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Warning: Contains spoilers from Bumblebee (2018).
Note: This oneshot is a direct follow-up / companion-fic to Dying Embers. Slight references to Lost and Found and Meteor Shower are also included.
Disclaimer: I do not own this movie, nor any other adaptation or character from the Transformers franchise.
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-o-
The city was bright.
Aglow with luminous and vibrant colors, it glimmered under the indigo sky like a sea of candles in the dark, filled in every corner with the faint echoes of a lively activity. Spread under a set of low mountain peaks that reached just above the horizon, it seemed to stretch on almost endlessly; its shimmering borders partially hidden from view by the surrounding plateaus that elevated high across the landscape.
So close, and yet so far at the same time...
Leaning over the edge of a ravine where he was crouched, Bumblebee continuously scanned the streets far below, only pausing every now and again to rest his jaded eyes.
Although maintained with stubborn purpose at first, the observation had gradually lost more and more of its initial focus as it had become obvious that any scenario he might have entertained by doing so was entirely hopeless.
He wasn't sure what he had wanted to accomplish, exactly. He was aware that the idea had been born more out of worry and loneliness than any sort of rational will, but...
It hadn't stopped him from trying.
And try he had; but alas, it had gotten him nowhere.
After a few more minutes, he gave up and retracted his visor, his cerulean optics dimming in discouragement.
It was no use. Even with the aid of an enhanced vision, the clearest view he had been able to get -while perched at nearly five thousand feet of altitude- was of dispersed silhouettes covered in noise as the transmission precariously wavered in and out of its range limit.
A near infinity of shapes, continually moving. All of them anonymous and faceless.
...His best friend somewhere among them.
You knew this would happen, came the inevitable voice of reason, firm and unyielding. Somewhere deep down, you've always known.
This wasn't meant to last. It never was.
You have to let her go.
Said voice was followed, just as inevitably, by the mellower side of his psyche. If heard audibly, the reply would have sounded frail, haggard, and just as adamant as its logical counterpart.
I can't. I just can't.
His spark wouldn't let him.
It was still calling to her, as relentlessly as it first had on that rainy evening a few days ago.
Searching for her. Trying, with all its might, to find her.
It's the only way you'll ever ensure her safety.
The rest is irrelevant.
Irrelevant...
Bumblebee huffed humorlessly at what felt more like a self-imposed ultimatum than a resolve.
Is it really?
What about the bond they shared? This unseen force that brought him back towards her like a gravitational pull? What about the blossoming, undying devotion he had felt when she had touched his spark?
Didn't that count for something?...
In the face of his longing, the other voice seemed to relent, if only a little.
...The sooner you accept it, the better it'll be.
At this thought, he glanced away in equal parts frustration and defeat.
Maintaining a level head at all time was key; and he successfully had, back on Cybertron. It was what had largely made him so efficient as a soldier.
But, from the moment he had reawakened from stasis, stranded on a planet he didn't recognize... All the notions he had learned and applied throughout his life had been thrown out the window.
And they hadn't come back to him since.
Not even after he had recovered his memories.
He was different, he could feel it. This 'new' him, the one who now had the mingled recollections of two very dissimilar, nearly opposing personalities had -it seemed- inherited their respective outlooks in the process as well, and the obtained persona was a hybrid of both.
Not as gullible or childlike as his once amnesic self, but distinctly more sensitive than before. More hesitant, more agitated.
More emotional.
The thundering whistle of turbines resounded loudly in the air as a plane flew by, and Bumblebee forlornly looked up to follow its trajectory.
...He had been lucky, up to this point. Unbelievably so, even. Everything that had led him to this moment; every event, and every obstacle seemed to have fallen perfectly into place with the sole purpose to keep him alive.
He figured that there had to be a reason for it. That he must have something of importance left to do, somehow, to have been granted such an opportunity.
If anything, he knew he at least ought to be thankful.
But, then...
Why did it all feel so unfair?
