“I’m sorry. I’m not talking,” Carrie told Charlie for the first time today. She still had several stitches in her skin, ones Charlie had applied herself with the utmost care. Despite that, she refused to speak to the blonde girl. Carrie wouldn’t give up the secrets that she knew about Fay. Secrets that came from more than just that initial encounter she’d had with the brunette girl. Secrets that came from more than that first threat she’d received at the hands of an irate Farrah. Despite the terror she’d caused, Fay was to be protected. Carrie knew that Joshua would cause just as much trouble should they look to the young man for answers, but he would do it out of contempt and a hatred for them. Carrie refused to cooperate out of her need to protect Fay.

        “I didn’t ask you to,” Charlie replied evenly.

        “You didn’t have to,” Carrie told her, breathing slowly.

        “So you do know more than one set of words,” Charlie retorted as she changed the dressings on Carrie’s wounds. The redhead bit her tongue and went silent again, not out of irritation but because she assumed it was what the blonde wanted. If she wasn’t going to speak to them about Fay and what was going on here, then why should she speak at all? Certainly their kindness only extended so far.

        “Why is it that you refuse to talk about Fay?” Charlie asked, looking at the redhead who again sat in silence her focus having returned to the wall. Her curiosity was being run in circles about this girl. Fay had said she was important, but Fay didn’t know why that was. If she did, she wasn’t talking about it. Charlie couldn’t figure out what was so miraculous about this girl, or any of the others that shared this ‘institution’ with Fay.

        Again, Carrie said nothing. “Come on!” Charlie exclaimed, frustrated. “We could have a real problem here! Fay could be in trouble! We need to know anything that could help her! Why don’t you just talk to us? If you care about Fay then talking to us, telling us what you know, could be monumental! We’re trying to protect her!”

        “I will give you answers when you deserve them,” Carrie told her calmly, keeping her eyes averted. “And frankly, if you really want to know what’s going on, I suggest you take a good, long look at each of the residents. No one is here by accident. Everyone who left was unneeded. Everyone who remains is important. So look at them. Look at what they are, who they are. If it starts making sense, then ask me if you’re correct. If you are, I’ll let you know. If you’re wrong, then you’ll have to keep looking.”

        “That’s hardly a fair arrangement,” Charlie argued, crossing her arms. “What if Fay gets killed before I can figure out your damn riddle?”

        “Then you should know her better, shouldn’t you? You’re not inhibited the way she is.”

        Charlie’s breath caught for a moment. But it made sense. Carrie was part of Fay’s mind, just like anyone who wasn’t a visitor. “What do you know that you’re not telling us?”

        “I’m sorry,” Carrie whispered. “But I’m not talking. For Fay’s safety.”

        “But you know what I am to her,” Charlie hissed under her breath, gripping Carrie’s shirt. “Just fucking talk to me. I can help her! I will stop at nothing to help her!”

        “Then prove it to her.”

        ~~~

        No closer to finding answers than she had been days earlier, Charlie was frustrated as she walked around town. She’d called into work today, beside herself and utterly sick with worry. How could she possibly figure out the point of each the residents in Fay’s mind? How could she piece these things together and even begin to contemplate why Carrie refused to reveal anything? Truly, Carrie was part of Fay’s mind. She was, in a way, an extension of her friend. But she didn’t see how that tied into anything. It meant all the other residents were extensions as well, but just because Fay had fit the image that existed in her mind for what a mental institution was meant to be didn’t change anything. That didn’t make it different.

        So the residents were small extensions of Fay, right? To keep herself from becoming lonely. They were all part of her imagination. But how did that change anything, and why was Carrie so insistent that it did? Groaning, Charlie stormed into their house. Fay. Fay was broken. And she didn’t know how to fix her. Carrie knew something and wouldn’t tell her.

        “It’s all so stupid!” Charlie shouted, slamming the door.

        “Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, Tiger.”

        Charlie huffed, glancing at the figure lounging on her couch. “Didn’t realize you’d be waiting for me,” she muttered. “What are you doing here? How’d you even get in?”

