Disclaimer: I do NOT own Transformers or anything connected to it. However I DO own Jaime. She's mine. And anyone else in the story you don't recognize. They're my characters too.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Jaime jumped out of her old lumpy bed along with six other girls. She crouched next to her bed and reached underneath for her knapsack that held all her belongings. She pulled out a worn t-shirt and jean shorts. She slipped out of her pajamas and pulled on her clothes. Quickly throwing the knapsack back underneath her bed she straightened and began running her fingers through her chocolate brown hair in a presentable manner. Her bright green eyes glanced around the room to see that half of the girls were already gone. Frowning, she quickly grabbed her old converse shoes and shoved them on her feet and sprinted out the door. She could not be late again. Miss Narcissa would just love that. She scrambled down the rickety old stairs and ran into the cafeteria where the other children had lined up. She silently stepped into her spot in line and waited for Miss Narcissa to confirm that all the children were up. She glanced down the line just in time to see the last boy appear. A moment later and the click clack of heels could be heard on the hard floor. No child moved however to watch the person come into the cafeteria. There was no need. They all knew who it was. It was Miss Narcissa, the headmistress of the Rockwell Orphanage for Abandoned Children. She ruled the orphanage with an iron fist. The women always looked prim and proper with her blazer and skirt. Her dark hair twisted into a painfully tight bun. She was quick to anger and even quicker to punish, especially if you were on her bad side. Which Jaime had been since she arrived two years ago. She walked down the line coolly, assuring that everyone was present without uttering one word. When she reached the end of the line she clacked her heels and spun around. She paused in front Jaime. The headmistress glared down with her dark beady eyes at the small girl who didn't dare make eye contact.

"Well," she murmured, "It seems our little cripple saw fit to be on time today." She stayed there, waiting to see if Jaime would reply. There was silence. Jaime bit her tongue to control her anger. Yes she was a cripple. Miss Narcissa seemed to love to remind her of that. The headmistress continued down the line. She stopped farther down the line at one of the boys, Brian.

"Where are your socks?" She demanded.

"I think someone stole them ma'am," he replied lowly, eyes on the floor. Normally she might have yelled at the child or even smacked them. But Brian was the closest to being her favorite, so the only reaction was a deeper frown.

"Well find them by tomorrow morning." Brian gave a curt nod in acknowledgement. She marched down the line without further incidents. She turned to face the children.

"Attend to your normal duties." The children broke apart to do their chores. Jaime followed the other girls but a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her. She froze, knowing who the hand belonged to.

"Except you are to gather and empty the trash and clean the toilets. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Jaime answered.

"Don't talk to me in that ungrateful tone," she snarled and spun around marching into the kitchen. Jaime stood there for a few seconds, then sighed and headed to do her duties. An hour later she was outside carrying the last garbage bag out to the dumpster. Garbage duty was difficult for any child since it was so heavy and bulky. It usually took a few tries to swing the bag into the dumpster, assuming the bag didn't rip before it landed inside of course. But it was hardest for Jaime because she only had one arm, her right arm to be exact. Her left arm was a stub that ended a few inches above the elbow. The stub was so short that she could wear a t-shirt and it would be almost completely covered. She gritted her teeth and braced her feet apart as she swung the bag into the dumpster. It landed inside with a clang. On the bright side, Miss Narcissa had put her on garbage duty so many times that she had worked out a system that worked quite effectively.

She walked back inside to gather soap and a scrubber for the toilets. She had just finished cleaning the nasty toilets when the breakfast bell rang like it always did at eight o'clock sharp. She returned the cleaning items to their designated spot, washed her hand thoroughly and ran down to the cafeteria to eat breakfast. The children would line up and Cook, the old grouchy lady in charge of their meals, would hand them a small bowl with watery porridge. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays they would also receive a small crust of bread. They were not starved, they had to be healthy looking enough so the police did not get involved or future parents would be willing to adopt children, but they were not given plenty of filling meals. They received just enough to get by.

Jaime received her bowl and bread and grabbed a cub of water and sat a table by herself. She didn't really have any friends. Most of the kids had been put off at fist by her one arm and hadn't made any attempts at friendship. Jaime, who had been too intimidated by the new environment, hadn't made any attempts either. A small four year old boy with light brown hair and baby blue eyes sat down across from her. Except Charlie who had arrived almost a year ago. He adored Jaime and although they were not related he often called her his big sister. She frowned when she saw his small bloodied lip. She leaned forward and wiped the blood off.

"Who was it?" she sighed. Charlie didn't reply, instead he looked over his shoulder. Jaime followed his gaze and saw Brian.

"Honestly," she growled as she scooped up her porridge, "the prick needs to bugger off." Charlie smiled at her and nibbled on his bread.

"Do you really think someone stole his socks?" he asked. Jaime shrugged.

