In Loco Mortis

Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers. I should think that rather obvious with my college-induced poverty and all.

Warnings: Onesided Bee/Sam


Chapter Nine: Grayscale

"Sam."

His named echoed through the hallway, and Sam abruptly froze, recognizing the voice easily. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with this, but he'd been putting it off for awhile. Already, the others were giving him strange looks. Ratchet and Jazz were the worst. Almost like they both knew something was going on but couldn't quite put a finger on what. And if he didn't want their intervention, he needed to resolve this now.

The youngling fought the urge to sigh as he sensed a larger bot come up behind him, and he caught a hint of yellow paint at the edge of his vision. He didn't need to be Perceptor to figure out who it was. There were, after all, only two yellow mechs on base, and Sunstreaker had the tendency to loom over just about everyone. Beautifully of course, but that was beside the point.

"Bee," he replied by way of greeting. Not even bothering to turn around.

Bumblebee stepped into his line of sight anyway. "Baby, are you busy tonight? Are you busy?"

He wanted to say yes. He really and truly did, but it would've been a lie. And Bee had this annoying habit of seeing through his.

"Not at the moment, no." Sam fought the urge to squirm back as Bee took a step closer.

"Spend some time with me." Bee gave him a hopeful glance.

Sam tried not to fidget. "Alright. What do you want to do? Watch a movie or something?" he suggested only halfheartedly.

The older minibot practically lit up with excitement. But even that didn't make Sam feel any better. In all honesty, he just wanted to go back to his room and lie down. Not that such a thing would be happening any time in the near future. Perhaps the next century then.

Still, faced with the prospect of nothing but unadulterated Bee for the next several hours, Sam put his foot down. There was only so much self-sacrifice he could tolerate on any given day, and having already put up with the twins this morning, he had reached his quota.

"Let's see if anybody else wants to join," Sam suggested. Only twinging a little at the look that crossed Bee's face.

The yellow mech was clearly unhappy with his addendum, but with the option of no Sam or sharing him, he chose to keep his displeasure to himself. Wisely so. If he'd said no, the youngling would've come up with an excuse to leave.

However, that didn't mean that Bee himself couldn't be sneaky in return. And he grinned then in a manner that would've put Jazz to shame.

Sam felt a tingle of warning shoot down his back.

"Well, I think I saw Sides--"

"Not him," Sam cut in immediately. "No, just no." He shuddered at the mere thought of more quality time with the red twin.

Sideswipe's latest suggestions were all just as horrible as the first. Borderline made him sound like a drug addict. Calamity brought to mind only disaster. Ignition put him just this side of homicidal, and he was in no way encouraging the Aerialbots with a name like Nimbus. Was it any surprise that he had started to avoid the mech like the plague? Only, Sides possessed skills never before seen in his ability to pop out of random shadows and to instantly know where Sam was at all times. Going to the common room was like a death march, and he pointblank refused to go to the wash racks without backup. Being cornered once was more than enough, saved only by a passing Mirage. It was like having a stalker, only not as creepy.

Sometimes, Sam honestly marveled that he managed to get out of his berth in the morning.

"Who else then?" Bee continued, not privy to his companion's inner monologue. "Blue's on duty I believe."

"Jazz," Sam said immediately.

Bee shook his head, looking a tad too chipper. "In ops with Prowl."

"Aid," was Sam's next choice.

The older minibot considered for a moment. "I heard that he was out training with his brothers." He still seemed too slagging pleased.

"Swoop," the youngling tried, feeling a tingle of panic.

"I saw him leave to go flying with the Aerialbots." Bee didn't even have to pause this time. Had he planned this in advance or something?

"Brawn?" It was a feeble offer. Coming out more a question than anything.

"Patrol with Tracks."

Sam could tell that Bee was smirking inside. And he was willing to bet the next few hours of his life that the bot really had planned this.

Slag. He was fast running out of options. The youngling knew better than to suggest Blaster; that was a fight waiting to happen where Bee was concerned. Surely, there had to be someone left.

