Author notes: ..It's a filler chapter with no real plot. More flashbacks and little tidbits than anything else. Sorry. XD I just wanted to get SOMETHING out. My brain now has a general idea of where it's going, though, so we might actually hit some plot next chapter.
RESPOND TIME YAY!
Tigerwolf204: My brain originally did not want any telepathic communication between the sparkbonded, but after some muling over it, well.. It gave in. XD Your suggestion did help; my brain absorbed some of it, it did!
IthicaJ: My brain was quite happy with your suggestions. Tho, it doesn't seem fond of Starscream, for some reason. *shrug*
SusieSaysNo: THAT'S the line that did it for you? THAT was it? XD Seriously? *falls over*
Lucy Sameragui: ..You squished me with a giant cookie. O_O *squish*
Little Miss Molly: Flashback, COMING UP! Bwaha!
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So, am I still waiting
For this world to stop hating?
Can't find a good reason
Can't find hope to believe in
Drop dead
A bullet to my head
Your words are like a gun in hand
You can't change the state of the nation
We just need some motivation
-- 'Still Waiting', Sum 41
Streamline: Chapter 10
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He had never heard Bumblebee cry before.
Granted, he had heard yelps of pain, screams of variable length and whimpers; those things simply happened on the battlefield. Pain was something that simply happened in times of war, more so considering who Bumblebee was; more than once, the yellow Autobot had called in to his comm screaming obscenities and calling for help. Weeping, though, was something entirely different.
"Primus..!" He could remember his own cry through the tentative processor-to-processor link that had been forged; he doubted he would ever forget the horror he had experienced at that moment.
"I wasn't exaggerating about the interface thing." The annoyed response had hurt; it was a metaphysical blade through his own spark. If he had known, he never would have told him..!
His emotions were getting in the way; the processor over matter technique was wavering with his own lack of concentration. Focus seemed out of reach with what he was seeing through his friends' optics; still, he had to know for certain before the connection cut off.
Interfacing and bonding were two different things; if one was done and not the other, there was still hope.
"Primus.." Why couldn't he bring his own thoughts together? "Bumblebee.. Primus, did Megatron..?" He couldn't even say the word, the shock was so deep.
"Yeah.." Hope crashed with the almost physical crescendo of broken dreams. "The night after I got here. I tried to fight him off..!"
That was when he heard the weeping; such a strong, deep and penetrating despair that it occurred both in Bumblebee's voice and spark. It echoed in his own processor, an accusatory jab at poorly stated suggestions.
"Prowl, I don't think I can get out of here on my own! Everything I try to do doesn't work!"
He couldn't keep this up. He simply didn't have it within himself to continue the telepathy; he felt ready to purge. "Bumblebee.. We'll.. We'll get you out!" He had to say it, his friend had to know they were trying to find him! "We'll find that boat. I'll try to contact you again, but I swear to Primus that we'll find you..!"
"Prowl..?" That was the last he heard before the link severed.
Blue optics snapped online with a horrified gasp and shaking servos; Prowl sat, cross-legged in the traditional meditation pose for several cycles, taking in deep intakes. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to get himself under control, to bring back every lesson he had learned in Yoketron's tutelage, nothing seemed to work.
With a sudden need to purge his systems of the deep sick feeling, Prowl got to his feet and ran for the first basin he could spot; an empty planter lay by the door -- a small swimming pool in reality, but nowhere near large enough for a Cybertronian -- and he made a mad dash for it. He barely got there in time to empty his fuel tank of everything it held.
It was nothing more than poor luck that the closed door didn't prevent sound from escaping; a knock came soon after. "Prowl? Kid, you okay?" Ratchet.
The ninja didn't answer; he couldn't, dry heaving the way he was. After several seconds of silence, the door opened.
"Prowl..!" Ratchet sputtered in surprise. Worry crossed the old medics' face. "Kid, you got a virus in your system..? Let me do a quick systems check.."
"I'm fine..!" Still, