Mind Your Business 16

"FINE! You want me to get out? Then I'll fragging leave!"

The door slammed shut with a thunderous crash, almost enough to crack the doorframe. Swindle winced at the volume of his mother's voice, but, she was out of the house. That was a plus. Or . . . maybe not. He'd hate for her to get arrested for killing someone.

Huffing angrily, his engine running hot after the most recent argument with her, Swindle stomped up the stairwell, stewing. He was tired of this pattern she ran. He might love his mother, but her depression was a hard thing to fight.

Going down the hall, Swindle flung open the door to his mother's room. A pungent wall of alcohol smell hit his olfactory system. Gritting his teeth, Swindle set about the room, picking up bottles and avoiding the ones shattered. It looked like hell in there, it smelled like hell in there, and to be honest, Ballast wasn't much better. Her eyes had still been bright and unfocused as she overcame her most recent hangover.

Swindle set about the house, cleaning up after his mother again, muttering under his breath about how he really ought to just hire a maid and be done with it. Carrying the bagged bottles down the stairs, he turned to the kitchen and threw them out back in the cans where they would be picked up. Then, he went back upstairs to clean up the shards of broken bottles.

These few weeks since the apparent breakup had been rough, but Swindle could at least comfort himself that it wasn't as bad as when she and Optimus had ended. Now if he could at least break her binging on the high grade, he might be able to at least get her back into a condition proper enough to be living with.

The doorbell rang. Swindle cursed in annoyance under his breath, wondering who the hell was there. If it was that Nemesis Prime, he'd blow his face in, and if it was anyone else, he might just blow their faces in too. Dropping the glass shards in a pile, Swindle wiped his hands and headed back downstairs, optics bright with agitation. He flung open the door. "What?"

Kairos' held breath cut into a gasp at how aggressively the door opened, and the voice sounded. It took a moment to realize who exactly had done it.

"Um, hi, Swindle," he murmured. Feeling the need to suck in the presence of his cousins flanking him, Kairos bit his lip, and said, "Uh . . . Is Ballast around?"

"Hey, Swindle," he heard Sideswipe peppily call behind him.

Swindle blinked at the three mechs before him. Kairos and the Terror Twins. Interesting . . . He didn't move out of the doorway or invite them in, however. "Hello, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker." He nodded his head to the both of them. He glanced at Kairos, pressing his lips together. So he was a touch bitter he hadn't kept ordering the mech's good tea, but he had figured it would be better if in the beginning his mother had as little reminder of the mech as possible. "Kairos. Can I help you?"

Kairos looked at the shape of his peds, his fingers constantly moving and picking at each other. "I—I wanted to talk to Ballast," he said. "I want to make it up to her. F-For what I did. I realized how . . . stupid and selfish it was of me, and I want to apologize to her. If I can . . . ?"

Swindle stared up at the taller mechs, frowning at Kairos. He thought of his mother's condition and shook his head. "I'm quite sure it's too late for that," he said. He added on the end, "Besides, she's not here."

"O-Oh," the blind mech stuttered, sounding defeated.

He heard a huff behind him, and a hand nudged him. "C'mon," Sunstreaker muttered.

Kairos straightened, bolstering himself. "But," he sputtered out then, "but I would like to try anyway. D-do you where she could be?"

Did he? If she remembered today was the date of Caelius' death, he knew exactly where she was headed. "I have no idea," he said, sitting on a hip. "She stormed out of here, so there's no telling where she headed. My first guess is the boxing rings. She was definitely in the mood to punch something."

Kairos gained a little hope in the clue. "Really? Then, I guess I should look there first—"

"Swindle," Sideswipe chimed. "Are you POSITIVE about that? I mean, c'mon,” and he leaned forward and squeezed Kairos' face in his hands. "Look at this sad baby. LOOK at him. He was getting all panicky on us about getting to her and pouring his little spark out to her. He was a clueless child, he didn't understand what was up with Ballast before. But we got him up to speed." Kairos' lips pouted out more when the hands squeezed a little harder. "Give him a chance? Pweeease?"

Swindle crossed his arms, giving them all a look. "And I told you, you just missed her." Not really. She had been gone for a while now. But another little lie to hide her tracks wasn't going to hurt. "She didn't tell me where she was going, and I honestly don't know where she's gone. If she's not at the ring, check some of the underground, illegal fighting pits. She can get away with a lot more violence there. For all I know, she went to your little tea shop to give you a piece of her mind." Swindle paused and then gave a snort. "Or a piece of her fists."

The little hope Kairos had crumbled into dust. When Sideswipe huffed and let go of his face, Kairos frowned sadly.

Sunstreaker rolled his optics. "Yeah. Okay. And she's DEFINTELY not home, huh?"

