This is a little oneshot I worked on the past couple weeks. Bumblebee4ever and I were messaging while I was feeling glum, and she said lots of sweet and encouraging things that helped me feel better. While I would like to write a whole fic for her about Bee, her favorite bot, I can focus on only one story at a time, and I don't want to drop my work on My Family, My Home. I can, however, do a one-shot here and there, and so this one is for Bumblebee4ever. :)
Little Bee
His first firmly detailed memory is of his femme creator showing him a beautiful crystal, the gem cradled in her hands as she speaks. He loves her voice. He loves her.
"This is a Praxian crystal," she says softly. "It came from our home planet, from our city Praxus. You havena been there yet, but someday we're going to go back, an' you are going to love it! It's th' most wonderful an' beautiful place ever."
The crystal is mesmerizing, so pretty, so sweet. He reaches out cautiously and then looks up to his femme creator to check if it's okay to touch this magnificent gem. She smiles and nods, her optics glowing with love. He puts his hand on the crystal ever so softly. "Oh…!" It's too marvelous for any of his babbling sparkling words, so he just grins. This is a wonderful crystal.
"I will give it to you for keeps when you're a little older, my sweet-spark," his femme creator says. "Would you like that?"
He nods, and he means it with all his spark.
The sunsets on the planet Yildriffan are said to be some of the most wonderful sunsets in its quadrant of the Tiesil galaxy, and Bee does not miss a single one. Every evening while his creators and the other members of the research team prepare dinner in the galley of their small ship, Bee sits on the counter and watches out the window.
The vibrant greens swirl with blue edged in lavender that collides softly with burgundy. There are pinks and golds, and the twin suns drop below the horizon together in a dazzling glow.
Bee coos softly, almost whispering.
"You love those sunsets, don't you?" his mech creator says more than asks. Bee grins up at him with adoration. He loves his mech creator as much as he loves his femme creator. "Ready to eat?"
"Eeah!" Bee grins and scrambles to be picked up, and his mech creator snuggles him, cradling the little sparkling as he walks to the table where everyone else is. He loves everyone else, too.
"Well, little Bee, are you ready to see some new sunsets?" Skyfire, the big jet mech, asks one evening while everyone is dining.
This is a strange idea to Bee. "Umm…?" Bee says, not sure. His tiny wings shift as he tries to figure out what Skyfire is asking.
"He means new sunsets on a different planet," Skidder says, grinning.
"Ooooh…!" This sounds fun. Bee's seen pictures of different planets, lovely pictures on his data-pads. "Yeps! I yike new suhsets –fiffen pannet!"
The big bots chuckle.
"Okay then! We'll go off and see new sunsets."
The sunsets on the planet Verrix are fascinating. They are mostly gold with different bronze tones shifting through the clouds. But then, sometimes, the most amazing hues of copper flare in.
Bee starts to draw them on the extra data-pad his creators let him use. The pictures are scribble-y and inaccurate because he's so young, but he doesn't notice, and his creators and the team members always admire his work. Then, slowly, he starts noticing that more than just the sunsets are beautiful.
He draws everything he can. He draws the rocks that the team examines with scanners. He draws the curious life forms that walk around them when they go out. He draws the scanners that the team uses. He draws the stationary life forms on and around the rocks.
"Are you planning to be a researcher like your creators?" Trailbreaker asks him one day.
Bee likes the idea. He grins. "Eeyeah!"
"Well, you've got a good start," Trailbreaker says fondly.
"Imma dral you nex'," Bee decides.
"Awww, there's lots of better things to draw than me," Trailbreaker says, but Bee just giggles at him and works on his picture. When the picture is done, Trailbreaker says Bee did a fabulous job and gives him a hug. Trailbreaker is Bee's favorite.
Bee's creators and their team go to a planet with a really long and funny name. They don't stay very long because it's not a great planet. Bee doesn't think much of a place with a name too hard for him to say, anyway, so he's glad to go, even though there were interesting clouds and very green sunsets.
The next planet is called Lun. It's a good name, Bee thinks.
"I wiv on Wun," he sings one evening, dancing around to the amusement of his family of researchers. Then he hurries to climb up and watch the sunset. Skyfire usually pilots the ship, and he always, always makes sure to park it so that Bee can watch all the sunsets out his window by the counter. And if anyone else parks the ship, Skyfire makes sure they park properly for Bee as well.
On the day of Bee's first upgrade, his creators and the team have a party for him. They are on the planet of Serritra when this happens. Parties have special Energon, extra candy, and presents.
"Pwesemps!" Bee squeals in excitement when he finds out. He dances with delight, prancing and bouncing. "Yay! Whee!"
