I. Late morning somewhere in Kansas, one state from Missouri…
Under a dilapidated gas station overhang, Sam lingered over Bumblebee with a wire brush and a can of recently purchased turpentine. He let his solemn eyes roam the top of his first car; surprisingly, he remembered the hood more clearly now then five years earlier. Before when Sam had looked at the paint job it had disgusted him – oddly enough, he preferred it now. Bumblebee hadn't changed back all night and had eventually given Sam total control.
"Change back," The man ordered.
There was no sign that the car was alive.
"I'm not doing this without your consent…"
It wasn't just that Bumblebee wasn't responding, he was lifeless. This made Sam sweat.
His car was devoid of his spark.
"I'm doing it!" He uncapped the bottle and leaned forward, readying his circle of silver.
The car suddenly gave a spurt of noise, the engine sounded calm and accepting, irritating Sam nonetheless, as it generated just enough power to drive the chipping '76 Camaro out into the baking Kansas sun in the middle of nowhere. Sam followed suit, scrambling a bit.
"What'd you doing!.?" He called out in helpless confusion.
Bumblebee seemed to just center himself with the still rising sun before coming to a stop. His friend was breathing heavily to keep up with him despite his overall good fitness. The car made no movement or indication that he was going to do anything else as Sam came.
"What'd you want?" the man was worried and doubtful. "Do you want me to do this? Do you want to go with me and have your skin removed? No one said you had to follow me."
The car remained stationary.
"Optimus didn't say so," Sam argued, sounding ragged. "I didn't say so either, Bee."
He stood there in the hot sun for five long minutes, contemplating what he had exhausted to Bumblebee as necessary – the removal of his paint, his skin, part of his identity. He was ready to start over and give Bumblebee his life once and for all, but the Autobot, being the natural snoop and stalker that he had a tendency to be, refused to listen or explain himself.
Sam quietly and miserably poured a concentrated but unseen amount of turpentine on the wire brush in his right hand. He didn't show any emotion as he began to scrub the top side of the empty passenger's seat. The old yellow paint came off easily, flaking and peeling as he worked with rather grim but determined effort. Sweat began to ring Sam's arms and legs before finally it was beading all traces of his body, there wasn't a dry spot anyplace under his clothes or otherwise by the time the sun was starting to arch to the right. Even thirst and exhaustion couldn't stop Sam as he worked meticulously to remove the paint.
"Done," he finally said, stepping back.
Horrible red and brown marks with no stray yellow pieces showed intensely now. When Sam looked down at his arms he saw that he, too, had red and brown sun burns along his skin and cargo-short-exposed legs. He looked back up in disbelief at what he'd done and let out a loud scream. The man threw the two items across the land and kicked at the dirt. He repeated this furiously, letting out a few more screams as guilt and grief shook him. It wasn't just from his current actions or even the events of Chicago and Sentinel. It was for everything. Everything Sam had done wrong or misjudged came back to him in great pain.
The Camaro suddenly made it's normal changing noises.
With a shake of his shoulders, Sam turned his back to Bumblebee.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered.
"I'll finish it," Bee told him in his crackling voice.
"What?.!" Sam whirled around and took notice of him attempting to remove his insignia.
"I'm no longer…" his blue eyes grew saddened. "A part of them."
"No!" his friend raced over to stop him. "That's it! You go back to them, beg Optimus for forgiveness and tell them that it was all my fault." Sam shook his head, pleading. "Please."
Bumblebee didn't say anything of his motives, he just stood there staring at the man.
"Forget what Optimus said," Sam explained with his eyes dead centered in the Autobot's. "Just because I'm not made of metal, that doesn't mean I'm not part of you. Just because we've…" he choked back a shudder. "turned our backs on everyone. That doesn't mean you can't go back Bee." Bumblebee walked forward in thought as Sam tried to keep up.
"Sam…" He finally stopped and turned to his friend logically.
"It's not too late!" Sam said. "If you remove that symbol, I'll kill myself."
Bumblebee was left stunned.
"I'm not kidding, Bee. You did not betray them."
"I disobeyed." The Autobot clarified.
"Why?" Sam knew that he wasn't the reason – even though there was nothing Bumblebee wouldn't do for Sam, he knew that the Autobot would never choose him over his robotic brethren. Sam accepted this as it was just the way Autobots were. "Can't you say why?"