Kairos looked up at his cousin. "Swindle would know that. He wouldn't lie about something like—"

He was surprised when he heard the twins actually laugh before he even finished. "Kairos," Sideswipe said, "you're officially the child of this conversation. Us adults know what's up. But you got enough to worry about, soooo," and he glanced back at Swindle, smiling. "You sure about checking out the rings and pits? You SURE you're sure? You're sure you're sure you're sure?"

His face slowly fell into one of exasperated boredom as Sideswipe continued to talk. "I'm not sure about anything," he admitted, putting his servos on his hips. "My mother is in a highly emotional state right now, and trust me when I say, I'd like to know where she is too so she doesn't do anything incredibly . . . STUPID." Swindle took a step to the side and mockingly swept his arm inside the house. "But be my guest. Check the house. Because I told you, she's not here."

Sideswipe hummed dramatically. There's no way Swindle was lying about her not being home. Not if he was openly allowing them to check. (Which was wrong. It was exactly the kind of thing Swindle would do.) And Ballast wasn't a bot to miss. If she was really in there, they would see her eventually.

"Okay, okay, we get it. But if that's the case, you're sure you're sure you don't want to help us look?"

"Sideswipe," Kairos cut in, his voice heavy. "Don't pester him." Looking back at Swindle, he forced a hard smile onto his face. "Thanks for giving us a few places to look. It was—um, good to talk to you again."

Swindle nodded, forgetting briefly that the mech was blind. "All business," he said distantly. "I need to finish cleaning up in here. Contact me if you find Mom." He treated his words as a goodbye, and he shut the door on them, locking it behind him.

The door's sudden close gave his spark a jump. He would have replied something if Swindle hadn't been so quick to dismiss them.

"Rude," Sideswipe quipped.

Ignoring the comment, Kairos looked between his cousins, and carefully walked down the steps. "Where are you going?" Sunstreaker asked.

Kairos didn’t even look over his shoulder. "To look for Ballast."

The twins looked at each other. It was Sunstreaker, surprisingly, who said, "Kairos, you DO know that Swindle wasn't exactly . . . HELPING you. Right?"

Kairos frowned. "But he said—"

"Yeah, but Swindle says a LOT of things," Sideswipe said, going to join him at the sidewalk with Sunstreaker following. "I'm pretty sure, like, only a fifth of the things he says are actually true."

Kairos held back a huff. "But I still want to check the rings. She MIGHT be there."

Sideswipe planted his hands on his hips. "Ya sure? I'm thinking eleven percent chance she's there."

"Well, you were never really good at math," Kairos said a bit gruffly.

Sideswipe's optics popped. "Whaaat? Was that an insult I just heard? From the flower child? Damn, this situation is biting your aft pretty hard, huh?"

Kairos started walking, soon flanked by the twins again. "Yeah, I guess,” he muttered. “I'm still going to the rings."

"Whatever makes ya happy," Sunstreaker said, shrugging.

*

It wasn't until Ballast's temper had finally simmered down and her headache had eased that she finally let go of her anger against Swindle.

Sure, she was pissed he had kicked her out of her own home. (Technically, his name was on the deed.) She was angry he had the gall to lift his voice at her and act like he knew what was best for her. But she had to admit, he always had her best interests in mind. Her diet had almost solely been high grade lately. She'd given up on coffee within the second week. She was drinking too much. She didn't want to admit it, but the truth was tough.

She heaved a heavy sigh to herself, shoulders slumping. Swindle was right, as always. She needed to get out of the house and stop wallowing. The weeks had blurred. And maybe it was stupid to be walking alone when Nemesis Prime was still at large, but Ballast could care little. She'd deal with that issue if it arose. For now, she just tried to keep her peds moving.

She had crossed the majority of Iacon quickly at the rapid pace she had been walking in her anger. She'd plowed through a couple of people that didn't get out of her way in time. But now, her pace settled as she checked how far she was from home. Her optics picked up the buildings around, and she realized she literally crossed to the opposite side of Iacon. She was hours from home.

Then, her spark skipped when she realized where she was subconsciously walking. What was today? She checked her chronometer, and her spark hit her stomach heavily. The date always seemed to sneak up on her. It always managed to catch her off guard. But clearly, it was ingrained in her programming not to miss this visit as she had subconsciously walked all this way without thinking.

Ballast continued walking, craving a shower. Her systems still felt sluggish as the high grade continued to filter out of her system, and her spark felt hollow. If anything, at least her wound had healed fully. Her vocalizer tightened as she finally reached her destination that evening, and she walked into the cemetery.

No one was there. They were never here on this day, as if he were the sole spark that had been snuffed that day. Walking through the headstones, Ballast found his in the deeper part of the cemetery, marked with marble and his name. The date was engraved under his name, along with the words, My shining star.

Ballast knelt. Her throat tightened, so she cleared her vocalizer. "Hello, Caelius," she murmured softly. Her fights tightened and pressed against her thighs. "Life sucks. Life really sucks."

