When her school bell rang, releasing her from yet another Chemistry class, Annabelle found herself in a decidedly better mood. That morning had gone well, better in fact that she had expected. Not only did she avoid any more point deductions, but Ratchet had been kinder, more open, even conversational. She had let him talk, bringing up topics he was comfortable about. And he hadn't minded her travel mug of tea either. She was actually looking forward to the drive home, looking forward to chatting with Ratchet more. After retrieving necessary books from her locker, Annabelle headed toward the parking lot with light steps, scanning the first row for the familiar stocky, yellow Hummer. She looked...and looked...and looked. Her stomach did an odd backflip when instead, her gaze alighted on the hulking black Topkick parked precisely where Ratchet had been. Happiness at seeing her guardian warred with confusion and disappointment: had Ratchet given up on her after all?

Bitter and sweet, her mind in a whirl, she dug in her backpack for her keys, buying herself a few moments to organize her conflicted emotions. So lost within her own head was she that Annabelle failed to hear when another classmate called her name. It wasn't until there was a light touch on her shoulder that Annabelle realized someone had spoken to her.

"Annabelle...?"

She jumped, her blonde ponytail bobbing as her gaze snapped up to focus on the speaker, "Oh...oh hi, Logan." A faint blush crept up on her cheeks when she realized how close he stood beside her. Quiet and kind, she had always liked Logan, though given that he was on the football team, Annabelle had never hoped her crush would ever develop beyond just that: a helpless crush. "How...um, how are you?" Nervous butterflies crowded her stomach, tripped up her tongue. Reflexively she began to walk over to the Topkick, giddy relief flowing through her when Logan followed.

He treated her to a warm, genuine smile as he walked beside her, "I'm good, just getting ready to head out to practice..."

"Right, right...practice, that's cool."

When his hazel eyes met hers she grinned automatically, lost within the trill that he was actually talking to her, Annabelle didn't notice where she was walking and after a handful of steps bummed into the Topkick's chrome bumper. Again, a flush, a growing warmth crept into her cheeks, "Whoops..."

He smiled at her again, "Careful now, that's a decked out ride, you wouldn't want to scratch it and piss off the owner."

"Oh, oh it's my car."

His eyebrows shot up into his forehead, "No way? This is your ride? It's kick ass!"

"Um, we'll actually it's my Uncle's...but he's letting me...um...borrow it..but, thanks..."

"You have a pretty chill uncle then, I know if my uncle had a sweet ride like that, no way would he let me near it."

"Yeah, he is a pretty chill uncle," Annabelle smiled at the truck, before moving to casually lean against the front grill as she wrapped her arms around her Chemistry book.

"That's cool..." He slipped his hands into his pockets, as a brief silence fell between them, "um...hey look, some friends and I were going to go to the movies Friday and I was wondering if you wanna go with me?"

To Annabelle's credit, she didn't jump up and down in her excitement, didn't blurt out her acceptance, but instead paused thoughtfully and after tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, nodded casually, "Yeah...sure," her tone impressively calm and cool, "sounds like it could be fun."

"Sweet...how does around eight o'clock sound?"

"Sure, sure."

"Awesome, thanks Annabelle, see you then?"

"Yup."

"Oh hey, would you mind driving? I don't have a car...my older brother drives me around...and seeing as you have such a sweet ride..."

Now Annabelle did actually hesitate, "Um...yeah, I just need to ask my uncle if he would mind me borrowing the car then...but it should be ok..."

He grinned again, "Thanks Annabelle." Digging a pen out of his pocket, he reached forward for her free hand, turning it palm up he carefully wrote his number in her palm. When he finished he offered the pen to her, holding out his own hand expectantly, "Could I have your number? That way I can call you with my address?"

Once more, Annabelle surprised herself with her outwardly calm demeanor, "of course..." After she followed suit, she handed the pen back to him.

"Thanks, Annabelle...see you later."

"See you then..." She waved meekly as he headed towards the front of the school building where no doubt his aforementioned brother waited to pick him up. He turned around one last time to echo her wave and send her off with a smile. Only when he was out of sight did Annabelle trust herself to turn back to the Topkick, fumbling with the door handle, she at last found herself in the drivers seat, her backpack safely stowed in the passenger's seat. Before she could even so much as buckle herself in, to say nothing of touch the steering wheel, the engine turned over with a thick, throaty growl. At the sound all of her giddy, lightheaded happiness evaporated as her previous conflicted emotions descended upon her with a vengeance.

"Hey 'Hide..."

"Spark-mite." He returned easily as they pulled out of the parking space and then the lot. Though her hands were on the wheel she couldn't rightly tell who was actually driving, rather she felt as though she was just going through the motions.

Not one to beat around the bush, Ironhide cut straight to the source of her nerves, "Ratchet was called back to base."

So he had left her then. All Annabelle could manage was a deflated, "Oh..."

