who could take things slow and simple, could be soft and quiet and give her time to come to terms with everything instead of blundering their way through.

But all she had was Breakdown. 

"What I need," June said, and for a split second he thought she'd somehow read his thoughts, only to remember he'd literally just said that, "is for the people in my life to stop lying to me." 

Breakdown very specifically did not say anything.

"I expected this kind of thing from Jack. Maybe-- maybe I hadn't expected it to be this severe. But I knew one day he'd start to keep secrets even from me. And I expected it from the other kids, too. Raf is so quiet, and Miko-- Well, it's a wonder you ever get the truth out of her-- but you. Blake. Or-- whatever your name is," she narrowed him with a glare, though it was kind of ineffective considering the tears brimming in her eyes, "I expected better." 

One of many benefits of being a Cybertronian was that he didn't need to breathe. His fans needed air flow, sure, and taking in air was a great way to clear stuff out of his internals if something got caught, but that all happened automatically. He didn't have "breath" to hold. 

Still, he found himself taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep his cool.

One of the worst parts of being a Cybertronian who lived around humans was that he couldn't get mad.

Back in the day, his anger had been one of his only redeeming qualities, in the eyes of (most of) his gestalt. He was too slow and too soft and too dumb but by Primus, when he got mad, he was a force to be reckoned with. He never liked getting angry-- but he was really, really good at it. He could hone fury to a sharpened point (or a blunt instrument) and wield it the way he might any other weapon. 

On Earth, he couldn't do that. He couldn't get mad. Because anger was destructive, and everything (everyone) around him was so easy to break.

So he couldn't get mad. He didn't get mad.

He took a deep breath he didn't need, glanced up at the sky as though hoping Primus up there might be willing to stop paying attention to Cybertron for a minute to help him out, and looked back at June with as dull of an expression as he could manage.

"You," he said, "do not get to say that."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I get it; you're mad you were lied to, you're upset your kid couldn't trust you, and you're probably a little scared because all this is a lot to deal with. But you do not get to come to me and act like you know what it's been like for me living here. Do you think it's easy? Lying about who I am, day in and day out? Do you think I enjoy it? That I didn't tell you 'cause I got a kick out of seeing you oblivious?" He hadn't gotten up, but he still loomed over her. (It wasn't a good feeling.) "Damnit, June. It would have been such a relief to tell you. There were so many times over the years when I thought about it. Do you know why I never did?"

Silent, wide-eyed, June shook her head. (He was scaring her, wasn't he? Damn it all. He wished the Autobots had never come to Earth.) 

"Because it also would've been stupid," he dead-panned. Knock Out would've said it better. He would've had a more eloquent way to explain his motivations, to elaborate on exactly why they needed to keep their secrets so badly. But it was only Breakdown. "One wrong move, and we'd bring Hell to Jasper. The Government or the War, either way, it would've ruined everything for everyone. Not just us. We kept it a secret from as many people as we could for as long as we could because we just wanted to live our lives in peace. And who we are makes that pretty damn difficult-- unless we keep quiet about it.

Primus, big speeches were exhausting. He was already tired.

"I didn't tell you because I was scared," he continued, quieter than before, all the fight gone from his tone. "Of who else might find out, sure, but also of how you might react. What you might do. Hoped it would never come up. It shouldn't have come up. But those damn Autobots just had to end up here, of all places." 

It was a big planet. Why Jasper?

(Unless there was something bigger at play. Why had he ended up in Jasper, come to think of it? Because he'd landed here and decided it was a fine enough place to stay? And what about Knock Out, who had landed halfway across the globe? Why had he just happened to cross into Jasper, too? Windblade and Chromia lived in Arizona, sure, but the former had still wound up here to handle Miko's case. And now the Autobots.

What was it about this town that drew Cybertronians like moths to a lamp?)

"So, I'm sorry I was another person in your life who lied to you," he said, because he still did feel kind of bad, "but I'm not gonna let you judge me for trying to keep my family and friends safe. You included." 

Even if she hated him for it.

Though, there wasn't a whole lot of hate in her expression.