In fact, the man held this belief with respect and honor, despite everything else.
"Not now," Bumblebee said to him, softening, "Let's just enjoy our time together."
Sam gave an embarrassed smile. "Okay," he relented quietly.
The Autobot resumed his now more noticeable form and opened the passenger's door.
Apparently irony was Sam's new enemy.
"We'll have you painted something less conspicuous when we get to Missouri," he said.
II. In Nevada, as Mikyle undergoes tests…
The little boy gazed up into battery-powered lights from giant heat lamps, blinking against them but otherwise making no attempt to shield his eyes. Oranges cords that were having a little help from a black Mazda strewn the Autobot's home as Ratchet got ready to scan.
"You're sure the child will remain unharmed? We've never done this on humans."
"I'm not entirely, Optimus." He pressed a complex sequence into the green strobe keys of his holographic database. "To tell you the absolute truth, I'm not even sure we have all the necessary key components." When the medic looked him in the eyes Optimus understood.
"Go ahead then." The Autobot stood back. His blue optics fell to Mikyle.
The child smiled broadly at him and twitched his fingers inward, waving.
"Stand clear." Ratchet informed Optimus and Bulkhead – the Wreckers had moved back to the barracks to stay with the humans; or rather, annoy the hell out of them for a while.
Mikyle grew unusually quiet and alert as a green sequence of data rolled over his diapered body – nothing but his bottom was covered, his exposed skin looking uneasily fragile. He gave a little moan and pulled away, Optimus tried his best to keep from looking concerned when the database suddenly beamed with out bursting rays of green. Ratchet scanned with frantic eyes as the screen was pinpointing every iota of the boy's body. The muscles in his tiny structure were first exposed, showing embedded pieces of dark green. From there the scan accessed and traced the layer beyond the tendons and veins before going subatomic in what was turning out to be an unexpected rush for the Autobots as it traced ions and cells. Mikyle grew visibly upset, crinkling his face and glancing around with scared cries.
"Are you sure this is safe, Ratchet?" Optimus could no longer stay reserved.
"I'm not sure, Optimus, but he appears unscathed. The boy's just a little-,"
"Stop it!" The Autobot leader turned to him at once.
"Prime," Ratchet gruffly said the name he rarely used, "This is important! I know what your concern is about." Optimus listened. "You're afraid of loss, after Sentinel you…"
"That subject is closed, solider."
Before the two could argue further Mikyle released a frightened wail.
"Optimus!" Bulkhead pleaded. "Stop it." His tan hand came to rest on his leader's arm.
The energon started to resonate brightly as Mikyle's crying grew even louder, causing all three to look up as one. There was an overabundance of it and it was quickly growing too unstable to be contained inside clear glass cubes. Ratchet tried to gained control, but with so many images and chaotic signals popping up at once he couldn't stop their system from going into overdrive – or, more plausibly, going haywire. Optimus took control instead by coming up to the little boy and saying his name calmly. He then repeated it with authority.
Purple emanated so intensely now that cracks formed along the inside of the cubes.
"Optimus," Ratchet panicked.
"CHILD!"
All at once, Mikyle was silenced.
The rough edge faded in his voice when Optimus spoke. "Stop that." he said patiently.
His small ward had a runny nose and wet eyes as he peered up at Optimus ruefully.
"Opnus…"
This made him step back in afterthought.
"Enough," the Autobot leader said in a gentler tone. "Bulkhead?" he turned to stocky bot.
"Right on it, sir."
Mikyle lifted his arms up and turned expectantly to his huge friend.
"Bullhead."
"It's okay, little fella. The boss just gets worked up sometimes."
As Eelshock transformed back and Bulkhead was exiting, Optimus was left standing and watching Sam's son being taken back through the entranceway of the now fully darkened energon structure. Through a clear tunnel Mikyle would be taken, handed off by Bulkhead to a stranger, no doubt. Then he would be sanitized again; he would never have a safe life.
A normal life was out of the question.
"I think the time to gather the last two remaining components is upon us, Optimus."
He nodded absently, unconcerned about where they would find more energon.
"I think you are right, old friend." Optimus turned to him, the database was down.
"Prime?"
"I want to thank you, Ratchet. No matter what our future outcome is."
"The future, Optimus, may be one not even we could have foreseen."
To be continued…
~ Lavenderpaw ~