TITLE: Mindprints
Based on events in Broken
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
Author's Voice of Warning (aka Author's Note):
The spell-checker said everything's okay, but you know how trustworthy those thingies are....
FEEDBACK: Loved

The room looked like a bomb had struck. Judy Witwicky stood in the doorway, strangely reminded of the very same room ten years ago. Back then it had been assorted knick-knacks, a goldfish glass, clothes, posters, boxes. All the stuff a teenager collected, and stowed, and left all over his room, and parents would try not to get a coronary over.

Things had changed a little, but not by much. The room had been cleared out long ago, stuff thrown away, others sold off on eBay, and some kept. Now it was a guest room with a bed, a wardrobe, a desk; the adjoining bathroom only used occasionally.

Today the room looked like someone's printer had exploded and the paper had been left everywhere. Judy smiled at the scene. It was more familiar than it was strange. The papers were on engineering, mechanics, and whatnot. She understood little of it. Some papers were written in Cybertronian. It looked alien, and it was.

A strange kind of pride filled her. Her son, the double doctorate, special advisor to the military. She would never have dreamed of that particular career for him. Nor would she have ever believed in aliens. Or technopathy. But there were aliens and her son was a technopath. He was also bonded to one of those aliens.

Judy smiled almost wistfully now. There would be no grandchildren, but the extended family, the 'in-laws', were making up for that. Okay, Sam would probably throw a fit if he ever caught her thinking that way. Bumblebee wasn't a girl, nor was he human. He was an alien mechanical being with a spark that was bound to Sam. Whatever their relationship truly was – and she tried not to imagine it too vividly – he made Sam happy.

"Hey, Mom," her son drew her out of her thoughts, looking up from something that she probably didn't understand either.

It was eight in the morning and from the looks of it, Sam hadn't slept a lot, if at all.

"Good morning, Sam." Judy held out a mug of coffee, which was gratefully taken. "Breakfast?" she offered.

"Yeah. In a moment. I need to finish something first."

He gave her an apologetic smile and Judy nodded in understanding. Sam had come here for some peace and quiet to do his work. She might not understand what he was working on, but she understood that the past weeks had interrupted his schedule. She knew about Trent and the extent of his injuries, and that it weighed heavily on Sam.

"Pancakes or waffles?" Judy asked.

"Waffles," was Sam's immediate answer and she smiled more.

"I'll have them ready for you."

"Thanks, Mom." And he was bent over his books again.

She left the room, still smiling. No, her family wasn't normal. Maybe it had never been, right from the day Captain Archibald Witwicky had discovered the alien creature in the ice. But Judy didn't care any more. She had a happy and healthy family, and that was what counted.

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Sam came down as promised twenty minutes later, empty mug in hand. He refilled it and continued working on raising his caffeine level. The night had been long, filled with engine structure reports from the Arctic base where the teams around Finch were busy with the Ghost-2. The launch had been postponed for a while now, and Tony Stark was still sending input on what he thought was the best design for the engines, the on-board system, for all kinds of gear.

And since Sam, aside from Tony, had the best understanding of all human engineers when it came to hybrid human-Cybertronian technology, he got all the designs. Due to the busy going-ons around the base and the tendency for people to interrupt him, even if it was only for a chat, Sam had fled to a place where he knew he could work all he wanted, whatever hours, and as much as he wanted – and he had free rooming, food and company if he chose to.

His parents had been very understanding and his mother didn't hover. She just reminded him of food.

As he passed by the window, Sam looked outside and frowned.

"Honey?"

Sam shrugged. "Just a sec."

Judy peered out the window as Sam opened the front door and saw a police cruiser parked on the other side. A police cruiser she thought she recognized.

"Is that…?"

"Yeah. Barricade. Uhm, rain-check on the breakfast?"

"Is something wrong, Sam? Has something happened?"

"No. Everything's okay."

"Sam?"

"It's fine, Mom. Really." He gave her a little kiss. "Later." And he was out the door.

Judy watched as he slid into the police car and the Mustang pulled away. Despite the fact that Sam had assured her that the former Decepticon was now an ally, Judy didn't like the idea of her son alone with that particular mech. She pondered calling Bumblebee, then didn't. Sam wasn't helpless. And he had this special connection to Bumblebee. He would use it if he was in trouble, she told herself.

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Sam had no ill feeling about riding with Barricade to wherever the mech wanted to take him to talk. It turned out to be an abandoned warehouse. The contact between them had been brief and to the point, Barricade requesting this conversation, Sam agreeing. Bumblebee wasn't with him. Since Sam had wanted to get some work done, his partner had simply dropped him off and told him to call when he was ready.

"What's up?" he finally asked as the Saleen pulled into the old building.

