**Warning: The following fic contains SPOILERS for Transformers: Age of Extinction!**

Author's Note: It's been a while since I have had time to write anything fanfiction-related, but this little plot has been floating around in my head since I saw Transformers: Age of Extinction in theaters. I do not approve of Michael Bay's handling of the films, as usual, and his rather irritating penchant for killing off Autobots simply because he can gets on my damn nerves. Pissed me off a bit, because this time he killed my favorite. Consider this my little bit of rebellion. ;) This is intended to be a short multi-chapter fic, which runs in the same universe as my longer (still-in-somewhat-progress) fic, Phobos. The relationship between Ratchet and Mikaela that is in the fic was founded in that one, but this one can certainly be read as a stand-alone fic.

Italics = Flashback.

Chapter 1: Stay With Me

"When a massive star begins to die and the core runs out of hydrogen and turns to iron, it can burn no longer. It collapses by way of its own gravity as the core overheats and becomes so tightly packed that, in less than a second, the it shrinks to a mere percentage of its normal size and the layers of the star begin to fall inward. The core heats to an unimaginable extent and explodes into a supernova, releasing all of its energy and material into the space around it. The shock wave can sometimes be so severe as to start new star formations in other interstellar clouds..."

It was a muggy day in August that brought up the tail end of a week in which the large storms that seemed to roll endlessly over Tranquility, California finally came to a head. The skies were dark with the familiar approach of one such storm and twenty six year old Mikaela Banes lay face down on her bed, limbs sprawled haphazardly from edge to edge, listening listlessly to the distant thunder and the wind in the trees. She rolled onto her back with a sigh, rubbing tiredly at her red-rimmed eyes before sitting up to wrap her arms around her legs and bury her face in her knees, wishing her oversized T-shirt and sweatpants would just swallow her up. She wanted to be anywhere but here in her own tiny one-bedroom house, wanted to go back to any time but now when she felt more lost and alone than she ever had before. She wanted to be with someone she trusted, someone whom she could turn to for comfort – someone like Ratchet, Optimus, Bumblebee or… Her thoughts came to a screeching halt and she resisted the urge to sob bitterly into her knees. Lightning streaked across the sky, washing her bedroom in bright white light for a moment before flickering away again.

Ratchet…

She'd had very little contact with any of the Autobots and their human counterparts of NEST after Egypt, when she and Sam had split. But somehow the Chief Medical Officer of the Autobots had always found the time to check in on her and, even though he couldn't always divulge details of what the organization was up to, he kept her up to speed as best he could. His visits and phone calls were her lifeblood, her bright days in a sea of mundane, average ones. She always wished that he could stay, always worried about him when he left and sometimes had the uneasy feeling that something would happen and she wouldn't be there to help.

After Chicago, the phone calls became less and less and the visits from Ratchet stopped altogether. Mikaela noted, on several occasions, that their normally amiable, easy-going and sometimes playful conversations became short and to-the-point. He would always ask about how things were going with her, and seemed to listen with rapt attention, but any time she approached the subject of life on his end, he would manage to change or avoid the subject altogether.

One day, almost four years after the Chicago incident, the phone calls and transmissions just stopped coming. It had been nearly five months since she'd had contact with Ratchet or any member of NEST, and she had spent those five months slowly working herself into a frenzy with worry. She had even sucked it up and contacted Sam at one point. Their conversation was short and curt; He knew as little as she did. He'd informed her that nearly two and a half years ago, Bumblebee had mentioned something about his presence being a danger to Sam and his family and had left with no further explanation, and he had not heard from him nor any of the others since then. Sam didn't sound too put off or concerned about it, which irked Mikaela to the point where she had slammed the phone down rather than hurl nasty names in his direction.

Of course any calls made to the defense minister or that branch of the government were rebuffed and she was denied any information - in fact, after a while the U.S. government had started denying that NEST or any such program had ever even existed which made Mikaela's insides twist with dread. Something was clearly wrong, and she had no idea what.

At that point Mikaela had gotten so desperate that she had been seriously considering hopping on her motorcycle and going to look for Ratchet or Bumblebee or Optimus herself. She knew it was silly - she had nowhere to start, no trail to follow, and by now she didn't even know if they were still in California - they could have been anywhere, including off the planet (the very thought made her stomach churn.)

