A Woman's Touch

The indescribable, here it is done.
The Eternal-Feminine draws us on.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - Faust II

--*--

"I told you," Red Alert said. "I told you something like this was going to happen, but did you listen to me? No. And why would you? I'm only your Security Director, for Primus' sake!"

Beside him, Spike and Carly were just getting out of the yellow Volkswagen Beetle they had been riding in. Both looked a little bit shaken, but a quick scan confirmed to Red Alert that, fortunately, the human teenagers were unharmed.

"Aww, come on, Red," Bumblebee said, transforming into his robot form and happily spitting out a small amount of mud as he spoke. "It wasn't that bad. I mean, we're still alive, aren't we?"

"Excuse me?!" Red Alert stared at him in shock and disbelieve. What did that crazy little spy mean by 'not that bad'? They had just been ambushed by a Decepticon patrol and had been chased all over the landscape, for with the two humans present, they could not risk a fight. Red Alert had taken several shots while he was busy providing cover for his companions, and finally they had managed to shake off their pursuers by sliding and tumbling down a precipitous slope - a wet, slippery and muddy experience Red Alert had absolutely no desire to repeat.

So here he was, battered, wounded by laser fire and covered in organic mud, the last one being the worst. He shuddered at the thought of the myriads of Earth bacteria that were now clinging to his armor plating, crawling into transformation seams, invading cables and microchips and merrily wreaking havoc on his systems...

"Red? You're okay?" Spike asked.

He offlined his optics for a moment to get a grip on himself. Okay, now, don't panic, Red. You still have a job to finish here.

"We have to return to base as quickly as possible," he said, ignoring the human boy's question. "Prime has to be informed that there is Decepticon activity in this area, and we cannot trust our enemies not to intercept our radio transmissions." Not waiting for a response, he made to heave himself to his feet.

Out of nowhere, a surge of dizziness crashed through his CPU, making him reel.

"Woah, Red!"

He was dimly aware of Bumblebee's small hands on his chassis as his companion tried to support him. The Earth bacteria. Primus, they worked faster than he'd thought.

"I'm sorry, Red," Bumblebee said, sounding guilty. "I didn't realize you were damaged that badly."

"Where'd you get hit?" Carly asked.

Red Alert tried to process this strange question. Hit? Since when could Earth bacteria... oh, she meant the Decepticons. He checked his auto-repair system.

The damage was minor, mostly just singed armor plating, but then he found the problem: One of the shots had evidently damaged his equilibrium chip.

Relief washed over him that the Earth bacteria had seemingly spared him, but this feeling was quickly replaced by the increasingly urgent question: How am I going to get out of here?

"My... my equilibrium chip was damaged," he answered in a strained voice. "I cannot steer properly."

"You mean, you can't walk or drive?" Spike asked.

"I will have to. We must get back to the ship."

Bumblebee shook his head. "It may be better if you don't move too much, Red. I'll comm Ratchet; he'll be here and fix you up in no time."

"But we can't stay here!" His carefully-maintained control was beginning to waver, giving way to increasing hysteria. "The Decepticons will call for backup; if we don't warn Prime, they'll catch him off-guard and blast the whole base into oblivion!"

"Easy, Red," Bumblebee said, bewildered.

Red Alert pressed his palms together, something he always did when he tried to keep his paranoia in check. They didn't understand. He had to make them understand, had to make them see...

"I could drive you back to base, Red," Carly said suddenly.

He looked at her, not sure if he had heard that correctly. "What?"

"I could drive you," she repeated. "We wouldn't need your equilibrium chip for that, would we?"

"Hey, that's a great idea, Carly!" Bumblebee chimed in. "You go with Red, and I can take Spike along, and we'll be home in no time!"

"Sure thing, 'Bee," the human boy agreed happily.

Primus clearly wasn't in a good mood today.

Red Alert had never been driven before, and for good reason. To let someone drive you meant to give them control of your body, to subject oneself to your driver's every wish and whim. What kind of mech would willingly make himself so vulnerable?

