Of Guardians and Bands

The sleepy desert town of Jasper lay quiet and still beneath the arching dome of stars. The lights had long since gone out in every window for miles around when the door of an ordinary, white-washed suburban house creaked open.

A small head of pink and black hair peeked out into the night, turning this way and that to check for passing cars or the odd insomniac out for a walk. At last satisfied that her escape into the darkness would go unobserved, Miko eased out onto the porch, softly pulling the door closed behind her.

She squinted, eyes alighting on the hulking off-road truck lounging by the curb a little ways down the street, and an irrepressible grin stole across her face. Fighting down the urge to call out or wave—the last thing she wanted was to wake her host parents, who would surely scold her in that mild, boring way of theirs and hustle her back inside—she tip-toed off the porch as fast as she dared, the wooden planks pleasantly cool against her bare feet, and picked her away across the asphalt towards the silent mass of metal.

The slight breeze rustled her pink pj bottoms and feathered goosebumps across her arms, but Miko didn't mind—the chill was a welcome change from the scorching heat that baked the desert town during the day. And besides, the air smelled like clean, unexplored spaces. It was invigorating. Exciting.

"Hey, Bulkhead," She whispered as she drew near the bumper of the vehicle. The tires alone came up almost to her waist, and with the sharp metal angles of the truck glowing faintly silver in the moonlight it was almost like facing down an enormous bolder. An enormous bolder that could turn into a freaking space robot. How cool was that.

She waited for a moment, but when only the faint whispering of the breeze answered her greeting she rolled her eyes and crossed to the driver's side door.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be," she hissed in mock anger, fighting back a grin. She reached for the door handle and pulled. The door refused to budge. The smile twisted into a lop-sided grimace.

"Ah, come on, Bulk! It's cold out here!"

A soft sound, almost like a sigh, issued from beneath the hood, and the truck sank a little bit lower on its tires. The locks released with a thunk. Works every time.

Miko tugged on the handle again, and the door swung open. Leaping up excitedly, she scrambled into the welcoming seat and felt the door shut on its own behind her.

"Miko," A deep, rumbling voice purred around her, tinged with exasperation, "It's almost 2am. You should be sleeping."

It was a sign of how quickly Miko had become accustomed to the Autobots and their habit of impersonating talking cars that she didn't even flinch at the sudden sound. Instead, she merely nestled back into the plush leather seat, lacing her hands behind her head and propping her bare feet on the dashboard.

"Couldn't sleep. I've got way too many things running around in my head right now." She flexed her toes, sighing. It just had to be sinful to have seats this comfortable. "I mean, come on—could you sleep if you just met a super-cool alien and got a front row seat to the robo-smackdown to beat all robo-smackdowns?"

"Well, uh…we don't really sleep. So no."

Miko let her eyes slide closed, breathing in the sharp, exotic smell of energon that permeated the inside of the truck like incense. It was swiftly becoming her favorite smell in the world.

"Exactly. See, you know what I mean."

Bulkhead was silent for a moment, and at first Miko thought he was trying to form a retort to her twisted logic. But when he spoke again, his words completely sideswiped her.

"You're not having trouble sleeping because of nightmares, are you?" He asked, almost shyly.

Miko frowned at the dash. "Me? Get nightmares?" She huffed, trying to relax again. "Pu-leez. Why would I have nightmares about all this exciting stuff?" She patted the seat beside her, gently stroking the leather. "I just…couldn't stop thinking about everything that's happened. The Autobots, the Decepticons, the zombies, you…."

A strange, almost uneasy rumble vibrated her feet. "So you weren't…." Bulkhead trailed off.

Miko raised an eyebrow. "Weren't what?"

But the truck remained eerily silent, so rigidly still that she could almost imagine every that every hidden servo was strained into immobility. Hesitant. Frightened.

"Bulk?" She pulled her feet down from the dash and tucked them underneath her, leaning towards the instrument panel encouragingly. "What is it, dude?"

The truck frame shuddered gently around her, sinking on its wheels. "Miko, you're not afraid of me, right?" He rushed out, as if dreading her response, "I mean, I know you were excited when you first saw me, but then I hammered those cons and—"

"Whoa, whoa. Bulkhead, I'm totally not afraid of you."

