A Note to the Reader

This story has under construction, the first 14 chapters have been reorganized and altered but may still contain some grammatical issues. I apologize for that in advance. Now for some Story Notes to keep in mind.

RECAP: In 2007 Sam discovered the Autobots and set the whole stage in motion; then, two years later (2009), the events of Revenge of the Fallen occurred; skip forward three years to 2012 (not 2011 which was when the movie was released) and the chaos of Dark of the Moon unraveled. Now, one year later (2013), is where our story begins.

1. Megatron is NOT dead. It's Megatron, what you gonna do?

2. Sunstreaker is present! C'mon people, it's Sunstreaker and Sideswipe! They're SplitSpark twins! You can't have one without the other. So Sunny's here to join the 'Bots on Earth. He is, of course, yellow and follows his G1 robot-mode. Only immagine it more bad-ass because if there has to be one thing I can get behind with on Bay, it's that he can make these guys look amazing.

3. Sideswipe is RED and follows his G1 robot mode.

4. A lot of fans will be pleased to know that Ironhide is Not dead! For his design, I personally like his Bay-verse alt form (black GMC Topkick) a heck of a lot better than his G1 alt mode.

5. I'm not a huge fan of the Chevy Twins, Skids and Mudflap, so I'm editing them out. I really feel that Bay used them as wanna-be's in relation to Sunny and 'Sides. Not cool Bay.

6. Also I plan on bringing Jazz back into the picture. It's not going to be a revival or anything, he's more or less . . . there. I really like his character so I going to do the same with him like I'm doing with Ironhide. Jazz just DIDN'T die.

7. Despite the story being a romance and rated M, the story is not rated so because of the romance. It's rated because of language and GORE! The romance in itself is only rated T. And it's not a quick thing either, that will take time. And effort.

Our Lives Transformed

Chapter One


Biloxi, Mississippi; Keesler Air Force Base

"I'm home!" I called as I stepped through the screen door of our housing unit.

I tossed my heavy duffel bag to the side and stretched. Once the joints in my back gave a satisfying pop, I rolled out my shoulders to loosen the aching muscles there. What a feeling it was to be finally home! No more exams, no more books, and no more professors. College was a beast, that was for sure. The first year was always the hardest, or that's what my father was always telling me. Now with year one behind me, I had to start making the big choices. Like what exactly I want to do with my life. Forensic science was currently pretty popular and I had been a fan of shows like CSI: Miami and NCIS for several years now. Yet, with my current math skills it probably wasn't the best bet.

I had thought about working with animals at some point, but Vet School was even more expensive not to mention, again, my math scores weren't at all up to snuff. They also don't exactly accept anyone who isn't a straight A student. So maybe the math and science area wasn't for me. It was my humanities and my English scores that really made a mark and it was the only subjects where I invested an extreme amount of time and effort. English had, after all, been my favorite subject in my early education. It also didn't hurt that I had been reading at college level since the six grade and could read about two hundred and sixty words per minute. This, of course, had cause several of my teachers to believe I found some way to cheat the system. My popularity with them quickly dropped and being hated by them came really as no surprise. There's always a few of these yahoo's in every student's life.

I shook my head. Why was I thinking about that at a time like this? I was HOME for heaven's sake! And for a good, solid two weeks too! You be surprised how quickly you miss the military when you're not around it on a daily basis. I especially missed my folks and little sister. My father was the one who was enrolled in the service, working as an ER physician at the base hospital. He was just promoted about a month and was now, officially, Major Leo Spears. Thankfully, however, my dad hasn't seen combat for some time now. His last deployment was years back when I was three (currently, I'm nineteen); he had been sent to Kuwait for nine months and he made it home just in time for me to turn four.

We've been extremely lucky as he hasn't been deployed since. It's not that I'm not proud of my dad and the service he does. It's just that I tend to worry too much and if he was over sea's somewhere I wouldn't be able to sleep soundly at all. Especially if the territory was hostile. Though everyone feels that way when your parent or parent's are in the service. I just know I could never do it. I'm not cut out for the military. I'm too happy and bubbly and my personality just sticks out like a sore thumb. My military bearing is, for the lack of a better word, complete and utter shit. For the life of me I just can't keep a straight face. I erupt into giggles every time and, on several occasions, I've nearly chocked because of the lack of air going to my head.

