A/N:Next chapter we're going back to Sam's point of view. Also, I realized that I'm not moving through the plot as fast as I thought I would. I'd ask if you think I should skim more things, but I won't because I doubt I'll be able to. My idea of "flow" probably wouldn't allow it.

Do point out if I slipped any contractions in Optimus' musings, since he's not supposed to use them at all.

Chapter 4: Hostile Negotiations

"-. .-"

Let the hostile negotiations commence, the boy had said. Only they did not. Not right away. Whether because the boy was procrastinating or because he had simply forgotten that he had not, in fact, roused the two dozen agents clustered together in the back, he spent the next few minutes moving between them and pressing the pungent surgical mask to their faces. Their reactions to waking up to the sight of their once prisoner crowding their personal space, and us looming in the background, would have been amusing if Samuel's plan had not been what it was.

Finally, only Seymour Simmons was left, and Sam had cuffed his hands together in front of his body instead of the back for some reason.

Crouching in front of him, the boy placed the cloth over his mouth and nose and waited.

Compared to some of the others, his awakening was slow. Once he recognized who was in front of him, however, he went on full alert.

Though it did not do him much good. He actually fell on his back when he jerked away from the face mask.

Sam slowly straightened, returning the cloth to his pocket. I was glad I was not directly behind him. It allowed me to see his profile. For extra effect, I activated the searchlight on my right shoulder and aimed it at their position. Half a klik later, the others, save for Ironhide, did the same.

Sam waited for Simmons to climb to his feet in front of him, then his mouth slowly spread into a smile that to my optics was anything but friendly. "Good morning."

The Sector Seven operative glared at the boy, then threw a wary but still defiant glance in our direction, and a hopeful (then resigned) look at his men, clustered in an unwilling flock some distance behind, before glaring at Sam again. "Good morning." It was a bland reply. I judged it a failed attempt at trying to act as though he still had some control over the situation.

Sam said nothing more. For one minute, then another. He just kept looking at Simmons. Just quietly watching.

And watching.

:And waiting: Jazz chimed in the shared comm. :And waiting. And waiting. And waiting. And watching and waiting. And wait-:

:Jazz, shut UP!: Ironhide roared over the open line.

After the three minute mark, Simmons was looking decidedly creeped out, as Bumblebee would say. Our searchlights threw his features into sharp relief, so it was not only obvious to us who had biometric sensors on full throttle, but also the small human femme at my feet. What was the boy waiting for?

"Okay, now it's just getting awkward," Mikaela muttered, but when it looked like she was about to walk over there, Sam spoke.

"Are you afraid of them?" he motioned with his head in our direction.

Simmons' eyes followed before he could stop himself, but he put on a façade of bravado. "As if!" he sniffed. "I ain't any more afraid of them than I am of you, kid."

Sam nodded, as though expecting that answer, though his frigid smile never left his face. "I'm tempted to call that a bluff. To attribute it to false bluster, but you really aren't afraid of them are you?"

My optics shuttered briefly while Simmons' eyes narrowed. "You trying to be my shrink now? I haven't brought my chaise longue, in case you haven't noticed."

Sam was not affected. "Come to think of it, you weren't really afraid of them earlier either, when they tore off the van roof to get to us. Afraid of what they might do, yes, but not of them." His glare was positively spiteful. "You didn't seem afraid of Bumblebee when you had him impaled and frozen for saving me and Mikaela from a gruesome death at your hands either."

There was the faintest grimace on Simmons' face, but it was gone in a nanosecond. I wondered what it meant, but I dared not indulge in any hope yet. "What do you want kid? Why did you even bother waking us up instead of scramming with your robots? Or is it that you want to unload on me before you have your NBE friends kill us in revenge?"

"Oh no," Sam waved randomly, unaffected by his barb. "They're just there to observe. Though I'm sure Bumblebee is ready to scoop me up in case he sees any danger coming towards me from one of you." I decided to keep a sensor on the scout just in case that proved true and I had to hold him back from interfering later on. But Sam was not done. "What does that say about you, though? That between a bunch of alien robots and my own blood kin, it was the former that put any sort of effort into ensuring my wellbeing over the past 10 hours."

"They wouldn't have had to-"

"I don't want to hear it!" San snapped, and I was honestly surprised he was able to cause the other, older man to go silent. "Not after the two of us were almost hacked to bloody pieces by your helicopter rotors. Not after you used harpoons and liquid nitrogen on Bumblebee for the high crime of saving us from falling to our deaths! And don't you dare launch into a diatribe of how dangerous and untrustworthy these 'aliens' are when the only reason you even caught Bumblebee, the only reason any of you are even still alive, is because he let you! Because his commanding officer gave explicit orders to all his soldiers to refrain from attacking humans with those cannons they can turn their arms into at any given second. Told them not to attack, even in self-defense!"

Simmons was about to retort. Express his skepticism or launch some sort of rebuttal, or even state he had nothing to justify to Sam, but I never got to know which.

Sam got in his personal space before he could get a sound out. "He let his prized subordinate be taken," he hissed, and I felt guilt stab through my spark, despite knowing he had not meant to harm me by it. "Ordered his weapons specialist to stand down instead of letting him shoot the helicopters, because he refused to even risk loss of human life!" He poked him in the chest. "Your life, you asshole!" Sam held the glare for a good while, before he stepped away, though his eyes still pinned Simmons. "I don't expect much from goons, but I'd like to think that at least those in charge of an organization, any organization, would come closer than a cockroach to exemplifying the best humanity has to offer! So far, I've had to live with the disappointment."

"Whoa…" Mikaela Banes whispered from where she stood at my feet. "That was harsh…" Bumblebee clicked at her surprise and she smiled ruefully. "I had no idea he was such a good speaker."

Sam was in full throttle. I was impressed despite myself. "It would have actually been somewhat understandable if you were afraid of them, but you don't even have that excuse. Not for hunting them, not for illegally arresting us, and definitely not for being so smug about it and your ridiculous do-anything-and-get-away-with-it-badge." At that, Sam pulled out said badge from his right pocket and tossed it away like a piece of scrap.

Simmons followed it with his gaze, then threw Sam a dirty look.