She still looked shaken, sure, and her eyes were still wide, but she didn't look like she was about to start crying anymore. Didn't look like he'd just admitted to some great and terrible crime. (He hadn't. All he'd done was been honest about who he was. That wasn't a crime. He was allowed to exist.) Instead she was more... thoughtful?

"You wanted me to get a new car," she said, tone unreadable.

"Uh," he said, because that was not what he'd been expecting her to say, and the suddenness of the statement kind of made his processor stall. "Yeah, I did. The one you were driving was a piece of scrap, even by the standards of a regular mechanic. To the point of being unsafe eventually."

"You got mad at my car. And you're a car." Was that a giggle? Great, she'd gone from angry to hysterical. Knock Out would've handle this so much better. "You took it so-- personally, that I was willing to drive a terrible car." 

Oh. "Well. Yeah."

"Because you're a car--" 

More giggling. Or maybe crying? Unclear! Neither were good, though, and Breakdown wasn't really sure what to do aside from sitting there awkwardly while June struggled for coherency amidst teary laughter. 

"God," she heaved, scrubbing her face, "I'm gonna have a breakdown, if this keeps up."

Breakdown immediately clapped a servo over his mouth. He wouldn't laugh. He wouldn't laugh.

"What??"

Damn.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, this isn't-- This isn't funny. Trust me, I know. But it's--" He lowered his servos again, looking away, a sheepish set to his shoulders. "That's-- Breakdown, what you said just then, that's my name. My actual name."

"...Breakdown." June's expression warmed for just a moment. Then she made a face. "Wait, you said Aston's name was KO? Like, Knock Out? Your names are Breakdown and Knock Out?"  

"Yeah?"

"...Are all of your names this on-the-nose?"

"When we're working with English words, yes." 

"How does that work, by the way?" When Breakdown just gave her a confused look, she gestured vaguely. "The language... thing. I assume you have your own languages, where you come from. On... Cybertron. And I also assume there isn't a translation booklet floating around, though, I guess it wouldn't be too surprising given the amount of you there apparently are on Earth. But did you have to learn from scratch? Or did you just... what's the word, download it?"

"Ah. Good question. Little bit of both." Answering questions was a lot easier than trying to navigate all those finicky emotions. "See, Earth is kind of an outlier, in its solar system. Only planet inhabited by anything above microscopic level, only planet with this temperate of a climate. And because it's the only one with anything sentient on it, it's the only one putting out radio waves. And lots of 'em. So as soon as someone gets within spitting distance, we start picking up your broadcasts. From there it's not too hard to just recall what we hear. Of course, we have to figure out the meanings of a lot of words and phrases by ourselves, but we learned it all from you." 

June blinked.

"Oh," she said, softly. Almost reverent, actually. What he wouldn't give for a glimpse into her mind. Preferably in the form of a helpful datapacket. 

At least she was visibly a lot calmer. She was an intellectual sort, so his rambling explanation probably gave her something to focus on that wasn't how badly all of this was freaking her out. Which, not to say she wasn't well within her rights to freak out, because she was, but Breakdown really wasn't equipped to handle it. 

June looked up at him, searching his form. He sat still to allow her the examination.

"...You're still missing your eye. Even like this," she said, softly. With what must have been all the courage she could muster, (which was enough to leave him a bit dazed,) June stepped forward and set a shaking hand on his knee. (He wasn't sure he'd ever get over how comparatively tiny humans were.) "What happened?"

Breakdown exhaled.

He hadn't really... talked about it. Sure, he'd given Knock Out the whole story, and Miko was there, but it wasn't like he'd gone back to chat with the Autobots since everything had happened. His other customers had taken his gruff explanation of an "accident" without any further questioning. But not only would June not take that kind of dismissive answer, he was being honest now. She deserved the truth about this, at least.

"I got caught," he said, dully. "I don't know who they were. The Autobots probably do, so you can ask them. But some group of humans figured out what I was and how to take me down. They took some heavy machinery to my frame. Knock Out managed to fix me up pretty well, but spare parts aren't really something we have an excess of. Especially not delicate things like optics."