He receives a data-pad of his own. And a tiny bit of subspace access. Some silver drop candies. His femme creator's Praxian crystal. A data-pad full of drawings by great artists from Cybertron, which was the planet his creators and the other team members had been born on. A set of polishing cloths and some other things.
He hugs each bot at the party and thanks each one for their kindness in giving him a present.
Once everyone heads back to their own rooms, Bee's creators tuck him in and kiss his helm.
"Sweet recharge," they say.
"Sweet wecharge," he answers with the utmost happiness. He couldn't have imagined a more wonderful day.
Bee hums softly to himself while he works on drawing the planet of Caltriff, their latest visiting place.
Then he stops and drops his stylus, shocked by a sudden horrible pain in his being. It hurts so much everywhere that he starts to whimper.
"What's wr-?" Trailbreaker starts to ask, but then he freezes. His optics get wide as he listens to an intercom. "Oh, Primus, no," he whispers.
Bee screams and curls up as the pain sharply doubles. Tears fill his optics and run down his cheeks. The pain hurts worse than anything he's ever felt. He screams harder, needing it to stop, but it doesn't; it just hurts and hurts and hurts. It feels like his spark being torn apart by burning claws, and he can't stop screaming as he cries.
Trailbreaker picks Bee up and holds him close. "Oh, sparkling, oh, Primus, no, no, no, please no… oh, Little Bee…. No, Primus, please…" Tears run down Trailbreaker's cheeks, too.
The research ship leaves the planet of Caltriff with only three living bots on it: Trailbreaker, Skyfire, and Bee. Trailbreaker pilots the ship because Skyfire is so wounded that he's almost not alive, and Bee lies on top of the box that holds his creators' dead frames. There wasn't any reason for those other bots to shoot and kill a team of peaceful researchers; there wasn't any reason, but they did it anyway, and Bee can't stop crying.
Bee sees Cybertron for the first time in his life, silent. He doesn't try to look around, but his optics still show him the buildings and bots and things. He feels nothing. There is only emptiness in him.
Trailbreaker talks in a distressed manner to the Praxian at the ship port. "Fading fast" are the words he uses to describe Bee. Bee thinks about the word 'fading.' That's what sunsets do. Their colors lose their shine and brightness. They get darker and darker, and then they're gone. Gone.
Gone.
They go to a hospital in a shuttle. Skyfire almost doesn't fit in the shuttle. Trailbreaker almost isn't allowed in the shuttle. Bee presses his face in his hands and wishes he could fade a little faster. He wants his creators.
Bee says nothing. Ever. When he finally stopped crying, all his words were gone, and only emptiness remained. The bots around him talk, though. They speak in Praxian as his creators used to speak instead of Cy-stan as the team members used to speak. The bots say concerned things about Bee and kind things to Bee. Bee doesn't answer.
After a few days, Skyfire tells Bee good-bye because he's going to be transported to a big, big hospital for big, big jets like himself. Bee just looks at him. The bad bots shot him, but they didn't kill him like they did his creators. Bee looks away.
Trailbreaker says good-bye, too. He says he has to look after Skyfire and turn in reports. What he doesn't say is that the Praxians want him to leave as soon as possible because he isn't a Praxian and that he must go to the families of the dead team members and give them the boxes containing the lifeless frames of his friends.
Bee doesn't want a new family, but that is what he gets. The doctors and nurses decided that that would be the best thing for him. Bee looks past them when they tell him. The best thing for him would be for him to have his creators back.
He meets his new family members. He knows that he should say 'hello' to them, but there aren't any sounds in his vocs for him to make the words with. He just looks and listens because he has to.
Ironhide is his mech-guardian. Ironhide is non-Praxian and huge and black. His voice is even deeper than Skyfire's. He's not as big as Skyfire, though.
Streamline is his femme-guardian. She is Praxian and lavender with gray accents and a visor over her optics. Bee hasn't seen anyone with a visor before, but it's not of interest.
Ironhide and Streamline are also the guardians of Jazz. Jazz is non-Praxian and silver and cheerful. He's bigger than Bee, a youngling rather than a sparkling, but he's still a rather small youngling.
Ironhide and Streamline are also the guardians of Prowl. Prowl is a youngling like Jazz but a little taller than Jazz, and he's a Praxian just like Bee. He has black and white and gray paint almost exactly like he's a Law Enforcer from the exciting data-pads that Bee's family used to read to him. His armor is polished so very well, and his optics are the bluest blue Bee has ever seen. Prowl seems quiet and reserved, opposite of Jazz, but he doesn't seem shy; he looks around, observing, studying. He looks like he is smart. He probably knows all kinds of things. He probably knows stories and facts. He probably knows where the big bots hide goodies, and he probably knows how to reach those goodies. He could probably be an Enforcer when he gets bigger. He could probably stop bad bots.