His gaze strayed listlessly before settling upon a large fissure to his left. The ground around him was uneven and rough. Dry stone, fragmented and eaten away at the corners by decades of harsh weather. Heaps of sand carried by the breeze had gathered along the cracked pattern, and Bumblebee contemplated the low dunes for a short while. Reaching down, he then closed his fingers around a fistful and lifted it up to his face, unable to help the pang of nostalgia he felt as it crumbled and disappeared into the wind.
I'm here. We're in this together, okay? I'm not going anywhere.
With a vented exhale, he pulled back his arm and laid it against his braced knee.
"May I join you?"
The sudden query, albeit spoken in a polite and quiet manner, had the effect of a nearby detonation on the sullen scout. With a jump, he blinked and whirled around, his antennas shooting upwards in surprise.
He hadn't heard his interlocutor approach him at all, but felt the wave of recognition hit well before his reflexes even prompted his body to move.
There was no mistaking that voice. He had known it nearly all his life.
As he turned, he was met with the sight of a tall figure standing a respectful distance away, and sure enough... Contrasted against the dense obscurity beyond, as regal and self-possessed as any leader could only hope to be, was none other than Optimus.
Dimly highlighted by the myriad of constellations above, he was staring at him inquisitively, a small cube of energon in hand.
...And back from patrol much earlier than expected.
Scrambling to his feet, Bumblebee stood and executed a brisk salute, his expression switching to a mask of formal stoicism. It was the kind of reaction only the highest form of regard could elicit from him, and one that he reserved exclusively for his mentor.
Even though they had reunited quite a few hours ago, he was still baffled to have Optimus here with him. Finding himself in his presence again, after having been utterly convinced that the hurried and grim interaction that they had shared on the launch platform of Ankmor would be their very last exchange, was for him almost too incredible to comprehend. The odds of this happening must have been astronomical, given the circumstances. And yet...
Here they were.
The hope that this had brought him, although fragile and cautious at first, had grown so rapidly that it had soon become impossible to ignore; something which simultaneously galvanized and frightened him.
If he and Optimus had managed to find each other alive after all this... then surely, anything was possible. Right?
"At ease, soldier," Prime said, his tone amiable and light.
Bumblebee minutely relaxed at the uttered command, watching with muted awe as his superior calmly walked over to him.
There was an innate and undeniable sort of grace to Optimus that he had never witnessed in anyone else; his movements always deliberate and purposeful, his steps always measured and elegant despite his imposing stature. The very space around him seemed to have a perpetually hushed quality, as if his presence alone had the power to influence and alter elements of the environment.
It reminded him of the legends he had once been told about Vector Sigma and the great journey of Alpha Trion.
How numerous the parallels were between these mythical tales and Optimus, and how his aura, so noble and grand, seemingly belonged more in this spiritual realm than the physical world.
Larger than life. A force of nature, benevolent and wise.
And to Bumblebee, this somehow described him much more fittingly than his regular title as Leader of the Autobots ever could.
"It came to my attention that your core levels were low," he rumbled amicably. "I thought a bit of energon might do you good."
Bumblebee reached for the offered cube, a high-pitched tuning sound emerging from his abdomen as he gratefully took it.
"- Thank you. -"
Automatically, he opened a compartment in his left forearm and inserted it inside. The effect was instantaneous. It acted like a healing balm, shining through the seams of his plating as it was absorbed. Bumblebee flexed his fingers as the invigorating substance spread into his inner circuitry, slowly bringing more vigor and mobility back to his sore joints.
For it to be this visible was a clear sign of just how badly deprived he had been of strength, but despite feeling bruised and utterly spent, he had felt no will or desire to receive regenerative treatment. Even now, he had accepted the energon out of courtesy, but the self-administration was halfhearted at best.
Optimus waited for the restoring glow to fade, his piercing optics narrowing imperceptibly as he observed him.
"How is the wound?" He inquired kindly.
Bumblebee instinctively touched the side of his mangled throat, realizing just then that he had never given much thought to the physical aspect of his suffering. The psychological pain it had left him with was immense, but being crippled and mute had outwardly registered just like any other injury. In overall, there was nothing particular or noteworthy about it. It was only what it was, after all.
More damage. More data loss.
"- Better. Hurts - less, -" he finally voiced trough a jagged selection of frequencies, somewhat reservedly.
