Footsteps, a transformers/beast wars fanfic

Just a little something I found I hadn't posted yet. It's been sitting on my hard drive, gathering dust, and since it won't get any better... here you go!

TITLE: Footsteps
SERIES: Imperfection Deviation
AUTHOR: Macx
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: None of the characters belong to me, sadly. They are owned by people with a lot more money :)
FEEDBACK: Loved

His right foot made one step forward.

And lost tracking.

He suddenly found himself off-balance and his foot continued sliding on the sand and gravel.
Sam knew he gave an exclamation of surprise, but then there was only the sensation of falling, sliding, and the impact of his body against the hard ground.

For a long, long moment Sam couldn't catch a clear thought. He felt winded, his back hurt, and he lay awkwardly on the ground. There was a voice, yelling his name, and there was the sound of booted feet slip-sliding to a stop beside him.

"Sam! Sam, are you okay?"

He felt strange, like his blood pressure was going down abruptly. Dizziness assaulted him and Sam briefly closed his eyes, trying to breathe.

"Sam!"

Yeah, that was his name. Samuel James Witwicky. And he hadn't been alone out here. There had been company. There had been…

"Mike?" Sam tried, voice wobbly.

"Yeah. Just lay still. I called help."

Called help? He hadn't heard anything.

WiFi, his muddled brain caught a thought. WiFi had called. And knowing the Autobots, knowing Bumblebee, they would be close, but far enough from the technopath to give him the distance he had requested.

Stupid distance. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Sam tried to lift his head, but Bowman's hand pushed him down.

"Don't. I think you twisted something in your leg that spectacular dive."

There was a faint trace of humor, but very faint, and overlaid with worry.

Sam closed his eyes again and now felt his knee starting to throb. It was a sharp, spiking pain and he gritted his teeth. Damn. That didn't bode well.

Bowman carefully made him more comfortable and Sam heard the warbly twips from WiFi and how tiny legs skittered over the gravel and dirt. He reached out with his mind and met the small, sharp presence.

-They are on their way- WiFi told him.

Sam acknowledged, screwing his eyes shut as the pain spiked again.

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Earlier:

- It should have been a time to relax, recharge his technopathic batteries. He had taken time out from working on new projects when headaches had come way too often for his liking. His shields were fraying with the constant use as he tested his projects or had to strengthen them against too many minds all around him.

Almost ten months without a break had taken their toll.

Enough for him to shy away from Bumblebee, who was actually his anchor, and for Barricade to glare at him. The glare wasn't too bad. It was the wave of anger he felt from the former Decepticon. That really punched holes into his shields, which was probably the point Barricade was making.

When he almost ran into a wall he knew it was enough. Incidentally – or maybe not so much, depending on whether his suspicions were right or wrong – Rodimus told him to take a break.
Tony offered his home in Malibu, all inclusive, but Sam declined. As tempted as he was, and it was a big temptation, he knew he needed time away from too much technology. Bumblebee had made a few suggestions and in the end he had chosen the not so far away Red Rock Canyon Park.

He acquired a nanny in form of Mike Bowman, who protested against being called anything but a friend. Sam didn't mind the company, especially since Mike apparently liked hiking and brought along some very nifty gear.

It was a surreal and beautiful landscape that greeted them. Red stone in the middle of a gray, white and brown desert, here and there interrupted by the green of trees and bushes. In the distance were the mountains, a good three hours away by car.

Throughout the weekend this place was usually crowded with people, tourists and locals looking for a bit of relaxation, fun, quiet, nature, whatever. Weekdays outside holiday season were comparatively calm, almost deserted. They had had to come throughout a weekend, though, but their hike had taken them off the beaten path and into the backcountry. Bowman had acquired a hiker's permit for such routes and they had parked the car – not an Autobot - at one of the very remote spots, locked it, and marched off toward the canyons and cave lands.

Sam enjoyed the peace. He enjoyed lowering his shields and feeling nothing but the small pulses from WiFi, who was perched on Bowman's shoulder and watching everything excitedly. The tiny mech had inquired into whether it was okay to be here, to be around Sam, and Sam had said yes. WiFi had been pleased and still offered to power down should Sam feel unwell.

The technopath had been touched by the care.

"Ready?" Bowman asked lightly.

Sam nodded and shouldered his pack, rearranging it so it sat snugly and still comfortably. "Let's go."

And then they were off, at a good pace, heading for the mountains.

They walked along the bottom of a canyon. The weather was nice, it was cool down here, with a little sunshine touching the high walls, and there were hardly any insects bothering them.