Her vocalizer squeezed, and Ballast pressed her lips. He died far too young. She still couldn't understand how Primus saw it fit to take Caelius' light and let her keep walking around. Caelius deserved life far more than she did. He would have done good things with his life. He would have saved people, helped people, and shed more goodwill on the world than the deception Ballast had wrought.

Her spark shivered in remembrance of that day. She would never forget the image of him falling, smoke belching from his chassis, and the way his limp body had cracked against the ground, unmoving. So fast he’d been turned from her shining star into a . . . falling star.

Her lips quivered. "I miss you," she rasped, tears stinging her optics. She shook her head, blinking rapidly and looking down to fight them. Curling up, she leaned her forehead against the cool marble, lamenting the loss of her son.

He was hers. It didn't matter that it wasn't by energon, he had been HER child. She raised him. She held him when he cried, she took care of him when he was sick and hurt, she urged him to be the best he could, she promise to be there for him when no one else would. She promised to protect him. She promised to be a better person for him. She almost had, until his untimely death. After that, she'd never seen the world the same. There was no light, no hope, and no happiness that could replace what Caelius had given to her.

Ballast grieved silently, spark reaching out to him. She so wanted to see him. If not for Swindle, she was sure she would have joined him by now, regardless of why Primus kept her alive. She would have killed herself just to be with him again. But Swindle was her tether to the world, and she wouldn't abandon him.

The evening turned dark before Ballast sniffled and wiped her tears away. Swallowing, she put a hand on his grave, spark weighing heavily before she stood shakily. She tried to ignore the empty spots in her spark and instead, began the long walk home. She stepped back into the quiet streets, knowing it would be deep in the morning hours before she got home. She'd stayed too long.

She tried to ignore her bleeding spark. She couldn't let Caelius' death drag her down. She couldn't let the loss of her friends in the long past hold her back. She couldn't let Optimus continue to haunt her. She couldn't even let Kairos puncture her wounded spark. She had to keep living . . . if only for Swindle . . .

Her throat tightened again as she thought of all the hardship in her life, living in slavery, scraping for earnings to live on, the Cataclysm that had taken her parents and more than half of Cybertron's inhabitants. The memories felt so far away they almost seemed like a different life. Stumbling into a construction zone, empty except for a few shipping crates, Ballast tried to get a hold of herself. Taking deep breaths, she sat heavily on one of the crates, her foot knocking loudly against it.

A small catch of breath beneath her caused her to come to attention.

Ballast looked down on her seat, absolutely sure she had heard someone gasp.

What. The hell.

Ballast briefly entertained the thought that she hadn't actually heard anything, but then decided that she might as well check. Standing up, she came around to the front of crate and opened it up.

She stared. More than a dozen sets of red and blue optics stared back.

Ballast blinked. "What are you kids doing in here?"

They shrank, scooting into the farthest corner and clutching one another. Ballast instinctively looked up and around, and when she found no one was around, again looked to the kids huddled inside. She crouched down, softening her tone. "Hey, easy. I'm not going to hurt you. I may look scary, but I won't hurt you. Why are you in here?"

They didn't answer, just stared in apparent fright. Ballast's jaw tightened a little at the sight of them. Their optics were flickering. They needed to refuel. Who were these kids? "Is someone coming to get you?" she asked, giving them a more direct yes or no answer. Her hopes were answered when a single pair of optics nodded.

Ballast knelt down fully on her knees, trying to make herself as small as possible so she wouldn't scare them. "Okay. I'm guessing you were expecting someone else?" The child nodded again. Ballast's optics began to dilate to see the sparklings better, and she counted them up. 13. A baker's dozen. "Who were you expecting?" she asked kindly. "Are they nice?"

There was hesitation this time. It was a femme, it looked like, the one that was answering. She looked to be the oldest. They looked to range from anywhere between two and eight orns old. Just younglings. Finally, the girl shook her head.

"Oh," Ballast said softly, nodding her head in understanding. "I'm sure you kids don't want to be locked up in here. Do you want to go home?"

The eyes looked between one another, Decepticon red and Autobot blue alike. There was no answer this time, and Ballast looked over her shoulder, checking again for any suspicious figures. Clearly, whoever was picking them up hadn't come yet . . . "So, you're orphan children?" she asked. The oldest femme nodded again. Ballast glanced out and back to them.

"So, I've got a proposition," Ballast suggested to them in the dark of night. "I know it might be hard to trust a stranger, but I'd like to keep you all safe. I can call the police and make sure whoever it is that is coming for you won't be able to find you. But that means you'd have to trust me to get you out of here."

There was a beat of silence. Finally, she heard the femme whisper, "Why can we trust you?"

Ballast smiled at them gently. "Because I'm a mom," she said. "I've got my own little boy at home. And quite frankly, I like to beat up people who are mean to children."

There was another pause as the girl processed this, weighing her options. Clearly, she thought there couldn't be anything worse, so she stood up, holding the hands of two smaller kids as she whispered, "Okay, come on." She tugged them along, and the rest of the sparklings and younglings jumped to their peds, following. Ballast blinked, backing up when a few of the little bodies latched onto her immediately.

Scooping up three of them in her arms, some of the youngest of the bunch, Ballast held them in one arm, using her other hand to pat their backs as the others clustered at her legs. She shut the empty crate, and gestured for them to follow, saying, "Stay close to me."

They began a tense walk down the streets. The kids kept wildly looking around, and Ballast kept a sharp eye out too, ready to tear out the sparks of whoever had the ball bearings to kidnap children. However, the streets were mostly quiet on this side of the city. The few bots she did see just gave her weird looks for having that many kids with her, but they didn't say anything. Finding the closest bus station, Ballast waited for it, seeing that it was supposed to be coming by in just a few minutes. There was no way all these kids were walking to her house.

Ballast looked down at them as they clustered close around her legs. "It's all right," she soothed them, patting the backs of the ones she held. "My house is far away, so we'll take the bus back. That way you can rest your feet, and we'll be in a public place. And if anything does happen, people will know."

The eldest femme nodded again, barely coming just above Ballast's knee. Ballast sighed to herself, picked up another child that was weaving on his peds. She added him to the bunch in the crook of her right arm. She hadn't ridden a bus in a long, long time. She always ended up being cramped when she did, sitting in the back with the seats for the bigger bots. Buses really only were meant for a max height of 30 feet, though sometimes bigger bots could cramp inside.

Tonight, Ballast would be cramping in there. As the bus pulled up, she paid for their fare, telling the driver where they were headed and that if it ended up costing more than what she'd paid down, she'd pay the extra when they got there. The bus driver just stared and nodded wide-eyed at the sum she'd given him, and the back of the bus opened up for her.

"All right," she said sweetly, "up you go, all of you." She helped the kids into the back of the bus, peering over her shoulders. Still, no one had found them. Maybe she'd lucked up and had come really early before whoever was picking them up had planned. The few passengers inside gave her a look as she clambered in the rear, ducking her head and scrunching her shoulders. However, she managed, if uncomfortable, and the children again clustered in seats near her as the bus took off.

"Hey!" Ballast looked up to see a mech, clearly tipsy, squinting his optics at her. "Are all'o them kids yours?"

Ballast narrowed her optics at him. "Yes," she said. "I adopted them. Is there a problem with how many kids I wanted to adopt?"

The mech's optics widened, and he backed off, mumbling something and slouching back in his seat.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. Ballast watched over the crew of younglings as they dozed off in various positions. They needed energon, baths, and a warm bed. Luckily, she could provide all of this. When the bus was emptied of other bots save the driver, Ballast accessed her comm. and called the police.

"What's your emergency?"

Ballast looked down on the sparklings and younglings. "I was in the east sector of Iacon visiting the cemetery. There's a construction site not too far from there, and I found a slew of kids inside a crate."

"Kids?" the operator said with sudden interest. "How many?"

"Thirteen."

"Ma'am, I'm going to transfer you to the chief. He's been on this case for weeks now, and I'm sure he'll want to speak with you. Just a moment."

Ballast felt her face deadpan. The chief. That meant Prowl, didn't it? Wonderful.

After a moment, she heard Prowl's voice say, "This is Prowl, police chief. Ma'am, where are you now?"

"A bus," she said shortly.

There was a pause, and she heard Prowl contain a very thin swear word. "Ballast. Why is it always you . . . Where are you headed?"

"Home," she said. "You can meet me there. These kids need energon, a bath, and a bed, and I've got all of it. What case is this?"

"Those orphans have been missing for nearly three weeks now," he said crisply. "You said you found them at the construction site just outside of the Marble Cemetery?"

"Yeah," she said, slouching a little uncomfortably in her seat. "Stuffed in a crate, waiting on someone to pick them up. I didn't see anyone there, and the kids aren't talking yet. Necessities first, and then you can worry about questioning them."

"Ballast—"

"Actually, you should probably get Smokescreen to question them," she cut in, enjoying the chance to interrupt him. "They're skittish, and you'll just scare them with your face."

She could hear him seething with his next words. "I will keep that in mind," he said tightly. "We will meet you at your home to settle things further and provide extra protection in case their kidnappers come looking for them."

Ballast shrugged. "Sure thing, Prowler. See you then."

"Head straight there," he said crisply. "Do not detour for any reason, and stay on alert for—"

"Prowl, I can handle this. Get that stick out of your afterburner and just get to my house."

She hung up before he could get on her nerves any more than he already had. She rode with the kids, the bus making periodic stops where only one other bot got on, and got off later. At the station nearest to her house, Ballast shook the kids awake.

"Hey. Hey kiddos, time to wake up. We're here."

