Author's Note: I placed this story in the movie universe, but added characters from the G1 series and an OC Autobot of my own. I have the cannon pairings of Prime with Elita, Ironhide with Chromia, and Inferno with Firestar. The Autobots live on NEST Base, and the Decepticons live in an underwater base as in G1. Nobody dies in this fic, although a few may come close. I'll have darker chapters and lighter chapters, some serious parts and some not so serious parts. Always slash and smut free.

The title, "You have found a home…," comes from the chorus of a song by the Scottish artist Dougie Maclean. It seemed fitting.

-You have found a home in the centre of the circle
You have found a home where the harmonies can shine
And in the breathing of the turning leaves your heart is heard forever
You have found a home
You have found a home...

Chapter 1

Arrival to Earth

Ironhide stood beside Optimus Prime, awaiting the arrival of the inbound Transformer. Prowl stood a little way off, closer to the access road, still waiting for Ratchet to arrive. Ratchet had lingered to question the Aerialbot who'd flown the small greeting party to a place within thirty miles of the estimated landing site. The ground-bridge system was almost ready for use, but not quite. Ironhide mused that he'd be relieved once it was.

Ironhide glanced upwards. 'Ratchet had better hurry.' he thought; the inbound Transformer was in view now, streaming through the evening sky, looking like a meteorite as it came through the earth's atmosphere.

Ratchet came, driving quickly, kicking up some dirt, and stopping to transform once he came to where we stood. Prowl followed, walking. "Nice of you to make it." Ironhide commented; ages ago, he'd devoted himself to getting on Ratchet's nerves. The medic smiled sarcastically.

"Do we have a faction reading on the new one yet?" Prime asked when Prowl came near.

"No, sir." Prowl answered, his door-wings dipping down ever so slightly. "Everything is blocked: signal, status, faction… mech or femme, I cannot tell. It is small though."

"It would be nice if it was a femme," Ratchet said. There were only a few femmes at NEST Base, and most of them were already bonded. Ironhide smiled, pleased at the thought of femmes, or rather, one femme; one of the few on base was his, Chromia, and he though she was exquisite. He would have liked to day-dream about her, but his warning systems nudged him to consider other things, like Decepticons.

"It would be nice if we could tell if it was a Decepticon or not." Ironhide stated, growling a little. Decepticons were bad news. Ironhide didn't want another one on this planet. And, if it was a Con, other Cons would be showing up to welcome it. He didn't want to be around any Decepticon welcoming party.

"I hate to say it, Ironhide, but I agree with you." Ratchet muttered, adjusting a piece of armor on his forearm.

The air grew hot, and the area grew brighter. The Transformer flashed by and thudded into the ground a moment later, sending a small tremor of the ground. Impact.

Ironhide had his cannons out and ready; he wasn't taking any chances. Ratchet was fully prepared to deal with an injured Transformer, be it 'Bot or 'Con. And Prowl was alert and at Prime's command.

Prime walked towards the gash in the land, but Ironhide could tell he was being cautious.

The Transformer began to come out of its transport mode; it was a small one, and its signal and signs then uncloaked. Ironhide detected Decepticon armor.

"'CON!" Ironhide snapped.

"Femme!" Ratchet shouted back at him.

"Hold your fire!" Prime commanded. "Autobots! Calm down! Fall back!" he issued his orders. They fell silent and moved back half a step.

The femme stood up –she was only a small femme, not even quite as big as Bumblebee- and looked at the towering mechs before her with wide blue optics. She stood as tall as she could, trying to appear strong and fearless, but the shudder that ran through her form gave her away. She did not seem like someone who would ally with the Cons. She was little, and she was scared, and her door-wings trembled as their sensors took in a frightening myriad of new data.

Prime took a non-threatening step toward her; Ironhide raised his cannons as a precation but he highly doubted she would do anything. She was little more than a youngling. Hardly a life-Energon thirsty killer.

"-#-*-*-#-**-###- - * -*-#*- **-." She clicked in a soft, little voice that faltered. Ironhide felt his spark melt at her stuttered greeting.

"-~*~~ ~~*## ~***-*-." Prime welcomed her to earth then said gently, "You will need to pick the English for this planet."

"I… do… some…" she answered, hesitating as she searched for words. "I… am n-not a 'C-con."