"Are you going t' say welcome t' our Bumblebee?" Streamline asks Prowl once Jazz finishes chattering a happy greeting. Prowl looks up at her quietly.
Then Prowl looks at Bee. "Hello," he says politely. Bee sees then that Prowl doesn't want him around.
The Ironhide-Streamline household has a pattern much like the one the research team had before they were killed. Wakeup time. Breakfast. Activity. Lunch. Activity. Dinner. Activity. Bedtime.
Ironhide makes breakfast in the morning for everyone. Then Streamline goes out while Ironhide stays with the three mechlings. She comes back when Ironhide makes lunch, and then Ironhide leaves after lunch while Streamline stays with the mechlings. When Ironhide comes home in the evening, he makes the dinner, and everyone eats dinner. During the times in-between meals, the mechlings play or read or listen to stories. Both adults tell stories that are so good that Bee starts to find himself interested in them. He starts to move with a little more life when Streamline or Ironhide asks "Who wants to hear a story?"
Jazz is fabulous at games of every single kind, and he usually tries to include Bee. Prowl is fabulous at games of every single kind as well, but most of the time, he tries to pretend that Bee does not exist. A little femme named Zephyr comes over often to play games, and she's fabulous at them, too. She sides more with Jazz on letting Bee play with them, but Bee feels tired.
Bee doesn't mind sitting on Ironhide's shoulder while Ironhide mixes metal spices in their Energon or works on designing armor pieces. Bee also doesn't mind letting Streamline hold him while she tells stories or polished armor pieces. It's okay. The park is okay, too. The swings and slide and climbing structures are okay. The other sparklings try to make friends with Bee, but he doesn't have words to share with him, and he feels tired.
He appreciates naptime. At naptime each morning and afternoon, he puts his hand on the crystal that his femme creator gave him. It helps him fall asleep. He does the same thing at bedtime.
The three mechlings are in the kitchen one evening with Streamline and Ironhide when Streamline suddenly grabs at the counter and misses and falls onto the floor.
Ironhide drops a spice jar in an empty cube and hurries over to gather Streamline into his arms. "What happened, Stream, what happened?"
"Shhh," she hushes. She touches the side of her helm. "Too much today," she whispers.
Ironhide carries her out of the room.
Jazz and Prowl look at each other, looking a little distressed. Prowl looks like he might cry.
"It's jus' auditory overload, ya know," Jazz whispers.
Bee doesn't understand those big words. All he knows is that Streamline fell and hit her helm, and Ironhide looked worried. Suddenly, he realizes that he wants her to be okay. He likes her stories, and he likes how she waits for him to come to her instead of scooping him up like some adults do. He likes the way she sings softly to him. And how she always makes sure that he doesn't get left out of games. She's kind and patient, and she never bugs him about not talking.
Bee feels afraid that his spark might break again. What if she dies, too? He feels a whimper growing in his spark.
He runs out of the room as fast as his little legs can carry him. He runs to the living room and crawls behind the couch. He has a pillow and two blankets stashed behind the couch for emergencies. He burrows in now and cries, his little frame shaking with sobs. He doesn't want Streamline to die.
He doesn't want Streamline to die.
"Hey…" Jazz whispers. Bee keeps crying. "Li'l Bee…" Jazz whispers. Then Bee realizes that Jazz has crawled behind the couch, too, to be with him. "Bee, it's okay. It's scary when she falls, but she's gonna be alright."
Bee pauses. How does Jazz know? He sniffles.
"She's gonna be okay," Jazz whispers. "She jus' has extra good hearin' in her audios, so if she's aroun' too much noise fo' too much time, it makes her helm ache pretty badly. An' if her helm aches too badly fo' too long, it makes her fall down an' feel tired. She's jus' gotta rest for a li'l while, an' not have lotsa noise. She's gonna be fine."
Bee keeps crying.
"Ya talk t' him, Prowl," Jazz says in a small stern voice. "He looks up t' ya more'an anyone in th' 'verse."
"I…"
"Talk t' him! Quit ya' jealous li'l glitchin, an' talk t' him! Fo' a smart li'l mech, ya's ignorant! 'Hide an' Stream' don't love ya any less b'cause they got another li'l mech t' look after. An' li'l Bee loves ya, clear as crystals, but all ya do is scowl. Get ya' aft here."