They could've probably jury-rigged a replacement if he'd lost, like, a servo or something. But optics were fragile, the tiny circuits hard to replicate or substitute. If it wasn't perfectly in sync with its opposite, it could lead to some serious disorientation on the part of his sensors, and that wasn't something he could risk considering his line of work. Or considering the people he spent time around.

"I'm just glad it wasn't my t-cog or something. Uh, transformation cog," he clarified. "What lets me go from car to robot. They took a saw to my chest, but didn't manage to get close enough to damage anything past the surface plating."

"They--?"

"You can still kinda see the soldering line," he pointed to the center of his chest, or more specifically, the thin scar bisecting it. "Knock Out's good with a buffer, but it cut me pretty deep." 

June, who was a doctor and not a mechanic but who was looking at a creature more man-shaped than machine, withdrew her hands and placed them over her mouth in what could only be sheer horror. She took several deep breaths that she definitely did need, closing her eyes briefly as she composed herself.

"And this is why you were afraid," she murmured, looking up at him. "Isn't it?"

"Yeah. Pretty much." He adjusted his seat so he could lean down a little further. June opened her eyes again to meet his singular gaze. "Do you get it now? I do trust you, June. More than I trust pretty much anyone who isn't my family. But I couldn't say anything. For your sake and mine. Once you know, there's no going back." 

With only a modicum of hesitance, June reached up. Breakdown leaned forward far enough that she could cup his face between her hands. 

"I understand," June said, softly. "I'm sorry I got mad."

"I don't blame you. I'd've probably been pretty mad too, in your shoes." His words were more of a mumble, both in an attempt not to blow out her eardrums with their proximity and to keep from moving his face too much. "Don't blame Jack too hard, either. The Autobots would've given him the same spiel about safety, and he probably wanted to keep you from getting involved for your sake as much as his." 

She huffed. It felt weird on his faceplates. "That's not up to him."

"Is it so hard to believe he wants to protect you?"

"I'm his mother," she said, squishing her hands against Breakdown's face a bit. Trying to see how it worked? It was exactly the opposite of surprising that once she got over her hesitation, the prospect of a whole new field of medicine to entrench herself in practically enthralled her. "I'm supposed to be protecting him."

He rolled his eye. "You and I both know that never lasts as long as we wish it would."

This close, he could feel more than see the way she wilted. She was a little out of focus, actually, just past the edge of his good optic. 

"I thought I had more time," she murmured, and if she weren't this close, he probably wouldn't have caught it. "Before I lost him. I knew he'd been-- up to something. Spending more time than ever out of the house, dodging the question when I asked what he'd been up to, coming home with-- With Arcee, though he said it was just her bike, that she'd let him borrow it. Which made no sense, because what sensible adult would send their motorcycle home with a teenager? I was almost worried. But then..."

Breakdown tilted his head so he could actually see her. She seemed... defeated. All her righteous anger had abandoned her, leaving only weariness in its wake. 

"Hey," he said, gently, reaching out slowly enough that she could move away if she wanted. She didn't though, and he ever-so-carefully cupped one servo around her. Not even a flinch. (But not like she actually felt safe. More like she couldn't be bothered to care.) "You're jumping between extremes, here. Even if he's not, y'know, the same kid he used to be, you haven't lost him. You just gotta be-- patient. Let him open up on his terms, y'know? Kids, teenagers, they like to have their secrets. Privacy. Parts of their lives that they get to keep all to themselves, same way adults do. Makes 'em feel big. Gives 'em control over something when they maybe don't have a lot of that. And they do deserve that."

June leaned back into his digits, clasping her hands over her shoulders. "I know that. I've been-- I've tried to be good about giving him space where I could. I let him have the garage, let him lock his door whenever he wanted, didn't press for details about where he went when he didn't come right home from school. And it was-- I didn't have time to do anything else, even if I'd wanted to. But this? This isn't-- dirty magazines, or cigarettes, or a girlfriend he won't introduce me to, this is serious. He could get hurt, or-- or killed."

She wasn't... wrong, was the unfortunate part. If she were way off base, he might have a better defense, but to no one's greater shame than his, it was in fact that serious. 

