Chapter 1: Regrets
Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Miles shoved Sam out of his house. It had been that long since he spoken more than 3 words to anyone. It had been twice that long sine he became moody and withdrawn, since his last decent conversation with his best friend, since he had been wrought with nerves because said best friend dropped off the face of the planet without warning. It had been 10 days since Miles had contemplated the idea that his best friend had finally snapped. 72 hours ago, he pushed the notion firmly out of his mind. 5 hours since he began to think that he had gone nuts. Perhaps he had. There wasn't much evidence for his own sanity, he had always been a bit eccentric. Hell, he used to call himself crazy all the time. He just hadn't thought he would have completely cracked so soon, but time (and sanity) are relative. 15 minutes had passed shine he made his decision.
He held the cell phone in his hand. It was open, the number already ready. All he had to do was press the green call button. He stared at the screen, finger hovering over the button. Closing his eyes, Miles steeled himself and pressed 'call'. The phone had yet to ring when Miles quickly snapped it closed again. With a sigh, Miles set the phone down and walked away. What the hell did he think he was doing?! There was nothing he could do to fix what happened. Why did he even bother trying to think he could?
He left his room and headed down to the kitchen to grab a Mountain Dew, his drug of choice, before going for a walk. Maybe the walk would help him clear his head and forget everything he had ruined so badly.
His walk, ironically, lead him straight to Sam's house. Or actually, it took him to Sam's block. A distinctly absent yellow car gave him the courage to walk the 7 houses down to Sam's. Softly, he knocked on the door. Smooth, white, and more terrifying than he could ever remember it being before. IN any case, nothing be worse than the past four weeks. With that thought in the forefront of his mind, he forced himself to remain waiting on the doorstep. Judy Witwicky answered the soft hesitant knock. Miles put on a smile and said, "Hi Mom." (For he and Sam were close enough that he truly felt as though she was his second mom).
"Oh!" Mrs. Witwicky let out a startled gasp. "Miles, its been a while."
"Yeah." He agreed. "Is Sam home?"
She frowned thoughtfully. "No… I think he drove off somewhere."
"Oh." Miles tried desperately to not sound as hopelessly lost as he did when he last came by 20 days ago. "Well, I better go then."
"Are you sure? You would wait for him here. I'm baking chocolate chip muffins."
Normally Miles would jump at the chance of getting some of Mrs. Witwicky's homemade muffins. They were always warm, soft, and melt in your mouth delicious. But now… now his stomach turned at the mere thought of eating them without Sam, of being in that house without him there. "No thanks. I was on my way to pick up Casey." Miles lied smoothly.
"Oh alright then. I'll let him know you came by." She said with that cheery laugh she always used.
Miles could help but wonder if she knew the truth. She must of known, a giant robot who turns into a living car is a big secret to keep. But if she did, and Sam was out there with him how did she stay in such a good mood? Her bouts of insanity aside, she pretty much handled everything with relative calm and high spirits. (Unless it came to her garden, then she was ready to kill.)
Judith ("I hate that name. Call me Judy.") Witwicky was a good actress. No, she was a great actress. She was so good, most people couldn't tell when she was or wasn't. Her bouts of insanity were, more or less, a deep contingent of her actual personality, though she faked normalcy more than one would guess. She chose her insane, emotional responses wisely, choosing small, air headed, everyday things. Her slightly ditzy, slightly insane personality allowed her to skip over many social rules and get close to people.
Getting close to people allowed Judy to have the advantage when it comes to her second talent- observing people. She didn't just watch them, but analyzed them. Everything from preferred hairstyles, to old personality quirks (like her own), none of it went unnoticed by the Witwicky matron. As such, she was easily able to tell the emotions of those around her and take a pretty accurate guess at what they were going to do. Combining those skills made her a woman not to be reckoned with.