Prowl crawls behind the couch. "She'll be fine," he says softly. "Jazzy's right."
Bee sniffles and sits up so he can look at Prowl. Prowl's hiding one of his optics with his hand.
Bee put his helm back down. He isn't sure, doesn't know. Then, astonishingly, Prowl crawls onto the blanket beside him and puts an arm around him.
"I get scared, too, when she falls," Prowl says softly. He hides his face. Then he sniffles. "She'll be fine, though. She always is."
Bee calms down. Then he snuggles against Prowl, feeling the perfect thrum of his Praxian spark. Prowl sniffles again, and then puts his helm against Bee's helm.
Prowl invites Bee to play in every single game after that.
Bee frowns to himself while he works on coloring a picture that Prowl and Jazz drew for him. They drew it earlier that morning before they left for school. They were going to be away all morning, and the picture was for him to color so he wouldn't miss them too much while they were gone.
He feels frustrated with the picture. He remembers making beautiful pictures without even trying hard, but now it's difficult to even figure out how to color a picture that has already been started with lines. It feels like his drawing skills have gone away to wherever his words have gone.
He works for hours, changing colors and shades and hues, and finally he's pleased with it. Finally. He almost smiles. It's the first thing he's colored since… a long time ago.
He gets up takes the picture to Streamline, who's gently polishing a piece of unfinished armor. Ironhide makes armor, and Streamline helps polish it.
"What is it, Little Bee?" she asks gently.
He holds the data-pad for her to see. He knows that he's done a good job, but he wants her to tell him.
Slowly, she puts her hand on the side of the data-pad, her fingers touching his tenderly. "Li'l One…" she says, almost whispering. "I canna see what's on th' screen," she says, her voice soft with regret. "My optics… my optics do'na work. They have never worked. I have sensors that help me tell where things are, but I canna see like you can. I canna see art or colors."
Bee looks down at his coloring.
"Is it the picture that Prowl an' Jazzy drew for you?" she asks.
He nods.
"Have you colored it?"
He nods again.
"Even though I canna see it, I am sure that you did a lovely job coloring it," she says. "An' I am delighted that you want t' share your work with me. When Ironhide gets home for lunch, he can describe it t' me so I can better imagine what it looks like. Okay?"
Bee swallows. He could describe it to her… if his words would come back.
Bee throws a tantrum on the day that Prowl and Jazz upgrade into their next level of youngling frames.
Prowl and Jazz both get presents, and Bee gets some presents as well so he won't feel left out, but he doesn't want them. He doesn't want presents, he doesn't want upgrades, he doesn't want memories.
He slaps his wrapped gifts away, he hits Prowl when Prowl tries to calm him, and he kicks Ironhide when Ironhide picks him up. Then he starts screaming and crying, and everyone looks shocked at how loud his little voice is.
When Bee finally calms down, it's almost bedtime, so Ironhide tucks him in early. He falls asleep quickly, but he wakes up a little bit later because he hears someone else crying. Curious now, he climbs out of his berth and goes to investigate.
It's Prowl. Big little Prowl is crying into his pillow.
Bee feels shocked, but also distressed. Prowl… crying?
Bee climbs onto Prowl's berth and touches Prowl's shoulder. He doesn't want Prowl to be sad. "P-p-ww…" His vocs sticks on the word, but then he says it. His first word in a long time. "P-pwol."
Prowl shifts and looks at him.
"Pwol," Bee says again. He can't say anymore, but he wants to.
Prowl sniffles and then sits up and rubs his optics. His wings hitch. "I'll be okay," he whispers. "I… jus'… I feel sadness sometimes."
Bee nods. "Pwol," he whispers.
"I guess ya know th' feeling," Prowl says softly. He caresses Bee's helm. Then he smiles a tiny bit. "I'd better tuck ya back in bed. Li'l sparklin's gotta have lots of recharge."
Prowl carries him back to his little berth, but as soon as Prowl leaves, Bee climbs back out again and goes back to Prowl's room. He doesn't want Prowl to feel sad and lonely.
"Awww… Bee," Prowl grumbles. "Ya gotta have sleep." He starts to stick a pede out from under his blanket, but Bee scrambles onto his berth and dives under the blanket to snuggle up beside him. Prowl looks at him. Bee closes his optics quickly to pretend that he's already asleep. He hears a tiny laugh after a moment, and then Prowl snuggles, too.
"What did you draw?" Streamline asks, sitting down so Bee can climb onto her lap.