Still, he could offer something.

"The Autobots wouldn't let that happen," he said, dully. "Look, I... Don't like 'em much. It pisses me off that they brought their war here, and that they keep dragging folks into it. But they won't leave you or your kids out to dry. They'll make sure you're all safe from the worst of it." She looked skeptical, so he went on; "Hell, you think we'd let Miko pal around with them if I wasn't fully confident they could keep her out of harm's way?"

"I don't know if you could stop her," she said, faintly teasing.

Unfortunately, Breakdown wasn't laughing. "We could." Her slight smile dropped. "If we wanted to, we could. If we thought she was really in danger, we'd do it in a sparkbeat. Doesn't matter how much it'd make her hate us. Least she'd be alive to resent it."

He'd considered it. Not sincerely, it had always been kind of a last resort situation, a Hail Primus, as it were. But keeping Miko tucked away somewhere safe until this whole thing blew over was... a thought that had crossed his processor. (And really, what parent didn't sort of wish they could bubble-wrap their kid and bundle them up right next to their heart? Hide them away from all the terrible things they might face in the world? It was just a bit more literal in his case, considering the human-sized hollow spaces in his chassis.)

(He wouldn't do it. Not really. Miko was like a livewire, it would drive her insane being cooped up for an hour, much less something more extensive. That wasn't fair.)

(But if the Decepticons ever came knocking at their door...)

(Eh, save the end of the world for the end of the world. He had more pressing concerns than scary hypotheticals.)

"My point is, you can trust them. In general, but with Jack's safety, too. They're soft-sparked, real worried about doing good and protecting folks who can't protect themselves. And hey," he said, preemptively cutting off what was probably a scathing retaliation, "I know damn well that humans aren't as helpless as they seem on a cosmic scale, but it can be kind of hard internalizing that. They've only been here a couple years. Give 'em time. And until they get it through their thick helms, they'll mother-hen the Hell out of your kid."

June sighed that particular sigh that meant he was making a lot of sense and she hated it. "Alright. I don't like it, but-- if you trust them, I can... try to do the same."

"You should talk to 'em," he suggested, lightly nudging her with one digit to try and get her to perk up a bit. "Get to know them without all the cloak-and-dagger. Some of them are even tolerable." 

"I guess I am overdue to talk to Arcee about... all this," she mused.

Breakdown's expression scrunched up.

June burst out laughing, overbalancing slightly as she toppled backwards into Breakdown's waiting hand. Without really thinking about it, he sat back on his pedes, hefting her up to hold her at eye-level. Luckily for him, he hadn't overstepped too badly, and she seemed pretty at ease sitting cupped in his palm. "I take it you don't think she's one of the tolerable ones?"

"She's not the worst," he muttered. "Better than the medic."

"I think Ratchet is lovely."

"You would."

June opened her mouth, and he could almost hear the and what does THAT mean she was about to snap at him, then paused. Blinked owlishly. Then went red, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God," she said, slightly muffled, "is that-- When you were trying to warn me about Arcee, when you said they made you nervous--"

He hunched his shoulders. "I was-- What was I supposed to say?? Glad you're thinking about dating again, unfortunately the person you picked is a giant alien mech fighting an intergalactic war, you might want to reconsider? First of all, you probably would've just chewed me out for trying to tell you what to do, but I was trying to keep you from getting involved for as long as possible."

"Would you have ever told me? What if I went on a date with her??" She flushed redder, if that was possible. "What if I-- I invited her to-- Breakdown!!" 

He cackled, hunching over slightly as he braced his free hand on his leg to keep upright. "Either you wouldn't have gotten very far, or there's some pretty important updates I'm missing!"

"Oh my God. You suck." 

"Well, not--"

"Nope," she leaned forward, smacking both hands over his mouth. It was marginally ineffective in actually shutting him up, but out of respect for their friendship, he stopped talking and let her believe it was her doing. "You do not need a whole new kind of fodder for terrible jokes. I'm only just starting to accept that alien robots are real, I don't need to be thinking about how you..."