The disembodied voice suddenly halted. "You…you're not?"

Miko laughed, suddenly wishing Bulkhead was small enough to crush in one of her Mega Hugs. She settled for cuddling against the plush leather and wrapping her arms around the back of the seat.

"Dude, you are wicked awesome! How could I be afraid of something as cool as you?" She sighed, letting gentleness suffuse her voice. She tucked her head in against the seat, feeling its unnatural, alien warmth cocooning her. It felt like home. "And besides, you protected me from the bad guys. You could have crushed me in your hand, sure. But you didn't. You held me gently and shielded me from those goons with laser fetishes."

A stray memory from the previous day's events flickered across her mind, and she giggled slightly in embarrassment. "Besides, if you didn't squish me for puking inside of you, I really don't think I'm ever going to be in danger of being squished."

The truck gave a relieved grumble. "Well….Ratchet might try to squish you. He wasn't happy about having to clean out my carpets."

An image of Ratchet crouching down to stick a tiny human vacuum into Bulkhead's back seat flashed through her mind. She stuffed her fist into her mouth to clamp down on the sudden giggling fit that followed, but couldn't stop a few delighted snorts from leaking out.

"Note to self," She choked out, "Avoid pissy doc-bot for the next few days."

"That would probably be a good idea," Bulkhead mumbled. He waited for her giggle fit to die down a bit before cracking open his door with a small click. "It really is late, Miko. Think you can sleep now?"

Miko sobered immediately, frowning at the sliver of night air visible through the open door. She pushed herself away from it, vaulting over the armrest and flopping into the back seat. She stretched out along the softly upholstered bench, pillowing her head on her hands.

"Okay, now I can sleep." She smiled angelically at the dashboard.

An aggravated rumble passed through the frame of the truck. The door opened just a bit wider.

"Come on, Miko. Your parents are going to wonder where you are."

"Host parents." She corrected sourly, rolling so that she faced the back of the seat. "And they're asleep, so they won't care."

"You should be asleep too," Bulkhead grumbled quietly.

Miko swallowed a few times, inexplicably feeling tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She steadfastly resisted the urge to sniff and lightened her voice. "I can sleep in here! You're nice and comfy anyway."

"Miko…" The robot tried again.

A flash of something hot and painful stabbed her in the gut. Of course, she thought, it's always the same. She sprung up from the seat and quickly swiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

"Fine! Alright, I get it. I'm going."

She climbed back into the front seat, limbs trembling, and kicked the cracked door all the way open.

Something like alarm seeped into Bulkhead's voice at the sudden change in her demeanor. "Wait, Miko, I—"

"No, you're right, I should be inside," She cut him off, her throat clenching to try to control the shaking of her voice. "I can be dense sometimes, but I get the hint." She slid out of the truck, recoiling slightly when the warm flesh of her feet met the chilled, rocky pavement. "I'll just….go."

She started back towards the boring white house with its boring perfect lawn, striding as quickly as her pride would let her. Bulkhead didn't call out to her again. It made sense, really—if someone heard a disembodied voice emanating from the truck, his cover would be totally blown. But still, the night seemed so very empty without his deep purr.

The breeze didn't feel invigorating now. It just felt lonely. And cold.

When Bulkhead came to pick her up from school the next day, Miko expected to be taken straight to the Autobot base hidden beneath the mountain just outside of town. She had recovered from her outburst the night before, and after lying awake for several more hours she had her game plan all worked out. Step one: pretend last night didn't happen. Step two: Pretend last night didn't happen, with reckless abandon.

Okay, so it was less of a game plan and more of an avoidance strategy. But still, the whole debacle had likely been embarrassing for both of them, so the best thing to do would just be to move on and avoid wallowing in it. She knew she wouldn't be able to hang out with the Autobots for long—no one ever wanted her around for very long, as the previous evening had once again confirmed—so she decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

But after strapping into the rumbling behemoth of a truck and snapping off a happy-go-lucky greeting (the smile was a little hard to pull off, but the Autobot probably didn't notice the difference), she realized that her afternoon was going to be very different from what she had planned.

Her first clue came when her alien ride missed the turnoff that would take them to the Autobot base.