And then one evening she had stepped out to get the mail from the mailbox and found Ratchet's alt. mode idling in her driveway. Her hands had flown to her mouth and she had sprinted across the lawn at top speed to the Hummer, barely containing her squeal of joy. Ratchet's dark-headed holoform materialized and he caught her deftly as she threw herself into his arms, nearly crying with relief.

"Where the hell have you been?! I was afraid something happened! I was afraid you might be..." Mikaela sighed, shaking the thought from her head and burying her face in Ratchet's bright green paramedic jacket.

The Ratchet-holo rested his cheek against the top of her head gently, watching from behind dark-rimmed glasses in detached fascination as his deep sigh ruffled stray strands of her hair. Mikaela pulled back then, brown eyes searching his face and brow furrowing in worry when she saw how utterly beaten down and exhausted he looked, even in his holoform. The normally sharp blue eyes had dulled to a deeper blue, stubble peppered the normally clean-shaven jawline and Mikaela could almost swear that the worry lines on his human form's forehead were much more noticeable than they had previously been. The formerly proud shoulders seemed to slump a bit, as if carrying a heavy weight and she noticed for the first time that the shoulder length hair that Ratchet normally kept tied so neatly behind his neck was unbound, and it fell around his face as he returned her gaze.

"What is it, Ratch? What's happened?"

"Mikaela," Ratchet sighed, sounding even more exhausted than he looked, "We need to talk. But not here."

At that statement the holo dissipated and the driver's side door of the green Hummer popped open. Mikaela climbed inside without hesitation, shivering with the feeling of safety and familiarity that swept over her as Ratchet's door shut and she was once again, for the first time in years, surrounded by his comforting presence. She couldn't reign in her sigh of satisfaction as she leaned against the Hummer's seats as they slowly pulled out of the driveway and made their way down the back residential streets of Tranquility.

She didn't need to ask where they were going - she knew the moment that Ratchet had turned off her street, and that fact had only been confirmed twenty minutes later when he pulled up to the top of their old spot, an outlook on a cliff overlooking the California foothills with a single tree at its peak. She slid out of the Hummer and stepped back to give him enough room to transform, cocking her head in confusion when his holoform materialized beside her instead.

"I cannot reveal myself at present," he'd said with a scowl at the horizon. "It isn't safe."

"Isn't safe? What do you mean?"

"I am endangering your safety even now by contacting you," Ratchet said, sounding guilty. "But I could not leave you wondering, Mikaela. I could not make peace with the thought of simply abandoning you."

"You didn't abandon me, Ratchet. I knew that there was a good reason for you not contacting me, I was just worried about you. I almost went out to look for you all myself a few times, not that I knew where I would even start... I just wanted to make sure you were safe. And you're here now."

"I cannot stay," Ratchet replied, turning to look at her with something akin to sorrow in his unnaturally blue eyes. He lowered his head to stare at the ground, his unbound hair falling over his shoulders to hide his face. "I do not know if I will be able to come back."

"What?" Mikaela took a quick step toward him, alarmed at his admission. "What do you mean not come back? Ratchet - I haven't heard from you in five months! What the hell is going on?"

Ratchet's holoform tilted his head back to look at the sky, seemingly in deep thought. Eyes still on the stars, he told her "All Autobots received a transmission from Optimus nearly five months ago, informing us that we were being hunted by a human organization which was originally created to seek and destroy the remaining Decepticons on Earth. We were told that they were hunting Autobots now, with equal voracity, and that several of our number had already been taken down by this group, who call themselves 'Cemetery Wind.' We were advised to cease all contact with humans and go into hiding. Optimus seems to think that this will eventually blow over."

"There are humans out there who are hunting you?" Mikaela spat, clearly disgusted. "From the government? After all you have done for us?"

"What we have done does not matter to them," Ratchet said matter-of-factly. "What matters to them is what we are capable of doing. They are using Chicago as an example to the Earth's people that we are unsafe - all of us, no matter whether we are Autobot or Decepticon."

"But that's not true!" Mikaela cried, outraged.

"I know that, youngling. And you know it. Those who have worked closely with the Autobots know it. Unfortunately, most of Earth's people do not."