"Doubtful. Who would even want his stinky socks?" she smirked and they both laughed at that.

"What are you idiots laughing at?" a voice sneered from behind them. They turned to see Brian standing with his arms crossed with a scowl on his face. He was twelve, the second oldest boy, and although he was scrawny he was also tall for his age. His unruly orange hair looked like it had been attacked by a comb and the comb lost. His blue eyes were hard with burning anger. Jaime looked him up and down.

"Nothing," she replied. Charlie suppressed his smile, understanding exactly what she meant by that comment. Brian's scowl deepened.

"You think you're funny stubby?" he growled.

"No," Jaime frowned, "I don't." Charlie nervously watched them have a stare off. Before things could escalate, Miss Elizabeth entered. She was a caretaker and much kinder and gentler than Miss Narcissa, which was strange because they were sisters.

"All right children, time for studies!" she clapped her hands. Brian gave Jaime one last glare than turned and stomped off. No one questioned Miss Elizabeth since she was so nice. Who would want to get on the bad side of the only nice person at Rockwell Orphanage? The rest of the day passed quickly: studies, lunch (day old peanut butter sandwiches), more studies, than free time at four. They had free time until dinner at seven, unless they had been punished. Often times the children would make up games to play, or sleep or (the older students) would read an old book they had found. At four thirty the bell rang. All the children stopped to count the rings. Ding. Ding. Ding. Gasps were heard as children scrambled around, straightening their clothes, rubbing off dirt and making themselves presentable. Three rings meant someone was interested in adopting and wanted to look at the children. The children rushed down to the meeting room, its specific purpose just for that. They were cleared by Miss Elizabeth (cleaned and presentable looking), before they were allowed to enter.

Jaime sighed. She didn't follow. She had learned after a few visits to not bother. Adults weren't usually interested in her, a one armed child, who may be more work than a normal two armed child. People wanted healthy children who could run around and be pampered and not have people stare at them. She could run around and play just as well as any other child but people seemed to think her completely helpless. One time a couple had been interested in adopting her, but Miss Narcissa had talked them out of it. She told them how she was a troublemaking attention seeker and she often complained about her stump when there was nothing wrong with it. Jaime scowled at the memory.

This was the one time of the day when the headmistress wouldn't mind her not being present. She went upstairs to the roof and sat on the edge. She stared at the sky daydreaming. She remembered her parents before the accident. She had been seven at the time. They had been driving home from a movie at night. They had been singing in the car like always then a drunk driver came roaring around a corner and t-boned their car. Her parents had died in the crash. The doctors said she should have too since the car had hit them on her side. But for whatever reason she had survived. They'd had to amputate her arm. It had been completely crushed and infection had set in after a few days. Jaime sighed gently rubbing her left stump and blinked the tears away. That was two years ago. She was nine now. Since realizing that she probably wouldn't be adopted, she had been counting down the years till she could leave. Once a child turned sixteen they were allowed to strike out on their own. At least that was the belief. There were never any children over sixteen at the orphanage.

Jaime closed her eyes enjoying the suns warmth. Images flashed before her eyes; two robots fighting, a big robot twirling around a tiny one in its arms, a giant cube with glyphs whispering soft words to her. Her eyes flew open. She forced herself to calm down. They were old dreams. Ever since she was five she'd had strange dreams. Normally they were just snippets or robots talking, laughing or doing somewhat normal things. But after the accident they had gotten worse. She usually saw them fighting now. The horrible images scared her. She'd even seen some of the robots die. She didn't know for sure, but she believed it had something to do with the family vacation her parents and her had gone on when she was five. They had visited the Hoover Dam. During the tour Jaime had gotten separated from her parents. Lost and unsure, she saw a strange looking man in a suit stride by. She had quietly followed him until he reached a hidden door and punched in a code. He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone had seen. Jaime had quickly hid behind a niche in the wall and held her breath. A few seconds later she had peeked out and the man was gone. Curious like any other five year old she had walked up to the hidden door. She felt something beyond it. Something immense…like there was some powerful force…that was when her mom had found her pulled her away, leading her back to the tour group.

Nothing had seemed to happen right after, but there had been small changes. For example she was stronger and faster than any other child her age. She no longer got sick. Her hearing, sense of smell, and eyesight were all sharper. When the doctors had said it was a miracle she survived, Jaime wondered if the strange whispering force had saved her. What bothered her was how true that thought felt. And what bothered her more was the thought: what exactly did it save me for? She sighed one more time and stood. With one last look at the clear blue sky, she turned to go inside.