Miko stared out the window for a minute at the stop sign receding into the distance, double-checking her memory of the route.

"Uh…Bulkhead?" She called hesitantly.

"Yeah Miko?"

"I think you missed the turn off."

"I know."

Miko blinked, then looked back at the fork in the road again. "Ookaaay." She turned back around and eyed the dashboard. "So are we playing hooky or something?"

"Not exactly." His voice was soft, almost shy, yet laced with a steely resolve. "You and me need to have a talk. A 'heart-to-heart', as you humans say."

A thorny piece of barbed wire twisted her guts into a knot. This was it. Three days—only three days—and she was already being kicked out. They'd had it with her, just like her parents and her friends. She was too annoying, too loud, too brash, and they didn't want to put up with her anymore. Swallowing repeatedly, Miko crossed her arms tightly over her chest and tried not to look like she was huddling in on herself.

She barely noticed when Bulkhead left the paved road and began to climb a steep dirt path into the hills—she was too busy trying to wrap her mind around once again being on the outside looking in, this time with the most spectacular thing that had ever happened to anyone, ever.

In that moment, she really and truly hated herself for following Bulkhead to rescue Fowler. If she'd just stayed at the base like a good little human, then maybe Bulkhead wouldn't now be taking her aside to tell her that she was too much of a liability, that she was too disruptive to have around.

Her throat closed up, making it hard to remember how to breathe.

After almost ten minutes of off-roading over the red rock, Bulkhead finally pulled to a stop atop a small overlook. The seatbelt resting snuggly across her chest retracted of its accord, causing her to twitch, and the door popped open.

Letting out a shuddering breath and briefly closing her eyes to steal herself for what was to come, Miko slid from the truck. Knowing that Bulkhead probably wanted to come out into the wilderness so that they could talk face to face, she backed away, giving him room to transform.

As the still, unassuming truck split apart at the seams with a metallic whirl and began to reform into a towering robot, Miko felt a helpless, giddy smile hitch itself on her face. She would never get tired of seeing the incredible metamorphosis, and some part of her secretly relished the fact that she couldn't keep track of where all the parts went.

The final parts clicked into place with a small hiss, leaving Bulkhead standing before her in all his kick-ass robotic glory. His enormous head titled down towards her, his brilliant blue optics somehow managing to outshine the burning halo the sun around him. She shivered beneath his gaze—his size made her feel tiny and pathetic, but those mechanical eyes, so alien and yet so alive, locked onto her as if they saw her, really saw her. That gaze sought her out and pinned her like a butterfly—the alien god looked at her, and she was significant.

"Hey," he rumbled, crouching with uncanny grace, "We need to talk." And he held out an enormous black hand at her feet, inviting her to step on.

Shielding her eyes against the sun, Miko flopped down in the center of his palm, trying to ignore the internal whimpering that started back up again as her awe faded.

A moment of vertigo washed over her as the hand lifted, and Miko found herself gently deposited on a wide metal shoulder. She gripped the edge of an armor plate to steady herself as Bulkhead sunk down to sit on the edge of the overlook. Even as distracted by evil stomach butterflies as she was, Miko couldn't help but appreciate the wonderful view. Jasper was just a small collection of boxes in the distance, looking very small and silly against the vast expanse of the desert.

"So…what's up?" She asked lightly, swallowing down a bit of bile. She knew Bulk would break it to her as nicely as he could—he was a good guy like that—and she promised herself and she wouldn't go and start sobbing all over him like a girl when he told her to get lost.

Bulkhead ran his thick fingers through the red dirt, seeming almost as nervous as she was.

"I just wanted to talk to you about last night, Miko. You seemed…pretty upset. So I thought we should clear some things up."

Here it comes.

She forced herself to laugh. "Yeah, sorry about that. Guess 2am isn't the best time for the stars of the band to get together, huh?"

He tilted his head towards her, regarding her with one gleaming blue optic. "I thought I was percussion?"

That surprised a laugh out of her. A real one. "Dude, didn't you know? Besides guitar solos, percussion is THE best thing about a band. So I play guitar, you rock the industrial sound, and next thing you know we shoot to the top of the charts!"

