Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners, save for Amanda and Caty. Amanda belongs to me, and Caty belongs to BeautyBedamned.

A/N: Now... I know what you must be thinking: what was this girl on when she thought this thing up? A Transformers AU with humanized American Tail characters, crossed over with Beyblade? This here is total and utter crack!

I'm not going to lie to you: this is, in fact, total and utter crack of the crackiest variety (perhaps the same kind the wonderful Kouta Hirano used while writing Hellsing).

It started with an RP between myself and BeautyBedamned. It was just for fun, to make me feel better after I'd had a really bad day, but it became so much more. In the game, her Caty had a sort of crush on my Fievel and I was totally taken by the idea; they were so cute in a bittersweet way. I thought on it and thought on it, and then this happened as naturally night and day. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but it didn't turn out that way. It couldn't. There was no way that was it; there was more to the story to be told. Before I knew it, another oneshot was pumped out, then another, and soon enough I had very vague plot in mind and I couldn't stop writing for this obscure alternate universe we'd created.

This isn't a story full action and adventure. This is a story about four kids and an alien robot that happenstance brought together, about broken hearts and how they heal, about growing up and moving on and letting go.

Some Hearts

They think he can't understand the adult world because he still acts like a child. He won't say they're wrong (because ignorance is bliss sometimes), but they're definitely not on the right track. He understands relatively well. He knows the way a heart can ache and break. He knows because he's seen it happen too many times to his best friend. And it's sad to say, but he knows no matter how much he would like to, not even he will be able to ever put her heart back together because the shattered fragments that hurt the most have been buried somewhere and forgotten (like cursed treasure). Sometimes, a that heart is broken just can't be made whole again. It's better that way, he thinks, because then, even if pieces are missing and it's not as beautiful as it once was, there's nothing there to hurt anymore.

And looking out of the living room window, down to the streets below, he wonders what's wrong with the girl curled up in the front seat of the yellow Camaro, playing her hands over the rim of the steering wheel. He notices she touches the wheel the way his best friend touched the dinosaur-man. Gently, affectionately. Lovingly. He also notices she looks sad and confused, nothing like the girl he met a few days ago that smiled wide and bright and shy all at once.

An inkling tells him it's his fault, because the look she'd given him before she left the house was familiar. It was the same look the best friend used to give him, the one that was often accompanied by a shy giggle and a hand over her heart and a quiet “love you, Fievel.” It makes his mouth twitch into an almost-frown.

---

This is silly, she thinks, staring at the alien insignia in the center of the wheel. A waste of time, she decides, glowering at nothing in particular childishly. She's been sitting out here in the car for almost an hour, clothes damp from the short jog to the front door, then quickly back to the car after she decided coming back to this place was a bad idea.

She had hoped to come here, go inside and spend time with her friends and the others inside she hoped would soon fall into the same category. But the moment her finger was pressed to the doorbell, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. She couldn't do it. Couldn't go in there and see him. She fisted her hand and turned back to the car, and the door opened, inviting her back inside her comfort-zone.

Caty sighs softly, leaning back against the front seat and watching the rain wash over the windshield, wiped away moments later by Bee's wipers. The music coming from his sound system is a little heart-breaking source of relief.

Look for the girl with the broken smile. Ask her if she wants to stay awhile, the song is saying, Bee is singing.

---

The front door opens and he walks steadily out into the downpour to the Camaro, leaning down to peer into the passenger's window. It doesn't take long before he's soaked and using his hands to shield his eyes from the rain, casting shadows on the glass to allow him a better view inside.

“Caty,” he says, voice muffled. He steps back when he hears mechanics clicking, and the door opens. He hesitates before sliding in, and the door closes behind him. The locks go down, and Caty ignores the way her heart's pounding, forcing a smile toward the reason she'd dragged Bee so far out just to sit in the rain for a few hours while she nursed the strange pangs in her heart.

There's static on the radio, a jumbled mess of voices until Bee finds the song he's looking for. And Caty's smile turns into that sunlight smile Fievel's familiar with, so shy and wide. The one that makes him smile back, and Bee thinks for a moment these two could chase the storm away.

This is the way a broken heart heals.