Though he did not contest any of what the boy had said. Strange.

"They say we humans are afraid of what we do not understand," Sam started after a few moments.

"Oh, so we're advancing to philosophy now." Simmons only muttered those words, but I had adjusted my audial sensitivity upwards, so I heard it clearly.

Sam also heard it, but he chose to ignore it. "They say that, but it's not really true is it?"

That took Simmons aback, and it also took me by surprise. I would have expected Samuel to give reasons for overcoming that flaw in human nature, not to completely disagree with what humans considered an age-old axiom.

"You didn't fear the Autobots, and you don't fear them now, even though it's clear you don't understand them and don't want to understand them either," Sam left his position, circling him as he talked. "But I'm not surprised. After all, 'we fear what we don't understand' is just one of the many flawed sayings humanity has raked up over the years. All in the name of blaming human nature for our excesses. A means to persuade ourselves it's not our fault. That it's God's fault so it's okay to be greedy, or proud, or spiteful, or hateful." He stopped and spun on his heels half-way, pinning Simmons with a one-eyed stare. "We humans really do seem to like our lies."

:Boss…: Jazz commed in awe. :Are ya' recordin' this?:

I did not even dignify that with a response. We recorded everything. Constantly.

"So you think you can prove wrong what millions of people considered and still consider true," Simmons hedged. "That's bold, kid. Pointless, but bold."

"Oh no!" Sam waved again, standing completely at ease. "I don't really need to. I, at least, would like to believe I'm not that insecure. Anyone willing to see past the length of their nose would find it obvious. After all, if it was human nature to fear and seek to harm and destroy, then all children would be sociopathic killers. But they're not. Then again, if it was in human nature to fear what we don't understand, we wouldn't live past the emergence of our rational mind. After all, a child doesn't understand air, but it's not afraid to breathe it. A child doesn't understand the sun, but runs around during summer anyway. Children aren't afraid of strangers. Children aren't afraid or even wary of sharp objects, even though they should at least be cautious. Instead, the more we grow – the more we do understand – the more afraid we become. And since many go their whole lives without seeing an angry animal or suffering an accident, the only conclusion that remains is that we rake up that fear because we understand what those things – too much sun, lack of air, sharp objects – could do to us. And most importantly, we rake up fear because we understand what other humans do or could do to us."

Silence.

I had allowed Samuel to take up the task of confronting this man believing I knew what to expect, but I had just been proven wrong. With each new word coming from his mouth, I, Optimus Prime, found myself in awe of him. That one so young, even by his race's standards, would be so eloquent. Ratchet knew well to ask where the nervous, stuttering, pheromone-overwhelmed Samuel Witwicky had gone.

Below, Mikaela let out a gust of air. "Okay. I'm not sure where this is going anymore, but I don't think I mind listening for a while."

I, however, did. It was hard enough to let Sam proceed with his plan when I thought he was only trying to negotiate a hostage exchange. But now, as he was picking apart Simmons' logic, human logic, in an attempt to reach to him, a potential result of very low probability even now, I wondered if I could walk away now that I was coming so close to thinking he was as close as I could hope to find to the best that humanity had to offer.

Sam hummed and faced Simmons fully again. "Ultimately, it all boils down to control." He waited, daring Simmons to try to throw a jibe. He did not. "Fortunately, the same arguments as before apply here, so at least I can be reassured that the desire to be in control of everything else is, also, not part of human nature." He made a step towards the S7 agent. "Bizarrely, though, people exhibit that very tendency alarmingly often." The mock-wonder coloring his voice seemed to set off alarms in Simmons' mind, going by how pronounced the latter's grimace became.

Too long had passed without the disgruntled agent getting a word in edgewise. "You realize that preachers are the ones most renowned for putting people to sleep, right? You should have just let that gas run its course at this rate."

"And there we go!" Sam seemed positively delighted by that interruption. So much that both Jazz and supremely worried Bumblebee snickered over the comm line. "An attempt to gain control over the situation! Thanks for so awesomely proving my point!" Simmons' mouth curled in distaste. "Though I guess you never really totally lost control over the situation, did you?"

My optic ridges raised, and Simmons seemed earnestly surprised.

"Earlier, when Optimus Prime first cornered you after you abducted us," he gestured in my direction. "You said you're not authorized to tell him anything. Except to tell him as much. And now, despite how obvious it is that you would love nothing more than to verbally trounce me – not that you could…" He let that thought settle. "You've been holding back in order to avoid spilling any secrets with them nearby."

Simmons looked grudgingly impressed.

So did Sam, and the lack of spike in his already elevated heart rate told me he, too, meant it. "I assume you're worried that you've been dosed with a truth compound or something in addition to the sleeping gas?" The head agent's face remained carefully blank, but the same could not be said about those of the others. "And the erratic body language you exhibited not too long after awakening… I assume those were code signals telling your men to keep their mouths shut too?"

Upon that deduction that amazed even I, Seymour Simmons showed real astonishment. No for long, his defiant and irritated mask came back swiftly enough, but it was there. "You've been holding out on everyone kid."

Sam snorted. "I'm the direct descendant of the man who claimed to have discovered an 'Ice Man' in the artic." Simmons's expression faltered briefly at the mention of Megatron, and I knew Sam had not missed it, but he plowed on. "I'm a descendant of the man who then spent the rest of his days writing and babbling about strange symbols that any linguist would be able to identify as a language. I am a descendant of the man who was deliberately discredited later in life. By two people who did all they could to persuade the world that Archibald Witwicky had only gone insane." Sam then laid on the sarcasm as thick as it could possibly get. "Now picture the descendant of that man showing high intellectual capabilities early in life. Obviously, said descendant would be allowed to progress at his own pace, like any other prodigy. Certainly, he wouldn't have to fear in the least that he'd suffer the same as his great-great-grandfather. Or that he and his loved ones would be carted off by secret organizations in the middle of the night. After all, there is no chance that said organization would suspect his higher brain functions to be the result of alien meddling instead of plain human evolution."

As I saw it, Simmons boggled at that so-called revelation. Sam had never actually said he had done what he implied, but the agents would no doubt make their own assumptions. I knew better than to be fooled, and I knew Sam did not even intend for us to believe the same, but the ongoing speech only left me more baffled. More curious about what could have caused this change which was clearly beyond merely physiological at this point.

I felt something softly hitting my ankle wheel, and when I looked down I saw the femme bumping the back of her head against it. "I dare him to get on my case about my secret juvie record after this. Just let him try."

Bumblebee whirred in amusement.

"Why the look?" Sam challenged Simmons, either not hearing or paying attention to us. "Is it any different from how you hide behind obfuscating stupidity in order to keep some control over the situations you find yourself in?"

Simmons' entire composure slumped. He dropped his head, releasing a sigh, then he stretched his shoulders as much as his still handcuffed hands allowed. When he met Sam's gaze again, he was still irritated, showing that his previous manner had not all been an act, but the absence of most of the tension was quite telling.

:How many of you were fooled by his idiot routine?: Bumblebee asked on the shared comm channel.

:I admit to some surprise at this turn of events," I answered. It was true, though it was also true that agent Simmons was only in my presence for mere minutes before the disaster of a joor ago, so I had justification.

:I thought somethin' was weird, but ah' thought it was obvious to the rest o'ya, so I didn't say anythin'.: Typical Jazz.

:… Ironhide?: Bumblebee pressed.

:… You're never going to let this go, are you?: I almost had to pull down my facemask to hide my mirth.

Bumblebee pounced on the opportunity. :Cancel that decacycle of basic drills and you have a deal.:

:Fine!:

:Thanks!: The youngling chirped. :Oh by the way, I didn't see through it either!:

:Why you fragging little sneak-!: I forcefully shut down the shared connection. If they were going to bicker, they could do it on their own resources.

Ratchet commed me privately after that. :I was able to synthesize the airborne sedative and am standing by to apply it to the parental units to ensure they do not rouse and endanger the delicate situation by panicking at an inopportune time.:

That did make me pull down my battle mask.

With all pretenses gone, Simmons moved things along. "What do you want kid?"

I interpreted that to mean that he was not going to consent to any dealings with us, but he would indulge Sam. My frail hope dwindled in the face of the likelihood of all humans eventually showing the same reluctance to communicate directly with the Autobots. But I reminded myself that Sam was human also, and that Simmons had refused to acknowledge even him until a short time ago.

"Nothing else than what you or anyone else would. Control," Sam tilted his head. "That is, after all, what it all boils down to, doesn't it? We don't fear what we don't understand. We don't fear aliens because they're alien. Other. It's just another prejudice on a long list. We fear them no more than we fear strangers. No more than we dislike their physical forms based on conventions we've subconsciously chosen to class as normal. Safe. No, the only reason we have to fear others is if they have power. And the only reason we fear their power is because, subconsciously, we envision the possibility they could use that power to gain control over us and our lives. Or rather, to remove our control."

That really was the root cause of conflict. Of fear. Unfortunately, most races I encountered only seemed to see it when justifying cruelty. And, heartbreakingly often, that cruelty was what qualified, in their minds, as a preemptive strike against what they considered dangerous. It was not quite as unfortunate as deriving actual pleasure from that cruelty, but it was a stance which could cause almost as much damage.

"You agree, don't you? Now that it's been pointed out to you." Sam reduced the distance he'd placed between himself and Simmons by another step. "Do you understand me, Simmons? Truly understand?"

"And if say I don't?" His look and tone gave nothing away.

The frigid smile returned to Sam's face. "Then you won't begrudge me if I do what any other human would do in my shoes." He offhandedly indicated us, even though his heartbeat climbed slightly higher than his nonchalance outwardly suggested. "Openly bask in the feelings of safety and relief provided by the presence of my allies." Bumblebee chirped in delight. Delight and hope that Sam wasn't going to offer himself up after all. "Feel content that my parents are out of that van and away from you. Gloat, maybe, that my side has the bigger guns."

Ironhide really did not have to power both Pride and Joy, but I could understand why he would be caught up in the moment. Away from the rest of us as he was, and as the only one who did not have a light aimed at the humans, he must have looked like a suddenly there, terrifying, looming giant when the shine of his cannons abruptly illuminated his frame in the deep dark of the night. The dark that must have seemed all the deeper to the humans whose eyes had had to adjust to our searchlights.

And if one giant was there all along, hidden, they must have wondered… how many others could there be?

"I could destroy your weapons in front of you. Have the same happen to your communications devices," Sam mused, and with each new suggestion he made another step towards Simmons, until he was almost within arm's reach. He was facing me now, however, which meant that the left side of his body was out of Simmons' line of sight. "But there's one thing that would work best for me." Reaching in the pocket of his oversized trench coat, he actually shocked me by pulling out a handgun.

Mikaela gasped in astonishment and Bumblebee clicked in surprise at the sight of Samuel Witwicky slowly, casually lifting the gun and pointing it right into Simmons' face. "Negotiate from a position of power."

In all honesty, I was equal parts astonished and alarmed. Sam must have picked up the weapon when he briefly walked off after Ratchet ran the scan. Otherwise we would have known about it.

My weapons expert opened a shared comm just so he could express his reaction. :Holy. Slag. Didn't even suspect he had it in him…:

:Ironhide…: I tiredly chastised him. This was no time to erupt in admiration, of all things.

Simmons, I noted, did not even flinch. He did start sweating more than before, and he let some worry slip when the gun barrel ended up between his now wider eyes. Then he winced when he heard the large group of agents collapse in a heap behind him. One or more of them must have reacted too abruptly and, handcuffed together in mixed up daisy-chains as they were, managed to pull everyone else down with them.

"So what do you say?" Sam asked glibly, worryingly at ease for someone who had a loaded gun pointed at someone's head. That my sensors did register a small irregularity in his heart rate was a minor consolation. "Got it in you to barter?"

My grudging respect for the head agent went up a notch when he refused to falter. "Sorry to say it, kid, but you can't intimidate me with just a gun. Besides, I don't think you have the guts to pull the trigger."