"Explain that armor then." Ironhide ordered firmly.

She looked down at her upper-arm-guards and vambraces as if they suddenly had poison on them. Very quickly, then she disengaged their catches, took them off and threw them on the ground, leaving only her light preliminary armor to protect her arms. Her main armoring was pink. "Please accept my apologies, sir." She stumbled over the words in the strange new language. "It's not mine. I h-hate cons. No kill..."

Ironhide felt his spark completely melt towards her. There in her light armor, she was vulnerable. It was clear that she had put herself at their mercy, naively trusting them. And evidently she had only just begun searching the World Wide Web and utilizing it to speak English. Her arrival had not been thought out much.

Ironhide glanced at Prime, and Ironhide could tell that a smile was creeping up behind his battle mask at her words and simple actions.

"Here," Prime said, crouching down to her height. She skittered backwards a few steps and looked around quickly, trying to assess where to hide. Prime didn't draw any closer, but he held out a data chip. "We made this to help new-comers." He told her in English then translated it into Cybertronian. "~*#-*- -~~_) **-*-… It will help you to learn this language." Bumblebee had spent hours compiling and formatting various words and grammar and syntax rules to create something like a How to Speak English e-book for Cybertronians. Ironhide was quite pleased with this accomplishment of Bee's, for Ironhide had little patience when it came to sorting that kind of thing.

The little femme was clearly afraid to take it from him, but she held out a hand for it, squinting her optics in a wince. He set it gently in her palm and brushed her fingers with his as his drew them back. She felt his power as Prime, Ironhide knew; all the bots felt it when he touched them. She hesitated a little when she felt his strength. But the data chip caught her attention. She pressed it into her hand, sliding it beneath her light armor a fraction, and began to download the information.

"Oh…" she said, her optics began to glow with wonder as she processed the material. Prime, Ratchet, Prowl, and Ironhide watched the expressions on her face. She appeared to like the new input, taking innocent joy in this previously un-encountered thing. She seemed to forget that the mechs were there, and she laughed out right, a delighted laugh, not one of scorn or derision.

Ironhide frowned at her laugh; she was too unaware of her surroundings. Had she not been a new 'Bot, Ironhide would have fired his cannon past her shoulder to make her pay heed. Still… a young Autobot enjoying something new – and earth-related- was something not to be frowned upon. The safety issues, Ironhide knew, she would learn soon enough.

She refocused on the mechs once the data was completely downloaded.

"Welcome to earth." Prime greeted her, deciding to start over from the beginning. "I am Optimus Prime."

"I am honored." She replied, neatly bowing a slight bow. "I am… am… not finding any translation for my name."

"Many 'Bots choose new names to go by when they come to earth." Optimus answered.

"Oh… shall I do so promptly…?"

"Perhaps there are some other things you should do first." Ironhide suggested. "Like tell us about yourself. I am an Autobot, designation: Ironhide, Weapons Specialist; I arrived with Prime when he came to this planet." He introduced himself as an example and waited for her to follow it.

She looked to Prime; Prime nodded. She lowered her optics shyly. "I am *~*~-~*." She said, "I be…was…am… a neutral. I received your message some time ago, Prime, the one which was sent out to all Autobots. I didn't process much about it until a couple of Seekers tried to attack me and take me with them. Err…" She faltered and darted a glance at Ironhide. Ironhide had rolled his cannons without thinking as his anger toward the Decepticons arose.

"It's alright." Optimus told her gently, "Ironhide just gets a little trigger happy when it comes to 'Cons picking on femmes… or anyone. Put the guns away, Ironhide."

She peered cautiously at the bulky Weapons' Master, thinking him quite intimidating. Ironhide reluctantly sub-spaced his cannons, not wanting to be unarmed, but knowing he must obey orders, especially as an example to the new comer. She eyed him curiously for a second before she continued. "After that I decided that I would come here and join the Autobots. And here I is."

"Here I am." Prime corrected kindly, and Ratchet hid a smile.

"I see you." She didn't quite understand.

"What I meant was, you were supposed to say 'here I am,' instead of 'here I is.'"

Her face heated up a little. "Oh…"

"Don't worry about it; it's a fairly easy language for us to learn, and you'll catch on pretty quickly."

