Author's note:

Wow, two parts in one day. I wasn't intending it, but as long as I have it written I might as well share.

I have really been enjoying all the reviews and speculation I've been getting, it helps me to see if I feel I am on the right track, and you guys are reacting exactly the way I hoped. Bit by bit all your questions will be answered, don't worry.

Brainwaves part 3

An shudder ran through Sam's frame as he leaned over the oil drum, still heaving, as though his body was trying to vomit up all the technology that now comprised his internal organs and bodily functions in a futile attempt to restore his organic status. He trembled again, more violently, and felt himself go limp, almost falling on top of the barrel, except that Bumblebee caught him and managed to push him back onto the table where he lay, shivering uncontrollably.

"Ratchet!" Bumblebee's voice was filled with panic.

"Just a little longer! Got it! His systems can't process the fuel yet, it's too crude! He needs pure energon!"

"But we don't have pure energon! The refiner still doesn't work... Please, Ratchet! I can't lose him... Not again..."

"Is there anything that can be done, Ratchet?" Optimus asked.

"Well, if he had pre-processed fuel from someone else..."

"I'll do it," said Bumblebee. "Hook me up."

"But you two are the same size, and he's very low on power, if I splice your fuel lines together, he could suck you dry..."

"I guess I'll just have to keep refueling myself then."

"Alright..." Sam felt something being pulled free from his arm, then a sharp snick of pain, followed by the smell of heated metal being welded together.

"Here, Bumblebee, fuel up and then you had better lie down, donating fuel is enough of a strain on your systems, exerting yourself at this time would be very bad."

As the spasms of Sam's body began to calm he saw Bumblebee had an oil drum similar to the one Ratchet had given him, held up to his faceplate as he carefully sipped down the contents.

"There, that's good," said Ratchet solicitously, taking back the oil drum and helping Bumblebee to lie down next to Sam.

Sam wondered what had happened to the fuel he had so recently upchucked, and then reminded himself that these were alien robots, so perhaps it was better not to ask. Of course the fuel hadn't tasted any worse coming up than it had going down - it hadn't been in there long enough. "Ugh..." He so did not want to go there, why did his thoughts keep taking him anyway?"

"What's the matter, Sam?" asked the medic. "You should be feeling a bit better now. Bumblebee is giving you refined fuel from his own systems. It is similar to the process of donating blood."

Sam looked over and saw a flexible metal tube connecting his left arm and Bee's right. "Yeah, I'm not feeling shaky anymore."

"You two do seem to enjoy finding reasons to be attached to one another," the rescue bot said, his voice enigmatic. "We will keep the shunt in place until you can refine fuel on your own. In the meantime, I'll need to you take small sips of fuel periodically to see if your system accepts it."

"Great," Sam said. "So I get to keep barfing until whenever that is. Am I, like, some new breed of Autobot? The Pukinator 5000?"

A corny, vintage laugh track burst unexpectedly from Bumblebee's speakers, in what seemed to be almost like a hysterical release of tension. Sam found the yellow bot's hand with his own, squeezing it gently as he had wanted to do before.

"Optimus, we should leave these two to get some rest," said Ratchet. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Of course, Ratchet, let's just head outside."

The two larger Autobots left the makeshift building, leaving him alone with Bee.

For a long time they lay quietly, staring up at the ceiling, fingers intertwined.

Finally, Sam reluctantly let go of Bee's hand, and rolled over onto his side towards him, careful of the tube in his arm, expecting it to hurt like the IVs he'd had when he was human, but to his surprise it was painless. As he stretched out his legs beside Bumblebee's, it sank in that that they were no longer so different in size, and were now, in fact, about the same. He also noticed that his midnight blue paint, even scratched up as it was, looked awesome next to the bright, sunshine yellow. Or was it the bright sunshine yellow that looked awesome next to his midnight blue? Next to him.

