One month later...
Sam watched the professor talk, curiously noting how he could see his lips moving, yet nothing seemed to be reaching his brain. Oh well. Hard to pay attention when you're thinking about your fiancé. He smiled at that. Fiancé. It's already been a month, and all parents and friends have finally been notified. Some took it with surprise ("But you're so young!") and others simply smiled, their expressions one more of 'what took so long?' Lennox and Epps had clapped him hard on the shoulders, happily welcoming him into the world where "your wife owns you."
That sounded good to him.
He turned his gaze to the clock, willing the hands to move faster. Seriously, there must be some sort of weird time thing when you want time to go faster that causes it to go slower. Must ask Bumblebee. So he continued to stare at it, pretty much ignoring the entire class at this point. Slowly... slowly... there! The hand was on the hour! He started to grab his pencils, when he noticed the teacher was still talking.
"...and of course, the year that the Germans..."
Oh. Right. Sometimes, he still forgot that class wasn't attached to a bell that rang when it was over. Rolling his eyes, he waited for the professor to finish his lecture. He sounded like he was near the end, anyways.
Mikaela was going to get angry at him... but then, she knew that he was coming straight from class. They were going to meet for a drink before his last class of the day, so they could talk about a few things related to the wedding. She may know her cars, but Mikaela was no exception to most girls: she wanted her wedding to be perfect, and her planning was beginning now. Particularly, they were going to discuss the date of the wedding, and, well, the 'bots. It wasn't even a question that they wanted the Autobots to be present, but exactly how to go about that...
Sam frowned, glancing at the clock again. Come on! He began to tap his pencil impatiently against the desk, causing the professor to pause and look up at him. Blinking, he seemed to realize something, and the older man twisted his wrist to check the time.
"Oh, dear! Seems I've gone over! We'll stop here, and continue on next week..."
Without even waiting for the professor to finish giving out his homework, Sam had collected all his material, stashed it in his bag, and rushed out of the lecture hall. He half ran through the hallway until he was outside, and started to jog once out. He grumbled about Bumblebee having been called on a mission.
Deceptions, in general, seemed to have gone low-key. They still seemed to be after something, but if anything they, Optimus had told Sam, seemed to be feinting. Nevertheless, they kept after them relentlessly.
Looking down at his watch to check the time, he slowed down. He wasn't really that late. In fact, he could see the cafe where they were going to meet. Walking to the cross walk, he waved as he realized he saw Mikaela waiting for him outside the safe. She waved back. He looked both sides, and then darted across the road. Yes, jaywalking, illegal, he thought to himself, but he didn't care.
"Mikaela!" He called out as he walked over to her.
It all happened so fast.
Screech of tires.
Glass exploding.
His name.
Mikaela pushing him to the ground.
Millions and millions of shards, and red. And noise.
Screams and shouts, people ducking. The glimpse of a police car.
Pain, pain in his thigh.
Mikaela falling to her knees, grasping his face in her hands.
"Sam..."
And the world went dark.
x x x x
A loud bird kept chirping. It hurt, it was loud and piercing. But that wasn't what annoyed him, it was so repetitive... If only it would shut up...
x x x x
Murmurs. Voices. They pulled him out of the darkness, although he noted that the bird still wouldn't shut up. How annoying. He tried to open his eyes, but something pulled him back, enveloping him the darkness he somehow felt as safe...
x x x x
Voices pulled him out again.
"It's going to set him back. The shock will be too much."
"He's strong. He knows he's not alone."
"They want to see him."
"How?"
"They're requesting to move him."
"I guess why not. There's nothing more to do."
Move him? Who's they? The questions just tired him out and pulled him back in.
x x x x
The annoying bird was gone, he mused to himself. Where did it go? He almost missed it... No voices this time, although, if he really concentrated, he could swear someone was touching him... his hand... Then a voice spoke.
"He's refusing to wake up."
"Give him time. He has to prepare himself."
"Sam..." that voice was different. Lower. Comforting.
x x x x
A prick woke him up, but the world still made no sense.
"It's been too long."
"He should wake up soon."
"How do you know?"
"I gave him something. It's time to face reality."