I can't take anything seriously. And everything is just funny to me. It's just who I am.

"Katie?' My dad called from the living room. "That you Sweetling?"

'Huh, I guess he's off for the day.' I thought, chuckling quietly. I guess I forgot to check his schedule again.

"Hey dad!" I shouted back. "Coming!"

Leaving my duffel bag was it was (I'd pick it up later anyways), I headed down the hall towards the living room. However, I stopped when I noticed an all too familiar sight. My sister's bedroom door was open and at one glace, I could tell it hadn't changed a bit in the year I was gone. It still looked like a tornado had passed through it. Clothes littered the floor, along with several books, skeins of yarn, and what looked to be the remnants of a notebook. Her bookshelves lined the south wall next to her closet, while her dresser was pushed up against the west side. Her desk was a corner style and sat in the far right corner with her bed lined against the north wall, right next to the doorway.

I smiled.

Yep, not a bit had changed since I left. My sister (oblivious to my existence) was lying on the bed, on her stomach, with her nose in one of the many books on Egypt she owned. She was clad in her usual gold basketball shorts and a gray shirt that sported a smiling light bulb that read: "Save energy, don't talk to me."

That was Amy for you, full of sarcasm. However, don't let her hard and rather seclusive exterior fool you, if it was one of the things she was a complete expert on, it was Egypt. She knew everything about the gods and goddesses, their culture, their customs, the architecture, and even the language. She was a walking encyclopedia for everything Egypt. In my opinion, she knew more about the country than even the people who lived there. I've repetitively told her that she would be one of the best Egyptology professors on the planet. She could even go Ivy League if she really wanted too. She would be an epic teacher.

I folded my arms and leaned against the doorway, waiting to see if she would realize that I was there. She didn't move a muscle except to turn to the next page, her eyes scanning the paper with intense concentration. I heaved a small sigh, same old Amy. Though I was much the same, cause whenever I had my nose in a book the world around slipped away and it would take someone dropping a heavy object to shake me out of it. My mom on several occasions had to actually yell in my ear to get my attention. As much as I hated to pull her away, I gave a loud cough in the attempt to get my sister's attention. Her head snapped up so fast I thought she might have pulled a muscle.

"What?" She snapped, then her eyes widened in surprise when she recognized me. "Kate?"

The deer-in-the-headlights expression caused me to erupt into a fit of laughter and snorts. I bent over to try to force air into my lungs, but the image of her wide-eyed expression only brought the giggles back full force. As my luck would have it, I don't have that cute, girly sort of laughter that men find adorable. No, I'm more or less blessed with sounding like a hyena every time someone mentions the word 'Jello'. My friends often wonder if I'm prone to having fits or not. Other than my god offal laugh, I'm perfectly sane. I promise.

"Damn it, Katie!" She screamed at me, her voice raising an octave or two. "Don't do that!"

I flinched, then ducked as the book on Egypt went sailing past my head. I barely missed getting face-planted by the heavy tome.

"Hey! Is that any way to treat your big sister who came all the way home to see you?" I shot back at her, but I couldn't help the small smile spreading across my face.

'Same old Amy. Hasn't changed a bit.'

She scoffed at me, but I could see the growing smirk on her own face. "What'd ya mean "big" sister? I'm what now? Six inches taller than you?"

I winced. Did she just play the 'I'm-taller-than-you-and-you-can't-do-shit-about-i t' card? Cause, I just think she did.

"Oh yeah?" I said, going into full teasing mode now. "Despite the fact that you're taller than me, doesn't change the fact that you'll always be my wittle, baby sister."