"Oh, I promise you I will pull it before the end of our conversation," Sam pronounced ominously, and I was starting to worry that whatever had occurred to change him may not have been so divine after all. But the tenser the situation became, the more I realized that moving to interfere in any way would only do harm. Simmons would panic or just do something rash… Was this why Sam had let me assume he was going to offer himself instead of… of this?

"And It's not just the gun," Sam continued. "If I'd expected you to fold to that, I'd have asked Ironhide to come closer. Or maybe Bumblebee, since it was his gun that took out that Decepticon over there." He nodded in the direction of Frenzy's resting place. Simmons didn't like it, but he looked where he was being pointed, and Bumblebee helpfully moved his searchlight to that spot. "The Decepticons are the bad robots if you were wondering," Sam noted, then he glared. "And he was disguised as a cellphone in one of your vans. The same one you shoved Mikaela into."

Seymour Simmons actually winced.

:Sweet Primus, by the way he wields guilt and misinformation you'd think he's a priest.: Ratchet grumbled, on the open channel for once. :Reminds me of someone I know.:

:Actually, Ratchet, thos're politicians,: Jazz chimed.

:Don't you tell me about politicians, brat. I was in the Senate, in case you've forgotten!:

:Ah' can see why. The rest of'em would never admit it either.:

Knowing how Ratchet would react, I left the conference, pondering Sam's ability to bring out both the best and the worst in my mechs through sheer insanity.

"Okay," Simmons tried to move things along, or buy time given how his eyes were shifting, looking for a way out or hoping backup would suddenly come, but finding none. "Might as well hear it. What do you want?"

"Well, VIP treatment would be nice. For us and the Autobots," I did not need to be an expert in human behaviors to know how that request was received, although I sincerely appreciated the attempt. "Also, Mikaela's juvie record. I want it gone, forever."

"Ha!" Simmons blustered. "And what do you think could persuade me to do all that?"

"Information." The answer did not surprise me overmuch, but I did wonder if it was really necessary to go through this entire farce. Ironhide would be right to say we may as well have shoved a gun in the man's face and forced him to listen to us from the beginning. "Information that you don't want getting out." Ah. My assumptions had been once again proven wrong.

Simmons laughed. "Who could you tell? Who would believe you?"

"The Russians." Simmons' laughter tapered off. "The Germans. The Chinese. The Japanese. Take your pick."

Simmons glared. "You're bluffing." At Sam's unimpressed look, he backtracked. "You don't know anything important."

"Hoover Dam." Even without my sensors notifying me of the abrupt spike in Simmon's heartbeat, I would have known that hit a nerve by how pale the man turned. "That's the location of the Cube, am I right?" It was too late to really hide the unwilling confirmation from us. "And by the way you reacted when I mentioned the Ice Man earlier, I'm guessing you have a mech there too. So Sector Seven was created to 'deal with' them and research aliens, right? Run experiments and dissection? Indulge me, if you will, is he really big and chrome-grey, with claws instead of fingers and a really nasty-looking face?" My systems froze at that realization, and I inwardly cursed myself for not reaching it sooner.

Megatron and the AllSpark were in the same place!

Primus save us all.

Simmons's mouth had slowly opened with each new assumption that Sam had candidly voiced. The boy had lowered the gun, but the other would probably not have even noticed it anymore at that point. "The way you captured Bumblebee was pretty efficient, which means it was a tried and true method. I'm guessing you keep the harbinger of death on ice the same way?"

The silence that fell lasted so long that I had time to wonder what a miracle it was that no civilian cars had driven by ever since we'd caught up with the disabled Sector Seven convoy. And it was a long time indeed as I, too, had to process the new urgency that our mission had just taken, reassess parameters and switch up the priority of our objective.

I felt literally like I was standing around while waiting for a ticking time bomb to detonate.

"…Harbinger of death?" Simmons croaked.

"Megatron," Samuel blandly informed him. "Leader of the Decepticons. Came to Earth looking for the Cube Optimus over there launched into space in order to ensure it was out of his grasp. Bad enough that the Universe decided that random trajectory had Earth at the other end, but you and your organization just had to take them both to the same place. Great job by the way. If Megatron's megalomania didn't ensure he'd try to enslave us all, conducting live dissections on his insides definitely did it by now!" He concluded dryly.

Simmons mouthed silently, then shook his head, lapsing into denial. "No. No, Sorry kid, but you have to admit that sounds too farfetched. It's too much. No way it could all have piled up like that."

"Crazy or not, it's true. At least that's what I'm assuming from your total failure to debunk my assessments." Sam countered. "Megatron wants to use the cube to transform Earth's technology and basically take over the Universe. A lofty and impossible long-term goal, granted, even for beings that are functionally immortal and have lived for longer than this edition of the human civilization's been around, but madmen never seem to mind. Believe me or not, it doesn't matter. What will happen will happen, and when shit hits the fan I'll be sure to let everyone I mentioned before know whose fault it was. Can you picture their reactions to learning you've been sitting on this secret since before the first world war? Then you can be proud of having singlehandedly ruined the United States of America and probably the rest of the planet."

The agent struggled for a counter. Any counter. "It's NBE1. That's what we call it. And you're painting these things as more dangerous than they are. You forget we're the ones who caught them." His eyes flickered to Bumblebee, who growled in disdain.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Because I'm sure Megatron was in any better position to fight back than when my twice-great-grandfather found him. And we already established why you were able to capture Bumblebee."

Simmons drew himself to his full height, and there was a visible disparity between his and Sam's, but it did not faze the latter in the least. "You can't go to the Russians or anyone else with this! It's a matter of national security!" Ah, he tried to reassert his authority while playing the boy's assumed patriotism.

"The authorities then," Sam agreed all too quickly. "You're absolutely right. I'd like to think I live in a free and fair country, so in theory I would only have to reveal to the authorities the way you abducted me and the others tonight and my life would get back to normal." There was no way Sam could be that naïve, and Simmons knew it. It was visible on his face, not just my bio-sensors. "I could even strengthen my case. Point out that the speed with which the troops showed up at my house, and the sheer amount of them, imply there's always been some in Tranquility. Meaning Sector Seven has been spying on my family since forever." Simmons was grinding his teeth at this point, and I felt Bumblebee shift in anger over Sam's stolen freedoms. "And the speed with which you got reinforcements means probably all of Sector Seven is out in force too for some reason. I wonder why…" I, too, wondered, but the possibilities brought up by my processor were too worrying to focus on at this time. "Lots of things to get you jailed over, and Sector Seven disbanded-"

"That'll never happen." Simmons said, completely certain. Then he smirked. "Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, but it really won't."