"So you think that we go good together?"

"Definitely!" She pumped her fists into the air, for a moment believing that the whole awkward conversation thing could be put off entirely by friendly banter. But then she saw the way he was looking at her—his gaze so deep and penetrating—and she realized that he wasn't talking about the compatibility of guitars and percussion. She slowly drew her arms back to her body, looking away.

Coward, a small voice in her mind sneered. She socked it in the jaw.

"We do go good together," she echoed, trying to keep her tone cheerful and carefree. "Sorry if I woke you up last night. –or wait, you don't sleep. So never mind." She took a deep breath. "I just thought that….well, you know, we could keep each other company."

And oh, didn't that just sound clingy and pathetic. "M-maybe swap some zombie stories and try to outdo each other, or something." she added hurriedly.

Bulkhead brought up his hand and carefully touched her shoulder with a finger. "I like it when you keep me company," the robot rumbled. Drat. When did he gain the uncanny ability to see through her bullshit? "But I'm supposed to look after you, Miko. And sleep is important to humans."

She huffed and crossed her arms, shrugging her shoulders to dislodge his finger. "What are you, my mother? What does a little sleep matter if I get to spend more time with the greatest evil-robot-smasher on the planet?"

"We hang out plenty during the day—"

"But I have to make every moment count!" She burst out, suddenly unable to contain the tearing feeling in her chest any longer. "Because soon you'll—" she clapped a hand over her mouth to cut herself off.

"Soon I'll what?" Bulkhead asked suspiciously, a dark undertone like rolling thunder to his voice. She'd heard that tone before—it usually meant a Decepticon was about to get an ass whooping.

But Miko only shook her head frantically, ponytails whipping around her face. She wouldn't say it. She couldn't say it. It would only happen that much sooner if she told him.

Apparently Bulkhead wasn't having any of that. With a deep growl, he gently reached around and plucked her from his shoulder. Ignoring her indignant squeak, he cradled her between his cupped hands and brought her close to his face.

"Miko," he asked softly, urgently, "Are you afraid that I'm going to abandon you?"

She tried to laugh off his question, "Nah, not abandon me. Just….show me the door." His optics whirled, constricting dangerously, until she was pinned beneath two pinpricks of blazing blue light. The bottom of her stomach dropped out, though she knew, with bone-deep certainty, that he wouldn't hurt her.

"That's just what happens," she rushed on, trying to smooth out the dangerous set to his faceplates, the restrained ferocity of his clenched motor cables. "I'm annoying, I know. Believe me, I know." She rolled her eyes. "'Miko, why can't you play nice with the other kids?' 'Miko, don't run down the slide, you'll hurt yourself.' 'Miko, turn off that horrible music.' 'Miko, why can't you be like you're older sister? She never gave us this much trouble!'"

She realized that she was painfully clenching her fists, and slowly uncurled them. Her face felt hot, but she frantically beat back the urge to cry. She was Miko—she didn't do pity parties.

She couldn't look at Bulkhead, not while she was baring her soul, so she looked down at her hands instead. How very small and fragile they seemed compared to the hands cupped around her back.

"I don't blame you guys. This always happens to me. I do something stupid, and I get sent off to someone else so that they can put up with me instead. My band partners…" she stopped, sniffing, and damn it all the stupid tears started spilling over anyway, just to spite her, "Well, let's just say that none of my bands have ever been together for very long."

She risked a glance up at Bulkhead, and saw something in his optics that knocked the wind out of her as efficiently as a baseball bat to the stomach—love. Pure, unrestrained, adoring love.

She ducked her head again, unable and unwilling to face the intensity of emotion radiating from the alien, but Bulkhead merely tucked her softly against his chest plates, cradling her as though she were something infinitely precious. Part of Miko wanted to squirm away in embarrassment and despair—it couldn't be real, they'd only known each other three days—but in the end she decided to docilely soak up the comforting, protective aura exuded by the enormous robot. Who knew how long it would last.

She carefully pressed her ear to the metal plating, listening to the rhythmic ticking and humming of the robot's internal systems. There was a deep, almost subsonic vibrating emanating from deep within his chest that tugged strangely at her heart, but she chalked it up to another one of those weird alien robot things that she didn't understand.