A lower voice, knowledgeable... "There is risk of a mental breakdown."
Another voice. Familiar bass. "Sam is strong."
"Quiet. Here he comes."
The heaviness that had seemed to be on his body seemed to have lifted. The dark still felt safe, warm. But something told him that it wasn't a good idea to stay there. He focused on the touch he could feel... his hand. Someone was holding his hand. Concentrating on that, he swam through the confusion. His eyes... they felt heavy, like they were made of stone. He placed all his focus on his hand, the touch of someone. Using that, he pulled himself further, and grasped the hand that was holding his.
"He squeezed my hand! Honey, honey, are you awake?" a familiar woman said. His mother. He used her voice as another hold.
The weight of his eyes was still there. But he realized they were closed now, knew there were people around him. With a surge of strength, he opened his eyes. Everything was blurry. He blinked several times to clear the film, but still unable to focus his eyes.
"Is he okay?" his mother asked, directing her question to someone else.
What was wrong with him? He closed his eyes again, and this time, he forced them all the way open. Oh. He hadn't been really opening them before. This time, the room fell into focus.
"Sam? Sam?" his mother asked.
"Hey, pal, how are you doing?" a male voice whispered. His father.
Blinking, he looked around. His mother was holding his hand; his father was near his head. He was in a bed, with an IV strapped to the inner part of his elbow. Frowning, he glanced around the white room. The door was open, but couldn't really make out what was there, except for a shadow. Where was he?... Oh. Some sort of hospital room.
"Sam. I know you must be confused," an unfamiliar voice started. He turned to face an older man, probably in his late fifties. He wore a doctor's coat. Probably his doctor. "How are you feeling? Any pain? Nausea?"
At the question, he thought about it. He wasn't in any pain, but he still felt kind of sluggish...
"You're under a pain-killer. We're reducing the dosage, anyways. Now that you're awake, you should start feeling clearer."
He frowned. There was a sort of dull ache in his thigh. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Clearing his throat, he tried again, although his voice came out more like a croak, "My leg..."
"You should be able to feel a bit of an ache on your thigh. It's nothing to worry."
Oh, okay.
"Sam, do you know what happened?" The doctor asked.
"Maybe it's too early," his mom said, squeezing his hand.
But the doctor ignored his mother, and instead looked at him. He tried to think back. He remembered a lot of darkness. And a bird. An annoying bird. But he instinctively knew that wasn't what they were looking for. He dug further back, trying to make sense of something he remembered. Glass, he remembered glass. A blur of black and white, a police car. Mikaela.
"Mikaela. Where's Mikaela?" He looked around, trying to see if she was standing somewhere. No luck.
"Sam, what do you remember?" his father asked this time, worry thick in his voice.
"Glass, a lot of glass. Noise. A police car..." He thought he heard an angry low voice murmur 'Barricade.' "And Mikaela. Where is she?" he repeated the question, with more urgency in his voice.
"Sam, you're going to have to remain calm, if you don't, we'll have to sedate you, which we really don't want to do," the doctor began slowly. His mother squeezed his hand harder.
"Okay, here goes. Sam, you were going to meet up with Mikaela in a coffee house." Oh, right, he remembered that! Whatever happened? "When you crossed the street, a car raced past the street, shooting as it went. It hit you in the thigh. You bled a lot, but you've been fairly stable."
"Oh." It made sense, certainly fit with what he remembered. And Mikaela? He repeated it aloud.
"Son," the doctor began, "Mikaela pushed you out of the way, although you were hit in the thigh, Mikaela was... I'm sorry son, she didn't make it."
What? Suddenly, images began rushing into his mind. Red red red everywhere. Glass, a million shards. Screams, her shouting his name, grabbing his face. Oh god.
"No, no, no." There had to be some mistake, where was she? "She was okay, she didn't get hit. Where is she?"
A low whine seemed to come somewhere past the room, just outside the door.
"Sam, she's gone," his father said softly.
"Nonononono. We were gonna talk about the wedding. Where is she? Mikaela? Nononono..." he started to groan, and before he could go further, the doctor rushed to his side, pricked him yet again, and the darkness enveloped him again.