"It's called interf--"

"Don't need to think about it!" 

"Come on, June," he heckled, poking her side with one digit, "I thought you were a nurse! Don't tell me you're getting squeamish about something that's perfectly natural--"

"Shut up. You're awful." She shoved at him to no real effect. He took the message, and dropped the subject with a stifled laugh. After a moment, her expression turned thoughtful, and she leaned back on her hands. "But, hey. On the subject-- no, not that subject, get your mind out of the gutter-- how do your human forms work? You can touch things, but-- can't really eat, right? Do you need to sleep? Can you only make yourselves look human, or can you do other animals too?"

"It's hard light," he said, then continued on as that didn't seem to answer literally any of her questions. "The science is a little beyond me, but it's some kind of projector thing we've got installed that lets us turn light particles into something tangible. The way we look is also, uh... not really up to us. Something about interpretations of our subconscious? I don't know. I wasn't really paying attention. Eating requires way more effort than it's usually worth, unless we gotta keep up appearances, and we only need to sleep as much as we always do. Which is less than humans, but enough to recharge when we need it. We can look like just about anything, but the point of it is to be able to blend in with species on any planet, if we have to go into hiding. Like our alt-modes to a much more severe degree." 

"Alt-modes. That's... alternative modes?"

"Alternate, but yeah. Cars, trucks, planes, helicopters. Animals. Uh, I knew a microscope one time. Used to be kind of a big deal, but with everything going on, now it's more about what feels comfortable for us. Or what'll help us stay out of dodge or stay alive as long as possible." He patted his chest. "Me, I was perfectly happy with just the one. Knock Out, he likes the fashion of it. Gotta keep with the trends, y'know?"

"And his... foreign tastes?"

"That part wasn't a lie, actually. Maybe a little light on the details, but he landed somewhere across the pond when he first got here. He's still fond of the way they make 'em, so he'll go on a trip to find a new alt every once in a while." 

It was... nice. He hadn't realized how much he'd wanted to tell her over the years, how many details about his personal life he'd had to hold back. 

Sure, he still thought the Autobots were stupid and mostly wished they could've kept their war far, far away from Earth, but he couldn't deny the part of him that was beyond relieved that he could finally stop keeping a pretty important part of himself hidden from the first real friend he'd made way back when he landed here. 

"I probably have more questions," June admitted.

"I'll answer whatever I can." Breakdown winced, lowering his hand to let her climb down onto the dirt. "I'm, uh, not the best source, for some things. I've been here for a while. Been off Cybertron for even longer. If you want to know about the war, you'll be better off asking the Autobots. But in terms of, y'know, how we work, what's the story there, I'll be an open book from now on. Promise. I won't let you be left in the dark again."

(He knew how frightening it was.)

June smiled, tired but soft, and reached forward to clasp her hand over one of his digits.

"I trust you, Breakdown." And with a grin that was as much bared teeth as anything else, she went on; "You're not scaring me away that easily." 

Chapter Text

Breakdown was pretty sure he was being haunted.

When he expressed his concern to Knock Out, he got little more than a worried look from his conjunx and a gentle (but firm) suggestion that maybe he needed to sit down and let Knock Out give his processor a quick check-up sooner rather than later.

Which, fair, but that didn't stop the fact that he was being haunted.

"Ghosts aren't real, dad," Miko had replied, when she'd asked why he was acting weird and he'd answered honestly. "I thought you guys were like, super advanced. Shouldn't you know that?"

He didn't tell her that there had been documented evidence of lingering spark frequencies post-mortem back before the archives had been kind of demolished. He didn't want to give her nightmares.

June was even more intellectually-minded than his husband, so he was not going to her about it, and he didn't want to put his paranoia on the kids, which left the unfortunate option of just dealing with it himself. This... theoretical haunting. He wasn't actually sure, to be fair. He had no proof. He'd barely even seen anything.

But he had seen enough.

The flicker of a shape out of the corner of his eye. Some shadow outside the window at night, gone too quickly to track. Hints of radio frequences on the fringes of his sensors that never caught when he reached for them. Tiny things, but things which added up more and more over the weeks he noticed them. At first he thought maybe he was just losing his mind, that Knock Out had a point with his concerns about code degradation.