She was extra gentle, knowing how easily spooked they would be. She ended up carrying three more tired younglings, so her arms were full, and they headed down the quiet streets to her home. She found Prowl outside with a disgruntled Swindle, and before the mech could say anything, she cut him off.

"Prowl, I'm putting these kids to bed first, and then we'll talk."

Ballast didn't wait for his answer, but instead herded the children inside, and she helped them up the stairwell when their tired feet dragged. Laying the sleeping ones in the nearest spare room, Ballast nearly asked the others if they wanted the other spare rooms, but all of the kids clambered into the same bed, clearly more at ease together than apart. Ballast bid them a gentle goodnight, promising warm energon in the morning before she went down to haggle with Prowl.

*

Ballast really didn't like dealing with Prowl.

He just made things so . . . difficult. He practically stayed the night with her, both of them disagreeing in furious whispers because Ballast threatened to punch him, bot of the law or not, if he woke those kids up. Swindle quickly washed his hands of them and went to recharge, abandoning her to the stiff bot. Eventually, she convinced him to have Smokescreen question the kids about who had taken them and for what. The only reason she got rid of him so easily was because he was called away around three in the morning.

Nemesis Prime had been apprehended.

Granted, he was in quite a few pieces—Jazz had gotten a little trigger happy, but the brain module was intact, and the drone contained no spark. Prowl had left to lead the investigation. Ballast was left at the house, uneasily wanting answers and left to fend for the baker's dozen of younglings sleeping in her guest bedroom.

She took a small nap and forced herself to rise early that morning. After peeking in on the kids, content to see them all sleeping like rocks after whatever ordeal they had endured, Ballast actually found herself descending the stairs at the same time Swindle did. Her lethargic eyes caught him grinning a little too brightly at her, so she waved him off as they entered the kitchen. Swindle hustled to make some coffee for her, so Ballast let him, slouching at her kitchen table. Ironic how the house felt empty when she knew she had thirteen kids upstairs.

Swindle cleared his throat at last. "So?"

She lifted her bleary yellow optics to him, glaring a little from behind her pilot visor. "So what?"

Her son gave a small shrug and pulled out two mugs, a finger tapping on the edge of the counter. "You've got over a dozen kids in the house," he said conversationally. "What are you thinking?"

Her processor must be acting a bit slow. Not understanding yet, she decided it was too early to try and decipher Swindle. "Thinking about what? The kids?"

Swindle snorted a little. "Clearly," he muttered under his breath, "you're not thinking very much at all . . ." In an audible tone, he gave Ballast a pointed look and said, "Yes, the kids. What are you thinking about the kids?"

Ballast rubbed her hand against the front of her helm, fighting a processor ache. What about the kids? "I'm thinking I'm making sure Prowl doesn't eat them alive and making sure the much more kid-friendly Smokescreen will treat them like angels when he questions them."

Swindle made a noise that Ballast couldn't place as he poured their coffee. He pushed hers her way and waited for her to sip on it some before he plunged in. "And after that? They'll go back to the orphanage?"

He woke her up. Ballast blinked down at her coffee, suddenly realizing what he was asking. An orphanage. She didn't really know anything about the orphanages of Cybertron or the conditions they were in. How hard could it be to get adopted? Well, for the red-optic Decepticon children, probably pretty hard . . .

"Or are you planning on adopting them?" Swindle asked again when she didn't answer him. When Ballast hedged again, not answering, he made that noise again, somewhere between amused and not amused. "Just asking. Because if you're doing that I'm gonna have to get more rooms added and slagging soundproof my room."

Her engine grumbled in annoyance. "You're assuming a lot, you know," she finally said.

"I just know my mother."

He sipped smugly on his coffee, and Ballast groaned again. How could he be such a headache in the mornings? And if Swindle was a headache, she could only imagine how thirteen screaming kids in the house would be. Did she really have the patience for that? She tended to raise them one at a time, and they were always such well behaved children. Well, okay, so Caelius had always been too curious and wanted to help every stray being on the sidewalk, and Swindle was always getting into fights way over his head . . .

Kids. Ballast grunted to herself as she drank her bitter coffee. She did love kids. Annoying as they were. They could be pretty adorable . . .

The doorbell rang, and Swindle groaned. "I am not in a people mood," he said, taking his datapad and mug. He refilled his coffee as he went, saying, "You deal with them."

A low, aggravated noise rose from Ballast's chassis. "And you think I'm in a people mood?"

"I know you're not," Swindle said, waving behind him. "That's why I know you'll deal with them. It's probably Prowl anyways, ready for round two!"

Ballast groaned to herself, pinching her brow at the thought as Swindle disappeared upstairs. Primus spare her if it was Prowl again. She would literally throw him off the porch steps and tell him to come by later if he was here.

Leaving her coffee on the table, Ballast trudged over to her front door, rubbing her aching helm. She needed more sleep. And a drink. Ballast flung open the door, intent on jousting with Prowl again, and her spark hit the pits of her energon tanks.

