AN: Another chapter, and I'm still developing the characters. For those of you who want the story to move faster, I promise I'm building up to it.

Thank you for all the great feedback.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of this

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The gym was pretty cool. Sam had not been in a lot of gyms (his parents were more concerned with the yard and the house to have time or money to spend on working out), but he could tell this was a nice one. The machines all looked new, black and shiny with digitals numbers blinking in red. The weight machines also looked new, and there were racks of dumbbells beside padded benches. But worst of all, full-length mirrors completely covered three of the four walls. It was bad enough to work out with soldiers – but to have to watch yourself do it . . .

Sam stared down at the floor as he followed the two guys in, avoiding looking at the mirrors. He had changed into the state-of-the-art exercise clothes and had found yet another reason to hate Simmons. The clothes were not loose, but more fitting than he would like. He looked skinnier than ever, and his knees seemed extra knobby and the rest of his legs were like sticks. He hoped the men wouldn't comment on how he looked, even in a teasing way, because Sam knew he would lose his temper and storm out if they did.

"And I keep telling Sarah," Lennox was saying to Epps, "that she needs to use the gym since it's here and free, free being the most important part."

"Man," Epps shook his head, "you are just begging to sleep on the couch."

"Not like that," Lennox stepped on the last treadmill, gesturing for Sam to take the one in between him and Epps. "I just want her ready, in case we are ever attacked again. If we hadn't won in Mission City . . ."

"Ah, you'll take care of her," Epps laughed as he started his machine. "The first sign of danger, and you'll send Ironhide to protect your family."

"I thought we could all exercise on the days she comes here," Lennox shrugged as his machine began to pick up speed. "But she just wants to talk to Mikaela and fuss over that baby." Lennox tried to look cross, but he was grinning as he thought of Annabelle.

"One baby, spoiled rotten, coming right up," Epps shook his head, smiling as he broke into a run.

"Hell, no," Lennox declared, upping the speed of his machine to 5.5 miles per hour. "As soon as she can walk, I'm going to build her an obstacle course, and she can practice shooting with a water gun."

Epps laughed over the whirl of his treadmill. "You and that baby – you're going to be the possessive father who chases off boys with a metal bat."

"I will not," Lennox declared. "I'll keep a few guns handy in the house – that way I can be sure to hit any boys who come chasing after my daughter."

While the guys were laughing, Sam managed to get his machine on and had sped it up to 4.5 mph which made him break into a light jog. Both men were pounding on their treadmills but breathing evenly, and Sam sped his machine up to 5mph.

Lennox looked much more relaxed as he ran, and he kept joking around with Epps. As he watched the two of them, Sam realized that Lennow was much more a captain when he was around the Autobots. Lennox tended to talk and look very serious with them, especially around Optimus Prime, but now that they were working out, Lennox was joking and grinning with Epps, completely at ease.

Sam would have tried to think more about that, but he found that running on the treadmill took most of his concentration. His legs were killing him, his chest was hurting, and he watched in horror as both Lennox and Epps raised their speeds to 6mph.

"I was just kidding about the ten-mile run," Lennox yelled over the noise of the machines and pounding feet. "We're only going to do five. That way we can run for about an hour with warm-up and cool-down."

Sam managed to nod, but he knew if he raised the speed to 6mph, he would not last. "Let me warm up more," Sam wheezed.

"Sure," Lennox nodded. "Go at your own pace. Don't overdo it. We've trained for a long time, me and Epps. Don't try to keep up if you can't."

Lennox flashed Epps a quick look, and Sam turned just in time to see the tall man grin at Lennox. They were just so condescending – Sam glared at mirror at his own reflection and kept running. He wasn't quitting.

After ten more minutes, just when Sam thought he was about to pass out, he gulped in a huge breath and began pushing the up button of his machine: 5.2, 5.4, 5.6

He could do it, he could make it.

He pushed the machine up to 6mph.

It was like trying to fly on the ground. Sam's legs were moving so fast over the whirling belt he thought his legs might just snap off and run away without him. His chest was getting tighter and tighter, and black spots were dancing in front of his vision. How long could they keep doing this? His machine read 14:52. Forty-five more minutes of this torture? He's wasn't going to make it.

Sam landed on the side of his left foot, and then he knew it was all over. He couldn't catch his balance. The treadmill shot him right off the back, and he flew back to crash against the rack of dumbbells against the wall.