I said the last part in a baby voice to get my point across. She hated it when I did that and just like a charm, her face fell and a tinge of red flooded her face. Not from embarrassment, but from anger. She wasn't really angry, just slightly annoyed with me. It was a game we played since we were kids: how far we can we push Amy or Katie today? But it was all good fun. Mom didn't understand it cause it sounded like we were fighting when we were actually just bonding.

That's just the way our sisterhood works. Despite our differences, and boy do we have some, we're thick as thieves. Probably even thicker. It someone hurt the other, the other sister would beat the crap out of them. If a boy broke the others heart, the opposite sister would be there to help pick up the pieces and send the poor bastard to the seventh layer of hell. We would always be there for each other, cause in many cases, we were all the other had. We never did have many friends and though Amy was going to be a sophomore this coming August, she still hadn't quite found the right sort of people for her yet. I have a few choice people myself, but only three real good friends that I can count on no matter what. We've also moved around a lot due to dad being in the Air Force, so we left a lot of friends behind in the moves. Most of which we've fallen out of contact with but, we still have each other.

In a way, since we moved together, my best friend always moved with me. I may not always get along with her, but she's still my sister and I would do anything for her. We've been through a lot together and that only made us realize that family is the most important thing a person can have. When the world's against you, at least you have family to back you up.

"You know," Amy smirked as she jumped off the bed so she could punch me in the arm. "You're really annoying."

"Ow!" I whined, rubbing the sore spot and pretending to be hurt. "Why are you so violent?"

"Oh come on! That didn't hurt!" She protested, rolling her eyes at me and exiting the room.

"Hey! Where're you going?"

"I'm hungry! Ya wanna talk, then ya follow me."

I just shook my head. Yes, it was good to be home. I missed my family.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Diner that evening

"So he says to me, 'Where've you been all my life?' and I said to him, 'Hiding from you!''

Dad erupted into a fit of booming laughter, almost choking on the rib-eye steak and potatoes that we were eating. Mom just shook her head in a sad sort of way but couldn't help giggling a bit under her breath. Amy on the other hand just snorted and shook her head in a similar fashion as mom's.

"When are these dingbats going ta learn that you're not interested? I mean seriously, that pickup line is one of the oldest in the book. He's going ta need more than that if he wants a chance with ya."

I merely shrugged, twirling my fork. "Don't know, 'sides, I'm not interested anyway. I've got a lot on my plate already, don't need to add more to it."

A relationship wasn't at the top of my 'Things to Do' list at the moment. After my last (and sadly, my first) engagement with the opposite sex, I wasn't in a hurry to jump back into the dating pool. It had ended badly and I pretty much fell out of the idea of trying again. Plus, with all the whole college thing going on at the moment and trying to decide what I wanted out of life, I just didn't have the time.

"Still be nice to marry you off someday though," Dad commented when he got his bearings back.

I choked on the piece of meat I'd been chewing. I sputtered and coughed, trying to get the damn thing down so I could talk.

"Wha-!" I exclaimed, my voice breaking.

I must've had a strange look on my face, cause at that point the whole table burst into another round of roaring laughter. Great, just great. I come home, make a fool of myself, and become the laughing stalk of the family. Nope, nothing's changed a bit around here.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Let's all tease Katie now that she's back from college." I muttered good-naturally, a grin forming at my lips.

This was my crazy family, but I wouldn't change it for the world.

"How long are you staying by the way?" Mom asked, leaning back and brushing her red hair out of her face.

It wasn't natural, after all, she was fifty-one, but she was still one of the prettiest women around in my opinion. At five feet she had these nice, olive-green eyes with a ring of light blue around them. They were very unique as I've never seen anyone with eyes like her's before. She's slightly overweight and a bit round, not fat, just . . a little pudgy. She has a very strong personality, always on time with any and all events. Always at the school plays, martial arts tournaments, and school banquets for my speech team. She's always there when I need to talk and always has the right advice for the right predicament.

Though, she and I are so much alike that it results in frequent arguments. We look alike, we act alike, and we share a lot of the same views. One would think we would get along without a hitch, but we don't always. We can get into some pretty bad shouting matches, slam the doors to our rooms, and not come out for hours. But when we do, we always make up and laugh about how silly the fight was and how it wasn't really worth it.