"Suhset…" Bee says. He takes her finger in his little hand and guides her finger on the pad. "Bwue," he tells her, leading her finger over the pad where the blue is. "Wed… nornge… Bwonzey-gowd…" He tells her each color as her finger goes over it. He doesn't realize that she has no concept of what the colors must look like.
"I think you must have done a wonderful job, li'l Bee," Streamline says softly. "An' I know you spent a lot of time on it. You spent all morning working on it. You're very dedicated an' patient. Very good, sweet-spark."
Bee purrs as he snuggles against her. "Tory, pease?" he asks, smiling up at her in contentment.
"A new story or an old story?" she asks.
"Owd." He always picks old ones. It's comforting to know what is going to happen next.
"NOOO! NO UPDRADE!" he screams. He screams and screams. He shrieks. And kicks.
Prowl and Jazz try to calm him. Streamline tries to calm him. (Ironhide isn't there, or he would try). Two nurses try. A pediatrician tries. Another doctor tries. An intern tries. The receptionist tries. A mech and femme in the waiting room with a set of triplets try. The triplets try.
Bee won't stop screaming.
He had thought they were coming for one of those little routine checkups or another therapy session, but then someone slipped up and said that awful word: upgrade. Most sparklings going into their youngling frame don't need medical assistance, but Bee isn't most sparklings. He doesn't want his upgrade.
In the end, Streamline has to hold poor Bee still, and the pediatrician injects a sedative into the sparkling's system. Bee goes limp, and Prowl starts to whimper at the sight. While the nurse and pediatrician do the upgrade on Bee, Streamline holds Prowl to soothe him, and Jazz holds Prowl's hand and rubs his shoulder.
When Bee wakes up, he feels groggy and unhappy. He puts his helm against Streamline as she holds him. She sings softly, and he starts to feel better. Then he starts to look around, and he sees Prowl and Jazz, looking anxious as they peek around the edge of the door. They wave back, and he waves back. They both smile, and he feels much, much better then.
The whole family is going to go to the Praxian Crystal Gardens, and Prowl and Jazz won't hush about how much they love it.
"It's th' most marvelous place on th' planet," Prowl says, almost dancing.
"An' it's th' mos' beautiful, too!" Jazz adds, grinning.
Bee giggles at them. "I don' fink yas weally wanna go see dat pwace," he teases. "Let's 'tay home."
"NOOOO!" Prowl and Jazz both charge him in mock rage, and he squeals and dashes to hide behind Ironhide.
"Shush-hush," Ironhide says gently but firmly, motioning for Prowl and Jazz to calm down. "I know you're excited, but you still must be quiet indoors." He doesn't mention Streamline needing them to not be noisy, but they all think of it.
"Yes, sir," Prowl says just above a whisper, and Jazz echoes, "yes, sir."
"Sessir," Bee chirps softly, coming out from behind the big black pede. Ironhide picks him up and snuggles him.
Streamline comes into the room then. "Did you remember the lunches?" she asks Ironhide. They aren't bonded, as Bee's creators were, and they sleep in separate rooms, but Bee knows that they love each other.
"Yes, ma'am," Ironhide answers, and she smiles.
Then they go to the Gardens. It's a long, long walk, but Ironhide carries Bee part of the way so he won't get tired. When the reach the Gardens, the Praxian at the gate eyes tall non-winger Ironhide with a frown, but he lets all five bots in after Ironhide shows him a pass.
Bee looks around in awe once they're inside. It is indeed a marvelous and beautiful place… more wonderful and dazzling than anyone's words could have ever described to him. There are huge crystals larger than Ironhide, and tiny crystals the size of his finger, and crystals of every size in between. They all glow and shimmer in the sunlight, and twinkle when the light hits them at the right angles. Bee feels immensely happy, but also sad yet also joyful, all at the same time. He knows his creators must have walked these paths. They would have been happy for him to see this place.
Prowl and Jazz start to scamper ahead, but then they wait for Bee to join them.
"I know the best places," Prowl says, and then all three mechlings scamper off together.
His first day of preschool goes smoothly, and his teacher is very kind about his struggles with speech. He's friends with almost all of the other younglings already, having played with them at the park every week for a while now, but there's one youngling he doesn't know. A femling who recently moved from a different part of the city.
"Why do you still talk like a li'l sparkling?" she asks curiously at recess.
Bee sighs. "Betause I had a shock when I was a 'parkling, an' dat regwessed me."
"Are you always gonna talk like that?" she asks, looking concerned.
Bee shakes his helm. "I go t'a… a ferapy, a speaks ferapy."
She smiles, encouraged. "Therapies are good. I had t' go t'a therapy when my legs got hurt, an' that helped me be able t' walk again."