He shook his head, continuing to take stock. As for the rest of himself, it was hard to tell. Except for the colour, his legs, arms and chest didn't look especially different from Bumblebee's to him, although they were perhaps a little thicker and broader. He wondered how long it would take before he would be able to recognize this body as his own when he looked at it.

Bumblebee didn't move as Sam continued his appraisal, stunned by how strange it all was. Briefly, in the frantic activity that had come in the wake of his illness, he remembered hearing Bee's voice. "I can't lose him," Bee had said. "Not again." This amazing, ancient, powerful being who had once been able to crush him with a single finger had sounded so vulnerable. The pain in the words had made the area behind Sam's new optics ache in the precursor of tears that he was no longer physically capable of shedding.

"Bee, Ratchet told me..." What he would have said was cut off as strains from Bon Jovi's 'Bad Medicine' suddenly emerged from the yellow bot next to him.

"I ain't got a fever got a permanent disease
It'll take more than a doctor to prescribe a remedy"

Bee's optics were flickering, his body trembled.

"Yes, I think I realize... There is no going back for me now, is there?"

Wordlessly, Bee shook his head.

"I know I hurt you, I know a lot of things have been going on, and I know you can't talk about them just yet, but they must have been really, really bad... Ratchet said there are things you need to heal from as well as me. I... I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you, okay, buddy? No matter what, you'll always be my car, and I'll be your, err..." He had been about to say 'human'. "Bee, do I even transform into anything?"

"Yes, Sam," Bee said, a weak smile in his voice.

It touched Sam profoundly, and he realized just how much he missed the happiness in his friend's voice. He modulated his own tone playfully, trying to convey that he was pouting - which wasn't entirely an act, he was pretty damn curious - and hoped it would pay off. "Well?"

A sweet inflection of mischief rewarded him as Bee asked: "Well what?"

"Aren't you going to tell me what it is?"

There was a brief pause, before a mellow reggae beat started coming from Bee's speakers, and then:

"Piece of shit car
I got a piece of shit car
That fuckin' pile of shit
Never gets me very far"

Sam groaned. "I suppose I deserve that after what I said about your original design." He rubbed at the scratched blue metal of his leg. "It doesn't look too far off the mark either."

"The damage is superficial only, and can be fixed with paint and polish. Your vehicle mode is quite visually appealing," Bumblebee told him smugly.

"So what is it, Bee????" Sam demanded, abandoning all attempts at levity in favour of the very real frustration he felt.

"Get well and you can find out for yourself." A certain, obstinate angle of the head told Sam that he was not going to get any further with this line of questioning, and he lay back in defeat.

"I'm trying, Bee."

"I know you are, Sam."

The pause in the conversation this time wasn't quite as awkward as before, but Sam still felt a need to fill the silence. "Say, I was just thinking of something... you guys can hear radio transmissions and stuff, right? And use the Internet?"

"Yes."

"Why can't I do that?"

"Ratchet turned off all the systems that would be unfamiliar to you," Bee told him, patiently. "Your processor was overloading, it still thinks it is human."

"Processor?" Sam asked, confused. "What do you mean? I figured you guys took my brain and put it in here or something... That's what you did, right?"

"We didn't do anything," Bee told him in a small, heartbreakingly hopeless voice. "Implanting an organic brain into a Cybertronian body has never been attempted before by anyone to my knowledge."

"Then how am I...? Why am I...?"

"I'm sure Ratchet has some theories, but he's been too busy taking care of you to really look at finding answers. All I know is that three days ago we got reports of a vehicle with no driver behaving suspiciously and the military asked us to check it out in case it might be another Autobot or a new Decepticon. What we found was you... It's lucky you were not in the city at the time, or there might have been a lot more questions asked."

"Bee..." Sam had a suspicion, it caused all the muscle cables in his body to clench, and that thing in his chest to lurch again as he rose up on the table. "What happened to my human body?"

"Sam," Bee grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. "These thoughts are not wise at this time, please try to remain calm."