Optimus nodded once in acknowledgement, humming pensively to himself. Then, after a moment of consideration, he pivoted towards him, his features set in a caring frown.
"...And, how is everything else?"
There was a rare touch of hesitation in his voice, and Bumblebee all but teetered where he stood, taken off guard.
It was a straightforward enough question, and one he should have had no problem answering... but the personal nature of it -along with the raging tide of thoughts and emotions that accompanied it- was as paralyzing as it was potent, and he blinked once, then twice as he found himself unable to form a proper response. With a troubled whir, he pressed on and anxiously skimmed from one station to the next, but the words just wouldn't come.
Why did he feel trapped all of a sudden? And why couldn't he say anything?...
- beep -
He stopped, his frenetic search thankfully brought to an end by the discreet sound. It had just appeared in the upper corner of his vision, and kept blinking steadily.
An alert?... Of what?
Looking fixedly ahead, he slowly pressed two digits to his comm link and zeroed-in on it. Once selected, the signal promptly opened up and expanded to fill his sight, displayed on an inner screen between the layered planes of his optics.
And when he saw what it was, he felt his spark squeeze as his shoulders sagged.
[ How is my friend? ]
The message, sent to him in cybertronian, had Optimus' proverbial signature written all over it. Said bot hadn't moved an inch since his previous query, but his change in expression spoke volumes. The underlying concern it held was almost overwhelming, and Bumblebee shriveled where he stood like a withering plant.
This was it.
There was no backing out, now. The task at hand was as clear as it was unavoidable... but he hadn't anticipated just how nerve-racking it would be, or how much courage he would need to gather up for it.
His mind however made up, he slumped on a nearby boulder and sent back a message of his own.
[ He doesn't feel like one. ]
Optimus tilted his head, looking equally puzzled and compassionate. Bumblebee could see it in his eyes: he was already assessing the situation, planning it out and preparing a mental list of solutions in an effort to mend the problem. Even when he wasn't on the battlefield, he acted like a leader. Always in control, always poised and collected.
And not only was he naturally gifted when it came to the strategic aspect of things, but he also happened to be a remarkable listener.
Attentive. Sensible. Patient.
He had been for as long as Bumblebee could remember. But, if being a soldier had taught him one thing, it was that everything -without exception- came at a price, and he suspected that Optimus must have felt great despair himself at some point in his life in order to see it so transparently in others.
Such was the very nature of empathy. To acquire it, one had to experience misery in its rawest form first, and many had rejected it for that very reason. Because the pain became too great, too unbearable to accept, and it was easier not to feel anything at all.
...Thus, the most selfless beings usually were the ones who suffered the most.
Bumblebee's field of view flashed with a new message then, interrupting his musings.
[ How so? ]
He kicked at the dust despondently, eyeing Optimus like a prisoner awaiting trial.
...I lied.
Two words. It was only a two words long avowal, and still he couldn't bring himself to let it out.
Technically speaking, it was less of a lie per say and more an omission of information, but for the young scout, it justified nothing.
The intent had been no different; and neither was the result.
What gave his foul so much magnitude was not so much the fact that this type of deceit was quite uncharacteristic of him -although it was-, but rather the fact that it was Optimus he had been dishonest with.
Of all beings.
A near entire life of blunt frankness, and he had to be this stupid towards the one bot he admired the most.
That's what you get for being a coward.
I'm not a-...!
The inner retort died before it had a chance to assert itself. Somberly, Bumblebee rested his elbows atop his thighs and leaned forward, folding his hands in front of his mouth grid in thought.
No. It was true.
Why else would he have declined his leader's invitation to come along with him on patrol?
He had been avoiding him, because he felt sick at the mere idea of what he would say if he knew; or worse yet, how he would view him afterwards.
He feared letting Optimus down, more than he feared the wrath of Unicron himself.
Although... he felt like he already had.
For the official report he had given Prime of his days spent alone on Earth was concise and accurate in every way... except for one, crucial detail.
His rampage.
It wasn't included in it. At all.
What should have been the very first matter to be addressed had instead been smothered like a glaring flame, and it burned him all the same.