"Liar," Sam chimed, no more rattled, outwardly, than before. It was positively worrying. "Of course it'll happen, unless you're implying that we don't live in a free country. That Sector Seven is somehow exempt from the constitution?" There was no confirmation nor denial. "That you're allowed to steal the rights and freedoms of everyone else?"

No answer.

Sam had his gun to Simmons's face so fast that the man finally flinched. "By rights," Sam started lowly. Menacingly. "I can shoot you right now and call it self-defense."

Bumblebee started. So did Mikaela, but she had long ago been rendered speechless.

:Er, boss bot. The kid is just pretendin', right?:

:Yes Jazz.: I had no doubt Sam would never lower himself to murder a prisoner. Even if these psychological clashes reminded me of Decepticon tactics too much to feel comfortable watching them happen. I could not believe that the boy who had comforted Bumblebee so earnestly earlier could sink so low.

Apparently, neither did Simmons, though likely for different reasons. "Hey kid, calm down." He raised his hands in front of his face. "Careful with that thing unless you want an accident on your conscience."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Did you forget already, Seymour Simmons?" The gun was perfectly steady in his left hand, and even my sensors did not perceive any major fluctuations in Sam's blood pressure, beyond the initial rise that had never wavered. "I made you one promise earlier. What was it? Do you remember?"

I rolled back through the conversation and realized what he was implying two seconds before the man himself. Simmons held his arms even higher, palms out in surrender. "Hey kid, stop joking-" he barely had time to throw his hands in front of his face and duck his head.

A gunshot sounded in the night.

Compared to our own firearms, it was loud and lacking in grace. It scared all the humans out of their skins, and made Bumblebee take a step forward in near-panic.

Simmons was thrown on his back with an undignified scream of fear. His back struck hard against the road and he covered his head with his arms, which were now free due to the bullet that had smashed through the thin chain previously connecting the handcuffs together. When he realized he was still alive, and no longer bound, he froze in disbelief and confusion, looking at his hands, then at the boy who was still standing over him, his gun pointed at his chest but otherwise unmoving.

Distantly, I realized that the noise had finally managed to start rousing Samuel's parents from their induced slumber.

And Mojo.

Making a split-nanosecond decision, I commed Ratchet with an order to not gas them back into unconsciousness. The human operative would likely react unfortunately if I or my Autobots tried to interfere to stop this madness, but perhaps Sam's parents…

Now if only they actually got a move on with their awakening, Primus slag it.

Below, I sensed Bumblebee relax and the female collapse to the ground in boneless relief. "He's dead," she vowed with the sort of manic fervor one entered upon being put through a harrowing experience. I had to admit this qualified perfectly. "He's so dead when I get my hands on him. Freddie Krueger and Jason Voorhees will seem like harmless, handicapped little puppies after I'm done with him."

That threw me for a loop, but Bumblebee proved to be his ever so helpful self and sent me a link to an article on an online encyclopedia about human motion pictures. Had my battle mask not been in place, I doubt I would have been able to conceal my reaction of bewilderment and mild concern – not only for Samuel's sanity (and safety, I supposed) but for Mikaela's faltering sanity also.

"Seems even I can pull off a point-blank shot," Sam said to the gasping man lying at his feet, voice level despite having heard everything Mikaela had said. "How did it feel? Did you feel scared? Helpless? Confused, maybe, by this disproportionate retribution? Did you ask yourself what you did to deserve this? Just now, did you ask yourself why you'd end this way after you've only been doing the best to serve your country? We're making abstraction of all your gloating and related jackassery at the moment of course."

"You," Simmons gasped, eyes straying from the gun to Sam's face and back. "You're crazy, kid! Crazy! Nuts! Bonkers! Mad!"

"Maybe," the boy admitted easily. "Maybe it jumped two generations and I inherited it from my great-great-grandpa. But that means I have an excuse, right? What was yours when you tormented Bumblebee, essentially putting him through everything I just put you through, only worse? Can you guess how he felt?" Bumblebee's vocalizer revved in surprise, then rumbled. His posture had changed, I noticed. He was wringing his servos in front of him. "Helpless? Because he was forbidden from defending himself, so yes, I suppose. Scared? Not of death, I don't think, but that he'd failed his charge or commander? Definitely." And Bumblebee would have felt that way instead of feeling betrayed by me. "Confused by how you responded to his act of saving two of your species at his own expense? Maybe not, since you've been hunting him for ages, but you can be sure he was disappointed."

My sensors alerted me to a rapid rise in Simmons' pulse, and it was clear by how his lips came together into a sneer that he was about to try and-

He screamed, flinching and covering his face again as Sam released a second shot, which impacted against the asphalt next to his head.

The gunshot noise made the boy's parents finally start awake, and I allocated some resources to trying to figure out means to conduct damage control once they emerged from behind Ratchet's pede and saw what was happening.

"Get up!" Sam snapped at the agent.

With a glare, Simmons got to his feet with as much composure as he could, which was not much.

Then he could only gape stupidly when Sam flipped the gun he was holding and held it out for Simmons to take.

In all honesty, I could understand that reaction, since it coincided with my own quite wonderfully. I was truly glad I had my battle mask on. My jaw piece had not dropped, exactly, but…

I wished Bumblebee was a bit farther back, closer to me, so I could see what he looked like.

Then, as if the situation was not already beyond the level of absurd this reality should have allowed, Samuel's parental units chose that particular moment to notice they were lying amidst the feet of giant alien robots.

Naturally, they panicked.

I gave into the impulse to press two digits against my noseplates when the screaming started, but despite the rest of us spectators' attention snapping to the new commotion, I kept most of my focus on the main scene. For that reason, only I saw what happened next and, consequently, only I was able to make sense of what happened after that.

