One
The orange glow of fire reflects off the shining city around him, distorting and bouncing the image around like a house of mirrors until he's not sure which is flame and which is reflection.
'Breach in main system controls. Attempting to override navigation and propulsion.'
It's like being at the drive-in, with the speaker right next to your ear. The high definition explosions deafening; he even feels the resulting rumble vibrating under his feet.
'Acknowledged. Hard burn ETA one minute-forty seconds. We're going in to hot. Collision is imminent. Secure transmissions for long-range sonic bursts.'
Everywhere he turns there's fighting. Savage and uncoordinated now that both sides are near defeat. There'll be no winner for this battle. But the war will rage on and many more will die. He knows. He's been through battles like this before.
'Unable to override. Transmissions sent. Let's hope to Primus it does the others some good.'
A fireball erupts in the ash filled sky like a comet, a harbinger of death.
'We shall yet prevail in this war. The power of the Primes is-'
He's since stopped trying to shield himself from falling debris, and instead watches as the large ship impacts the city and in seconds he's incinerated in the fall out blast.
The fires have all finally been put out, but there's no one left to care.
oOo
"…long this time?" Sam comes awake as he always does now. Slowly and not knowing if it's his world he's in. If the air he's breathing is really oxygen, if the sounds are really car horns and fans instead of cannons and warning sirens.
Part of him still wonders if this is how war vets come awake. The larger part just doesn't care anymore.
"Sam?" Leo's hovering over him, his eyes wide and worried. Sam slowly shifts his eyes to look directly at him.
He blinks and Leo slumps back a bit. "Major! He's awake!"
'They are weak.'
Sam blinks again and suddenly Leo is replaced by Will Lennox. Sam wonders if he only imagined Leo.
"Hey, kid, you with us?" Will's hand is reassuring on his arm. He finally feels grounded, anchored to the world he's meant to be in.
His throat is contracting and he knows he's trying to speak, but it just doesn't want to happen.
"Get him some water, and tell Bee." Will doesn't take his eyes off him, and Sam isn't sure why, but he's never been more relieved to be stared at. He can't move his own eyes either, but he blinks again. And again. And is he imagining that too? Or does Will seem to relax a tiny bit more every time?
"Found a straw. It was from my Sonic's mango-apple smoothie. But I rinsed it!" A straw is held to his lips and before he opens his mouth and sips the lingering scent of mango wafts into his nose.
It's better than the scent of scorched metal that's invaded it for days now. Sam's sure he'll never take up soldering as a hobby.
The cold burst of water is like Heaven, and Sam shies away from that analogy because if there's Heaven, then there's Hell and Sam's pretty sure he's been spending a lot of time in Cybertronian Hell and wants nothing to do with it when he's in control.
"Slowly kid, don't choke." Will takes the glass away and sets it on the bedside table.
"Wh-what time is it?" Sam asks and that time he's sure he's not imagining the relieved sigh Will lets out. His voice is hoarse, like he's been screaming-and maybe he has been, there or here.
"About 0700." Sam frowns and tries to think. Does that make sense? He's really sure he's not imagining this. He's pretty much positive that's he's back now, but that-
"About 7 in the morning," Will clarifies and oh. Military time. Sam thinks he should know that, but doesn't try to hang onto the thought. There are a lot of things he shouldn't know; maybe that's one of them.
"Bee wants to see him," Leo says, standing in the doorway with one hand still on the handle.
"Bumblebee can wait a few more minutes." Will barely spares Leo a glance, his attention still on Sam and Sam wonders what he looks like. There's no pity in the soldiers gaze, but there's concern and something close to fear; Sam doesn't want to see the older mans fear: He has enough of his own.
Sam tries to sit up just as a loud honk echoes outside. He stiffens for a second before firmly telling himself it was Bee and that's all and he can take a breath any time now. Really. He inhales and redoubles his efforts to sit and carries the motion into trying to stand. Will is right there to lend a hand, an arm, a shoulder when Sam manages to get to his feet and knees don't cooperate.
"Window," he manages. His eyes are scratchy but his throat and vocal chords are working again. He's slowly getting used to his body again; feeling his legs take one step then another, his knees bend and his feet taking his weight.
He lets Will open the window and looks down at Bumblebee, the cars headlights flashing. "I'm alright Bee. I'm alright." He doesn't yell it- he's not sure if he could yet- but Bee's lights fade to a soft glow and he forces his facial muscles into a smile that he's not really ready for but if it stops his friend from worrying then he'll suffer the pull of facial muscles.