"What are you going to do?"

"I will obey the Prime's orders. I dislike running away with my... 'tail between my legs,' as you humans so aptly put it. However, I cannot argue with Optimus' logic in this matter. We are so few in number now that we would have no chance to stand against this human offensive, even if we were willing to."

"So you're going to go into hiding?" Mikaela asked, fear coiling around her heart at the danger that the CMO had suddenly found herself in, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop it. "Where?"

"I... do not know. Perhaps somewhere in the mountains, off the main roads, out of the cities... I will have to find an area that few or no humans ever venture into, which may prove difficult in this state."

"You're leaving California?"

"I am not sure, youngling. I may have no other choice."

"I'm going with you," Mikaela had said resolutely.

"No, Mikaela. I will not have you put your life in danger for no reason. My experience with this... organization has led me to believe that they are hunting us perhaps even more ruthlessly than they are the Decepticons."

"I don't care!"

Ratchet whirled around then, so quickly that his chestnut hair was whipped across his face as it contorted with fury and he all but snarled, "I do! I refuse to see you step into harm's way willingly! These humans, they value no life, they have no qualms with killing anything or anyone who steps in their way, and they have no mercy!"

Mikaela took a step back from sheer shock at the anger radiating from the normally calm and collected CMO, his breathing unsteady and his eyes somewhat manic. He lowered his face to his palm, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking several deep breaths in what seemed to be an attempt to calm himself. When he lifted his face to gaze at Mikaela again, she was dismayed to see his eyes glistening with the sorrow of unshed tears. He held his arms open to her and she stepped into them without hesitation, forgiving his harsh words instantly.

"I am sorry. I am sorry," he repeated. arms encircling her and holding her close. Mikaela realized that he must have needed the contact as much as she did and clung to his jacket, fingers gripping the fabric in a vice.

"I don't want you to go."

"I do not wish to leave, little one," He sighed, tilting his head back to gaze at the darkening night sky again. "But I must."

They had stayed like that for a good twenty minutes, Ratchet holding Mikaela and rocking her gently as she cried silently into his embrace, wishing with all of her heart that there was another option that wouldn't involve so much uncertainty.

The drive back to the mechanic's house had been too short for her liking as she lay sprawled across the seats of the CMO's alt. form. For once he had not protested her lack of seatbelt, and rather simply allowed her to bury her face deeply in his upholstery and curl up against the back of his seats.

She managed to hold in her tears as they pulled up into her driveway once more, though Ratchet had to coax her out of his cab again using his holoform. She threw herself into his arms for the third time that evening as she stepped onto the concrete of her driveway.

"I will come to you when it is safe," he said, arms tightening around her protectively. "On this you have my word."

"I know you will," Mikaela sniffled, pulling away and swiping hastily at her eyes. She put on her best brave face. "I will see you again, Ratchet."

"Yes," he affirmed with a short nod. "You behave yourself while I am gone. To the best of your ability, that is."

Mikaela cocked a half-hearted smirk at this, knowing Ratchet knew her all too well. The smile faded as his holoform dissipated once more and the Hummer's engine roared to life.

"Take care of yourself, girl."

"I will. Be safe, Ratchet..."

Mikaela wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing warmth into the skin of her upper arms, though it was a balmy night.

"Please," she whispered as Ratchet pulled out of the driveway and she watched his lights retreating into the distance. "Please be careful."

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly, horribly wrong.

Six more months had come and gone since then, and not a day had passed without Mikaela thinking about - worrying about Ratchet. There were few nights now where she didn't have some kind of nightmare involving the genocide of her Autobot friends, and they always left her feeling breathless and restless. She rarely got a restful night's sleep.

One Friday afternoon that August, the mechanic had returned from work managing her father's machine shop just in time to hear the phone ringing as she unlocked the door. Dropping her bag on the couch and flinging her shoes off, she'd jogged across the living room in an effort to get to it before it stopped ringing.

"Hello?" she said, somewhat out of breath.

For a moment there was silence on the line and she thought she had not picked up in time, but then the person on the other end let out a sharp breath, as though they'd been holding it the whole time the phone rang.

"Mikaela."

"Yes?" She had answered, somewhat confused. The voice on the other end sounded familiar in a way she couldn't quite place. "Who is this?"