After a momentary grimace, concentration and opportunity flashed in Sam's eyes, then he jumped forward, pressed the gun into Simmons right hand, using the chance to put the safety on. Then, moving before Simmons could react, he used his free one to reach for Simmon's left , to pull it along as he spun on his heel, pushed back against the agents chest and quickly grabbed the one that was now armed and-

Bumblebee's voice cracked, bursting into outright panic, and he surged forward half a step, then he whirred in despair, pacing frantically left and right as he helplessly looked at Sam when-

"SAMMY!" Judy Witwicky screamed in fear when she laid eyes on her son, just in time to see him, and Simmons right behind him. And with the agent having one arm around his neck and the other holding a gun at Sam's temple, one did not need to possess a tactical computer to know what that looked like. The fact that Sam was forcefully holding Simmons' arms in place while the latter was struggling to pull free from that compromising position only made it seem as if Sam was struggling against him.

"Nooooooooh!" Darth Vader screamed from Bumblebee's radio.

Primus, why?

It was at that point that I truly regretted not bringing any high-grade Energon along on this mission. I will know better than to go against Ironhide's suggestion next time.

And how the frag did I recognize who that voice clip belonged to? Oh, I remember. Bumblebee watched a Star Wars marathon at a human 'drive-in theater' once and I learned of it in his subspace-transmitted holoreport.

I let out a whoosh of air from my vents. Why did I ever agree to this?

"Oh god oh god oh god oh god!" Simmons squeaked. His voice had well and truly taken a shrill nuance as he tried and failed to fight off both panic and Samuel's surprisingly firm grips at the same time. I thanked the stars that the boy had taken care to switch the gun safety on before he pulled this- "Madness!" Simmons wheezed in Sam's ear. "You're mad! Insane!"

I actually agreed with him. If nothing else, Sam had made human and Autobot see eye to eye. Perhaps that was the entire point? To unite us against the common foe which was his mental questionability? I was ready to believe anything at this stage.

"It's your fault, you know," Sam said between gritted teeth, too low for the humans next to me to hear.

"My fault?!" the man holding the gun shrieked. "How is this my fault!?"

"SAMMY!" Judy Witwicky proved her vocal capacities once more. I drily noted that we giant alien robots had suddenly become irrelevant compared to the sight of her son being 'held hostage.'

"If youuuungh didn't act so much," Sam gasped out while keeping Simmons' increasingly frantic arms in place. "I'd've beeeennnghh able to figure out by now if you had a conscience." Simmons paused his struggles, either realizing Sam was stronger (deceptively so) or waiting for him to drop his guard. Or just to catch his breath, or perhaps all three, I was undecided. "But since even showing you exactly what you put Bumblebee through didn't seem to work, I'm left with having to take drastic measures."

"So what?" Simmons yelled from behind him, bravado swimming against the tide of shock. "You were just teaching me a lesson, is that it? Put me in his shoes?"

"Got it in one," Sam said. "Though you'll likely dismiss it as soon as possible because I'm too 'young' to know anything. Hence this." Simmons tried to pull away, but Sam was on to him. My sensors had long ago confirmed their chaotic vitals so I turned them off. "Come on, it's only fair. Go ahead. Negotiate from a position of power."

"He's crazy,' Mikaela blurted, shaking her head. "Hate to agree with that creep on anything, but he kind of is."

Judy gasped at her voice, at last noticing she existed, and Ron followed soon after. They both pounced on the girl, figuratively speaking, as though she was the only thing or person that made sense in that whole situation. And perhaps she was.

I did not envy her.

By that point, I had ignored too many uncertain comm hails so I sent my Autobots a data burst that explained the real state of things. Bumblebee's posture only marginally slumped in relief.

"Let go of my baby!" Sam's mother wailed. "My baby! Sammy, hold on!"

"No! Don't hold on! Let go!" Simmons wheezed in Sam's ear. "Kid, why? Oh why is this happening? What's the point?" He asked. I was fairly certain his despair was not totally fake even without my sensors.

"Well-!" Sam gasped wryly. "At this point I'm graspinnnggh at straws, so I figured that if you hhha-ave a problem with shooting a kid's brains out in front his mother, you might have a conngghhnscience after all. Unfortunately-"

-"Let go! Let go of my baby! Oh, if you harm even a hair on his head I'll kick your ass!"-

"-At this point I'm probably more useful as a human shield, so that plan is toast," Sam concluded hopelessly. "Guess this whole mess has backfired on us both, huh?"

Sam's father had taken to holding Judy back by this point.

Mojo woofed.

"Both? Both?!" Simmons shrieked. "Oh no. On no! You're not taking me down with you, brat!"

"Yeow!" Sam screamed and jumped away when Simmons sunk his teeth into his hand.

Ecstatic to be free of his hostage (those words should not have been able to make sense, but they did), Simmons tossed the firearm and retreated from the apparently unstable teen.

"Sammy!" Judy yelled, breaking into a run with Ron right behind her, right when Samuel himself shouted. "You bit me! Are you crazy? You bit me!"

"They are nuts, both of them," Mikaela breathed.

"Me crazy! Am I crazy!?" Simmons yelled at Sam, pacing left and right just like Bumblebee had been doing not that long before. Bumblebee who was now scurrying towards the boy and his fussing parents as quickly as his pedes allowed. He was almost upon them in fact, then Judy Witwicky noticed and- "Aaaaaah!" realized the giant alien robots had not been her imagination. "Ron!"

"Judy!"

"Dad-"

"Son-"

"- all nuts! Crazy!-"

"Sam-

"-all of'em crazy!-"

"Sam!"

"Mikaela-!"

I decided that even if I did have a long list of failures from which to choose something that could justify being put through this, I could take NO MORE. "SILENCE!"

The bullet-proof windows on every single van abruptly shattered.

Then, nothing moved. Not even the wind. All was utterly still in this corner of the middle of nowhere, but something was still rankling, and I knew what it was. Making sure to glare at everyone for at least half an Earth second, I turned my annoyed optics upon my weapons specialist.

Ironhide meekly turned off Pride and Joy, eliminating even that subsonic annoyance.

Peripherally, I noticed that Ratchet had gassed Mojo into unconsciousness. If he had been on a payroll, he would have received a bonus for that alone.