And then there were the humans themselves. Not that he didn't like them - Spike and Sparkplug, Carly and Chip had turned out to be loyal, trustworthy companions, even in Red Alert's optics. But like it or not, they were organic creatures. Their bodies were home to millions of microbes. They lost hairs and small amounts of skin on a regular basis. They sweated. They sneezed and coughed. They did other things Red Alert did not even dare to imagine. The thought of having such a creature inside of him, touching him, controlling him... he shuddered.

They were watching him expectantly, waiting for his answer. Red Alert felt his spark pulse hard and fast in its chamber. He couldn't possibly refuse; not after freaking out right in front of them, not without giving a logical reason - and he knew there was none. He was trapped.

"Alright," he finally ground out, his voice so laden with static that he barely recognized it. "Alright, we... we can do that."

Bumblebee looked somewhat relieved as he transformed back into vehicle mode and let Spike hop into the driver's seat. "I'll let Ratchet know you're on your way, Red," he said. "He'll straighten you out, don't you worry."

Spike leaned out of the window and waved as Bumblebee pulled away. "See you at the base, guys!" he called. "And drive carefully!" And with that, they were gone.

"We'd better get moving, too," Carly mused. "It's getting late, and the Decepticons might come back to look for us."

Of course she was right. If only he could bring himself to move...

"Red?"

There was no way out of this. He might as well just do it and get it over with.

Wordlessly he transformed into his alt mode. Carly opened his driver's door and, without further ado, got in and fastened the seat belt. Red Alert flinched violently at the unfamiliar weight in his driver's seat. It was not as bad as he had expected, but still far from pleasant.

"You okay, Red?" Carly asked.

"Yes," he answered in the same strained tone. "Yes, I'm fine." He'd never been a very gifted liar, though, and predictably, the human girl didn't believe him.

"Don't worry," she soothed. "I'll get you home safely, you'll see."

Carly started by doing what every driver does when riding in a new car for the first time: She adjusted the seat and mirrors to her needs and looked over the different buttons and switches at her disposal. Red Alert shuddered at the sensation of human fingers ghosting over his dashboard.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity to him, she seemed to be satisfied with the arrangements she'd made. "Okay," she said. "I'm ready when you are."

He braced himself for the inevitable.

...

Nothing happened.

"Red?"

What the Pit was she waiting for? "Yes?"

Carly laughed. "I'm afraid this model comes without a key," she joked. "If we're going to move, you'll have to start your engine for me."

"Oh... yes. Yes, of course." He obliged, feeling rather sheepish and yet strangely relieved as his engine roared to live. Small as the action might be, it helped to soothe him ever so slightly. He was not completely out of control here. The thought made the feeling of Carly laying her hands upon his steering wheel a little bit more bearable.

He was genuinely surprised at how gently and carefully Carly pulled away when she finally did. He had watched her driving her own car, and had been afraid that she would force him to go from naught to sixty, but she didn't. Still it was a very weird sensation, feeling his gears shift and his wheels turn without him actually doing something. He didn't like it.

They reached the road, and Carly turned off into the direction of the Ark. The smoother ground allowed her to accelerate, and Red Alert felt the frantic pulsing of his spark slow down a little. At this rate, it would take them forty-five to fifty Earth minutes to reach their destination; not exactly a short time, but it was okay, he should be able to handle it. He'd just have Ratchet thoroughly decontaminate him once they reached the base and in the meantime pray to Primus that nothing unforeseen happ-

"D'you mind if I turn on the radio?" Carly asked.

The thought of her long, painted fingernails scraping across his radio buttons made him shiver. "No!" he cried in dismay.

"Why not?" she asked, clearly taken aback by his violent reaction.

Red Alert desperately racked his processor for an answer that might convince her. "I... I want all transmission channels disengaged," he blurted out. "In case someone tries to contact us."

"Oh," she replied flatly. "Yeah, okay."

They drove on in silence for a while, long enough for Red Alert's initial relief to turn into embarrassment. After all, Carly was doing him a favor. It would not hurt him to play some music for her, would it?