Dinner was normal. Thankfully Brian had forgotten about lunch and left her and Charlie alone. They didn't talk much over their diluted chicken noodle soup. A little girl had been adopted. Jaime downed the rest of her soup and returned the bowl to the counter. Charlie followed her. They climbed up the stairs to the small joint bedrooms. Jaime pushed open the door. The bedroom was still empty, everyone was still down at dinner. She strode into the room and sat on her bed. She then realized that Charlie was still standing in the doorway, gazing at the floor.

"What's wrong Charlie?" she asked. He lifted his head and looked her in the eye.

"Am I ever gonna get adopted?" he sniffled.

"Oh Charlie, come here," Jaime lifted her arm. Charlie shuffled over to her and sat on her bed. She gently wrapped her arm around him. "It might happen next week or it might be next year. But you will get adopted Charlie. Believe me when I tell you that you are special. You are the most caring, brightest, sweetest four year old boy I know."

"I'm the only caring, brightest, sweetest four year old boy you know," Charlie muttered. Jaime rolled her eyes.

"Charlie…" Jaime began.

"Annie's only been here for two months and she already got adopted!" Charlie interrupted. "I've been here much longer than her."

"Charlie, they were looking for a girl from the start, not a boy. Imagine if they had adopted you they probably had only girl clothes at home. You wouldn't want to wear girl clothes would you?" Jaime tried to joke.

"If it meant being able to leave here than yes," Charlie replied seriously. Jaime sighed.

"Charlie look at me," she ordered. Charlie raised his eyes from the floor, tears in his eyes. "There is a family out there looking for a little boy just like you. But they won't be able to adopt you if you don't wait for them. But they are coming. You will be adopted by a family that loves you for you."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"I know…I can feel it," Jaime smiled, and she could feel it. She was completely sure that he would be adopted by a loving family someday. Charlie looked at her for a few moments then his face broke into a large grin.

"And maybe they'll adopt you too. If they really love me for who I am, then they won't care what you look like." Jaime didn't say anything. Charlie held onto her hand. "You're destined to leave this place Jaime. You're special too." Jaime managed a smile for him. Charlie looked at the small clock in the room. It was going on eight. "Can you tell me another story tonight?"

"Hmmm if you hurry and get ready for bed maybe…" Jaime trailed. Charlie leapt off the bed and ran out of the room. Jaime chuckled. She quickly changed into her pajamas. A few moments later Charlie came racing back into her room.

"I'm ready, I'm ready!" he exclaimed. Jaime couldn't help it. She laughed the laugh she had tried to hold back. Charlie crossed his arms and pouted. In return she ruffled his hair. Charlie dodged out her reach and tried to smooth out his hair. "Jaime," he whined.

"Oh all right. Lay down," Charlie quickly pounced on her bead and laid down. Jaime would tell the story in the girls' room, and then carry Charlie to the boys' room. That way there was less chance of being interrupted by others…like Brian. Jaime also didn't want other people to hear the stories she told Charlie. Why? Most of them were based the dreams she had—the better ones of course—but she had a feeling she shouldn't be broadcasting them to others.

"Ok Charlie, which one do you want to hear?" Jaime asked.

"A story about Optimus!" Charlie replied. Jaime felt a grin tug at her lips. The dreams concerning a robot named Optimus were his favorite to hear.

"Did I ever tell you about how he became Optimus?" Charlie scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

"No."

"You see, his name wasn't always Optimus Prime." Jaime began.

"It wasn't?"

"No," Jaime continued. "His name used to be Orion Pax."

"Why did he change his name?" Charlie frowned.

"Well he used to be an archivist on Cybertron."

"What happened?" Charlie asked. Jaime raised an eyebrow.

"I'm trying to tell you," she grinned.

"Sorry," Charlie flushed and gave an apologetic smile.

"It's ok. Anyways Orion Pax was an archivist on Cybertron. He was kind, humble, and modest. And most importantly…he was truthful. There was a bad robot named Megatron. He didn't like how things were on Cybertron. At first his actions seemed justified. He wanted all the robots to be equal. But then he got greedy for power and wanted to rule. Orion was one of the first robots to speak out against Megatron. The leaders of Cybertron saw him as a capable leader that could stop Megatron. So he became Optimus Prime; commander of Autobots, defender of the weak and innocent, and instigator of justice." Charlie's eyes were closed and he breathed evenly, a smile on his face. Jaime smoothed the hair off his forehead. She gently picked him up with her one arm, he was quite light, and carried him to the boys' room. The boys were used to this and paid her no attention. She laid him in his bed and pulled the thin blanket over him. She quietly walked back to her own bed and snuggled in her bed sheet. She sighed closing her eyes. Please no nightmares tonight, she thought.

Authors Note: Well I hope you liked it! Tell me what you think! Please leave a Review. By the way I'm thinking of getting a Beta Reader (because of Jazz's dialogue. The bot's got a sweet accent but I don't think I could do it justice on my own), so if you're interested please let me know! I would really appreciate it!

~Hubero