Now she REALLY needed a drink.

Optimus stood a little hesitantly on her porch, blue optics flickering in thought. When she just stared, unable to function this early in the morning, he cleared his voice. "Good morning, Ballast," he greeted her gently. "May I come in?"

Numbly, Ballast thought she shut the door on him. Instead, she stepped to the side, letting him walk inside her house for the first time in years. She shut the door behind him, and they stood awkwardly in the vestibule, neither speaking to the other.

Finally, Optimus cleared his throat. "My double has been caught," he announced for her. He turned to face her, but Ballast kept her optics on his shoulder, unable to quite look at him. Where was Prowl? She could really appreciate Prowl at this point. "Jazz tracked him to a distant hideout near the Rust Sea. He took him down with greater gusto than necessary, but his work is appreciated all the same. The lair bore a similar layout and atmosphere to many of Shockwave's hovels in the past, and his scientific genius could easily concoct such a plan." Optimus paused. "It's confirmed there is a medic involved with Shadowplay, but we have been unable to ascertain who it is."

Ballast nodded absently. What was she supposed to say? An awkward silence lingered between them before Optimus was prompted to add, "You're safe, Ballast. You and your family are safe. My Nemesis can't hurt you anymore."

Finally, her glossia came unstuck. "I guess I have Jazz to thank for that," she said glibly, almost surprising herself with her ability to be clever, given the situation.

Optimus nodded, seeming to relax a little since she had spoken. In the silence that followed, his head tilted up, drawn to the portraits hanging on the stairwells. It was Caelius, not Swindle, that held his attention. "You had his portrait restored," Optimus observed quietly, his gaze settling on the golden and silver seeker with his military markings. "He looks well."

Ballast felt her throat tighten. "Thank you," she murmured, looking away from him.

She heard him vent tiredly. "Ballast, we need to talk."

"No we don't," she said quickly. Her back tensed. "You said what you needed to, now get out."

"Ballast, it's been years," he said more sternly than he had before. "You left me with a confession of love in my lap. We NEED to talk about this."

"It was a moment of weakness!" she snapped, fists clenching. "You weren't supposed to know!" She drew in a sharp breath. "It doesn't matter anyways. We were broken up. It doesn't matter how I feel."

"I think it does," Optimus said patiently. "Because if you still feel that way, then you should know the feeling is mutual."

Ballast flinched. Hard. She took a step away from him, throat working hard and a wisp of smoke rising up from her chimney as he told her, albeit in a roundabout manner, that he loved her. She'd never actually heard the words from him before. That statement was the closest she'd ever gotten . . .

"What does it even matter?" she said bitterly, staring down at her peds. "It's been over for years, you made sure of that."

"And it was a mistake," Optimus said clearly, still so patient, and it irked her nerves. "I should have never done what I did to you. I should have never let myself be pressured into letting you go. And when you left me that day in the CR chamber, I should have followed you. I should have told you then and there that I was in love with you."

Her spark warbled in her chassis. Her chest tightened at the sound of those words, and her throat worked again. She crossed her arms tightly, squeezing her optics shut against a sudden prick of tears. After fighting it down, being very blasé, she threw out, "You were in a CR chamber. You couldn't talk back. That was the point."

She heard his engine make a very faint whining sound. "Ballast," he said seriously, an edge of pain coloring his voice. "Are you telling me had I broke down your front door instead of letting you ignore me, that we could have avoided all of this?"

Her shoulders hunched up defensively. Why did he ask all of the hard questions? He sounded like . . . Her optics flicked up to the portrait of the golden and silver seeker. He sounded like Caelius when he did that. "Do you know?" she asked instead, trying to steer the conversation away from the dangerous zone it was heading into. "About me and Kairos?"

He paused. "I have my suspicions."

"Well they're right," she said flatly. She shook her head and looked back down at her peds, feeling awful. "It was my fault. I thought I could erase you." She felt herself slump as she forced herself to admit it. "I used him. I shouldn't have. I kept telling myself that I wasn't because I really did like him, but . . . I used him. To get over you."

And it didn't work.

There was a stretch of silence, and finally, Optimus moved closer to her in the large house. He put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to flinch at his touch before relaxing. "Ballast," he murmured softly, "why did you avoid me?"

Why indeed. Why had she refused to answer the phone when it rang? Ignored him, turned and walked the other way in the streets? Listened to him knocking and banging on her front door, shouting his spark out to her? Because she hurt over him breaking up with her? Was that really an answer?

The tears stung her optics again, so she blinked them back. "I don't know," she rasped softly.