He could feel the edge of panic like he had felt before returning again. He wanted answers, but he didn't want to go back into that... whatever it was that had happened before, that had lead to his fingers wrapped around Bee's throat. He forced himself to lie back down, and clear his mind, looking for something else to think about. Somewhere in his upper body, there was a sound like a fan switching on.

"Bee, when I woke up before, or rather, before I woke up, I was in a place, and you were there with me, talking to me..." Making me feel the most amazing pleasure I've ever known. "You said it was a dream, but it was real, wasn't it?"

"Yes, Sam, I am sorry I lied to you," Bee apologized, "but at the time it was for the best. Ratchet had to put the memory blocks in place to keep you from hurting yourself, and my job was to distract your thoughts and keep you calm so that he could work."

"It was distracting alright," Sam put his free hand behind his head and felt a strange heat fill his face and chest, almost as if he were blushing.

"For me as well. I wanted to explore your thoughts with you, and share mine, but I couldn't let you get too close or you might have downloaded the information from me that Ratchet was trying to block. But you overcame my efforts and found out anyway, at least the part about your new body..." Bee's voice took on the warmth of admiration. "You would make a very effective interrogator."

"Interrogator?" Visions of some of the old history films he had seen popped into his head. "You mean like torture and stuff? No way!"

"Do you really think Optimus Prime would condone torture?" Bee asked. "Autobots use subterfuge and distraction to outsmart our opponents. If you could learn to consistently do what you did to me, you would be able to plug yourself into an enemy and convince them to give up all their secrets without harming them in any way..." It was the yellow Autobot's turn to roll over, facing Sam. "But I don't think I would like the idea of you in anyone else's processor but mine."

Sam stared up at the yellow bot, who returned his gaze with optics that grew steadily brighter. "Bumblebee, are you... jealous?"

He saw Bee stretch luxuriously, like a large and contented yellow cat. "Anyone would be, who had experienced what you can do..."

A memory flashed across his thoughts, the indelible presence of Bee, crying out his name voicelessly in surrender. His eyes - or rather his optics - cut out for a moment, unbidden. "Does that mean you'd like to do it again?"

"Yes." Bee said simply. "Once you're ready and I don't have to try to hide things from you. I want to give myself to you completely without holding anything back."

"That sounds pretty serious," Sam said.

"It is." Bumblebee paused, as if to collect himself. "Sam... what happened between us before shouldn't have happened. You were unwell, and all I was supposed to be doing in your mind was comforting you, but the instant your thoughts touched mine I couldn't resist... That was why Ratchet was so angry. I could have jeopardized your mental stability by giving in to my own needs. Also, what we did was a very intimate act, and I didn't ask your permission to take it further."

"So you're saying that, for want of a better word, that we were having sex in my head?"

"Yes."

"Of course we were. Oh my god." Sam covered his face. Now it all made sense.

"I know what I did was unforgivable. I don't blame you for not wishing to be close to me any longer," Bee sounded forlorn beyond all measure.

"Of course I want to be close to you, Bee! If you were in my head you saw how I felt, I don't think it's possible to lie during something like that..."

"It is difficult, but not impossible."

"You're the one that's impossible!" Sam exclaimed. "Stop it, okay, Bee? Just listen, and let me explain. What's bothering me is that we were having sex - "

"We call it interfacing," Bumblebee prompted.

"Interfacing, right... and it was feeling so great, and then out of the blue I go nuts, start screaming, and rip out what seems to me like the equivalent of your pe - "

"It's called an interface cable, and unlike the portion of human anatomy I believe you are referring to, it is easily replaced," Bee assured him. "Though I won't claim the experience was fun."

"Damn, Bee!" Sam muttered ruefully, "Ratchet's right, we are quite a pair."

Bumblebee's answer was to snuggle closer to Sam, activating his speakers again.

"Your love is like bad medicine
Bad medicine is what I need
Shake it up, just like bad medicine
There ain't no doctor that can
Cure my disease"

The songs quoted in this fic are "Piece of Shit Car" by Adam Sandler (which is now stuck in my head - grr) and "Bad Medicine" by Bon Jovi.