But Wheeljack had been in his lab when Sam walked by earlier, elbows deep in an experiment. He hadn't even seen Skyfire for several days now. Beachcomber was off working on a project for the government. Ironhide was still training recruits. Red Alert was undoubtedly holed up in his office, and he had no clue where Optimus was. He wasn't desperate enough for the twins yet. But it might just come to that.

He looked at Bee then, knowing this for a set up but unwilling to back down. "How about we see who's in the common room and go from there?" Sam finally offered, realizing that there was always someone about this time of day. Hoping at any rate.

With any luck, it would be a nice, safe option. Like Hound. Trailbreaker. Mirage. Pit, he'd take Smokescreen. Windcharger even. Or perhaps Sludge.

What he got was Ratchet.

"Well, that's unexpected," Sam mused to himself as he stood just inside the doorway several minutes later.

Ratchet never went to the common room. Like ever. Only apparently he did when Sam wasn't looking. But then, the youngling supposed he had to get energon sometime. He didn't really exist off snark and the fire of his own hatred like Sideswipe often claimed.

Still, this didn't really solve his current problem. Something that Bee seemed to realize as he turned to Sam with a noticeable grin.

But then, fortune smiled upon him. Cliffjumper and Hound got back from patrol. Looking relatively clean and intact for once. Which meant that Hound hadn't managed to go offroading. Small favors. But it also meant that they hadn't needed to stop by the wash racks, coming straight to the common room instead. Even better, Hound was a sucker for sad optics. Especially if Sam could fill them with disappointment and heartbreak.

Serendipity. Maybe the universe wasn't really out to get him. Or Primus was having an off day.

Sam was practically giddy as he followed them to the energon dispenser, smiling when Cliffjumper turned to look over his shoulder. If the orange bot was surprised to see him, he didn't show it. Though his gaze did flicker to Bee, who was decidedly petulant now that victory had been ripped from his grasp.

"What's up with you?" Cliffjumper questioned as Hound handed him a cube. "You look like your pet turbofox just got run over."

"Bee's just been feeling a little off today," Sam inserted before his yellow companion could even get in a word. "Want to watch a movie with us. It might just cheer him up." It was surprising just how enthusiastic and honest that sounded. Really, he'd been spending far too much time with Jazz and Blue.

Cliffjumper lifted the faceplates above his optics almost like a human would their eyebrows. Hound, on the other hand, shook his head.

"Not today," he replied offhandedly, working his way to a table. "Just getting a quick boost."

Sam instantly turned on the charm. "Oh, I just wanted to spend time with you. I haven't seen you in awhile. But if you're busy, that's fine."

He tilted his head down to hide the grin that threatened to spill across his mouth. There were advantages to being this short, and one of them happened to be the fact that they couldn't see his face unless he looked up. The youngling probably should feel bad about manipulating them like this, but when it came to life and death situations, all bets were off. It was every mech and bot for themselves.

He could practically feel the air heat as Hound cringed. Even as he heard Cliffjumper snort from across the table. Bee didn't make a sound. Instead, he just sent Sam a nearly incredulous look.

"I'm sorry," the green mech said in return. "It's just that I already promised Trail, you see. And I've already put him off once. But I…" he trailed off then, shifting in his seat.

"Meh… I'm not busy," Cliffjumper interrupted lazily as he set down his now empty cube. "What're you watchin'?"

Sam, however, had already thought that far ahead. "No clue. Whatever we feel like."

The older mech considered. "I'm game. Give me a few minutes though."

Bee all but snarled then. Making a sound that wouldn't have been unusual for Grimlock. Or Unicron. Not at all thrilled that he'd been thwarted. However, something occurred to him then. Something that caused him to immediately perk up, and a very frightening grin graced his face.

"Aren't you still on punishment detail with Prowl?" Bee asked with what could only be called a delighted tone. As though he was pleased by his fellow's misfortune.

There was a beat.

"Slag," Cliffjumper mumbled. "I'd forgotten about that."

All of Sam's happy thoughts, his dreams of time not spent alone with Bee, evaporated instantly. One of his optics made a twitching motion, even as his spark sunk to land at the bottom of his chassis. And he was about to turn to Hound – his dear friend, his lifeline – but fate intervened.

"Fraggit!"

The youngling jumped. As did everyone else in a mile radius. He'd honestly forgotten Ratchet was there. Something that was apparently true for the others as well.