        The young man smiled. “You left the door unlocked. And I’m here because I just know when you need me. It’s all okay, Charlie.”

        “Says you,” she muttered. “You don’t have the stress I do.” Even as he wrapped her arms around her waist, Charlie glimpsed a flash of those amber eyes in the back of her mind, the forceful touches of a man she’d tried so hard to move past. It was a frequent problem of hers. Her father had been an awful man and left her with plenty of emotional scars to remind her of that fact. She quietly hated him for it. When she saw him, she’d hated him loudly for it. That man would never live down what he’d done.

        Charlie had cried the day she’d gotten the news that he had died in prison. Cried with joy. With the elation that she would never fear him again. That her terror was over.

        Most days, she wasn’t sure if she could believe that. She still didn’t feel like she was safe. Even wrapped in the safe embrace of another’s arms, she didn’t quite feel like she was beyond that horrid man’s grasp. Charlie never quite understood why, even though something in her chest spoke the reason to her every day, she ignored it. She ignored it for the sake of her sanity.

        The nightmares didn’t help any. Frequent nightmares where that monster of a man returned, striding into her life like he owned every moment of it. Only now, he was targeting Fay as much as he was targeting Charlie. That thought terrified her, if she was completely honest about it.

        Charlie couldn’t stand the thought of Fay being put through what she’d suffered. Despite his death, Charlie had sworn to herself that she would keep Fay safe. That she wouldn’t allow anyone to harm her.

        That was a very hard promise to fulfill. More so when Fay was stuck in a vulnerable state. Charlie certainly couldn’t control who entered her mind when it was so open. How long had the Decepticons known about this? How long could they have possibly been using this to their advantage? That possibility panicked Charlie. What if Fay’s open mind wasn’t isolated to when she was in her comatose state? What if something had happened beforehand?

        Fay had nightmares often. Had the Decepticons contributed to the vulnerability that had accompanied that trauma? Charlie bit her lip, a habit she’d subconsciously picked up from Fay. It was impossible to be so close to someone for so long and not pick up some of their quirks and tendencies. The little things that drew them close. But oh, they were so, so close.

        Those eyes . . . That pleading gaze . . . To protect Fay . . . Charlie could never forget that moment, but she also couldn’t remember the origins outside of her dreams. And all she saw were the eyes. Two bright eyes peering through the darkness, clearing the clouds through her mind as she realized what precisely had to be done. Charlotte would always be there for Farrah.

        Charlie wasn’t certain why, but since the emergence of the Autobots, she’d become far more protective of her friend. Perhaps it was the physical manifestation of the danger that was posed. Perhaps it made her feel inadequate because their presence signaled that Charlie wasn’t enough to keep Fay stable. Perhaps it was because their imposing forms were massive and there was very little Charlie could do to prevent either Autobots or Decepticons from harming Fay if it came down to the wire.

        Whatever the reason, Charlie had become more protective. And when new Autobots arrived on Earth, it bristled her nerves further. For whatever reason, she couldn’t seem to embrace the unknown visitors as friends rather than foe. While she had grown to trust the Autobots to an extent, that only seemed to apply to the ones who had been present when Fay had actually had her breakdown. That feeling of closeness was stronger among the inner circle of those who were personally important to Fay -- Optimus Prime, Ironhide, Jazz and Chromia.

        Those four were personally important to Fay, and Charlie had trusted her judgement of them. They had laid down their sparks in their efforts to keep her friend safe. Charlie trusted them indefinitely, knew that would give anything for Fay.

        But why? Why was Fay so critical to the Autobots that even the Prime had taken up guarding her personally? Charlie supposed it was rational. The Prime had also taken up guarding the entirety of the human race, putting his spark at risk whenever it was called for. But Fay was special. Charlie understood that much. Charlie had been told the entire story of Fay’s past. What she didn’t understand was why the Autobots saw her so worthy. Could they really overwrite her programming? More so, how had they identified her after her crash landing to Earth? How had they known who and what she was?

        How had they known about only Farrah?