"Come on kid, you should rest," Will starts leading him away from the window and back to bed.
"No!" The shout is a pale imitation of a raised protest, but he locks his knees to get the point across. "No sleep, please." He doesn't care if he's begging. He looks into the Major's eyes and grits his teeth, lets his eyes tell the story.
Slowly Will nods, an understanding shared between two men who've seen nightmares come to life on a battlefield. "Get into some loose clothes, we're going for a run. A walk," he amends when Sam takes a wobbly step.
It isn't want Sam wanted, exactly, but it's better then sleeping. Sleeping means dreaming and dreaming means seeing what he's seen again, before he has too.
On second thought, a walk is probably exactly what he needs. Sam digs out shorts and a shirt that can pass for exercise clothes and finally feels himself becoming himself again. Maybe it will be a run. Maybe he can run and run and not stop until he leaves everything behind him like a horrible work of fiction that didn't really happen to him at all.
The phantom taste of destruction clings to the back of his throat, like a taunt telling him he can run, but he can't hide.
"How're your classes going?" Will asks. It's almost three hours later and so far still present. He actually has a class at noon but also some leeway for the whole semester. Apparently he went through a 'trying, emotional time' and deserves the universities 'full support' because the 'reprehensible situation that had befallen a member of their educational family' had 'obviously taken its toll on the young man.'
Sam's not sure what story the government created for his and Leo's absence or the damage done before their capture. Maybe something about terrorists, it's always terrorists. He might have asked, once, on the plane from Egypt, but he doesn't remember.
It's just one more lie veneered over his life like a glossy finish over ugly wood.
Sam's life has been a cover up since he bought his first car; even without the 'Spark and alien gremlin messing with his head, who's to say he wouldn't have issues, eventually? He died. Was dead. Is now the living dead.
Sam feels he's lucky, considering.
"As good as can be expected when taking advanced classes and missing the first two months of school." He purposefully leaves out the part where blanking out during a lecture isn't helping either, but it's there in the pause before Lennox nods anyway.
By this point, Sam's just thankful freshmen don't have labs first semester for any of his classes. He refuses to think of the next one, after the holidays that are rapidly approaching.
The future is just the past that hasn't happened yet. Sam's already had enough pasts to last a lifetime of futures.
There's a long pause as they walk through the campus grounds. Sam's never been popular and the nods he gets in greeting are almost as disconcerting as his condition. Leo's website had gotten the only scoop of what happened- heavily edited, censored, and it's not actually the truth, but what he was allowed to tell isn't strictly lies either.
It's a government fabricated truth, and in America that practically makes it Gods Honest Truth.
So Leo's the only one who had answers to questions and never mind that Sam's the one the terrorists had wanted. Sam is Leo's roommate and popular by default and he's cool with that. He doesn't need the attention right now anyway.
There's a raven perched on a telephone pole when they make it back to Sam's building.
For half a second he thinks it's an omen, but then he decides that's silly and walks silently up to Bee, his fingertips trailing from taillight to door. It pops open and Sam tells himself that it's fine, he can sit in Bee. Nothing he hasn't done before.
It's nothing like being in there. Bumblebee's an Autobot, but he's also safety and love and Sam clenches his jaw until it aches and slides behind the wheel. He's usually much better at getting over it and into Bee than this.
Once he sinks into the seat it's like he's boneless. There, cradled in the sun warmed leather, of the race of aliens that's the reason for his side-trips to the Wherever, Sam finally feels like he's himself again.
It doesn't make sense, but things haven't for a while now.
The door closes and Sam barely has time to wave to Will before Bee's pulling out of the space, the parking lot, and then, finally, the campus.
He's sweaty, smelly, thirsty and is probably going to miss his afternoon classes again but he doesn't care. He lets out a sigh and rests his hands on the wheel for show. But his eyes slip closed and his head presses into the headrest and anyone looking closely wouldn't buy that he's actually driving.
He feels the hum of the road as Bee accelerates. He has no idea where they're going, but he lets the gentle vibration ease him to sleep. The only time he's not afraid of nightmares is when he's in Bee. He's okay for a few hours, at least. He thinks he mumbles a 'love you, Bee' before there's nothing but the wonderful peace and blackness of true unconsciousness.
Reviews are love, so are Friday taco's
(This has not been beta'd. Because it's not fair to a beta reader to be put on standby because of my hectic schedule. Apologies!)