"How'd dey get hurt?" Bee asks in wonder, looking at the seemingly sturdy pair of legs on his new friend.
A little frown crosses her face. "My family an' I visited a different city. A non-Praxian city, an' a rude big bot in vehicle mode ran int'me an' hurt my legs so badly."
"Oh…" Bee says softly.
She nods. "They are lots of mean bots out there."
Prowl and Jazz upgrade again, but this time Bee doesn't throw a tantrum. They got through the last upgrade just fine, so he decides that this one will be fine as well.
"What do you wanna be when you reach your final upgrade, Bee?" Cobalt asks, spinning her swing around slowly, her belly on the seat of the swing.
Bee stops his swing and stares at the ground. He hasn't thought about it. Jazz wants to be technician and make all kinds of things. Prowl wants to be an Enforcer. Zephyr wants to be a journalist.
"Oh, I don' know," he says. "It's a long time yet before we havta know, anyway. What do ya wanna be?"
"I haven' decided yet…" She turns her swing a little. "I think it'd be revvy to be a storyteller or a teacher or a librarian, though."
"I think ya'd be good at any of those," Bee says. Cobalt loves stories. Then Bee looks over at their friend, Rigg, who's standing on his swing. "What do ya wanna be, Rigg?"
Rigg hops down to sit on the swing. "I wanna be a merchant at th' market wi' all that haggling an' bartering."
Bee chuckles. "Ya could practice haggling by tryin' to get us a few more cookies fo' us at lunch."
"Ya silly," Rigg says, grinning. "You try that an' see how it goes."
"Na thanks," Bee answers, optics twinkling. "I'll get one of my brothers to do it. They're th' best."
"Prowl's a meanie," Bee snuffles as he lies curled on his side on his berth. "A big mean, meanie."
Ironhide looks serious, but he speaks gently. "Li'l Bee… we've gone over this issue before. A couple times now. Ya don't –ever- tackle Prowl on his wings when he's readin' a data-pad."
"I jus' wanted to play," Bee sulks.
"Well, Prowl jus' wanted to read. Ya need to respect the fact that he wants to read for a few hours each day. When ya wanna play, ya talk to him about it, an' if he says 'no' then ya need to let it be. He stills plays with ya, ya know that. But he's growin' up, an' getting' even more serious about his studies. Ya need to understand that."
Bee sniffles. "I still say he's a meanie."
"It was unkind of him to slap ya," Ironhide says. "But ya asked for it when ya jumped on his wings."
Bee hitches his wing in a pout.
"Ya in timeout for an hour," Ironhide says, looking sad, and then he goes out.
Bee scowls. Mean Prowl. Meanie mean, mean-face Prowl the Mean-Bot. Bee hopes Ironhide will give Prowl bad long lecture. A bad long lecture and a spanking.
Then, vengefully curious, Bee tiptoes to the door and puts his helm against it, focusing on sound. It takes a few moments of trying, but then he picks up faint sounds of Prowl's arguing voice. He sounds frustrated. Ironhide's voice sounds sad but stern. Prowl's voice becomes more unhappy. Then Ironhide's voice gets too quiet to hear.
Bee waits in the quiet. Then he flinches at the sound of a strap striking living metal. He hears the sound again and then again, and it sounds like it hurts very much, lots more than his hip hurts where Prowl hit him. It makes his optics sting.
Bee slips away from the door and climbs back onto his bed to hide his face, crying harder than he cried when Prowl hit him. He's sorry. He's so, so sorry. He shouldn't have provoked Prowl. He really shouldn't have. Prowl can't help it that he jumps up and slaps bots when they pounce on his sensitive wings. It isn't Prowl's fault…!
When the timeout is over, Bee carefully opens the door and looks out. No one's in sight. He tiptoes to Prowl's room. Prowl's door is mostly closed but partially open. Bee opens it a little more.
"Prowl…?" he says softly. Prowl is lying on his belly, his face toward the wall.
Prowl sniffles and then turns his face to Bee. "Hi, li'l Bee," he says softly.
Bee runs to him with tears filling up his optics. "I'm sorry I pounced ya wings!" he cries. "I'm sorry ya got spanked!"
Prowl sniffles but smiles and sits up and takes Bee into his arms. "An' I'm sorry I slapped you, li'l Bee," he says gently.
"It didn't hurt that much," Bee says through his tears.
Prowl rubs Bee's back. "I still shouldna have done it." He bows his helm and puts a kiss on Bee's helm. "You're my li'l sparkling brother. I gotta look after you."
Bee sniffles and calms down. They snuggle quietly for a few minutes, and then Bee looks up at Prowl.