How foolish he had been to think that keeping Optimus in the dark would somehow alleviate his inner conflict. All it had done was make it a hundred times worse.
Steeling himself for what was to come, Bumblebee cycled a deep intake of air, then closed his eyes.
[ There's something I haven't told you, about the night of the attack. ]
He heard nothing from his superior in response to this revelation.
No word, nor sound.
His jaw twitched in apprehension, but he stubbornly kept his optics shut. He could still feel Optimus' gaze on him, and the urge to bolt, or hide -anything to escape its intensity- became so strong that he began to fidget despite his best efforts to stay still.
Eager to put an end to this torture as quickly as possible, he however persisted and willed himself to continue.
[ After I was interrogated, I didn't follow the Decepticons to intercept the transmission right away. I was captured again, this time by the human military, and... I did something terrible. ]
He was sorely tempted to stop his confession there. But that would have been amending only half a wrong, wouldn't it?
Optimus had always been known to be fair and forgiving; be it towards criminals, bounty hunters, mercenaries...
Even traitors.
According to Prime's philosophy, every sentient being had a capacity for change, and because of this, he had excused many wrong-doings during the war. His high tolerance and leniency had often been deemed a weakness by both parties, but the Autobots who were most loyal to him recognized this as one of the biggest demonstrations of inner strength there were.
...The ultimate test of character.
Bumblebee tensed contritely as he pondered this.
If I were even remotely like him... this whole mess would never have happened.
He was still debating how much to say when Optimus sent his reply. Not one to be easily fazed by words alone, Prime kept his serene composure; looking almost casual as he adjusted his stance.
[ Show me. ]
Bumblebee froze, his spark frizzling with electric spasms as it short-circuited.
With a jolt, he recoiled and threw Optimus a glance, eyes widened as far as they could go.
...His expression was the picture of utter and absolute horror.
No.
Primus, no.
Anything but that.
He hadn't re-watched it himself. The residual impression he still had of it was nightmarish enough, and the thought of seeing this moment again, from his own perspective as if through a demented simulation no less, was more than he felt he could stomach.
He would have deleted it altogether, if he could... But this wasn't the way memories worked.
They were either lost, or regained.
...Never selectively removed.
No matter how much he would have wanted to, it just wasn't possible.
Bumblebee's antennas convulsed restlessly as he wrung his hands, and his next sentence was sent like a plea.
[ Permission to object said request, Sir. ]
Optimus lowered his chin, features hardening somewhat.
[ Denied. ]
Seeing him like this -so direct, and so stern- was arguably even scarier than everything else, and it jarred Bumblebee into compliance. With substantial effort, he fetched the corresponding sequence in his memory bank and sent it as a separate file, despite the shame that was figuratively eating him alive.
To his credit, Optimus didn't flinch as the scene played out before his eyes, nor did he give a single indication of what he was thinking as it ended before fading to nothing.
After what felt like an unsustainable amount of time, he finally turned to him again.
Bumblebee expected righteous ire.
Indignation.
Affront.
Anything of the sort, really.
Something fierce and fraught with reprimand.
He only realized how mistaken he was when Optimus' true feelings became apparant; revealing themselves in the form of a feeble whisper in lieu of a tirade.
"B-127... Why have you not been fully forthcoming with me?"
He had discarded messages in favor of spoken words again, and upon hearing the pained confusion in his voice, Bumblebee felt so awfully inadequate that he didn't know where to begin.
He didn't once think to correct him on his name, either.
Because, I-...
He bowed his head, clenching his fists in despair. He was torn between defending himself in a futile attempt to somehow undo his fault, and surrendering to the fatality that now gripped his spark like a vice.
...Because I knew you'd be disappointed in me.
His simmering mind meanwhile filled with various memories of a time almost forgotten; back when the war hadn't yet devastated their entire planet. Memories of tactical lessons and recon missions. Memories of helpful guidance, shared aspirations and mutual regard. A protective figure in the midst of mayhem, shielding him time and time again from the heat of flying debris and the impacts of crashing missiles.
A salutary hand offered when he had been barely surviving, alone and afraid, wandering among the ruins of Kaon like a lost child.