His fingers tightened on her, and he tugged her around to face him. She let him. "Ballast," he murmured. "I know this may be coming far too late, but . . . I want you back. You left me with a confession of love, and it's haunted me all these years. I never stopped loving you. I don't care what the public thinks of me being with the mother of the black market dealer. I don't care at all what they think or how it may damage my reputation. Ballast . . ." He tilted her chin up, gathering her attention. She swallowed at the sight of his crystal blue optics.

"Ballast, I love you," he whispered. "I know the best and the worst of you, and I would be proud to have you by my side, for better or for worse."

The hot tears were back. He couldn't say things like that. Not here. Not now. Her systems stuttered, and more smoke curled up from her smokestack. She bit her lip hard, spark trembling in her chassis when she saw his azure optics lid as his gaze dipped to her lips. "Optimus . . ." She wanted to tell him to stop. Don't. If she said it, she knew he would stop; he always did. He would never kiss her against her will.

Instead, she found her spark betraying her as she leaned in to meet his kiss, and oh Primus, she wanted this. She had wanted this all along. His hands tenderly cupped her cheeks, and her hands lifted to his chest, grasping him. His mouth gently molded against her, adding pressure when she responded so eagerly, a small sound catching in her vocalizer. She even stepped towards him, spark yearning for that closeness again, desperately seeking comfort in him and finding it as he assured her gently with a slow, passionate kiss that was long overdue.

His lips lingered, drawing out the kiss that both were loath to end. He finally pulled back, and he took Ballast's spark back with him, a thumb stroking her cheek. Ballast stood shock still, lest she rashly drag him back to her berth where he belonged.

"You don't have to answer now," he murmured softly. Finally, his hands fell, but he didn't put space between them. "But know, no matter your answer, that I will wait as long as you need me to."

Her breathing hitched again. She had to say something. She didn't say anything when he broke up with her, just threw him out of her house without telling him how she'd truly felt, and look where that had left them. She had to say something this time. Anything.

A soft sound above their heads drew Optimus' gaze up. He blinked in recognition, and he stepped back from Ballast, putting respectable distance between them. "Your guests."

Ballast felt her head whip so fast she could have broken her neck. Above her, she saw three of the kids, one of them being the blue-eyed femme of before, and two of the other older kids with her. They shrank back at her quick move, and Ballast reflexively made herself relax.

She cleared her vocalizer. "Good morning," she said up to them, and helplessly, she looked back to Optimus, the moment between them broken. His gaze merely softened, and he shook his head.

"Take your time," he said softly. "You know where to find me."

Ballast nodded. "Thank you," she rasped, clearing her throat once more after that.

He inclined his helm. "Another time, Ballast," and she watched him leave her house again, this time under far better circumstances. There weren't any kitchen tools, bottles, or chairs getting thrown at him this time.

Turning to look up at the three who had ventured out of the room, Ballast cleared her throat. "Hello," she said to them. She gave a gesture to the big room, which the younger boy was staring at. "This is my home. Big home for a big femme. Um, my name is Ballast. What are your names?"

They shifted. In the light of her home, Ballast could more easily see how dirty they were. Their optics were flickering, a sign of hunger. When they didn't answer, Ballast continued, "I've got energon for all of you. Do you want to come to the kitchen, or should I bring it upstairs?"

The femme looked like she was a blue color. With hints of green, maybe. Some sort of Earthy sea color. "Upstairs," she finally answered.

Ballast nodded. "Upstairs it is. Is everyone awake yet?" She nodded again. "All right, warn everyone I'm coming with some energon for them, all right?" She nodded dutifully, and they disappeared back into the hall as Ballast headed into the kitchen. She drained the last of her coffee, grimacing because it was cold, and then she stacked up several energon cubes for the kids. She ended up making three trips to make sure they each got a cube to themselves. She sat on the floor of her guest bedroom, watching all of the kids eagerly and hungrily drinking up.

There were six boys and seven girls. Only four blue pairs of optics and nine pairs of red optics, leading her to believe her theory that it was harder for the kids born of Decepticons to find homes. "My name is Ballast," she said to them all, so the others would know who she was. She jerked a thumb towards the door. "My son, Swindle, is in his room." She pressed her lips together. He was probably planning how to best keep all these kids on the opposite side of the house and out of his room. Maybe he'd use sparkling gates.

Well, provided she adopted them. It wasn't set in stone yet.

"You all look like you could use a good shower," she said conversationally. She pointed to the door directly across the hall. "I've got a big wash rack for you all if you want to get clean."

There was more staring at one another. If Ballast didn't know any better, she'd say they were afraid of her still—likely—and probably were afraid to accept anything from a stranger. Finally, one of the youngest—she couldn't be over three orns old—tottered up and held out her arms, silently demanding to be picked up.

Ballast smiled, picking her up in her arms, sitting the tiny girl on her arm. She was either gold or yellow under all that dust. "Anyone else coming?" she asked. She stood up, pointing to the door again. "We’ll be in here getting cleaned up if anyone wants to join us," she informed them, vowing to clean up the energon cubes later.