Judy smirked to herself as she walked to the kitchen and grabbed the muffins from the oven. She set the on the counter to cool and grabbed the tray of food next to them. She took it upstairs and opened the door at the very end of the hallway. "Sam, here you are dear. Eat it all and get plenty of rest. I'll be checking on you…"
Sam looked down at the tray that was nearly overflowing with chicken noodle soup. "Mom!" he exclaimed, "I can't eat all this."
"You can and you will mister." Judy replied, turning to leave the room. She hadn't taken five steps before she stopped and turned again. "Oh, Miles came by." She announced calmly.
"What?!" Sam nearly shouted, sitting up quickly. "When?"
"About five minutes ago." She replied nonchantly. She could almost feel him glaring at her as he tried to scramble up out of the bed. "No you don't, you stay right there." Judy insisted, gently pushing her son back down, careful not to jostle the soup and spill more than Sam already had. 'Thank God the tray and not the sheets that caught the mess.' She thought, grateful she didn't have to do more laundry.
Her son's expression didn't soften in the least- in fact, it became even more fierce, angry, a harshness to his face she never quite noticed or thought possible before. Her son looked away from her, trying to calm himself and compose his thoughts. Finally, he spoke, never looking up from the white sheets. It was a habit he had, when he knew we was about to hear something he knew wouldn't please him. "What did you tell him?"
"That you were out with Bee."
"Why?"
It was a loaded question, on Judy had to answer carefully. She could evade the real question, pretending she thought he meant 'Why Bee?' instead of 'Why did you lie to Miles?', or she could lie. If she did the first, Sam would know something was up. Doing the second however, would make her feel incredibly guilty, as she never made it a habit to lie. And there was no guarantee Sam wouldn't know she was lying; he was amazingly perceptive at times.
"You're sick honey." She said, face full of genuine concern. "I didn't want Miles to catch it too."
"Mom! He's 18. He can decide if talking to me is worth the risk of getting sick for himself!"
"Oh, I know honey," she said, trying to brush off his anger, "but I worry." Inwardly, though feeling extremely guilty, she was relieved that Sam hadn't seen past her lie.
Sam sighed. He was absolutely exasperated with her and her motherhenning. Judy couldn't help a small smile. She knew that, as a mother, she could be a bit overbearing, but she couldn't help herself. Sam was her little boy, her baby no matter how big he got or worlds he saved.
"Okay then, fine." He said, indulging her. "You saved him from the big bad supergerms of death."
Judy frowned. He had beome more and more sarcastic since this whole alien robot thing started. Exponitally so, in the past few weeks. He hardly listened to her at all anymore. Still, she supposed, it was normal. He was growing up, learning the ways of the universe on his own.
God, and she still remembered how adorable he looked in his baby booties! She turned to leaved, to indulge her memories with the photo albums she kept hidden away.
"So Mom…" Sam interrupted her thoughts, memories. She turned, waiting for his question. "What's the real reason? Why did you really kick Miles out?"
Judy sighed. She wanted to spare her son her true reasons. The completely selfish reasons. "I was angry at him Sam."
Sam's eyes widened. Judy Witwicky was never angry at Milton Lancaster. Actually, thinking back on it, Judy could remember many times she let her son get away with murder, just because the crazy excitable blond happened to be around, She wasn't surprised by his next question.
"Why?"
Calmly, Judy walked over to her sick son and sat down on the courner of the bed. "He upset you Sam."
"What?"
"You went to talk to Miles. Probably to tell him what happened since you felt so guilty that he wasn't included. You came back obviously upset and you worry yourself until you get sick."
"…Did he seem alright?" Sam asked. It was clear as day that Sam wasn't quite sure what to think of his mother's reaction.
"He semmed… skittish, nervous. IF anything I think he was either coming to say he never wanted to see you again or apologize. Considering how nervous he was, I think he was trying to apologize."
"Why didn't you let him? If you were so sure that he was trying to make this better instead of worse?"