Sam enjoyed himself immensely. The tech-free environment was balm for his senses.

They had yet to get to the really narrow part, where the walls were higher, pushing in, sloping toward the sky, only to blot it out into darkness at some point. It was a slot canyon, very remote, beautiful in its roughness, its wilderness.

Perfect.

Conversation had been light, sharing stories and discussing the latest events. WiFi was always on Mike's shoulder or the backpack, clearly excited about this trip. Sam felt the tiny mind like a distant hum, barely disturbing him, and so soft that even with lowered shields he wasn't touched by it.

Inside the base, any base, be it Nevada, Arctic or Australia, there was always technology. He could shield against that, but if Cybertronian sparks were added to the mix, after a while he needed an anchor. And being on the Ark, as exhilarating as it was, made Sam a needy technopath. It was a state of mind he hated with a vengeance.

"I keep spreading myself thin," he had told Bowman. "It's like trying to stretch a piece of dough so thin you can read the paper through it. And then the holes appear and they get bigger and bigger, tearing the shields apart."

Mike had only nodded. "Approaching burn-out," he had commented.

"In a way. I have Bumblebee as an anchor. And Barricade. But anchoring is like putting on a coat in winter while you still keep running a race. There comes a time you need real rest. I can only get that when I deep-link in those situations."

"Or take a hike."

Sam had laughed. "Yeah. I know every trail around Arctic base by now. And Nevada. Yuma, too. And deep-linking has some… side-effects…"

Mike laughed. "I bet."

Sam evaded the knowing eyes and felt a light blush creep over his cheeks.

"And even when the deep-link helps, after a while the pressure is back. I need to get out. I need some time alone."

Out here there was only the canyon, the few insects, the rocks within the packed sand they were walking on, a few broken off branches from the last time the rain had washed debris through this place. Bumblebee, while probably monitoring or having Blaster keep an optic on things, was far enough away.

"Well, we got that for the next three days. Enjoy," Bowman told him, making a sweeping gesture at the landscape around them.

"Oh, I will. I really will." -

Now:

Help came in form of two Autobots. Ratchet, accompanied by Barricade, both looking official and with their lights flashing, made their way down the bumpy road that was barely wide enough to accommodate the medic. Barricade initiated his holoform, startling Bowman.

The glare directed at the soldier had him refrain from asking questions, but he looked like he was burning with them.

Ratchet remained in his alternate mode as he scanned the technopath, then ordered Barricade and Mike to carefully help Sam into the Hummer.

"I'm not your assistant," the shock-trooper snarled.

"Why else would you have launched the holoform?" was the practical reply. "Mike can't get Sam inside my vehicle form without hurting him unnecessarily. You can provide this help."

Sam hissed softly, unable to put weight onto the leg, and it hurt like hell.

::Can't leave you alone for a day:: Barricade grumbled.

::Not my fault:: he sent back angrily.

Sam was getting nauseous and the leg wouldn't stop throbbing. A brace was applied and it had him nearly scream. It hurt! It hurt like a bitch!

Dizziness returned.

From a twisted knee? What had happened to his leg?

Panic crept up his spine.

::Still attached:: Barricade told him evenly.

::I know that!::

Communication was taking a lot out of him and his head throbbed with his leg.

::You'll be fine::

Fuzzily, Sam turned to the dark presence, confused as to how Barricade sounded suddenly so… caring and comforting. Okay, so he was hallucinating now. Not good. Not good at all.

And then there was the known, warm presence of his partner and Sam grabbed onto the warmth with all he had. Bumblebee caught him, soothing and strong, and Sam let himself fall.

The trip from Red Rock Canyon to Nellis was a blur to Sam. He knew Bowman was there, acted as Ratchet's assistant, but everything else was faint. In the back of his mind there was Barricade, blocking off whatever might try to invade into the weakened technopath's mind, and Bumblebee kept him safe by surrounding him with his presence.

Next thing he knew he was at the base, in the hospital, and Dr. Mark Keyron was telling him about surgery.

Surgery?

What the heck?

Bumblebee's presence calmed him, telling him he needed this to heal.

Sam was confused and the medication didn't help. He was too fuzzy, too tired.

"You'll be fine," Keyron told him, echoed by Bumblebee.

Then there was only darkness.

He felt detached. Almost as if his mind and his body had become separate entities operating independently of each other. He seemed to be suspended in a twilight world in which time and space ceased to have any real meaning, in which he could safely ignore the realities of existence. A vague sensation of unease touched him, not enough to create any sense of distress. That he was unable to move was something of a mystery. He had no memory of anything that had gone on before the here and now; leaving him with no past on which to anchor. He was faintly troubled by the notion that there was something important that he should remember, knowing that somewhere in a far and inaccessible recess of his mind lay the answer but he had neither the will nor the strength to pursue the thought and once again he surrendered to become a being without substance.