"What's so great in those data-pads, anyway?" he asks.
Prowl's optics seem so grownup then. "All th' things Enforcers must know an' do," he answers quietly.
"But why ya wanna be an Enforcer, Prowl?"
Prowl touches Bee's helm gently. "Enforcers stop bad bots, an' they help all bots. They look after communities an' help make things right. They make places safe. An' I want this place, our city, to stay safe. I want all th' bots in it to stay safe. I do'na want li'l sparklings going wi'out their creators because some bad bot's killed their creators."
Bee rests his helm against Prowl's chest once more. He reflects on Prowl's words for a little while, and then he nods. "Okay, Prowl. Okay."
"One, two, three: swing!" Bee says, kicking his pedes up. Jazz and Prowl are on either side of him, holding his hands, and they swing him at his request. He laughs and giggles. He loves this game. "One, two, th-"
"Li'l Bee," Jazz says, chuckling. "Ya wear our arms tired if we swing ya th' whole way t' th'park."
"Aww…" Bee says. Then he beams up at Prowl. "One mo' time?"
"Okay," Prowl says, smiling.
"Ya big softie," Jazz says, but it's not a complaint. He loves his brothers.
The Northwall Market is a wonderfully busy place with countless things to see. Ironhide lets Prowl, Jazz, and Bee accompany him sometimes, but they always have to stay at his booth where he sells armor. They aren't allowed to wander around because it's a big market.
And it's mingled market: non-residents of Praxus are allowed to visit the Northwall Market.
Bee looks out at all the bots at the market and thinks about the research team. He almost never thinks about them, but when he comes to the market, the non-wingers remind him of them.
Ironhide leaves Prowl in charge and goes off to get something. Prowl talks with another bot. Jazz is busy taking apart a puzzle that Ironhide made for him. Bee keeps watching all the bots and thinking.
Then his optics meet the optics of a green non-Praxian. It's Trailbreaker.
Bee utters a small cry and dashes from Ironhide's booth toward Trailbreaker.
As Bee reaches him, Trailbreaker scoops Bee up and holds him close, cradling him and cuddling him. "Oh, oh, sparkling," Trailbreaker says, sounding very choked up. "Oh, Bee."
Bee is crying as he hugs and clings to Trailbreaker. He can't help it. He can't help crying. He hasn't seen Trailbreaker in so, so, so very long. He wants to tell him things, but there's too much to say, so all the sounds get jammed up in his throat.
Trailbreaker moves to the side of the street so they won't be in the middle of the hubbub.
"Is there a problem here?" a femme voice asks, authority in her tone.
Bee looks. The voice belongs to an Enforcer.
"N-no, ma'am," Trailbreaker says. "It's just been a while since this little mech and I have seen each other. We've both missed each other."
The Enforcer doubts him and fixes her optics on Bee. "Is this true?" she asks.
Bee nods, unable to speak, but it's not enough.
"I'm going to ask you to put the youngling down and state your name," the Enforcer says to Trailbreaker, her tone getting stern.
Bee finds his words then, and they jump out. "He's my friend! I missed him! I missed him lots 'n' lots! I'm jus' crying 'cause I missed him!"
Trailbreaker slowly crouches and sets Bee on his pedes. "I missed you, too," he says softly. He caresses Bee's helm like he used to. "I love you, little mech," he says, and then he straightens and looks to the Enforcer. Bee suddenly feels like Trailbreaker might be in trouble. There's something about his bearing. Bee doesn't want him to be in trouble. They need help.
"I MISSED YOU!" Bee howls as loudly as he can and throws his arms around Trailbreaker's leg. "I MISSED YOU! AN' YOU MISSED MY UPGRADE!" he yowls. He hopes he's loud enough that Prowl will hear him.
"Shhh, Bee," Trailbreaker says gently. "It'll be okay."
Bee sits unhappily in the front room of the Enforcer Center. Things are not okay.
Trailbreaker is in a security cell. He's been arrested for entering Praxus with a revoked pass. His pass was revoked shortly after he brought Bee to Praxus.
Prowl and Jazz haven't spoken a word since the Enforcer and her teammate confiscated them and Bee and took them to the Enforcer Center along with Trailbreaker.
Ironhide is coming.
Streamline is coming.
"Prowl…" Bee whispers. "Please, say somefing?"