And then.

He saw it.

Out the back window one night, cleaning up from dinner, with Knock Out in the other room attempting to wrangle Miko into letting him cut her hair, he glanced up for just a moment.

And saw some looming thing out near the edge of the scrapyard.

The cup he was holding slipped from his fingers and shattered in the sink as his holomatter projector stuttered, and his form along with it. Immediately the chatter in the other room ceased. A moment later, both Knock Out and Miko peered into the room with a combination of wariness and concern on their faces.

"Dear," Knock Out said, slowly, "is everything quite alright in here?"

Breakdown glanced away from the window for barely a second. When he looked back, the thing was gone.

"All good," he answered, willing his voice not to waver. "Just, uh, misjudged the distance to the sink."

Knock Out gave him a look that said he definitely did not believe the excuse, but shrugged regardless, and took the momentary lull to grab Miko by her armpits and haul her up, much to her shouted protests. "Absolutely not, that hair is a travesty, if you want to give yourself a custom paint job you have to actually maintain it--"

That was all Knock Out's battle, so he left him to it. He cleaned up the broken glass, finished the dishes, and did not look out the window again.

That night, at least. He tried not to the following nights, but after two days of not looking out any windows after the sun went down, he couldn't help his own burning curiosity. He looked. Out the same window; the one over the sink, pointed towards the scrapyard and the empty land beyond.

And there was nothing there. Only unmoving junk. Just like always.

Maybe he'd just... been seeing things.

Maybe he needed to get out more. If he was starting to see figures where there weren't any, he'd clearly been spending too much time indoors, and his processor was starting to rot. (Or, it could've been something more serious like a virus or something, but a simple matter of cabin fever was a lot easier to fix.)

So, one particularly quiet evening, he bid a soft goodnight to Miko (who would try very hard to stay away past ten PM and fail miserably) and a slightly louder goodbye to Knock Out (who was so busy with the manual he was scanning that he hardly noticed Breakdown leaving), and headed out into the desert. It had been a while since he'd gotten to stretch his real legs-- and much as he'd gotten used to being cooped up in alt while his holoform did all the work, he did still sometimes miss being able to just... walk around. As himself. 

Maybe one day.

Not today, though. Today, he needed to make sure he was far, far out of sight of Jasper before he veered off into the open desert, far enough out that no sane human would be this far from civilization in the middle of the night, at which point he ran double scans of the area to make sure it was actually as isolated as it looked.

The scans returned nothing more than a handful of tiny heat signatures buried in the dirt that probably belonged to some snakes or something, so Breakdown was free to unfold his plating and stretch out in root-mode for the first time in... Well, actually, it hadn't been that long. The whole "being kidnapped" thing had only been a couple months ago, and he'd gotten a chance to stretch while Knock Out had been repairing him, but still. When he spent the rest of his time cooped up in alt-mode, the short periods where he got to be bipedal never felt like long enough.

But he didn't need to worry about that now. He had his privacy, and a nice open space where he could stretch all his limbs to the point that the struts creaked. Knock Out never liked when he strained himself that way, but the mech himself was guilty of the same thing whenever he got to flex his plating. 

Breakdown lay on his back (as best as he could), and stared up at the sky.

Yeah, he'd needed this. He wasn't sure if feeling confined by the constant civilization pressing in on every side was the only reason he'd been so jittery, but it definitely wasn't helping. A bit of fresh air would do wonders to help clear his head.

And it was nice seeing the stars, however distantly homesick they might've made him.

(He didn't miss Velocitron or Cybertron. Really. He'd never felt like he fit in anywhere, and he had his family and friends and work here, and Earth was great. But he did miss how simple it was, back when he hadn't spent every waking moment with something else to worry about.

He'd been alone, before, and it had sucked. But at least then he hadn't been so concerned with the safety of others.)

Whatever. The stars were nice.

They were also... interrupted?

Breakdown squinted at a particular patch of sky as the stars seemed to... vanish, briefly, then reappear. Almost like something was... flying in front of them?