"What is your programming? ~~``*`'`-`** #*''1' –''`'`''-*- -*-?" Prowl asked.

"Um…" she paused, looking for the right words. "Ah, I believe I have some things to do with communications and secretarial work… maybe? I organize files and sort information, and I do programming as good… as well. I compile histories and create databases, too. And I set into glyphs many happenings. Reports… I think."

::What do you think, Ratchet? – A match for Prowl?:: Ironhide sent to Ratchet over the intercom, amusement warming in his optics. ::Files, information, histories, databases, reports. Pretty compatible, eh?::

::HA!::Ratchet sent. He snickered at the thought of logical, work-orientated Prowl bonding with a femme. Prowl never socialized. But he liked the idea of Prowl bonding. Prowl was a lonely bot who probably needed a partner in life more than he realized.

"At what are you sniggering? Have I said anything I oughtn't?" the femme asked. That was a movie line. She's found the World Wide Web.

"I apologize. I was communicating on my intercom with someone else, and he made a humorous remark." Ratchet answered courteously. Ironhide smirked. Ratchet disregarded him and went on, "I am Ratchet." He said, introducing himself, "Chief Medical Officer. ~-~-~_-~*^^~~-~-_`"

"My pleasure…" she said, though, she wasn't certain of the exact meaning. Ironhide smirked a little more. No-Bot said my pleasure to Ratchet once they knew him.

Ratchet was amused, "Hmm. Of course. May I ask you a question?"

She nodded.

"Are all your sensors online? -#*^-~~-~_#**?" he translated.

"No…" she said, checking.

Ironhide slipped his battle mask into place. There was no telling what the femme would do when her sensors informed her of the billions of organic life-forms.

"SCHREEEEEE! What-****~#*#~*~-*?" She shrieked, starting to dance uncomfortably.

"Dirt is on you." Prowl said, calm as ever. "And, as a consequence, also millions of tiny biological organisms that…"

"Not helpful, Prowl!" Ratchet snapped at him. "Calm down, femme-ling, calm down." He took her gently by the shoulders. She was shuddering awfully hard. "It is fine. It is okay." He soothed, crouching down to her level, and then he directed her to tone down several sections of sensor arrays. "Dirt won't hurt. It doesn't look pretty, but it's harmless on the exterior. We'll teach you about it, later."

"It's okay?" she asked to make certain. She was still trembling.

"Basically. It's not so good for your inner-workings, but a little on the outside is okay. In fact, some mechs actually like to have it smeared across their exteriors; it makes them look like they've been in some action and look tough." He made a face.

She giggled appreciatively.

::WOW, Ratchet! You made a femme laugh; I can't believe it…:: Ironhide jested over the intercom.

"Ironhide even likes to be completely coated with it." Ratchet said, rising, "Like this:" he rammed into the truck-mech, knocking him to the ground and rolling him over into the dirt.

This made the little femme giggle. Ironhide gave Ratchet a dirty look. "Two can play-"

"The English word for that is 'rough-housing.'" Prime said as Ironhide shoved Ratchet down.

The little femme nodded politely while her facial expression suggested mild consternation. There were some many strange words in the database.

"Prime…" Prowl was dissatisfied with the proceedings.

"Easy, Prowl." Prime answered, "Enough, you two."

Ratchet came up and slung the extra dirt off his hands. Ironhide rose, filthy, and looked around with a menacing face. There was no doubt about Ironhide being tough.

The little femme looked half intimidated, half entertained.

"Time to roll back." Prime said to him mechs then addressed the little femme, "Retrieve that Decepticon armor that you brought."

She frowned as if unwilling, and her door-wings flicked, but did as she was bidden, and Ratchet and Ironhide blasted and kicked dirt back into the landing crater.

Prowl felt a certain uneasiness that was growing close but still indistinct. He checked his sensors closely but found nothing. It didn't seem right. He paused then shifted his door-wings and heightened the sensitivity on their sensory panels.

"Ready?" Prime asked then a bolt of apprehension slashed through his sensors.

The air above the snapped then with the sharp crack of a teleporter. Blue optics jerked upwards.

"Ready or not, here we come!" Skywarp sang tauntingly above them. Then Starscream and Thundercracker came diving down in jet mode towards the bots.

Ironhide cursed. There was nothing like a Seeker ambush for a welcoming party.