Come Clean

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One hour later...

Lana looked over at Ben who appeared to be ready to nod off right on his bench stool. She gently reached over and touched his arm.

"Why don't you go back to your house and sleep?"

"Yeah right." the old man scoffed as he gestured to TC, "And I suppose HE won't stomp me to dust if I try to leave?"

Lana shook her head, "As long as you pretend he's not here. Look, I'll tell him I told you to go into the house. He'll listen to me."

Ben smiled and shook his head slowly, "How in the world did you ever make friends with one of them, Miss Lana? Left some milk and cookies outside your door for 'im?"

The young woman smiled at the visual his statement created, "Not exactly. Just go on and get some rest, I'll handle him when he wakes up."

He looked at her and then at the imposing mech, "Yeah...I feel a whole lot safer knowing a little white girl stands between me and him."

Lana made a motion with her hand, "You don't have to worry. Just go."

For a moment it looked like the portly man wasn't going to budge but the sting in his old back from sitting up was making his bed in the house that much more enticing. Ben cautiously got up from his stool; never taking his eyes off of Thundercracker's sleeping form as he backed toward the door.

"'Don't worry' she says...right," he whispered in a higher voice.

Very slowly he crept to the door and eventually slipped out. No reaction from the robot; he was out like a light. Ben heaved a huge sigh of relief and briskly tiptoed to his house.

Lana sighed and glanced back at the recharging Decepticon. In the expansive quiet of the hangar his internal clicks and hisses were much more pronounced. She yawned and tried to stay awake whilst her mind tried to formulate some sort of plan.

...

Morning...

Thundercracker's optics glowed softly as he returned online. His back still hurt...Primus his whole body was firing signals of pain. It was going to be a long while before his frame began to fully self-repair. Unfortunately no amount of time was going to reform his wings unless he had a proper framework AND proper help.

He looked around the quiet hangar but didn't see the old man or Lana. The Decepticon's head yanked up slightly, optics darting. They didn't...they didn't sneak out while he was recharging—did they? But then he spotted a small patch of heat off to his right, slumped over a work table. The straight red hair draped along the nape of the neck left little doubt to who it was. Lana had fallen asleep, her head resting on her arms. Her back rose and fell with each slow breath. Honestly he believed after their last fallout he'd never see her again. Funny how fate dealt him such a crushing blow and then swatted the tiniest crumb of favors his way.

TC didn't see the old man in the hangar, which made him a bit nervous. Perhaps Lana knew where he'd gone? He scooted closer to the sleeping woman and stretched his hand toward her with an extended index finger. With the barest of touches he stroked Lana's exposed back a couple times. She stirred, repositioned her head with a groan, but didn't awaken. Thundercracker frowned and gently slid the stem of the stool between his fingers like a human would hold a wine glass. Very slowly he lifted it and Lana off the ground.

She leaned forward dangerously but then startled awake, "GWAH!—?"

Losing her balance she fell off the raised stool and into Thundercracker's palm, which was not the softest of places to topple.

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