Thankfully, none of the dumbbells or the rack fell on him, but it hurt just the same. He lay on his back, trying to process the pain in his back, shoulders, and left hip while struggling to catch his breath, all while praying the drops of water streaming down his cheeks was sweat and not tears.

"Jeez!" Lennox was suddenly over him. "What the hell was that? It just threw you off."

"You okay, man?" Eps leaned over him as well. "Trying to scare us to death?"

"Help him up," Lennox wrapped a strong hand around Sam's arm, but Epps stopped him.

"Wait, what if something's broken?"

"Oh, man, oh, man," Lennox looked frantic as he ran a sweaty hand through his short hair. "Sam, does anything feel broken?"

"No," Sam sat up painfully, wincing every inch of the way, "just sore."

"What was that, kid?" Epps asked, steadying Sam with a hand on his back. "What happened?"

"I guess I went too fast," Sam admitted shakily.

"I told you to take it slow," Lennox said in loud voice. "You could have been – oh, man, Ratchet is going to kill me. And if he doesn't, Bumblebee will use me a human speed-bump. And Prime's going to freak out. What were you thinking?"

"Hey, just let him catch his breath, okay?" Epps tried to calm Lennox. "Kid just needs a moment."

"Look, I don't know if you realized it," Lennox said shortly to Epps, "but the Autobots kind of got a thing about keeping this kid safe, especially after he nearly took a twenty-story dive to the pavement with the All-Spark and then killed Megatron with it. When I called Bumblebee to talk about the whole mall thing, I mentioned working out, and he told me, fine, but I better watch for the kid. So he's my responsibility."

"I don't need someone watching me," Sam groaned as he rubbed his hip ruefully. "I'm good."

"It wasn't your fault," Epps protested, ignoring Sam. "It was an accident."

"I knew he was going too fast," Lennox glared at Sam.

"Hey, maybe we can hide it," Epps suggested. "We got a tub and an ice machine and a whole nother hour. We fill the tub with ice, put the kid in it, and take him out at the end of the hour. Ice will cover up the bruising."

"I don't want to go in the ice," Sam objected with wide eyes.

"Ratchet can do an x-ray scan thingy," Lennox pointed out. "He'll know, and then we have to explain why we tried to cover up. I'm not covering up anything to twenty-foot robot, and that's final."

"How 'bout a distraction?" Epps suggested. "Get your baby to throw a tantrum and while they looking at the baby, we sneak Sam into your car and drive him home."

"I have no car – I came in Ironhide!" Lennox bellowed.

"I'm fine!" Sam pushed himself to his feet. "It doesn't hurt that much."

He was lying – his whole body was aching, especially his side that hit the metal rack first, but he was not quitting. It was nice to have Lennox not yelling at him, but at the same time, Sam did not want to be treated like a poor helpless kid that everyone babied. At this rate, they'd be putting him in the playpen with Annabelle.

"Let's get back to it," Sam took a step back towards the treadmills, but Lennox clamped a hand on his shoulder.

"No, enough running for today. If you want to continue, let's do something like weights or endurance building."

"Okay," Sam sank gratefully on to a padded bench.

"What weight are you at?" Epps approached the rack Sam had hit.

"Twenty-five," Sam lied.

"Use the fifteens," Lennox advised as he went for the fifties.

Sam wanted to protest that was too light, but when Epps handed him fifteens, one in each hand, totaling thirty pounds, Sam nearly dropped them. He tightened his sweaty hands around them and began to curl them up like Epps and Lennox were doing. The weight wasn't too bad, but as they kept going, Sam found it hard to match their even pace.

"Don't overdo it," Lennox warned again. "If it gets too much, stop or move down to the tens."

Sam knew that whatever happened, he was not moving to the tens. He would pass out first. But the men moved on to other reps, and Sam found it impossible to keep up. One exercise in particular nearly killed him – standing up, arms hanging straight down, then lifting the weights up to the side until the arms were level with the shoulder, and then lowering them slowly. Sam thought it would have been hard enough without weights, but lifting thirty pounds with gravity working against him . . .

He managed to do two complete, but on the third, his arms spasmed and he dropped one of the weight. Of course, it fell right on his left running shoe. It might have broken his foot except the shoes were built extra sturdy (one thing to thank Simmons for), and the weight rolled right off. But again, it hurt.