Ever since the day you rescued me, all these eons ago... I've wanted to believe that I could one day be worthy of your esteem.
You taught me how to fight, taught me how to be brave and merciful...
All I ever wanted was to make you proud.
Bumblebee choked and buried his face in his hands at the sad irony of his own ruminations, optics flickering sporadically as his inner fans whined with the strain of cooling his overburdened systems.
...This was the closest a Cybertronian would ever come to actually crying.
[ Forgive me, Optimus. I've failed you. ]
He didn't know how long he stayed like this. His knowledge of time had by now become nonexistent, and all he was distantly aware of was the wind seeping into the crevices of his frame like a cold, merciless grip.
Why did he have to hurt the two individuals who mattered most to him?
Why couldn't he ever do things right?...
He curved in on himself and remained so, his back turned to the countless lights below, for what felt like an eternity.
Then, a hand landed gently on his shoulder, and he stirred like a bewitched soul roused from slumber.
Optimus was staring at him intently, head angled downwards to better meet his gaze.
"Reliable leadership is based on communication and trust," he said. "These qualities are vital; not only within Autobot ranks, but to any lasting companionship as well. If one of my soldiers is unwell, I need to know about it. Is that understood?"
To Bumblebee's astonishment, his tone held no hint of reproach, of even irritation.
No. He sounded... insistent, and very earnest.
Distressed, almost.
[ Yes, Sir. ]
In his rather dazed state, it was all he could manage.
When Optimus spoke again, his deep baritone was soft, and laced with sorrow.
"...Rest assured, my friend, that you have not failed me in any way. It is I who owes you an apology."
Bumblebee blinked, his radio crackling along with his quivering form as his upper body staggered forward.
[ ./_ ]
[ ...W/_ ...What? ]
His shock was so great that it caused his comm link to sputter and spontaneously reboot itself.
Prime took this as his cue to elaborate.
"Being in a position of authority has made me blind and negligent," he explained. "I only now realize that many of my decisions were made at the detriment of others, while nothing should matter more to me than the well-being of my troops."
He looked at the stars mournfully, joining his hands behind his back.
"By sending you alone on this mission, I have exiled and condemned one of my finest soldiers to a nearly certain demise. It was irresponsible and unfair of me to put this much pressure upon you, especially when knowing of your exceptional level of commitment. As your superior, and friend... I should have known better."
Bumblebee could only stare numbly as he let this sink in.
Optimus Prime, his mentor and hero, was apologizing to him.
As if this wasn't stupefying enough, another detail suddenly occurred to him: Prime hadn't yet said a single word about his actions.
Hadn't he disobeyed orders and shown blatant disregard towards fundamental protocol?
Hadn't he endangered human lives?...
[ But- my conduct-... ]
Before he could recover, Optimus took a step back and lifted his left wrist between them, displaying a hologram.
It showed various segments of the attack, in no particular order.
"Sooner of later, we all find ourselves with a choice to make."
Bumbebee winced in dismay, eyes instantly darting away. He didn't notice the sequence morphing shortly after, until-
"Bee, stop!"
His attention snapped back towards the projection and he straightened with a gasp.
Charlie.
He already knew what the conclusion of this was, had seen and lived it in all its terrifying chaos mere hours ago... But it didn't stop a wave of sickening dread from assailing him once again. And just like it did when he had been reduced to a seething mass of hatred and malevolence, his conscience forcefully broke free of its torpor with a reverberating shout.
Please don't hurt her!
...
He didn't.
The feed instead recovered its bluish tint, and he watched as his past self carefully crouched down before her; reaching out to hold her hand.
"Retaliating against the humans was impulsive and unwise... but not unwarranted. Sometimes, we are left with nothing but our own discernment, and rules have to be amended for the greater good. When I asked of you to protect humankind, it applied not to all, but to those who need it most. Those whose welfare is irrevocably compromised; whether it be due to exterior forces or other members of their own species... like hers was. And what you did, while ill-advised, was done entirely in her defense; not yours."
Optimus leaned closer, pointing at the stilled hologram emphatically.