A mind floating free.

He blinked.

No, he couldn't just slide back. He needed to… to… what?

There was a presence and it nudged him gently, trying to push him into awareness.

So Sam became vaguely aware. Mostly he was aware of the pain, a merciless, throbbing headache. Fighting unconsciousness, he tried to open his eyes. He could hear someone moving about, the distinctive sound of medical equipment, and there was the smell of anti-bacterial gel. Nausea passed over him in a wave.

::Sam?::

It was a whisper, but he recognized it in a way. His mind dragged itself out of the swamp it was trapped in, but the effort was too much already. He coughed, his body curving forward as he did so, sending new pain searing through his head.

::Shhh:: the voice whispered and he felt the soothing caress of a touch. ::Sleep. You will be fine::

No longer willing to fight, he succumbed to sleep.

Sam finished dressing and leaned against the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. He had spent the night under observation and everything had been fine. He rubbed his temples, feeling the start of a headache building behind his eyes. Just the simple task of dressing had left him tired and more than a little grumpy, and now his main ambition was to get out of here.

Mustering his energy in a concentrated effort he launched himself from the edge of the bed and moved to the door. That was exactly the moment the door opened and Bowman walked in, startling Sam. The technopath felt the world tilt a little and his headache started hammering more.

"Sam!"

"Not so loud," he protested.

Bowman's strong grip on his arms balanced him, kept him upright.

"You should stay a little longer," the other man told him seriously.

"No way. I wanna go home."

A chuckle answered that.

"Keyron release you?"

Sam grimaced. "Transferred me. He said it's okay to go to the base. And then stay put."

"Well, doctor's orders. Let's follow them."

They made it out of the room and into the parking lot with Bowman pushing Sam in a wheelchair. His leg hurt too much to ignore the chair, to actively protest it, and Sam wasn't macho enough to think he would get very far. He finally fell into the passenger seat of the yellow Camaro waiting patiently in the parking lot. His head was close to exploding.

"Here," Bowman said quietly.

A pill was pushed into his hand and he took it without argument.

"Get him home, Bumblebee," Bowman only said, giving the roof a pat.

"Of course."

Sam turned his head and smiled slightly at the hologram occupying the driver's seat. It was a rare, rare occasion that Bee used it.

"Let's get you home," his partner only said.

Sam was dead tired, nauseous, and home was where he really wanted to be.

"Sit back and relax."

Bumblebee pulled out of the parking lot and into the traffic.

His leg didn't hurt.

Much.

Well, really.

Not much at all.

More like a bothersome itch. With a little sting – and a tremendous jolt of agony should he dare put weight on it.

But otherwise, it was totally fine.

Really.

So why didn't anyone believe him?

Why didn't Keyron believe him?

Sam Witwicky, engineer, double doctorate, bonded to Bumblebee and one of the human Primes, sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. He sat on one of the examination tables, dressed in loose sweat pants and a t-shirt, glaring at the hapless floor. Two days stuck in his home on the base, one of which where he hadn't even been aware of much but the blurry shapes around him. It was enough.

The anesthetic had knocked him out completely. When he had come to again, almost a day had passed. Bumblebee had spent the time close to him, parked in the open garage, and now and then someone from the medical personnel had checked on him.

Sam only remembered blurry images.

"Considering the damage done to your leg, it is already mending very nicely," Keyron told him, nodding to himself. "Slight inflammation, as expected, but the surgery wounds all look good."

"So when can I get back to work?"

"As soon as I have completed the last checks you're released from med bay, but you will be off duty for a while. You cannot put any weight on your leg right now."

Sam tried not to glower at the doctor. He was truly grateful about what Keyron had done, but he needed to be out of here.

"Sam, you just had surgery three days ago," Keyron reminded him. "You need to rest and you need rehab for the leg."

Sam sighed deeply. "I know."

"Sitting here, with the medication running through your system, you probably feel 'fine'," Keyron added. "But getting from med bay to back your quarters will most likely be as strenuous as running a marathon."

"I'll see to it that he won't run one," a new voice stated.

Sam looked up and smiled a genuine smile as he discovered Bumblebee.

"Thanks." Keyron nodded at him. "Sam needs rest. See to it that he takes his pain meds. I also want him back for regular physical therapy on that leg. We need to start building up the muscle again."