His spark leapt in his chest.

Was it-- Could it be--? They'd caught him while driving, before, but that didn't meant they didn't have planes or helicopters or something else, and he was alone again and he was such an idiot--

A shape dropped from the sky.

Breakdown was immediately on his pedes, one hand transformed into a hammer he hadn't used in ages, and he was so out of practice fighting but he also wasn't going down unless he went down swinging. They were not gonna catch him off guard again. Not like last time. (He couldn't do that to Miko and Knock Out again. They'd been so scared.)

But the shape didn't move any closer. It didn't send a million volts in his direction, it didn't release any humans out of some unseen cockpit. It just sat there for a few moments before unfolding itself into something that was very definitely a mech. An absolutely bizarre looking mech, with limbs long and thin to the point of being unwieldy and a blank visor instead of an actual face, but a mech nonetheless.

They were also shaped like the figure he'd seen out the back window that one time. 

Mother- fucker--

"At ease."

Breakdown paused. The guy wasn't attacking, just standing there a few paces away and staring at him. If he were here for war-related reasons, probably he would've come with a visible weapon, right?

Hesitantly, Breakdown put his hammer away, then raised the servo that had replaced it. "...Hi," he said, equally slowly.

"Greetings." ...Either his auditory sensors were malfunctioning, or the mech had just used an entirely different voice than the one he'd first spoken with.

"Can I, uh," Breakdown cleared static from his vocalizer, "help... you?"

"Designation-- break-- down," the bizarrely-constructed mech intoned in three different voices. Breakdown was taller than him, but that didn't stop him from feeling the urge to shrink back under that unflinchingly blank gaze. "I think-- you can."

Definitely different voices. Based on the strange, stilted intonation in his words, Breakdown would even hazard that they were recordings as opposed to synthesized speech. 

He elected not to mention it. Not only because this mech was kind of scary (though he was), but because in case it turned out to be some kind of defect which kept him from being able to talk, Breakdown didn't want to be the asshole who called him out for it. Even if this situation was creepy enough that he was pretty sure no one would blame him for being a bit of an asshole about it. (Still, he didn't want to be that kind of asshole. Who picked on people for things they couldn't help. He wasn't like that.)

"You... gonna elaborate any more than that?" 

"You are-- a bit like-- me."

"Um," said Breakdown, because he couldn't conceive any possible similarities between the two of them, but it was hard to argue with a guy who sounded... like that. "Okay."

"We-- both have-- little tag-along-- that we-- care very deeply for." The mech, whose name Breakdown still didn't know, lifted one slender arm (where Breakdown couldn't help but notice the Decepticon insignia proudly displayed) and set a clawed hand on his chest. Beneath his spindly digits, his chest seemed to pulse. "It is hard to-- be alone-- on this world. I wish-- only the best for-- my own. But I find myself-- needing-- some outside assistance." 

"...Assistance?"

The mech's chest split, then, its surface detaching and coming to hover beside him with the low sound of antigrav engines.

And Breakdown recognized it all at once. A deployer. This mech was a host.  

"Oh," he realized. "Tag-along."

"Quite," the mech said, and the tone of his borrowed voice was clearly bemused. He lifted one hand to scratch under the deployer's... chin? Its structure was vaguely bird-like, but clearly alien. Either it hadn't bothered to take a new shape when they'd arrived on Earth, or it lacked the ability. "You may-- also-- call her-- child. The meaning of the phrase-- is the same. This is-- Laserbeak. She needs to-- get out-- explore. Make some-- new friends. The company-- I-- keep-- is not-- suitable for this kind of work. The other option-- is not an-- option. For-- reasons. But you are-- Neutral. Non-combatant. And by extension-- so is-- your little tag-along." 

Oh, Primus. He was talking about Miko.  

They were similar-- because they were parents.

No amount of books or PTA meetings could have prepared Breakdown for this.

"I'm not. Uh. I'm not sure if that's... a good idea."

The mech tilted his head. "If you are-- worried about-- yours-- I promise you-- she will be-- safe. Laserbeak-- can be-- delicate-- when the time comes." 