Of course, that lovely outburst was followed by another.

"Of all the idiotic things!"

Sam turned in just enough time to see Ratchet down the last of his energon and secret his datapad in that weird dimensional pocket the older bots all had. The medic seemed pissed, not that it was unusual. But this time, his ire was on the verge of epic proportions, and Sam could only guess what emergency had just been commed in. Undoubtedly something stupid and easily avoidable.

Ratchet was on his feet then, stomping around like a demented Dinobot. "Sam. Medbay now!" he ordered as he stalked by. "Fragging Fireflight crashed into a tree, and you're going to help me pick out all the branches."

The youngling was out of his seat so fast that he didn't even remember moving. Forget the movie. A beautiful wonderful excuse had just effortlessly dropped into his lap. Perhaps Primus really did love him. Some of time. When he wasn't sending Megatron after him. Or turning him into a robot.

So maybe Primus really didn't like him much at all. But he did have his moments.

Still, Sam couldn't help but be a bit skeptical about the believability of it all. If he hadn't known better, he would've sworn Ratchet had just made it all up. Seriously. How Fireflight had managed to find a tree in the desert was beyond him. A cactus, yes. But a tree?

The minibot, nevertheless, dismissed that thought. Not wanting to jinx himself. Or burst the bubble of this timely miracle. Instead, he just trailed after Ratchet, trying not to look too eager. No one in their right mind – or processor – was happy or even calm when Ratchet got like this. Even Optimus ducked and ran for cover.

Sam was half-way to the door before he even remembered his audience. "Oh! Bye, guys."

Hound just waved back to him. Not noticing anything amiss. Cliffjumper gave a mock salute before contemplating his empty cube and clearly wondering if he should get more. Bumblebee though resembled a kicked puppy whose master had just abandoned him by the side of the road.

"But Sam?" Bee called after him. "Where'd you go? I miss you so. Seems like forever--"

"We'll do it some other time," Sam cut him off, waving vaguely. "See you later."

The last he heard as he walked out was Cliffjumper snicker.

"You just got ditched." The orange's mech tone was outright mockery mixed with amusement.

He didn't even need to see Bee's face to know the expression that would be there.


Sam supposed that this was becoming something of a habit. A bad one at that. But the cool night air was soothing, calming, easing the tension in his frame. The shake of his hand as he curled it into a fist. The static surging over the metal of his body. The need to throw the nearest heavy object in reach. To scream and have a tantrum of epic proportions.

Bee really did bring out the best in him. Or perhaps he was just channeling Ratchet in his utter frustration.

Primus! He wasn't a pet. Or a little boy who needed his hand held. No matter how often or how much he reminded Bee – reminded all of them – the message never got through. He wasn't a halfwit or a half-sparked. And his recent movie-time with Bee was not an invitation for the older mech to hover around every minute of every day that he wasn't either recharging or on patrol. He wondered why the bot wasn't already pinging his comm. every ten seconds. Perhaps he'd finally taken the hint. Not that Sam was so fortunate.

They hadn't fought. Not this time. But Sam kind of wished they had now. Wished that he had said exactly what was on his processor and not walked away. Wished that he had hurt Bee. Really hurt him. Not just the whipped dog expression. But something deeper. Something that reached right to the spark.

It was a cruel desire. Not at all like himself. But Sam couldn't help it. Couldn't figure out any other way just to make Bee leave him alone for a few hours. A few days if he were particularly lucky. He never was.

And odd but familiar sensation went down his not-spine then. The feeling of being watched with such intensity that it would've made his skin crawl if he were still a real boy. Sam knew without turning that there was someone behind him. A sixth sense that he'd had as a human but now kept as a bot. However, other than the fact that he knew it wasn't Bee or Blaster, he couldn't tell who it was without sneaking a glance. Just a slight turn of his head and an unconscious adjustment of his gaze to catch a glimpse of black and white paint. Door-wings held rigid and fixed. Optics a dark blue that somehow managed to be bright in the surrounding dimness. The word "police" was a dead giveaway even without the rest.

Prowl.