Bumblebee nodded. "I will."

"Good. Anything, anything at all, get him back here. No heroics."

"Yes, doctor."

Sam shot them both a dark look. They were talking about him as if he wasn't even there. Great.

Keyron held out the two crutches. Sam's expression darkened even more. He hated those things. He felt ungangly, like he had acquired two more legs and lost use of one; well, it was actually what had happened.

"Use them or I'll see you back here by tomorrow," the doctor simply said. "For good."

With that they were left alone.

Sam slid off the bed. The moment his left leg made floor contact, taking on weight, it started to buckle. With a gasp he grabbed onto the bed. Bumblebee cupped a hand around his partner and Sam leaned into the balancing hand, fighting pain and anger.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he managed, forcing his right leg to take his weight.

"You are not," Bumblebee answered softly. ::Let me help::

Sam gritted his teeth, then relaxed fully into the supporting hand. Bumblebee cupped his other hand around him and rose, cradling Sam carefully close. The technopath leaned against the warm metal that felt so unlike human-created armor and so familiar. He closed his eyes, trying to let go of his anger; it was an anger directed at himself. It had been his fault. He had been stupid. Reckless and stupid and… maybe selfish. He should have stayed home, work out a way to heal his shields.

Stupid!

He felt Bumblebee's presence, but his partner didn't comment on Sam's thoughts, though he probably heard a lot more than the technopath was happy with.

When they were in Sam's house, Bumblebee set his precious cargo down and Sam was grateful for it. He had no more strength left in his body. He was so tired all of a sudden. Sinking slowly and painfully onto his bed, he closed his eyes. He was sweating slightly, his leg was pulsing with pain, and all he wanted was to lay down and die. Even his breathing had quickened and he tried to control it.

A gentle hand stroking over his cheek and down his jaw roused him slightly. Worried blue eyes met his tired gaze.

Blue… eyes…?

"Bee?"

The hardlight hologram smiled. ::Yep::

::H-how?::

::I asked Ironhide while you were in surgery. I thought it might come in handy. Like right now::

::Uhm…::

Bumblebee ran a hand over his partner's head, through the short hair.

"Nothing that happened was your fault," he said calmly, finally voicing his opinion on the matter. "You needed to recharge. We all respected that. We all know you have to. You're not weak, you're not stupid, it wasn't reckless."

Sam closed his eyes, feeling a humorless laugh bubble up. "Some Prime…"

"Being Prime doesn't make you either infallible nor adds superpowers. It's a rank you earned. It's what the Allspark gifted you with. You're strong, Samuel James Witwicky." Bumblebee stroked over one temple. ::In here. You are more powerful than any of us. You can fell us with a thought::

"Bee…"

"And you're my bonded," the holoform continued, ignoring the interruption. "I felt what you felt. I know how hard it was for you to continue working around us with leaky shields and crumbling defenses. Don't push all the time, Sam. Accept that you, too, need to recharge."

He smiled a little more. "Recharge, huh?"

Bee smiled back. "You in for one?" he asked softly and held up the medication.

"Yes, please."

Usually Sam hated the heavy anesthetics, but right now, he was grateful for every little bit of relief that was given.

He took the pill with a glass of water. Sam closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle touches.

::Could've told me:: he murmured, referring to the holoform.

::Why?::

::Just because::

Bumblebee chuckled. ::It's a tool to use if a situation demands it.::

::Like right now:: he stated.

::Yes. What were you thinking?"

Sam cracked an eye open and glared weakly. ::I'm thinking pain right now.::

Bumblebee smiled.

"I hate this," he muttered out loud.

"Give yourself time. You need to heal. Dr. Keyron told me that in a week you should be more mobile and the pain will recede. But you can't put a lot of weight on that leg for another five weeks."

Sam sighed. "Hate it," he repeated.

Bumblebee kept up the calming caresses and finally Sam drifted off, a mixture of the exhaustion, the pain medication, and the serene presence of his partner.

Monday mornings were usually reserved for power training with Lennox or someone else from base. They would go for a run to warm up and then continue with fight training or weights or something like that. Right now Sam was more or less grounded. He was forced to watch the others as they went about their training plans, and he felt a little edgy that he couldn't work out his own weekly stress through physical activity.

Watching didn't work.

Sergeant Connolly took down one of the new guys in one easy move and grinned at the man who was sweaty and out of breath and groaning softly.

"Not as easy as it looks, eh?" Connolly teased.

