These Paths We Tread (Autobot x OC)

XIV. You Are a Tourist

 When’s there’s a burning in your heart

And you think it’ll burst apart

Or there’s nothing to feel

Save the tears, save the tears,

When there’s a burning in your heart

 

And if you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born

Then it’s time to go

And define your destination

There’s so many different places to call home

Because when you find yourself the villain in the story you have written

It’s plain to see

That sometimes the best intentions are in need of redemption

-Death Cab For Cutie - You Are a Tourist-

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 She wasn’t sure if was the smell of maple syrup and pancaked or the sound of a crying baby that woke her up, but either way Catherine was fairly surprised to find herself covered by te green sheets of a bed in a white room she didn’t recognize. She rose slowly, trying to remember what happened, and ended up falling back down with a tired sigh. She realized then the pillow was wet, and when she lifted her arm she found she was still in her clothes, now damp rather than soaked now. Figuring she shouldn’t get the bed any wetter than it already was, she slid out.

She expected to still be a little tired or have a stuffed nose, but she actually felt alright as she rolled her shoulders, popping the limbs. Then she remembered her little “gift” and let her attention be taken up by the pile of clothes sitting on the table just across from her: a pair of undergarments, jeans, and a shirt that was more feminine than she was used to, but she wasn’t going to pass up dry clothes. They thankfully fit, too, and she made sure to set her own clothes out to dry in the bathroom, though left the sheets, unsure what to do with them. She left her phone out to dry after having found the device still lodged in her pockets, too. It thankfully still worked, but she didn’t feel like messing with it so she turned it off.

Another wail from below led her out into the upstairs wooden walkway, which then took her down the stairs of the country-style home. The smell of maple syrup and pancakes was much stronger when she descended, making her mouth water. The homey appearance of the house was a nice touch, too, and she felt the worries lingering at the back of her mind shrink away. It gave her the confidence to walk into the kitchen where the succulent aroma came from and a beautiful, dirty-blonde haired woman was attempting to appease her brown-haired, green-eyed child’s cries.

Sarah and Annabelle, she named at once, recalling the soldier’s pictures and stories of them.

So she was in Lennox’s home. That was a comforting thought. She smiled softly as she rapped on the wooden frame of the entrance.

“Oh! Catherine! You’re awake!” the woman gasped, turning at the noise. “How are you feeling? Will said not to wake you even to change your clothes, but I tried to get you the warmest sheets…”

The redhead smiled, “Don’t worry—I’m fine. I have a pretty good immune system. Thank-you, by the way. For the clothes and for letting me stay.”

“Well, there was no way I could say no, and not because that silver friend of Ironhide’s decided to just roll up in the middle of the night with you.”