Kindly ignore everything having to do with Dark of the Moon. I'd started this story before it came out. Will be SamBee (ish. Eventually) This is also posted on my LJ (I'm Dimestore_Hippy over there, just fyi)
I own nothing but the plot. Seriously. It's kind of sad, actually, the amount of nothing that I own. Even the title is a play on the classic book Do Androids Dream of Robotic Sheep? By Philip K. Dick (Which should be read by all, I tell you, all!) Oh and YAY FOR LEO!
Prologue
It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring. He went to bed and bumped his head and couldn't get up in the morning.
Traditional children's song.
He was still seeing symbols. Only not so much symbols as pictograms. And not so much pictograms as images.
Sensory images.
And then not so much sensory images as high-def, total emersion videos.
Long epics that played only behind his eyes, in his head. Spans of minutes taken up by him staring vacantly into space, watching things that happened more years ago than humans could even conceive.
Histories. Theologies, wars, massacres.
Do humans dream of robotic death?
Rivers of skittering sparks aren't all that different from rivers of dripping blood.
Does Sam Witwicky dream them all?
oOo
Bumblebee was worried. Catatonic states should not occur randomly throughout the day.
Each time lasting longer; taking Sam longer to return to his normal self.
Contact with Optimus had been thought of, only to be discarded when Leo assured him it was only post-traumatic shock, a human thing. Leo would handle it.
So Bumblebee waited in silence, watched as his best friend fell deeper and deeper into himself.
How far can humans fall before they break?
And then Sam started his oscillating fan for 93.32 minutes.
How far does Sam Witwicky have left to fall?
oOo
Leo knew shock. First few days after Egypt, he'd been in it. But this…
Sam wasn't in shock. He was an old pro at the alien thing. It had looked like it at first, Sam going quiet for a minute or two then shaking it off and continuing his day. So Leo said a human would be better at handling it, he'd handle it. But now…
He's not sure if Sam's even blinked once since going still. Their stainless steel fan didn't hold the answers to life, the universe and everything, and Leo was worried. Sam wasn't in there when he was like this. All body, no soul.
An empty vessel waiting to be filled.
Normal people aren't meant to leave their bodies like that.
How long can a body be empty before it can never be filled again?
Leo turned to go tell Bee they needed reinforcements, maybe a priest.
How long can Sam's body be empty before he can't come back to it?
oOo
Will had watched buddies die in combat. Helped the greenhorns serving their first tour through the shock of war, of that first kill that's more than one human being dying because hardly ever do you just hit one with explosives.
But he wasn't prepared for the kid who turned soldier to soon to be like this.
He respected Sam, more then he did a lot of the higher ups in Washington. Kid fought hard for his friends, fought even harder along side them.
Seeing him suddenly shut down of all his senses in the middle of a Denny's grand slam breakfast iced over his stomach and sent fear racing down his spine. This kind of fear isn't something the Army Major has experienced since word reached him in Qatar that Sarah's delivery had been touch and go.
Fear has no place in a Special Operations Army Major's life. But now he was afraid.
The clanking of cutlery onto Sam's plate was like a death knell in the mostly deserted 24-hour restaurant. This was what Leo and Bumblebee described to him only hours ago.
Do friends have strength enough to help when they don't even know what's wrong?
Will slowly set down his coffee and concentrated on getting Sam out to the parking lot and Bumblebee.
Does Sam Witwicky have enough strength left to be helped?