The voice cleared its throat. "This is William Lennox. Former Colonel in the U.S. army and sub-commander of NEST."

"Will?" She'd laughed in surprise. "Wow, it's good to hear your voice again. How are you?"

"Mikaela," he'd said, his voice tight in his throat and sending a wave of alarm down the brunette's spine. "I have some... news. Something I think you need to know before you find out elsewhere."

"What? What is it?" She'd asked, barely managing to control the tremor in her words.

"I have a buddy that still works with the defense ministry branch of the government," Will sighed into the receiver. "He's been slipping me info about the Autobots and the supposed war on the Decepticons whenever he can manage. Said that a special branch of the military designated "Cemetery Wind" was created with the purpose of hunting down stray Decepticons. Only, they have been hunting Autobots in secret, also."

"Yes," Mikaela breathed. "Ratchet... Ratchet told me. He was here a few months ago, and he said that they'd all gone into hiding until everything blew over, on Optimus' orders and-"

"Mikaela," Will said again, and this time the distress in the way he had said her name was beyond palpable. "Mikaela, Ratchet's dead."

The phone had clattered noisily to the floor, and the anguished cry that rent the air echoed off the walls of the small house in a seemingly endless lament.

Mikaela had spent the entirety of the last few days wallowing in despair in such a way that she had forgotten that the outside world even existed. She had cried until she literally no longer had a voice to cry with, she'd gotten angry, she'd thrown things, shut everyone out and finally she had sunk a deep depression and refused to leave her bed but for the occasional shower and minimal nourishment. She had not made it to the "acceptance" stage of her grief - not even close. She had moments when she thought everything would be alright, but most of the time she was convinced that nothing would be okay ever again and had just been starting to fall into one of those darker times when there was an uneven knock at her front door.

She sighed, burying her face deeper into her pillow and silently willing whoever it was to go away. No sooner had this thought passed through her mind when the knock sounded again, slightly more insistent than the first time. Mikaela lifted her head to glance out her bedroom window: The sky was dark and gray with storm clouds, and a steady rain had started up almost an hour ago and had yet to cease. Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky. Who on Earth would be out there standing on her porch in this weather? The knock echoed through her small house again and she groaned, finally flinging her legs over the side of the bed and hauling herself to her feet to walk toward the front room. The knocking came a fourth time as she made her way into the front of the house, this time sounding more than a little desperate.

"Hang on!" Mikaela snapped, although the rasp of her raw throat made it difficult for her to put very much force behind it. She reached the front door and opened it so swiftly that it sent a wave of rain-soaked fresh air washing past her, fluttering her hair around her shoulders and making her nostrils flare as she inhaled. Her eyes settled on a figure with hunched shoulders standing in the middle of her porch, soaking wet in the rain. The person was obviously male, though he had somewhat long dark hair that looked matted and dirty and was soaked through, sticking to his face and neck as it fell in a curtain to his shoulders, concealing his face. He wore nothing but a ripped and dirty white T-shirt, which clung wetly to a tall and lanky body, and military-issue khaki pants tucked into scuffed and dirty boots. Mikaela was alarmed to see that there were numerous cuts and gashes and what were possibly bullet and shrapnel wounds peppering white skin, causing what was clearly fresh, bright red blood to run down the pale neck and arms in small rivulets and mingle with the rain and dirt.

The man staggered, bracing himself on the frame of her door and Mikaela had been just about ready to bolt for the phone and dial the police when the stranger lifted his face. Blue eyes, half-lidded with exhaustion, clouded with pain and yet still intense, met hers in a silent plea and her heart dropped to her feet. For a moment she forgot to exhale. She knew those eyes! Even dulled as they were, they triggered a wild flash of memories, warm thoughts, affection and love. They spoke always of safety and friendship. They spoke of home.

It couldn't be. Her mentor, her teacher, her friend and father-figure was dead - had been murdered less than a week ago... and yet suddenly here he was, standing (albeit barely) on her front porch.

She exhaled shakily, torn between disbelief, alarm, desperation and a dangerous, all-consuming hope, a single word escaping her raw throat:

"Ratchet?

Author's Note: A few more chapters to come! As always, reviews are extremely appreciated.