"Ow," Sam sat back down on the bench.

"What are you doing?" Lennox was beside him in the next second, reaching for his foot. "You dropped the weight on your freaking foot!"

"I know," Sam winced. "Oh, no, no, no, don't take my shoe off. It doesn't hurt."

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" Lennox demanded. "You've got to be careful. These aren't toys – you can't throw them around."

"I know that," Sam said crossly. "I'm just trying to get stronger, become a soldier, like you said."

"You'd never make it into the army -" Lennox broke off suddenly as Epps gave him a furious look. "I mean, forget about it. Let's just get you to Ratchet and see what he says."

"Hell, no," Sam stood up, putting most of his weight on his good foot. "We're finishing this workout. Hand me the tens."

"How 'bout the weight machines?" Epps asked before Lennox could insist they stop. "No one can get hurt on the weight machines."

The first machine Sam sat at had a bar dangling above his head that he had to pull down. Epps set the weight at forty-five pounds, and Sam pulled down on the bar, the weights lift up. It was a little too heavy, but he wasn't going to say anything as Lennox started on an identical machine and began pulling down a hundred pounds.

"Reps of fifteen," Epps told Sam. "Breathe out as you pull down."

By number eight, Sam's arms were killing him, and compounded with the soreness from flying off the treadmill, he was having trouble breathing. On number fifteen, he pulled the bar all the way down to his knees, staring blankly at the thick metal wire that attached the bar to the weights.

Then before he knew what was happening, his sweaty hands lost control of the bar. It jerked up, pulled by the heavy weights, and one side of the bar caught Sam under his right arm, slamming up into his armpit. He jerked back with a howl and fell off the seat to hard floor below. Once again his left hip hit the floor before the rest of his body, and Sam felt nothing but pain.

"The kid's cursed!" Lennox bellowed a few seconds after they helped Sam back to the bench. "This is why kids shouldn't workout. They're going to kill themselves."

"No," Epps disagreed, "this is why you should have a spotter at the gym. Okay, Sam, raise your right arm."

Sam slowly lifted his arm, biting his bottom lip to fight against the pain where the bar had struck him.

"We're done," Lennox announced, throwing his hand up in surrender. "We go out and just beg for mercy. Maybe the Autobots will be kind and let us be car-washers or something like that."

"Grip my fingers," Epps instructed, wrapping Sam's lifted hand around his fingers. "Squeeze as hard as you can."

Sam managed a half-hearted squeeze, and Epps nodded.

"He hasn't damaged anything too much. He'll be bruised, but we were all bruised after Mission City."

"Yeah, and they weren't please," Lennox reminded him. "Maybe we should try the ice."

"No," Sam protested again, "I don't want to quit. Let me try another machine."

"You're crazy if you think I'm ever letting you get within a foot of the machines again," Lennox told him flatly.

"Something easy. You can spot me at a low weight. Come on, I don't want to quit," Sam pleaded.

Lennox took a long breath before saying, "One machine. You screw this one up, and I'm restricting you from all training equipment forever."

Lennox led him to a different machine, and Sam sat down and put his hands on the handle bars as Lennox set the machine at the lowest weight: fifteen pounds.

"Come on, it's stomach crunches," Sam pointed out. "I can do at least fifty pounds."

Lennox gave him a long look and set the weight at thirty-five pounds. Sam began crunching forward slowly, and Lennox stayed close enough to grab the bar should Sam slip. Sam did not slip, and he managed to do thirty before he realized he was shaking so bad from the pain of his recent injuries.

"That's enough," Lennox said in voice that brooked no argument. "We're going to see the Autobots now."

As they headed back to the hanger, Sam found that any pressure at all on his left foot hurt too much, and he began limping. Epps stopped and turned Sam to face him.

"I'll carry you," Epps leaned forward to sling Sam over his left shoulder, but Sam lurched back a space.

"No, I can make it on my own. Just give me a sec."

"We'll both help you," Lennox gingerly lifted Sam's left arm and put it around his own shoulders. Epps did the same with Sam's right arm (Sam hissed as the bruised area hit Epps' rock-like shoulder). Then both men helped him walk to the first hanger, allowing Sam to keep all weight off his hurt foot.

Ironhide was in the hanger with Bumblebee, both in their robot forms, and the women were still in the corner with the baby who was asleep in the playpen, but they all looked up as the three guys came in.