Figured that they'd send someone out here after him. Sam only supposed that the first lieutenant had drawn the proverbial short straw this time. He wasn't supposed to leave the base, after all. Not allowed beyond sight of the entrance by himself. And he definitely wasn't permitted to go this far. At a distance that he couldn't even see the base proper. Only rocks and the occasional cactus or pitiful looking bush.

Still, Prowl was tolerable. He wasn't demanding by nature and seemed to understand the need for silence. He simply stood at the edge of the youngling's vision, a solemn sentinel just within reach if needed. But he wasn't, and Sam honestly didn't want him there. He liked Prowl, even if he didn't much like himself at the moment. But sometimes, people just needed space. A place to sulk on their own. It was better than the alternative. Better than the still ongoing urge to bite things. He liked to brood in private, thank you very much. It was a one bot pity-party, and Prowl wasn't invited.

But the minibot couldn't exactly tell him that. Especially since most of it would probably go right over Prowl's head. Not to mention that he would insist Sam accompany him back inside. A definite no-go option.

Instead, he settled for their current quiet. For the slight breeze as the sole noise between them. Only the dark of the desert, the overhead clouds obscuring the stars and blotting out even the light from the base. The soft almost-hiss of his hydraulics as he shifted and drew his knees further to his chest. The pinging metal of Prowl's body, unnaturally warm in the cool air around them.

Like with all things, however, Sam's near-solace came to a quick end.

"Jazz and I don't always get along," the older mech said suddenly. Unexpectedly. Strangely.

"What?" Sam flickered his optics. Almost but not quite like blinking. Not knowing where in the pit that had come from. It was completely out of leftfield. Slag. It was from outside the ballpark, around the corner, and a mile down the street.

"Jazz and I, we are very close," Prowl clarified in a manner that didn't clear up anything at all. "Bonded brothers if not created ones. Yet, we still disagree. Still feel annoyed with one another. Not everything is pleasant or always sociable between us. It is quite natural for you to feel at odds with another, but such things are only temporary and should not negatively impact your relationship."

The minibot was certain that his processor was broken. It had to be. There had to be some sort of glitch up there. A frayed wire. A burnt out circuit. Honestly. Since there is no way that Prowl had said what he thought he'd just heard. Which sounded like some robot preamble to the caring-is-sharing lecture, something Sam hadn't needed since kindergarten. Maybe – hopefully – Prowl was just making small talk, a passing comment, but he was so not the type. Like at all.

"What are you talking about?" the youngling finally managed after what had to have been eternity in the span of a few shell-shocked seconds.

Prowl tilted his head, not understanding the question. "I am merely trying to reassure you."

Sweet Primus, Prowl trying to make him feel better? Trying to give him advice? It was like being sucked into the twilight zone. Only without the really suspenseful background music.

"About what?" Sam was hesitant to ask, but he really and truly didn't comprehend.

Again, Prowl paused. His face had an almost confused quality. Akin to a monkey faced with a math problem. Or perhaps a computer that needed to describe what sunshine tasted like.

"I have observed that your relationships as of late have been strained. Particularly with Bumblebee." His head inclined further to the side. "Is that not correct?"

Sam felt a flicker of annoyance at even the name, but he brushed it off. "Well… yeah," he admitted slowly. Reluctantly.

He hadn't realized that he'd been that obvious. Obvious enough for even Prowl to notice. And no offense, but he wasn't exactly the most emotionally sensitive of bots. Someone like Jazz maybe. Bluestreak. Even Mirage or Aid. But Prowl? That was similar to a Ratchet who didn't throw wrenches or a twin who behaved himself. Surely, the apocalypse was upon them. Sam half-expected Primus to suddenly pop up in the next several seconds.

But when that didn't happen, Sam just rubbed a hand over his chin. "Yeah," he repeated in that same slow voice, like he was only humoring the clearly crazy person and not actually agreeing. "It's just one of those things. I'm sure it happens to everyone."

As if everyone's best friend suddenly decided that they needed to be a space robot and set about making that happen. But only after his other best friend had died, not to mention his dad. And then, his mom had disowned him followed by his government. Which was just after becoming mascot for a bunch of aliens and destroying a psychotic despot bent on galactic domination. And let's not forget that he couldn't tell anyone.