Primus be praised. Sweet peace and quiet at last.

I advanced on the humans, not even bothering to hide my irritation as it flashed in my optics and poured out like heat waves. I also did not bother telling them that the reason the glass shattered was because I emitted an ultrasonic burst meant for just that purpose. Let them assume it was my voice alone that caused it. "That is enough!" I snapped, and my sour mood was not fake. "We stay here and bicker while your world's doom looms! Shameful! Samuel!" He yelped and snapped to attention, even with his mother still clinging to him. "I appreciate what you tried to do, but there is a fine line between conquering people with reasoning and baffling them with nonsense. A line you have long since crossed!"

The boy bowed his head, and the only reason I did not feel bad for scolding him was because I had the sneaking suspicion he had been gunning for me to react this way from the very beginning. Either that, or it was his so-called intuition that led him to this, and the less I thought about that, the better. I was not altogether sure this intuition he spoke of was such a wonderful thing anymore.

"Ron and Judy Witwicky," the parents warily looked up at me, looking every bit the part of children caught misbehaving. Just like Sam himself. "I understand your reactions, and admit that awakening to this situation was not something anyone would have been prepared for. However, your actions after you recovered your senses were unacceptable! Humans are taught as children that losing one's temper and screaming never helps."

I expected the female, at least, to shoot something back, but the shattered car windows must have made an impression.

"Bumblebee." I was not keen on doing this to him, but it had to be said. "You knew full well Sam's parents would not react favorably to you essentially charging in their direction. They could not have known you shared their worry for Sam's wellbeing. They could not have known you only wanted to make sure he was safe and sound."

My scout bowed his helm and chimed, looking apologetic.

"Quite honestly," I cycled air through my vents in an effort to calm down, for all intents and purposes sighing. "The only one of you who faced this whole ordeal with any degree of sense was Mikaela Banes."

"Hey!" Simmons protested, but that only gave me the cue to start on him.

"And you, Seymour Simmons!" I rounded on him, and the man shrunk from my heavy gaze. "If you had just agreed to exhibit some of that reason and wisdom humanity likes to boast it possesses, Samuel would not have felt driven into a corner in his attempts to get you to listen to us for a few minutes. I am only thankful I was able to put a stop to this situation before he truly went forward with his original plan. Which was to offer himself as a hostage in exchange for the freedom of the other three."

Even the tied-up agents still struggling in a heap in the background made a disbelieving, hive-like noise at that revelation.

The tension only got thicker when I revealed that bit of truth, and had it not been for my looming, seemingly angry frame and the persisting psychological effect of the shattered car windows, I have no doubt Samuel's parents would have started on him in some fashion.

"Why you… Why you… you…. God dammit, fine!" Simmons yelled and threw his arms in the air. "Say your piece! At this point I'm willing to believe anything is possible!"

"Umm…" Sam hedged, forcing the words through the air-stopping hug of his mother. "I already told you pretty much everyth-"

"NO!" Simmons yelled, turning at him and making cutting movements with his hand. "No! You shut up! I've heard enough from you so quiet! Stay silent! Don't say anything! Silencio! Digas nada mas, hombre! Capische?!"

"But-"

"No! If it's between a crazy kid like you and only possibly crazy alien robots, I'll take my chances with them!" He even pointed a finger at me as he concluded that official pronouncement, still snarling at the boy. He looked like he had well and truly been pushed to the end of his rope, but he was gasping with the exertion and exhilaration of finally getting Samuel to stop speaking after such a long night.

Throwing another roaming glare, I reached up to the side of my helm and activated the hardlight hologram projectors in my optics. "Before time began, there was the Cube…"

I gave everyone the same story as the one I outlined to Samuel and Mikaela, but given Simmons' status and the high likelihood of him knowing of classified projects like the Ghost 1 starship, I added the story of the human vessel we encountered half a century ago in a different star system. It was a tactical risk, since the encounter resulted in the destruction of the ship and the deaths of the crew. But I doubted Sector Seven could like us any less at this point, so even if Simmons took it badly it would make no difference even if we ended up being haunted by the ghosts of yesterday after this.

The reactions of the humans were a gratifying mix of interest in the story, worry over what it meant for Earth, and awe at the means of transmitting it. Simmons seemed to listen closely to everything I was saying, and I was pleasantly surprised to see his eyes narrow in consideration upon my sincere revelation of the Ghost 1's fate.

As I finished and let the hologram show the sight of the Cube for a time, I studied the reactions of my audience. My optic ridges came together when I noticed a glaring absence. Two of them in fact. Sam and Bumblebee. I knew the other Autobots were behind me, but my Scout was not in formation.

Unexpectedly, Jazz commed me. :I'll go ahead an' project some more stuff. Maybe some music, or some bad stuff Megs did. You got somethin' to deal with, Boss.: He finished with a short-range locator beacon, so I looked where he indicated.

When I did, I wished I had not. No, I wished the sight that met my optics had not had to come to pass.

There they both were, quite a ways behind everyone. Sam was even out of sight of the cluster of agents, having hidden on the other side of a van from them. Bumblebee was kneeling and leaning over the human, cycling air through his vents for warmth but otherwise looking worried and frustrated at being able to do nothing else for the boy. The small, so small now, organic that was curled on himself, covered by that large garment he'd pilfered. He was shivering against the scout's knee plates. Trembling and breathing thinly as he wrestled with the panic attack he must have been holding back throughout that entire confrontation with the Sector Seven chief.

Even though I knew for certain Samuel had been counting on my reaction, the reaction that ended it all, I felt guilty and hollow. It was a horrible feeling, eerily similar in nature to the one I had experienced not that much earlier, when I let Bumblebee behind because he knew the risks. Just like Sam knew the risks when he chose to do what he did.

What did it say about myself, that I let such things happen? That I let younglings…

I called my medic. :Ratchet…:

As I expected, he was aware of everything. :Even if I had the necessary elements to synthesize them, applying sedatives at this juncture would be unwise. Especially with Samuel's unique physiology: Ratchet somberly commed back.