He switched on the radio and started searching the different channels for something the human girl might like. Eventually he found an instrumental of the musical genre which - oddly enough - shared the name of their third in command. But the music was quiet and soothing and to his liking. "That okay?" he asked, uncertain.

"Yeah," Carly said, and he could hear that she was smiling.

The sun had begun to set, and that worried him a little bit, but at the same time the fading light strangely fitted the quiet music his radio was playing, creating a rather peaceful mood. Red Alert realized in astonishment that he had not thought about Earth bacteria or Decepticons for nearly 4.3 minutes now.

"You know, this is the first time I've driven a Lamborghini," Carly remarked.

"Hm," he said noncommittally. Was she expecting a reply to this?

"They say the Countach is one of the most stylish Lamborghinis ever. You definitely have taste, Red."

He was beginning to feel uneasy. She was trying to start a conversation, but small talk was not exactly his strong point. "Thanks," he murmured.

Carly didn't give up. "I've always been into European cars, you know. There's something to them... Can't tell you what, I just think they're pretty cool."

Say something, he thought desperately. Anything!

"But perhaps I'm just biased. I mean, I'm such a car freak after all..."

Well, that much he had to hand to her: She was a natural driver. She had his steering wheel in a firm but gentle grasp that spoke of proficiency and experience; she knew exactly when to change gears, and she kept in lane with seemingly no effort at all. Yes, Carly obviously knew what she was doing, and he couldn't help thinking that he was in good hands here. The thought was... calming.

"Where did you learn to drive, Carly?" he asked her.

"I did my driving test in Portland," she answered. "But it was my dad who first taught me how to drive. He was all into motor sports and sports cars and all the stuff. When I was a little girl he used to take me to empty parking lots and so on, where there was no traffic, and then he'd put me on his lap and let me steer while he was driving."

Red Alert tried to imagine Sparkling Carly happily clutching an old family car's steering wheel with her tiny hands. "Sounds like you enjoyed yourselves," he offered.

"Yes." She was smiling again. "He still teases me with it, sometimes."

All of a sudden, Red Alert remembered his own creators. The memory files were few and their contents not very accurate, for he had been very young, barely out of sparklinghood, when both the mech and the femme had been deactivated in a Decepticon attack. But he remembered that they had been warm and loving to their only sparkling, and that, when it was time for him to recharge, he had climbed into his creators' berth to curl up between them, feeling all warm and content and safe - after all, with both his creators at his side, what could possibly happen to him?

And then, one day, they had been gone.

He flinched a little as he was jolted out of his memories by Carly's voice: "Are you hurting, Red?"

"No," he answered, surprised. "Why?"

"You just got really tense," she said. "I can hardly steer. And you're trembling."

She was right, he realized. It seemed that his body had unconsciously reacted to the painful constriction of his spark, straining every strut and wire to the point where it almost did hurt. "Sorry," he muttered, trying desperately to relax so they would not run off the road.

"It's not much further now," Carly soothed. "You'll be okay, Red, all will be well." She gave his dashboard a gentle pat as if to caress it.

He had woken in the dead of night, startled by a nightmare or perhaps some unfamiliar sound, his little processor in turmoil and his small spark pulsing wildly. He felt frightened and lost and his vocalizer produced tiny wailing sounds in the deep silence that surrounded him. But suddenly, a gentle hand touched him and drew him close to a warm chassis. He could hear the soft rumble of a familiar engine; the hand tenderly patted his small back, and a female voice murmured in the dark: Shh, my sweetspark, don't fuss, all is well, you're fine...

Red Alert no longer cared for Decepticons, Earth bacteria, or loss of control. All he felt right now was a deep, warm gratitude towards the human girl in his driver's seat. She was kind and gentle; she would not make fun of him or try to take advantage of him. He was safe with her.

"Yes," he replied softly. "Thank you."