"Sam?" Mikaela jumped to her feet, but Bumblebee was there first.

"What happened?" the yellow Autobots demanded.

"Just had a little trouble my first day," Sam wheezed. "Let me sit down and –"

"Is Ratchet around?" Lennox interrupted.

"He will be here shortly, but I can also help in an emergency," Bumblebee said, his voice tense. "That is why I was appointed guardian. Give him to me."

"No, really, I'm all right," Sam objected, but Epps and Lennox were already releasing him into Bumblebee's outstretched hand.

Sam was a little taller than Bumblebee's hand, but the Autobot had no trouble lifting him up. Sam wasn't sure where he was going, and he was scared for a sec that Bumblebee was going to yell at him, face to face. The fact that Bumblebee's head was huge did not help, and Sam even squirmed to get free for a second. It was stupid to squirm – if he had gotten free, it was fifteen-foot drop to the cement below, but Bumblebee didn't let him go.

"Sam, Sam," the Autobot shook his head, "what have you done to yourself? You're hurt all over."

"It wasn't my –" Sam never got to finished because Bumblebee gently laid Sam facedown against the left side of Autobot's chest, cradling Sam with his enormous hand.

Sam tried to figure out exactly what Bumblebee was doing. With a rush of heat and embarrassment, his sweaty face turning even redder, Sam realized that the Autobot was holding him much like Sarah held her baby when Annabelle was particularly cranky. Sarah would lean the baby against the side of her chest, patting the baby and rocking her back and forth until Annabelle stopped fussing and calmed down.

The idea of Bumblebee trying to do that to him infuriated Sam to no end, and he tried to move enough to kick the Autobot. He was held too tightly to get in a good kick (which was fortunate because he would have been kicking with his hurt foot) and he wanted to yell to be put down, when Bumblebee's chest started . . . humming.

That was the only word Sam could think to describe it. He could feel the ridges of the odd car parts under his stomach, but an odd vibration radiated out of the Autobot. Sam freaked out for a moment, trying to push himself off the metal, afraid something was wrong with Bumblebee. But then the pain started to disappear from Sam's body.

Sam tried to grab onto something, but his fingers just bumped heavily against Bumblebee's chest until they stopped moving completely. All the pain was easing away in the hum from the Autobot; Sam began breathing easily even as his eyelids started to close. He saw the humans watching him from the floor below, their faces concerned and surprised. Then Sam's head thudded lightly against Bumblebee, and his body went limp.

"What did you do to him?" Lennox demanded. "Is he unconscious?"

"He's sleeping while the spark in my chest helps to heal him," Bumble explained. He kept holding Sam as the hum continued, not quite as loud, but still audible. "Ratchet could perform the same thing better – his life spark helps to heal faster, but mine will keep Sam from pain until Ratchet arrives. Which brings me to the question –"

"The kid was just trying to keep up," Epps broke in before Lennox could. "We weren't paying attention, and he's obviously never workout much before, so . . ."

It was always hard to tell facial expression with the Autobots, but Lennox knew Bumblebee was frowning. Next to the Autobots, Sam was the most important thing to Bumblebee, and Lennox was surprised that the yellow Autobot hadn't tossed them across the room for bringing Sam back in such poor condition.

"I will talk to him later about not paying attention," Bumblebee told Lennox, his voice stern. "Sam will answer for his carelessness. But I must know you will show more responsibility in the future, or I will not allow Sam to train with you."

Lennox flushed angrily, and he opened his mouth to tell the Autobot just how much responsibility he had, how many soldiers he led into fighting, how hard he had fought against the Decepticons to save his men. But Epps gave the smallest shake of his head, and Lennox closed his mouth. On the other side of Bumblebee, he saw Sarah watching him. Their baby was asleep in the playpen so she could give him her full attention. Mikaela stood beside her, her eyes full of worry. Ironhide watched silently, ready to step forward if a fight ensued.

Lennox knew you were never supposed to come between a boy and his car, but now he supposed he shouldn't come between a car and his boy. Swallowing his pride, Lennox took a step back, hands up in the air.

"I'm sorry, we weren't paying attention. It won't happen again."

"It had better not," a deep voice rumbled behind them. "We need all of you alive, alert, and ready for what is to come."

A blue and red Autobot stood at the entrance of the hanger. Optimus Prime had arrived.