Knowing where her assumptions no doubt led, Ironhide was surprisingly quick to explain, "His return to base has nothing to do with you, spark-mite."

Numb, she nodded, "Ok...but why couldn't he at least tell me he was leaving?"

"He did not?"

"No."

"Hrumph..." Ironhide grumbled in his engine, "Well...he no doubt did not want to worry you and thus distract you from your studies."

"Hang on, worry me about what?" Hurt feelings evaporated, as the hard rock of fear settled in her stomach, "Has something happened?"

"Nothing that we could not handle."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Not deaf to the anxiousness that clouded her voice, Ironhide reluctantly explained, keeping well in mind that she was just a sparkling, "There was a Decepticon incursion, which Bumblebee and Jolt intercepted—"

"Were they hurt? Are they ok?" Annabelle's voice squeaked in alarm; instantly her imagination conjured up hulking nightmarish figures, emblazoned with the Decepticon symbols—a design both Ironhide and her father had made sure she recognized and knew what to do should she ever see one—sulking forward, threatening Bee, her Bumblebee. Granted, she had never actually seen a Deception first hand—something that her father was only too glad of and did his utmost to ensure—but her young and very active imagination had no trouble conjuring up frightful monstrosities.

"They are fine, spark-mite. Bumblebee only sustained minor injuries."

"Minor injuries?!"

Ironhide spent the rest of their drive home, reassuring Annabelle; one Decepticon was certainly not out of Bumblebee's abilities to cope with. Though, he might have preferred the Decepticon to the torrent of anxieties that his teenage charge was intent upon voicing. Yet as the battle with her fears came to a close, when he pulled up the driveway another, unlooked for battle waited for him in the form of Lennox, who stood waiting, arms crossed, a frown creasing his features.

Annabelle was out of her seat and out of the door before Ironhide could pull to a complete stop, "Is everything ok? More Decepticons? Bee ok?"

Giving her a reassuring peck on the top of her head, Lennox scooped her into a brief, but tight hug, before motioning for her to go inside, "Everything is fine, Jelly Belle. I just need to talk with Ironhide for a minute." With a meek smile and wave back at the Topkick that was subdued by her nerves, Annabelle did as her father asked.

"Major." From the human soldier's stance alone, Ironhide knew within his spark that this conversation was between warriors rather than friends. With a curt nod, Lennox reached into his back pocket where he had a rolled copy of the newspaper. Silently he unrolled it and waited for Ironhide to transform, before he held it up for the Autobot to see.

Ironhide's bright blue optics scanned over the article's image of a campground ringed with various trailers and cars, all smashed and torn to metal ribbons and fragments.

"It says that the damage is being attributed to bears." Lennox's voice was even and flat, devoid of emotion.

"Were there any human causalities?"

"None reported."

"Witnesses?"

Lennox let out a gusty sigh, "None. All of the equipment and vehicles belonged to one family, and apparently they were out hiking at the time." He rattled the page, "This is what they came back to."

Ironhide flickered his optics over to his stern faced companion, "You do not believe this was done by bears?"

Lennox lifted an eyebrow, "Do you?"

Ironhide exvented in derision, and Lennox bobbed his head in agreement, "Yeah, that's what I thought….Look, Ironhide…this campground isn't terribly far from here…"

"And you fear for the safety of your family."

Wringing the newspaper through his hands, Lennox nodded again, "I've already contacted Optimus…"

Now it was Ironhide's turn to tilt an optic ridge upward, "…You are unhappy with the answer that Prime gave you?"

"He said he would be in contact."

"No other orders?"

"No…not at the moment…"Lennox seemed to be anything but happy.

"Hrump…" Ironhide shuffled back a step and once more slid into his terrestrial guise.

"Ironhide, I can't just wait around. What we need to do—"

"—is wait until Prime contacts either myself or you."

"You mean to tell me that this—" here he shook the rather crumpled paper at the Topkick for emphasis, "—doesn't bother you? You and I both know this is as good as a Decepticon footprint! How can you just sit and wait—"

"Because I trust, Prime's judgment."

Well…not much he could say to that.

Ironhide exvented again, "Major…as soon as Ratchet's replacement arrives, you and I will go and see these campgrounds for ourselves…but in the meantime, we wait."

"Alright…" Lennox didn't have to like it, but at least they had a plan.

As he turned to go inside, the sound of Ironhide's voice called him back, "Major?" This time the Autobot's tone was lighter, "There is some intel that I've gathered recently that I think you should hear about."

"Intel?" Lennox backtracked to the sleek truck's side once more, "What's up?"

"Before I conveyed Annabelle from her school, she had a conversation with a classmate…"

Lennox shrugged, "Ok, she has a lot of friends—"

"It was a boy." This last word was spoken in several octaves lower than his normal speaking timber.

"A boy?" Lennox asked, all keen attention, "Go on…"