"Anyone can cause pain and destruction," he stated. "...But humility, and self-restraint are the true measures of a warrior. And from what I saw, you possess both qualities in great amounts. By intercepting the Decepticon signal, you have saved Earth and fulfilled your mission. You have accomplished a great and most honorable deed. Do not let one moment of anger determine your worth or be the sole judge of your character, for I know that there is infinitely more to you than that."
Bumblebee silently met his leader's eyes, his thoughts a veritable whirlwind of amazement.
There was no questioning the sincerity of his words. Optimus had never lied to anyone; neither as a Prime, nor back when he still occupied a post at the archives as Orion Pax. His disarming openness was what had forged his famous reputation among the Great Council of Cybertron and later spread throughout opposing factions when the crisis had further deteriorated.
...His bravery and heroism had only cemented it.
The scout shakily slid a hand atop his helmet, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.
Could this be it? Was this really all Optimus had to say on the matter?
There was no way.
And yet...
He had been there before.
Bumblebee glanced behind his shoulder and down at the city in wistful remembrance, struck by the halting feeling of deja vu.
[ Funny... Charlie told me the same thing. ]
"The ally you mentioned in your report?"
He merely nodded.
"I remember the designation being accompanied by very high praise from you," Prime ventured, keeping his tone carefully neutral. "Her assistance ultimately proved essential to you, if I am not mistaken."
Not just her assistance.
Her whole person did.
Bumblebee idly twiddled his thumbs, his posture one of well-mannered temperance. A far cry from the attitude he had arbored just the day prior.
[ She was the one who stopped me when I lost control. We both survived it, thank the Allspark; but it left neither of us unscathed, and we had an argument soon afterwards. ]
He remorsefully shook his head at the memory.
[ I was so mad, so scared, and so sure that she was wrong about me... that I rejected her acceptance at first. Granted, she did manage to get through to me in the end, and we reconciled... but I caused her a lot of pain, and the way I behaved towards her weighs heavily on my spark. ]
"...I see," Optimus murmured, thoughtfully. "Do you regret no longer being involved in her life?"
[ I-... ]
Yes.
A billion times over, yes.
He grimaced as his spark surged, twisting agonizingly in its casing before abating once more.
[ It was the right thing to do. I know it was, it's just-... ]
The short period of time we spent together has changed me in ways I hadn't thought possible, and being separated from her is a perpetual torment.
He shuffled his feet, reconsidering.
[ If I'm here today, it's all thanks to her. She found me, helped me, she gave me a voice and a place to stay. ]
"She sounds like a great friend," Optimus said, sincerely.
...If only you knew.
[ After all that she did for me, she deserves to live a normal life... but a part of me keeps hoping for this to only be temporary, and for us to one day be reunited. ]
In an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability, Optimus heaved a tired sigh and sat beside him, his gaze drifting along the illuminated pattern far below.
"I understand," he confessed solemnly. "To willingly depart from someone you hold dear... can be the most difficult decision of all. It was, for me."
Bumblebee stalled, glancing sideways at his leader in stunned reverence.
...It was the first time Optimus ever referred to Elita-1; even indirectly.
While a secret to no one, the tragedy of his life was something that no Autobot -or even Decepticon- ever brought up. Bumblebee remembered hearing the name only once, in a private conversation between a distraught Ironhide and a placating Ratchet about a dangerous mission that had involved a certain Chromia aboard the Ark, but very little had been said.
And very little was known.
The outpost rumored to have housed Elita-1's operational unit on Moon-Base 2 had been reduced to ashes in the early stages of war, and any trace of her -along with the supposed evidence- had completely vanished, never to be seen again. Documentation about the event was so sparse and vague that no one seemed to know what had truly happened, and all had made their own speculations regarding her fate.
To this day, very few were the ones who could claim to have seen her, and even this fact was highly debated over; her very existence now classified more as a myth than else.
However, those who personally knew Optimus from before that time all agreed on one thing.
...He hadn't been the same ever since.
Bumblebee unconsciously inched closer as he avidly searched his leader's face.
Did he worry about her, the same way he worried about Charlie?... Did he, too, ceaselessly wonder where she could be and what she was doing, hoping with all his spark that she was safe?