Thankful that the other humans were still riveted on the hologram Jazz had taken over, I walked to where those two were clustered together. When I was close enough, I once again knelt, placing myself between them and the others, shielding the human from their view completely. "Sam…" I honestly did not know what to say. Thank you for taking your own kin to task over their treatment of us? Thank you for standing against prejudice? Thank you for putting yourself into the line of fire for our sake? How could I, when half my processing told me to tell him off for doing it all at his own expense?

My spark twisted on itself. Despite that I had focused on the relief provided by the fact that Sam had applied the safety on the gun before that last stunt, my processor dwelt on it now. Sam really had not been certain Simmons had a conscience when he made himself the hostage. The man could have taken the safety off and taken advantage of the situation, maybe even shot him at any time…

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured tiredly, and I realized he must have misinterpreted my half-lidded gaze and the continued presence of my battle mask. He thought I was disappointed in him rather than myself. "I know it was probably crazy, and I know you're probably mad I went too far. I can tell you think it speaks badly of you when you get angry, and I'm not proud I managed to make it happen, but… I know it's probably just me being a rebellious teenager talking, but I don't regret doing what I just did."

I vented, letting my helm drop and retracting my mask. "Sam." I met his eyes. "I am not mad-"

"You totally were," he told me, weariness in every syllable.

"Were." I overlooked his interruption because I was glad to see his panic attack receding. He did not have to put active effort into breathing steadily instead of hyperventilating now. "I… simply wish it had not come to this. You are too young to have to go through this, Sam." I paused, and when he did not bristle at being called young, I went on. "And I am upset I did not insist more on you revealing your plan. I can assure you I would not have allowed you to do even half of what you did, or put yourself in such a risk."

Sam laughed silently. "This wasn't the plan, if it could even be called that. I really was going to do the hostage exchange thing. But then Simmons woke up and he acted. He just acted and I decided I had to make it stop before I even bothered trying to force the deal… I guess things just went from there."

Bumblebee hummed. I was surprised when I did not understand what he was trying to convey.

I was processing what next to say when, back where the other unbound humans were gathered, Simmons cursed. "Shit." He said heavily. "Shit." I turned my helm to see him pacing around the unmoving hologram of Megatron. The image was one of the many when my former bond-brother yelled or laughed at the heavens. Simmons was clearly disturbed by the sight, and there was no mistaking the recognition in this eyes. "Shit, shit, shit! We are in such trouble!"

And just like that, Sector Seven had become an ally. Temporarily or not, the organization that had hunted us and taken Bumblebee away for experimentation, and Primus knew what else, had become our ally.

I turned back to watch Sam, who was not in a position to see what I could see but had heard just fine. He was leaning, more steadily now, against Bumblebee. Relief and accomplishment practically radiated from him. Sensing my gaze, he looked back and smiled contentedly.

I felt my previous guilt and regrets over everything I had witnessed throughout the night just… disappear.

He had needed this. Needed to gain victory over everything Simmons represented, both for our sakes and to prove to himself that he could. And he had.

The next 20 minutes consisted of Samuel's kin noticing his absence and reacting, as expected, by crowding him. He behaved as though he had not just had a nervous breakdown, and only Mikaela saw through the act. I noticed that she did not make good on her implied threat of killing him with knives, but it might have been only because she had none on her person. The time also allowed Simmons to go round and free his men, who then warily went to retrieve their handguns and communication devices one after another. It must have been quite an experience, seeing as Ratchet never left the immediate vicinity of the piles and kept running visually perceptible medical scans on them all just for the sake of it.

I was running scenarios through my processor for how best to go from here, with my Autobots chiming in when they could, when Simmons shouted from behind me. "Hey kid! Yeah, you the crazy one."

I looked down, where Samuel was now standing and answering questions for his parents while his mate held onto his arm and contributed with dry wit, both caustic and otherwise. "Yeah?" He showed no sort of discomfort in his reply.

Simmons looked at him for a while, then glanced between me and my other soldiers, before switching his attention back to Sam. "VIP treatment, huh?"

Sam grinned at his deliberately passive face. "And Mikaela's juvie record. Gone. Forever."

Simmons snorted and turned to walk off, lifting his reclaimed cellphone to his hear to make a call but still taking the time to put in the last word. "Kid's an extortionist."

This time around, the silence was not heavy at all.

Until Judy Witwicky spoke. "So… Juvie record huh?"

Then it was simply awkward.

For Mikaela at least. Sam was not fazed, and the unexpected but welcome joy I could feel warming my spark left no room for any discomfort anymore. Not when I had other thoughts to dwell upon. Such as that even if this all did end with my death and the insurance of my race's extinction upon the AllSpark's destruction… I could risk a hope that at least humanity, who was innocent in all this, would endure through it.

All because one human youngling had brutally taken a shredder to Seymour Simmons' skepticism and arrogant flippancy.

As I beheld him now, sheepishly explaining to his parents that the whole 'hostage thing' was just a misunderstanding, I realized that perhaps it was not too late to trust a hope that this war could finally end.

Who are you, boy, that you can reignite my hope so easily? That was the thought that kept going through my mind.

:…Sir?: Bumblebee's tentative tone reached me through a private comm. Belatedly, I noticed that I had failed to acknowledge several data bursts sent to me through the shared connection by the others. My processor had wandered.

I was saved from replying by a tapping on my shin plates. Looking down, I saw the subject of my thoughts staring up at me. "You okay, Optimus?"

The other humans were hanging back, not nearly as brave or comfortable with us as Sam was. I suppose they feared we would kick or step on them, by accident or otherwise, if they surprised us.

"Yes." Actually no, I was not. And I had not been for a very, very long time, ever since I came upon the devastation at Tyger Pax and found Bumblebee with his throat torn apart. Even then I was not fine, as it had been hundreds of vorns before even that that Megatron severed our brother bond and left a permanent, never-to-be-healed wound behind. I would not be 'okay' even if the war finally ended one day, assuming I even survived to see it. But I felt better that I did in dozens of vorns, and it was worlds apart from what I believed I could expect mere hours before, and that was enough.

Sam's eyes searched my optics for any deception, until he nodded, and again I felt that strange idea that he somehow understood.

It was absurd, I had not changed my mind on that, but I supposed even some absurd things turned out to be true once in a while.