"You're just like your father. So accepting and very forgiving. You spoil him more than I do, especially when you have a fight. He ignored you for nearly 3 weeks last time you fought and you did everything you could think of except serenading him at his bedroom window, to get him to forgive you. Let him hunt you down this time. Make him work for it. It's worth it- absence makes the heart grow fonder." With those words, Judy left her son to think as she went to work on her garden.
Sam watched his door click shut with a distinct sense of wonder. He hadn't known his mother could be so… vindictive. Were all woman so vicious when crossed? Miles hadn't even done anything to her!
But… he pondered. Did he spoil Miles? Was he too forgiving, accepting? In all honesty, he didn't really think so. Despite that, he didn't move to pick up the phone and tell Miles that he was, in fact, home. He was sick, afterall.
Bumblebee, almost always just called Bee, was a closeted worrywart. Now, while everyone knew that Bee had a tendency to worry (especially about his human), most didn't realize he was prone to Red Alert grade freakouts. He hid his hysteria, fake smiles and distracted optics covering loud panicky words and twitchy movements.
Bee had been worried about Sam for a while. He wasn't exactly sure how long, as he wasn't in the habit of documenting every klick he actively worried. He was aware, though, that it had been over a week, perhaps even two. If he had had hair, he would have yanked himself bald. (He would never admit it , but there were times he activated his holoform for the sheer pleasure of doing so. The residing ache it left his helm was surprisingly calming.)
At the moment, however, Bee was on a mission. It was a simple scouting mission, it investigate the area where faint traces of Barricade's presence had last been seen. Shouldn't take longer than a few hours.
As soon as he was done, though, Bee was going to hightail it back home. If Sam was still so… distressed, he was going to drag his human to see Ratchet. Just as a precaution to ensure that his mental disarray hadn't caused more than a common cold. It was obvious through his internet research that humans became more susceptible to all sorts of diseases when they weren't mentally up to par enough to fight them.
For now, however, Bee just pushed himself a little bit harder, racing a tiny bit faster, in hopes of getting this mission done and over with as quickly as possible.
Miles was tired of moping. It had been about an hour since he had gotten home from his 'walk' and Miles was exhausted. He was tired of being alone. Tired of having nothing to do. Tired of being bored by everything he did do. He was tired of sleeping (one of his favorite recreational activities). He was tired of being tired. He was so tired, that he had no choice. He had to do this. Eyes flickering over the small screen, he read over the message one last time.
'Sam, dude, I really need to talk to you. I even bough you M&Ms. So drop me a line when you get home, or just come over whenever or something. M'
It was vague enough that it didn't really say anything, but Sam would understand. He always did, in the few, pride shattering moments when Miles admitted he was wrong and stammered his way through an apology. It just wasn't something he could do over the phone or through a text. It was the one thing Miles had going for him, whenever he did apologize, he always did it to a person's face. With a sigh (yet another thing he was tired of doing), he sent the message.
Sam discovered the hard way that he couldn't ignore his phone for more than 3 minutes. The Star Trek communicator beep (yes he was just enough of a dork to be a Trekker) as a ring tone was incredibly cool and extremely geeky, but it was also more annoying than nails on a chalkboard when continuously repeated.
Groaning, Sam groped under his pillow for the communication device. All he wanted was to go to sleep and not deal with the massive headache he had. Was that so hard? …Considering that his phone ignored his silent plea by ringing again, apparently so.
In all honesty, Sam was shocked to receive a text from his best friend. Miles was the once bitten, twice shy type. Even if the blond hadn't known Sam was there, having his attempted apology thwarted damn near guaranteed that there wouldn't be another for at least 24 hours. Once he read the text and decoded the message, he couldn't help but smile. Sending his reply, Sam finally dropped off to sleep.
A/N: Special thanks to Xenophobic Doll. I was serious when I said your rapid update inspired me to update my own. lol. And thanks to everyone whose read (specially to those who reviewed)