Outside, the light of the setting sun was fading away, and Carly turned on the headlights. Nights in the desert could be fairly cold, Red Alert knew, so he carefully checked the temperature inside his cabin and then turned up his heating system to add a few degrees. He'd once heard Sparkplug say that human femmes were sensitive to low temperatures, and he didn't want Carly to get cold.

The bulky shadow of the volcano became visible in the distance, a dark silhouette against the starlit sky. A strange mixture of relieve and disappointment filled Red Alert's spark at the sight. They'd made it back safely, which was of course a good thing, but on the other hand it meant that his being together with Carly would soon be coming to an end.

Before he knew it, they'd reached the entrance to the ship. Golden light was spilling out of the open doors, and little Bumblebee was standing there, obviously waiting for them. Carly switched off the radio and leaned out of the window. "Well, look at this," she laughed. "We get our personal welcoming committee."

"I'm afraid I'm just the errand boy," Bumblebee said good-humored.

"Did you talk to Prime?" Red Alert asked without any preamble.

"Yeah, sure I did, Red. And to Ratchet, too. Problem is, the doc's quite busy right now. Wheeljack's blown one of his inventions again."

Red Alert groaned inwardly. Wheeljack and his inventions belonged to the things he could count on to make his life as Security Director increasingly stressful.

"That's why I'm here," Bumblebee continued. "Spike's already on his way home with Sparkplug, so Ratchet sent me to give you a message; I quote: 'Tell that paranoid freak' - sorry, Red, that's what he said - 'tell him to stay in vehicle mode and park his sorry aft at the entrance, I'll come and get him once I'm done with the crazy inventor.' He had this twinkle in his optics when he said that last part; you know, the one that tells you you're gonna feel very sorry for yourself very soon?"

"Poor Wheeljack," Carly remarked sympathetically.

"I have to get back to Command," Bumblebee told them. "I've got the night shift. Can I leave you two alone?"

"Sure," she said. "I'll stay and keep Red company - if that's okay."

Red Alert felt his spark give something akin to a small jump in its chamber at these words. Carly was not leaving. She was staying here, staying with him. "Yes," he said, trying his best not to sound like an excited sparkling. "Yes, I'd like that."

Bumblebee set out for the command center, and Carly parked right at the entrance so that they had a view over the nightly desert. Red Alert killed his engine, and the human girl unbuckled the seat belt. "Well, that's that," she remarked cheerfully. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"

Had Red Alert had his mouth right now, he'd have smiled. "No, it wasn't."

"So," she continued, "while we're waiting for Doctor Frankenstein, why don't I get a sponge and some water and clean you up a little? Surely that would make you feel better."

Red Alert remembered all the organic mud that was still clinging to his outer armor. It was a mystery to him how that could have happened, but during his conversation with Carly he had somehow plain forgotten about it. The thought of having all that dirt removed from his chassis now was very tempting, and he'd surely liked to give in to it. But this would have meant that Carly had to get out of him, and right now he was feeling quite comfortable with the human girl's small, warm weight nestled into his driver's seat.

"No," he replied hesitantly. "No, please, don't trouble yourself on my account, I'm fine. I'm sure Ratchet won't take long. Can't we just... sit here and... enjoy the view? Perhaps I can find another song..." His radio sprang to life when he eagerly started to scan the channels.

"Sure," Carly said, though she sounded thoroughly astonished. "Of course we can, if you'd like that. So... just a little chilling out for us, then."

Red Alert had found a piece of music that was similar to the one before. He turned down the volume to an agreeable level and then checked his cabin temperature again. "Are you warm enough, Carly?" Her using the word 'chilling' had worried him a little bit.

But Carly nodded at the question. "Yes," she said and leaned back into the seat, relaxing. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said softly, and he meant it.

--*--

When Ratchet turned up half an hour later to collect his patient, he found a soundly asleep Carly huddled comfortably into the driver's seat of an equally peaceful recharging Red Alert.

Author's Note: Thanks again to my beta reader dinogrrl, who I think would make a neat English teacher :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Transformers, and I do not make any money with this. The same goes for Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.