"Miko," Bulkhead finally rumbled, his deep voice vibrating the metal beneath her ear, "I'm your Guardian. I will never abandon you. I will never show you the door," he paused, something like metallic laughter passing through his frame with gentle amusement, "I will never break up the band."

Tender moment officially over, Miko scoffed and rolled her eyes, pulling away as far as she could.

"Yes you will. Everyone does." She cut across him as he tried to speak, "Maybe not right now, maybe not even years from now. But things change. People change." She bit her lip. "I don't expect you to be my bodyguard forever."

The hands holding her pulled her far enough away so that Bulkhead could meet her gaze again. She expected him to launch into some big speech about loyalty and togetherness and yadda-yadda, but his response took her completely by surprise.

"Scrap." He swore softly. And maybe she was imagining it, but he looked almost afraid. "Do you know what a Guardian is?" he asked urgently, leaning towards her.

Miko frowned. "Um, yeah. It's someone to keep you from being turned into a greasy smear on the pavement by Decpticons. A body guard, like I said."

He mumbled something that sounded like 'Optimus didn't warn me about this.' Then, more loudly, "I think there's a translation problem, Miko. I don't think you guys have the same concept of 'guardian' that we do."

By this point, Miko found herself thoroughly and completely confused. This was not the path she had anticipated the conversation taking. "So it doesn't mean body guard?" She clarified.

He hesitated for just a moment, again seeming somehow anxious. Almost frightened.

"It does mean bodyguard," he affirmed slowly, "But it also means protector. Teacher. Friend. Companion. Brother." He gently touched the place over her heart with one finger. "Anything you need me to do, I will do it. Anything you need me to be, I will be it. The moment Optimus put you in my care, special programs inside of me started up and bonded me to you. Thousands of programs, Miko. Programs that affect every part of me. Don't you see," he said urgently, voice thrumming with intensity, "I will never abandon you. I will never show you the door. I will never break up the band. Nothing short of death will take me from you, Miko."

It was too much to take in. For the first time since meeting the Autobots, Miko felt completely out of her depth. Tears swam in her eyes, blurring her vision, and she angrily swiped them away.

"No wonder Arcee was so pissed when Optimus told her to go with Jack," she hiccupped.

Bulkhead laughed outright at that, the sound rolling across her like muted thunder. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he lowered her to the ground and placed her back on her feet. His hand hovered behind her back and she finished scrubbing the last of the tear tracks from her face, as though unwilling to let her go just yet.

Though Miko felt lighter, more hopeful than she had in years, she forced herself to ask, "You don't hate me, right? I mean, I know I'd be pretty upset if I was forced to bond myself to someone…"

Bulkhead tilted his head questioningly, rising to his full height. "If you were an Autobot and I was a human, would you want to bond with me?"

"No duh, doofus," She cried, laughing wetly, "You're, like, my best friend."

"Well, uh…let's just say I feel the same way about you, kay?" Without warning, he collapsed back down into his truck form, "Now enough with all the mushy stuff. Let's go do something fun!"

But still she hesitated. She had to be sure. "So you're not upset about being bonded to me?"

The mammoth truck slowly rolled towards her, its presence imposing and intense, but in a way that was protective rather than frightening.

"You are so tiny," Bulkhead rumbled softly, almost purring. She could feel the powerful thrumming of his engine through her feet. "But you're not scared of me. I'm always the biggest thing in the room, but when you came to base you ran right up to me, and your face just lit up like the moon. I could crush you so easily, but you don't cower away from me when I touch you." His voice became impossibly soft. "You don't…you can't….know how much that means to me."

The truck crept closer to her. "Now—" the door popped open, "-What do you say we blow this popsicle stand?"

The happiest grin she'd ever worn stretched across her face and threatened to split her from ear to ear. The hard little stone she'd carried in around in her chest ever since her parents had sent her away to America vanished like morning dew, and suddenly she could breathe again. The air had never felt so fresh- the world had never seemed so vast and wondrous—as in that moment with her best friend sitting before her sparkling in the light, door open and welcoming. At long last, her soul lifted up and took flight.

I'm home.

"Let's go off-roading!"