Did it tear him apart as well? This feeling of not knowing?...
"It would seem that you and I have something in common," Optimus summarized, knowingly.
There was a weary but solicitous glimmer in his eyes, and Bumblebee blurted his thoughts before he could think better of it.
[ How do you do it? How do you cope with... ]
He gestured helplessly at his chest, trying to find an appropriate term for what he was feeling, but to no avail.
"I am afraid that is something only time will teach you," Optimus admitted, with no little amount of melancholy. "But this I can assure you: hopefulness is a good thing to have, and there is nothing inherently wrong with longing for a happier outcome, no matter how slim the chances for it may seem."
[ Do you think that could really happen? ]
The question was hesitant. Timid, almost. Bumblebee was visibly asking for them both.
Optimus looked over at him, and although it was hard to see with the angular mask covering the lower portion of his face, Bumblebee could tell that he was giving one of his own, seldom-seen smiles.
"I am confident it can, yes," he answered simply.
It was not a promise, or even a certainty... but, for what it was worth, it was a possibility.
And for Bumblebee, that was reassurance enough.
He reclined back slightly, his rueful gaze locked on the firmament.
[ ...I wish you could have met her. ]
Optimus shifted, bringing a comforting arm around his back.
"No one knows what the future holds," he reminded him warmly. "There are no guarantees that we can decide upon in this life; each new day a surprise in itself, inscrutable and unforeseen. Our roads may one day intertwine, and if the opportunity for it ever arises... I would very much like to make her acquaintance."
At this, he stood once more, offering the delighted soldier his hand.
The ridges of his pointed helmet caught light and glinted with the motion, his profile a painted canvas of reflections among battle scars.
The sight was striking in its humble majesty, and not for the first time, Bumblebee stopped to grapple with the sheer reality of it.
There would never be another being this virtuous, this dignified. Of this, he was persuaded.
He couldn't be in better hands.
Febrile, he returned his mentor's radiant expression and accessed his comm link one last time, optics glimmering with affinity.
[ Permission to accompany you on your second round of patrol, Sir. ]
His quip was rewarded with an indulgent chuckle so very fond, one might have seen in them a father with his son rather than a teacher with his pupil.
Although, there wasn't much of a distinction between the two analogies -if at all- when it came to their unique tandem. The mutual respect and affection they shared was the sort of thing that didn't need to be outwardly spoken to be expressed.
It was as steadfast as it was boundless, and would always be intrinsically understood.
"Granted, dear friend."
-o-
When they reached the neighboring forest a few moments later, it was to the sound of an upcoming signal, and they looked up to find the sky streaked with the fiery trails of fast approaching escape pods.
Their comrades were on their way.
-o-
.
Hey y'all! Guess who's back again? ;)
Okay. This was pretty challenging, (I find Bumblebee ridiculously hard to write, for some reason) but I made it a point to finish this oneshot no matter what, and boy I finally did! Yay me. :D
Honestly though: there are SO many things I wanted to explore with this. I literally gathered tons of notes, and in the end had to sacrifice quite a few bits of dialogue for the flow to remain somewhat consistent. So, I think I ended up completely reformatting this, what... three times? Four?
If you were wondering what took me so long (aside from my finals of course, which had me virtually dead by mid-may): now you know. xP
As a side note, I just wanted to mention that this is a general homage / personal representation of how I've always pictured these characters as opposed to something 100% taken from a specific universe or tangent; so, I apologize if Bee and Optimus feel a tad out-of-character here.
Prime, especially, was written as a blend of the G1 and TFP version in this story, with a few traits borrowed from his BW self. Simply put: a combination of all my favorite adaptations.^^ I just- went ahead with how I've always imagined the character to be like. ''Strong enough to be gentle...'' like our dear Peter Cullen once said. Hope it translated well here. :3
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Thanks to:
- My fabulous, wonderful, amazing big sis, for beta-reading this story and being a champ;
- TalaAzar, for sharing ideas with me (discussing post-Bumblebee scenarios was fun, and quite inspiring!);
- And you, dear reader. Please feel free to let me know what you thought of this. ^_^
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Until next time!