The effect was instant. She heard their feet scurrying to follow them, and Ballast led them into the wash racks, flipping the light on and showing them the grand and large showers. She turned them on to a warm temperature—not quite as hot as Ballast took them. She took down the soap, putting the bottles on the floor in their reach, and she witnessed some of them grinning as they grabbed them.

"That one is pink and smells girly," she warned one of the boys, and a girl snatched it from him, biting her lip against a giggle as she waved it threateningly at him. Ballast smiled, shaking her head at them as she hunkered down with the little one in her arms—which turned out to have a yellow paint job. "What's your name?" she asked her, trying to work them one-on-one.

She ducked her head, and Ballast had to lean down to hear her. There was a tiny giggle. "Washer."

Ballast blinked and then laughed. "I bet you mean like a little steel washer, to hold a screw or bolt steady." When she nodded, Ballast began to lather her up with the soap, watching as the others began to do the same. "I like it. It's cute, just like you."

She booped her stomach, causing Washer to giggle as she gently washed in the cracks of her armor. Washer began to take off her armor helpfully, and one of the boys was already butt naked, squealing with pastel blue protoform.

"All right you," Ballast said, snatching playfully at him. "What's your name?"

He pointed to Washer. "My sissy! I'm Bolt!"

She grinned at the two youngsters, finding they had matching pastel blue protoform. "I see who the troublemaker is already," she said, and suddenly there was an outpouring of children voices.

"I'm Tire Tread!" another boy piped up, struggling to pull off his red shin armor while still standing. "No one calls me that, they just call me TT!"

"I'm Utility!" another femme piped up, waving purple armor.

"My name's Clunker!"

"Trudge!"

"Ingot!"

"Basalt!"

"Spinout!"

Ballast laughed as their voices all tumbled over one another in their hurry to inform her, and she waved her hands helplessly. "Wait, wait! Too fast, kiddos, I can't keep up!"

One of the girls squealed, pointing at another mech. Was she Ingot? Or was that the other one? "His name's Motor Mouth!"

"No it's not!" he shouted back. "Don't listen to her, my name's Speedy!"

There was armor littered all over the floor in multiple colors, and Ballast shook her head at it all. It was going to be nearly impossible to figure out whose armor was whose.

A pink and red femme nearly face planted into Ballast's lap in her haste to catch her attention. "My name's Starburst!" she said excitedly, an ooze of pink soap running down her helm.

"Starburst and Washer," Ballast repeated, regarding the two in her arms. She narrowed her eyes and twisted up her lips mockingly at another girl. "You were Scoria, right?"

She giggled, pointing across the showers. "No, that's Scoria! I'm Promenade!"

"Promenade!" Ballast said, slapping her knee as if she had forgotten. "I knew that!"

A smattering of giggles met her in the silliness of it all as the tallest, blue-eyed femme stood on the far side, regarding them all as she shyly cleaned herself on the side. "Now I know I can't keep everyone else straight yet," Ballast said, only really sure of Washer in her lap. The other was . . . Starburst, and Bolt was Washer's brother, whichever one he was . . . "What's your name?"

She shifted uncomfortably, and one of the boys pointed at her. "That's Chary! She doesn't like people."

"Oh, I see," Ballast said seriously. "We might get along then, because I don't like people either. But I do like children!" She attacked Washer and Starburst with tickles, causing shrieking laughter to fill the showers, and the entire ordeal became less of washing up than it was playing around as she tried to ease the minds of the kids. Eventually, there was a knock.

"Mom?" she heard Swindle ask, and the door opened up. He seemed taken aback at the hoard of naked children and soaps scattered across the floor with the mound of mismatched armor. "Oh. Well. Um . . . Prowl and Smokescreen are here."

"Prowl?" Ballast said in annoyance. The giggles died extremely quickly as all the kids closed up again, suddenly realizing what their situation was again. "I thought I just asked for Smokescreen . . ." She gave the kids a reassuring look, saying, "You won't like Prowl. He's mean and looks like he ate something sour. You'll like Smokescreen. He's a dork." She was rewarded with one of the girls muffling a giggle. Promenade?

She nodded towards the mini bot in the doorway. "Kids, this is Swindle. He's my son."

A shy hand waved his way. "Hi, Swindle."

He gave an uncomfortable smile, intimidated by the sheer number of kids. "Hi," he said, shifting from foot to foot. He jerked a thumb. "Well. Guess I'll get them some coffee. You coming down?"

"When we're finished here," she said, rubbing Starburst's wings. There were six seekers, quite the grand lot of them. She accounted it to them being left behind Decepticon kids. "We'll get cleaned up and then worry about answering questions. If Prowl doesn't like it, tell him he can," and she waggled her brows threateningly, "join me in the shower."

Swindle blinked. "Ew." Without a word more, he turned and left the wash racks to do her bidding.

A smattering of giggles met her audios.