The door opened and Sam got out, then watched Barricade transform. He looked almost the same as before his near-death at Chromia's hands. He was still using the same car form, though the latest model, still a police cruiser, still with the same markings – probably to piss off Ironhide. Part of him told him that this wasn't unlike ten years ago, when Barricade had attacked him. Sure, the location had been a different one, but the general set-up…
He pushed that thought away. He wasn't helpless any more. And Barricade wasn't the enemy.

"You're still in my head," the shock trooper growled.

Red optics bore into Sam's brown eyes and he frowned.

"I'm what?"

"In my head. You left part of yourself."

Sam shook his head. "There's nothing but the connection we've had before. Nothing more, nothing less. And even that is voluntary. Like an open com line."

Barricade's optics flared and his claws twitched. "I know what I feel, human. It's you."

He shook his head again. "Maybe it's just a lingering shadow. I didn't leave a connection, Barricade, believe me! And it would be impossible. I mean… you're bonded. I wouldn't do that!"

And Sam was connected to Bumblebee. His mind didn't need another connection to anchor itself. Of course he had used Barricade's mind and spark before, when he had been the only one around, when he had been training Sam. That had been years ago.

Barricade went down on one knee, still hovering over Sam, the terrifying face very close. Sam met the blood red gaze.

"You are in my mind, imprinted on the matrix. I can feel your thoughts, Sam Witwicky. Your memories."

Sam paled. "Impossible!"

"I know what I feel, human." One dangerous looking claw pointed at Sam's head. "You left yourself behind."

Sam stared. He couldn't think of anything to say, simply felt the shock course through his system. When he had lunged for Barricade's fading spark he hadn't thought twice. He had wrapped all he could around the dying mind and kept it safe. The idea that he might be too close, that something of himself might be absorbed into Barricade, hadn't crossed his mind.

"I didn't… I wouldn't…" he stammered.

"I want it gone," the mech said, voice rougher than usual in Sam's ears.

"I don't even know how it happened!"

Barricade leaned even closer. "Part of a human is inside my processor matrix. Part of you. Remove it."

"Barricade, I can't! And you said yourself they are shadows. In time the whole thing could just evaporate. Your recovery was touch and go, but I didn't transfer anything of me into you."

There was a soft hissing sound, a sign of barely suppressed frustration. "You know about bonds, human. You know it because of your own with the Autobot. Part of the other is always with the bonded. Part of me is with Jazz, changing him. Part of him is imprinted on me. Molecular shadows of another presence. You," the claws poked his chest, "are imprinted on Bumblebee. He is imprinted on your organic mind."

Sam felt something cold settled within him. "We aren't bonded!" he exclaimed.

"No, we aren't. My spark belongs to only one other. But your mind is new and nothing my kind ever encountered before. It's why you connected to an Autobot spark. Your presence within me… is secondary transfer."

"No! Barricade, no!"

::Yes:: the dark voice whispered. ::Yes, you left your imprint on me. You opened a door and couldn't shut it completely. There's a crack and it's there, always there::

Sam sank back against a pillar, sliding down to sit on the dusty ground. He was shaking his head, fingers clenching into his hair.

::I didn't want this, Barricade::

"It was already there before you saved my spark," the former Decepticon rumbled. "Jazz told me that you were hit by my echoes."

He nodded.

"I didn't open a connection."

"We talk like this from time to time," Sam said tiredly. "Might have been instinct."

Barricade's expression shifted into one of disgust. Sam refused to be baited into an argument. He just leaned back against the dirty pillar.

"We have a comm line connection," he said. "Nothing more, nothing less. I can communicate with all of you guys like that. It's nothing like a bond, okay?"

"Your memories are here," Barricade snarled and tapped his head.

"Which ones?"

"The strong ones," was the reply.

"Uh-huh."

"And knowing what human sexual intercourse feels like is not a memory I want to have," the black-and-white mech added wryly.

Sam felt heat rush to his face. "W-what?"

Barricade was smirking darkly. "Though sharing between a human and a mech is quite different. And you enjoy it."

"WHAT?!"

"Your memories. My matrix. Shadows, but with strong spikes."

"Oh gawd…"

"Erase them, Sam."

"I can't! I can't go into your mind and erase specific parts, Barricade! It would be even more difficult than brain surgery! I could kill you!"

Barricade rumbled softly, not pleased. Finally he moved back a little, still close and almost oppressing. Sam felt no hostility, only confusion.

"I can block this," he murmured.

"It's not the current feedback that bothers me, it's the memories. Human memories," Barricade stressed.

"Sorry. I didn't… want this to happen."

"I believe you."

Sam smiled a little. "Can't you just… store it all somewhere?"

Barricade's optics reflected rare amusement. "I don't even know where you left your mindprints. They surface, flash across my processor, flicker out of existence. All intense emotions."

"Like of me and… Mikaela?"

"Yes. As well as fear. What you felt when you met your Autobot guardian for the first time. Or me. Or Megatron." There was a kind of dark pleasure there at the fear Barricade had instilled.