Sam grinned. He knew Connolly was a mean s.o.b. when it came to fight training, but he was a great teacher and an even better fighter. He was fearsome with a gun or a knife of both, but don't give him anything and he made whatever he got into his hands into a weapon. It was what Sam counted on perfecting himself one day. He was getting there and he had a lot of time on his hands life-wise to learn. Connolly made sure he made the best of things.

"Betcha Sam could take you down in his current state," Connolly went on and the man on the ground grumbled.

"Not volunteering," Sam immediately interjected. "If I tear this again, Keyron will have my hide. And yours."

As would several others, mostly mechs.

"Nah, don't worry, Sam," Connolly smiled. "You'll stay off that knee and take care of it. We'll get to you and your fighting style soon enough."

And Sam was looking forward to it.

He was joined by Lennox an hour into the next fight training. The hybrid looked relaxed, the runes barely showing, but from the state of his clothes he had been running.

"Enjoying yourself?" Lennox teased.

"Kinda. For once I'm not the one getting beat up."

"I hear you."

Though for Will, getting beaten up meant confronting either the Constructicons or Ironhide in a battle scenario as a protoform.

"Lunch?" Will asked after a while.

"I could eat," Sam confessed.

"Meet you in the kitchen? Or do you want a lift?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare." He didn't need to be carried, least of all by Lennox in protoform mode.

The other man grinned. "See ya then."

Sam followed, trying not to limp but failing. It would take a while for his muscles to regain their strength and for his mind to wrap around the fact that he could put weight on his injured leg. He was still careful.

The thunder storm had swept over the desert and the Autobot base like the proverbial force of nature it was. Rain came down in torrents, flooding the streets of Nellis airbase and the broken tarmac of the former airfield the Autobot base resided under. For about an hour, traffic was caught in water from above and below. The sky was an inky black, the lightning spectacular, and the cool wind swept away the heat of the day – for all the time it took for the clouds to pass and the sun to evaporate the rain again. But while it lasted, Sam stood at the windows of his home on base, watching the spectacle with a fascinated expression on his face.
He had healed. He was still not back in shape, which showed itself in the occasional limp, but his leg was mended and the damage mostly healed.

A wild flicker of lightning lit up the sky and he reflexively closed his eyes. Thunder rolled across the sky and the rain strengthened again, obscuring the tarmac and whoever was still brave or crazy enough to be outside. Even the mechs had sought shelter inside, though Sam detected Barricade just outside the topside shelter. Rain was splashing down on the former Decepticon and he was radiating a strange kind of calmness.

He enjoyed it, Sam had realized after a while of easily listening to the mind he knew so very well. Even when the inky presence brushed past his lightly connected mind didn't Sam feel any harshness.

Just… calmness.

Sam leaned against the wall next to the window, eyes still riveted to the outside. He felt strangely at peace with himself, despite the violence raging outside that kept every sensible person inside.

Calmer.

Settled.

Balanced.

He smiled.

He missed working on projects, he missed the guys at Arctic, but somehow, he wasn't as restless as in the beginning. The Need was no longer there. He had accepted that this was keeping him away from his job and that Finch and the others could very well continue without him. He would go up to the Ark when Keyron declared him fit for flying, and he would go over the specs Hook had sent him for a review again in person, on the actual shield generator.

The rain had already lessened and the way it looked, and since he had been witness to many such sudden rainstorms before, Sam knew it would be over in another hour max.

Barricade's presence was creating soft eddies and when Sam discovered who was now part of the inky presence, he retreated. Barricade sent a smirk and cut the connection he had 'tolerated', as he always called it. The technopath smiled and found his primary anchor just outside that connection.

::Hey::

Bumblebee had come in throughout the torrential rain, water sloshing off him and dragging mud into the garage. Sam had been aware of his arrival, but he had been too caught in the calmness that was Barricade. The unusually balanced presence that was their very own shock-trooper.

Now Bumblebee caressed the open mind, a different kind of calmness. Sam fell easily into the connection, walking over to the garage floor and smiling at the wetly glistening Camaro.

"Car wash out of order?" he teased.

"Out of shampoo, too."

"Figures."

Sam opened his mind, let the link deepen, let himself sink into the alien mind he knew so intimately. Emotions he had no words for enveloped him, thoughts that he couldn't translate into appropriate words flowed by, and the presence that was everything surrounded his own mind.

He slid into the car as if by an afterthought and felt the soft leather of the seat adjust to his body.

Bee hummed gently around him and Sam dropped his shields completely, pulled into the strength that was his partner.

::I'll be back at Arctic in two days:: Sam murmured.

::I know. We'll make the most of it::

Sam grinned. ::I bet::