"More worried about, uh, the other way around, actually. My kid's... a bit of a handful." And buddy-buddy with the Autobots, he didn't say.

"She is-- energetic. This is not-- a bad thing. Laserbeak requires-- someone who can-- keep up with-- her." He lifted a hand to cover the lower half of his mask. Said mask was apparently a screen, based on the little stylized graphic of a smiling face that appeared in purple LEDs. Was this guy... laughing at him? "No matter the-- company-- she keeps-- if you are-- legally-- Neutral-- then so-- is she."

Breakdown stopped short.

Had he--? He hadn't... said that, right?

"Negative," the mech replied to the words he hadn't spoken aloud. "Thoughts-- exist in-- frequency. I am-- Soundwave. Soundwave hears everything."

"Like, telepathy?"

"In essence." The laughing face vanished. Soundwave, as this guy was apparently named, folded his arms behind his back. "It is-- complicated. But I knew-- the truth of the matter-- before-- I approached."

Before Breakdown even had time to wonder if this meant Miko was in danger because of her association with the 'Bots, Soundwave was already "talking" again, shaking his head with a repetitive chitter that he abruptly realized was supposed to mimic the sound of a human clicking their tongue. "Children-- can be-- foolish-- can they not? Such a shame-- she is so-- misguided-- and she keeps-- such-- terrible company-- as the Autobots. Perhaps-- one day-- she will-- see the error of-- her-- ways. And-- such a shame-- Laserbeak is-- spending time-- with such --a terrible influence-- behind my back."

Oh. Oh. Now, Breakdown was not exactly a master of subtlety, especially not to the degree to which this guy definitely seemed to be, but he could pick up on blatant indications when they were displayed in neon directly in front of his face.

"Right," Breakdown said, slowly, "and such a shame that my kid is ignoring all the warnings about evil Decepticons and hanging out with this one, who just so happens to be similar to her in terms of both age and attitude."

"I am glad-- we can agree on this-- tragedy."

"I'll have to ask her, of course. In the end it's her choice." It was put forth warily, as though testing the waters.

"Affirmative. Her-- feelings are-- important." He tilted his head, and Breakdown got the impression he was being glared at. "I will not-- put my-- Laserbeak-- on the line-- if you think-- it could be dangerous."

A threat. A very distinct one, at that. Very casually, Breakdown replied; "Nah, I don't think Miko'd hurt anyone like that. Especially not if I explained what's going on. She'd probably find it pretty thrilling, actually. She loves breaking the rules. And even if I give the okay on all this, getting all buddy-buddy with a 'Con is still pretty rule-break-y in the optics of the other crew."

"I must admit-- I would-- likewise-- face consequences. I am lucky-- to be the-- Communications Officer-- on board. If-- I do not want anyone-- to know-- they won't." 

...This guy was a lot more powerful than he let on, wasn't he?

"Yes," Soundwave said, simply. Proudly.

Right.

"I'll talk to Miko about it, then," Breakdown said. "See if she's down to make a new friend. Should I... Is there some way I can... contact you..?"

"Reach out to-- Soundwave-- on-- open frequency. Soundwave hears everything." Laserbeak returned to her place on Soundwave's chest, attaching with a quiet hiss of hydraulics that Breakdown heard even from his spot several feet away. "Take care-- break-- down." 

"...Uh, thanks. You... take care, too."

Soundwave dipped his head. Then pulled himself into a transformation sequence-- which left an equally thin and equally bird-like flyer in his place-- and took off on startlingly silent wings. His dark plating meant he basically vanished into the night sky as soon as he was gone, the only indication of his presence being the slight flicker of the stars as he crossed in front of them.

What a weirdo.

But hey, Breakdown could appreciate a fellow parent just wanting their kid to make a few more friends.

Buckling down into his own transformation, Breakdown headed for home, already plotting the way he might approach the topic of scheduling a Decepticon playdate for Miko without alarming anyone involved. 

This would either go horribly wrong, or be really fun for everyone involved.

In a bout of foolish optimism, Breakdown was banking on the latter.