"Don't let Jazz catch you getting off on that," Sam heard himself mutter, then he caught himself, eyes widening.

Ah hell, his mouth again!

Barricade chuckled. "The fear of my enemy and my prey helps in completing a mission, Sam Witwicky. I don't replay the moments and revel in them."

He sighed, evading the blood-red gaze. "Just ignore my fast mouth, okay? Maybe," Sam tried to switch tracks, "maybe I could try and net the memory fragments? I mean, I know your mind planes, and I glued you back together again, so to speak. Maybe I can follow the cracks and sniff them out?"

"And do what? Tear them out of the scar tissue that is my mind?"

Another sigh. "It was an idea."

Barricade nodded. "Not a viable one."

"No."

Silence descended. Sam carefully sensed along the edges of Barricade's mind and found no anger or darkness, just the spark and the echo of the bond. Barricade was rather calm about this development.

::Too much contact with you, human::

Sam flinched away, eyes wide, then stuttered an apology.

Barricade leaned down, grinning maliciously. "Our training worked both ways. I can feel you, Sam Witwicky. I know what your touch feels like."

"No sneaking up on you?" Sam joked weakly, feeling a little rush of adrenaline.

He wasn't afraid of Barricade, just… respectful. Well, right now he was. The situation was different from all their confrontations or meetings before.

"Affirmative."

"Well, I wasn't… Just, well, checking… Sorry."

Barricade tilted his head a little, but he didn't comment. Sam felt blocks come down and he respected the need for privacy. He got up and dusted his pants off.

"So, we're okay?" he asked carefully.

The shock-trooper looked at him. "I never said otherwise."

"Okay." Sam smiled.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him of missed breakfast, as well as the fact that he a) still had work to do and b) should really catch up on sleep some time today.

The former Decepticon transformed and opened the passenger door. Sam didn't argue, just got in, and wasn't surprised when the hologram appeared. Barricade had modified it a bit and it no longer looked like a robot puppet. Sam had never seen Ironhide's hardlight holoform, but Will had told him that his partner usually kept it simple to conserve energy. Barricade had no such problems since he didn't use hardlight, and his animation was… well, animated.

What did surprise him was the fact that they swung by a fast food drive-in.

"Your blood sugar level has dropped in the last hour. You need nourishment."

Sam just shrugged, got himself a large coffee and a burger, no fries. Barricade drove within the speed limit and didn't complain about food or drink in the car. He was actually quiet on the ride home. Sam's senses were never completely off and instinct had him check on those he cared about unconsciously, so he did the same with Barricade. Since he wasn't scolded, it was an accepted behavior.

The Mustang rolled softly to a stop. Sam was still working on his coffee, his mind reaching automatically for the mech's.

::You do not need to apologize:: Barricade told him without prompting. ::You saved my spark. I am grateful::

::I couldn't let someone I consider a friend die::

It got him a dark smile. ::You trust too easily, Sam Witwicky::

He smiled back. ::You forget who you're talking to, Barricade. I know your processor, your spark. I know your loyalties. I trust you::

With that he got out, taking the balled-up burger wrapper with him.

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The Mustang didn't leave for a long, long time. With nightfall, after Ron Witwicky had come home and wondered what the mech was doing sitting across the street, he finally left.

It was time for patrol.

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"So what's sharing with a human like?"

Barricade flashed his bonded a dark look. Jazz grinned irrepressibly, leaning closer. They were in the back of the base again, the storage area, and Jazz was leaning against one of the many metal containers. Barricade was pretending to be his prickly self. It wasn't working

"Having fun with the memories?"

"No," was the snarled answer.

"Oh, don't break a circuit. And you are."

The deep red glare was lethal.

"Does that mean we're having threesomes now?" the specialist went on, laughter swinging in his voice.

"Why don't you just shut up, Autobot?"

"Well, there's us. There's Sam with Bumblebee. Sam's connected to you…"

Barricade could move very fast and his sharp-taloned fingers clamped around Jazz's chest armor, pushing the silver mech firmly against the container. No skin was broken, not even scratched, though the claws were close to delicate circuitry as they curled down.

"There's no one else allowed," Barricade whispered harshly.

"No one?"

"No one."

"Not even to see if this is more than just stray memory shadows?"

Barricade rumbled.

Jazz smiled, blue optics flashing. "Never thought of trying it out?"

"No."

"Liar."

There was hardly any room left between their bodies and Jazz felt the twitters of an imminent deep bonding. Barricade was feeling playful today.

His partner grinned darkly, then pushed forward into the bond. Jazz willingly went with him.
And if he felt little echoes going down a different connection, then it wasn't his imagination. Part of him was laughing, enjoying a teasing Barricade. Another part simply enjoyed the closeness of the other spark.

Things would get interesting from now on; more than they already were.