Sam was sure that happened all the time. An everyday occurrence. Really, it was a plot from a soap opera or an extraordinarily bad movie. One that would undoubtedly be a blockbuster.

Not aware of that inner monologue though, Prowl actually seemed pleased by his pronouncement. "Most certainly. You needn't worry."

Well, worry wasn't exactly the word Sam would use.

"Of course not," the youngling replied, sarcasm somehow masked. "I'm sure that it'll all work out in the end."

And wow! Didn't that sound sincere? Honest enough that even Prowl's slag-o-meter didn't pick it up. That took skill. Especially since it was calibrated for Sideswipe, was sensitive enough for Jazz, and still managed to detect everyone else. If he kept this up, Sam might win an Emmy.

"Undoubtedly," Prowl pronounced with the air of someone solving a great mystery, but he was silent after that. Like his good deed for the day was done and now he was free to be himself again.

Sam had the sudden urge to bang his head against the most convenient wall, but he was unfortunately without one. So he just made do with crossing his arms over his chest and staring out at the desert like it had personally offended him. A bush caught in his near-glare actually seemed to wilt a bit in response, but that might have just been his imagination. Just like it was most certainly his imagination that the shadow near that bolder on the right had suddenly moved. Purely imagined.

Prowl hadn't reacted, after all. Hadn't even moved a millimeter from his current position, optics slightly dimmed as they always did when he was tired. It wasn't real. Just a nighttime mirage. A trick caused by too many monster flicks and time spent with the twins. With too little recharge and a thousand things on his mind. He was only seeing things, only seeing the dim glint of metal in the very faint light.

The minibot came up short and nearly did a double-take with his optics. A seeping cold shot through his frame as his gaze fixed on that point, reminding him of what it felt like on the first day of school when all the other kids stared. But the cactus by that funny-looking rook was not watching him; it was just his mind playing tricks on him. And no, he had just imagined the sound of sand and dirt scattering across the ground. It was just the wind. Just the non-existent breeze that had stopped blowing nearly five minutes ago.

Something inside of him fizzled. It might have been his heart if he'd still had one. Must've been his spark then. Doing its outmost to descend as deeply as it could to settle somewhere near his ankles. And he nearly jolted as a boulder sprouted what appeared to be wings from the very top.

Sam took a hasty step backwards, nearly ramming into Prowl.

"What is it?" the older mech questioned, steadying him, even as he scanned all around.

His gaze flickered back, but only stone remained. "I… Nothing," Sam answered instead. "It's nothing. Just seeing things that aren't there." Nonetheless, he felt another distinctive chill go down the area his spine had once occupied. The same sensation he'd had when Prowl was watching him earlier.

The lieutenant was on the verge of agreeing with him but stopped at the edge. He narrowed his optics then, fingers tightening on Sam's shoulder and directing the minibot behind him. His other hand twitched and shifted, acid cannon freeing itself from its normal confines.

"Sam," Prowl said in a deliberate tone, "go back to the base."

The youngling didn't need to be told twice. He took a hasty step in that direction, but he clearly wasn't moving fast enough as he glimpsed another moving shadow. This one on a completely different side from the others.

Sam stopped short. "Prowl…"

"Back to the base," the mech all but retorted, tone going hard. "Leave now." His free hand jerked and spasmed like it was no longer under conscious control.

However, the minibot saw the not-shadow taking the form of something else. "But I--"

"Run!" It was almost a shout, almost a furious sort of begging, but in the next instant, Prowl suddenly stilled. His optics gave an unexpected flicker, like a computer on the fritz.

Sam didn't know what to do, going on instinct. He went for his comm. automatically, but all he heard in return was static. His thoughts skittered around what to do as he moved back towards Prowl. Only to watch as the mech just crashed to his knees. Both hands now jolting and failing to catch him as he fell all the way forward. His optics flickered one final time and abruptly died.

The night suddenly felt all that much darker as Sam put a hand on Prowl's back. More than relieved when he could still feel the whirling tingle of spark energy. But that was short-lived at the prickling sensation now crawling over his body. The youngling turned in just enough time to see a shape emerge out of the dimness to his right, and he did what came naturally.