"I turned my back half a minute, an' ya ran off!" Prowl whispers angrily. "Ya ran off an' let ya Non-Praxian friend pick ya up when ya was crying! Y do'na do that! Ya do'na run off. Ya do'na hug Nons. Ya do'na. Ya do'na! 'Specially when ya's crying. Okay? That draws Enforcer's attention 'cause we canna trust most Nons. If ya go crying wi' a Non holding ya, then ya asking for Enforcers t' come in. An' now Ironhide's gonna be in trouble of negligence b'cause he left me in charge fo' three minutes, an' I trusted ya to stay put for half a minute. I trusted ya, Bee! Ya's big enough an' smart enough t' na run off. An' now Ironhide's gonna have trouble! Do ya have any, any, any clue at how hard he works t' keep us? He an' Stream have t' jus' about fight th' Praxian council in order t' keep custody of us. –All because he's a big Non, half th' Praxian city doesn' want him around, an' more of them don't want him t' have us. But he's the best guardian I could ask for. An' I messed it up b'cause I trusted ya fo' one minute!"
Bee stares at Prowl in shock.
"Maybe ya do na care who's ya' guardian, but I do!" Prowl adds, and then he starts crying.
Bee swallows. Then he realizes what Prowl's said. And he realizes why Ironhide has always been so very, very careful about his behavior. Ironhide could lose them. They could lose Ironhide…
Bee starts to cry as well. Jazz sniffles.
A burly Praxian Enforcer comes over and crouches down before the little mechs.
"Hey, hey," he says gently. "You're going to okay."
"We will na if ya take us awa from Ironhide!" Prowl screams at him. Bee jumps. He's never heard Prowl scream before. Bee's too scared to cry now.
Bee is home now, and Prowl and Jazz are with him. The family is secure. Ironhide and Streamline didn't lose custody of them. They didn't even have an investigation, just lots of questions. Prowl's words about the past with the council were true, but his imagination had exaggerated the seriousness of the market incident in his young processor. It took him a while to calm down, but he's calm now, snuggling on the couch with Jazz and Bee while Bee draws.
Bee looks up from drawing as Ironhide comes into the living room. Trailbreaker is with him!
Bee jumps off the couch pedes and dashes to his friend.
"Hi, Bee!" Trailbreaker says. He crouches, kneels carefully, and hugs Bee. Bee hugs him tightly. It's so good to hug him again.
"Are ya going to… to… go to an imprisonments?" Bee asks with dread.
"Naw…" Trailbreaker says with a small chuckle. "I'm not. I have an awful hefty fine to pay, and I'll get a beating if I show my face around Praxus without a proper pass, but I'm not going to prison."
"Okay," Bee says. He snuggles against Trailbreaker. Then he pauses. "Do ya have a proper pass now?"
Trailbreaker nods and gets the pass out to show Bee. Prowl and Jazz come over, curious to see it as well.
Bee takes it carefully and looks at it. Trailbreaker is allowed to enter Praxus, but he's on a curfew, not allowed out at night without authorized accompaniment.
"What's 'author-ized a-accomm-pani-m-ment'?" Bee asks, looking at the big words.
"It means a guard bot approved by the Enforcers," Prowl explains.
"Oh…" Bee says. He hands the pass back to Trailbreaker. "Will ya come an' visit me now?"
Trailbreaker nods. "I will."
"Why didn't ya before?" Bee asks softly. "Was is b'cause ya' pass was 'voked?"
Trailbreaker nods. "It's kind of complicated to explain…" he says softly. "But… I guess you're old enough to understand. The Praxians didn't want me to come around because they thought that that might upset you with memories, and they didn't want you to be upset. They wanted you to adjust to living in Praxus and having a Praxian… uh, mostly Praxian family. So, they revoked my pass to keep me away from you."
"But now…?" Bee asks.
"They did some reevaluating and have decided that I can visit," Trailbreaker answers. He rubs his helm. "I wish I'd asked them to reevaluate beforehand… instead of just sneaking in and getting in trouble. I was certain that they would have said 'no,' though."
"That's a logical conclusion," Ironhide says, and he gives Trailbreaker a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
Trailbreaker smiles up at the big non-Praxian. "I'm glad we're through with all that now." He touches Bee's nose. "I'm glad I can see my Bumblebee again."
"I'm glad as well," Streamline says. She's been standing quietly to the side, listening. "You are welcome to stay wi' us a few days."
"Thank-you," Trailbreaker says, sounding a bit overwhelmed. "I would be honored."
"Yay! Bee chirps, hugging him again.
Trailbreaker stands, picking Bee up as he does so.
"I love ya, Trailbreaker," Bee says.
"I love you, too, little Bee."
Streamline smiles. "Worth the trouble?" she asks Trailbreaker, but she knows the answer.
"Oh, yes," Trailbreaker says. "Bee's a special spark."