As for how we look alike, despite the fact that mom's hair is dyed red, her original color was black with red highlights. Natural red highlights. I never heard of that happening either; but it makes her unique. I'm a redhead myself (natural of course) which is curly and very short (it's so short that the curls just lay on the top of my head). My eyes are a bright, light blue and millions of freckles dot my face, neck, arms, and legs. I also have a pale complexion, but I'm not a total ghost. I shorter than my mother still, standing at only four feet and eight inches. The shortness comes from my mom's side of the family. Luckily for Amy, she doesn't have the gene. That's why she's so much taller than I am even though I'm three years her senior.

Though I look like mom, a great deal of my quirkiness comes from my dad. His hair is also black, but he always has it in a buzz cut so you can't really tell. He's broad chested, very strong, and very, very tall. He stands a little over six feet and has the biggest feet I've ever seen, but he's extremely intelligent. Extremely. He knows more about tanks than any of the professors at my college, he can do Calculus in his head without a calculator, and he's a speed demon in his own right as far as reading is concerned. He has a very dry sense of humor and can lean on the perverted side, but he's a great guy. He's klutzy as hell, though. That's where I get my gracefulness, or rather, lack there of.

I trip over everything, even air. I trip going up stairs, not down, and I seem to manage to fall over everything put in front of me. Needless to say, that probably why my parents never put me in any dance classes. Ok, so I'm, not graceful. But I have inherited my father's reading comprehension and I can remember everything I read. I also have a deep and burning passion for literature.

My family can be kinda strange at times, but that's what I love about them. We've got to be the most abnormal, dysfunctional family out there. But I wouldn't change them for the world.

"I'll be here for about two weeks." I replied, shoving a potato into my mouth and chewing. "I was able to take some time off work with Professor Collins. He's trying to get a group together to . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Amy waved her fork in the air and pretended to look bored. "No offense Kate, but can't we talk 'bout something that's not related ta school?"

I rolled my eyes at her intense sarcasm and grumbled irritably under my breath. I hardly ever got to talk to them about Professor Collins, a Literature professor at the university. A professor that I sorely wish was mine, and no, not in the way you think. I wish he was my Literature professor in the sense of teaching wise; he at least, makes it enjoyable. He and I met at one of the Starbucks on campus and from there, we became colleagues. I help do his paperwork, he pays me, and I get free Lit lectures. I know that doesn't sound that appealing, but to me, it's heaven. Collins basically practices his Lit lectures while I finish grading his student's papers. Afterward, he'll ask me if he explained the content in such a way that his students would understand. I'm pretty much his 'practice' lecture audience and I do my best to help him out. Once, I even wrote out a whole lecture for him and he even gave it in front of one of his classes! The next day while I was staying late to grade papers, he came up to me and said that I should do ALL his lectures!

And so I became his partner in Literature lecturing. Needless to say, I love it!

"Gee thanks guys." I retorted, trying my own hand at sarcasm for the day.

"Glad ta be o' service." My sister shot back, a great big Cheshire Cat grin on her face. "Anything else I can do for ya?"

"No thanks," I replied, trying to sound as much like Raph from the TMNT (2007) film. "I'm good."

Amy and I also happen to be BIG Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle fans. We've watched every season that ever aired, all three live action films, plus the recent CGI film that aired in 2007. I tend to favor Donatello the most cause of his weapon (which I'm currently trained in) and for his passive nature, I'm a lot like him in that category. Amy on the other hand, loves Raphael. He's more of a badass and tends to have a nasty temper (gee, I wonder who that reminds me of?). He does have a soft side, he just hates showing it. He is fiercely independent, but has a passion for his family. He'll kick anyone's ass if they come after his bros.

Amy snorted at my pitiful attempt. Oh well, at least I tried. "Epic fail. Ya can' do a Brooklyn ascent worth a . . ."

At this point, mom decided now was the time to play Ref. "All right you two . . Enough is enough."

Like I said, mom doesn't understand the way we connect at all.