Sam ran like his life depended on it. Quite possibly, it did.

He went like Megatron was chasing after him. Sandy ground loose beneath his feet. Rocks barely making him stumble. Bushes not even having time to scratch him as he breezed by.

But he still wasn't fast enough.

The youngling was unceremoniously tackled to the ground. Knees taken out from under him in a move that would've left a human paralyzed for life. If not outright dead. His metal body took the impact with a dull ring, far sturdier than his appearance suggested. The weight on his lower back wasn't as heavy as expected. Certainly not belonging to something physically larger than himself. Yet, still near enough that the difference was probably negligible for life and death situations. For now.

"Caught you," a vaguely feline voice stated with pride. "Caught you, little minibot."

What felt like claws tapped on his neck but didn't dig in.

"Barely bigger than us," another replied. This one deeper but no less menacing. Belonging to a body with equally clawed hands that encircled his sides, though this one was upright and not on all fours.

"Such a delicate, youngling," the false-cat continued. "And so very pretty." There was a chuckle, rich and thick. "Pretty and perfectly tasty."

Sam shuddered at that. At them as he felt something electrical jolt over his metallic skin. It left him aware but unable to move as those clawed fingers dragged him back towards Prowl. Were it not for the situation, it would've been amazing how he could see the still form of the lieutenant but not the bots touching him. And he got an even better look at Prowl as he was shoved down to the ground on his side less than a meter away.

"Oh, he is a cute one," a new bot interjected, this one higher and breathless. "All that dark and delicious paint."

"And those optics. I've never seen ones that color before," a fourth chimed in, and an eagle-like head entered his field of vision, beak nearly scraping his cheek as it leaned in close.

"We'll have fun playing with you," a fifth added, a wicked tenor with a faint accent. "Won't we, brothers?"

There was a round of laughter. Filled with humor and malice.

Sam cringed inside and mentally begged his body to move. It didn't obey. And instead, he could only watch as the bots slithered closer to Prowl.

"Shall we finish him, creator?" questioned one of the not-birds circling around the cop car's head. Dainty feet ripping an enormous gash down his shoulder and exposing the circuitry underneath.

Sam had a second to wonder just who was being addressed. Yet, that though flew from his processor as another, much larger shape loomed from out of the night. Easing forward like it had formed from the shadows and been given life. Black metallic paint that would possibly be dark blue under normal light. Sleek lines artfully outlined with silver and hint of some other designs. Masked mouth and a battle visor that slid back to reveal optics of the most startling red Sam had ever seen. Dazzling and hypnotic with their blazing intensity.

"Negative," the Decepticon leader replied. For surely, that's what he was. "In no condition to follow. Autobots will be distracted with his care." His tone was cool. A smooth monotone that was both intriguing and frightening. The voice of the monster under the bed that whispered promises of blood and horror.

The enormous mech all but glided over to Sam, heading tilting ever-so-slightly as he took in the minibot before him. Sam shivered under that look, pump squeezing in his chest, even as his spark stuttered. And he had the distinct feeling that the 'Con knew. That he saw straight through him and glimpsed even that.

Something a lot like fear coiled within him. Dug at his innards until he was completely exposed before those optics.

"A youngling," the 'Con observed with that same startling and shattering tone. "A new youngling. Most interesting. Symbiotes, successful. Expectations exceeded greatly."

Even though he couldn't see them, Sam could practically feel their pleasure at his pronouncement. But then, the large bot turned back to him.

'Sleep,' a voice in his head commanded, sounding just like the mech in front of him. And it was emotionless. Coldly efficient. Terrible. Indifferent to pain or terror or suffering. Merely observing with a casual and vague interest that held no true feeling.

'Sleep,' he ordered again.

And Sam did.


Lyrics from: Busy Tonight by Nylons, Spend Some Time by Eminem, and Where'd You Go? by Fort Minor.

AN: Would anyone be interested in a sequel to Intersection. Do you want me to continue the series? It would be written in a similar style to this one.

Also, I'll most likely be pretending that the second movie never happened for this fic. I believe that the plot will just be too disparate with this to fit.


Ever Hopeful,

Azar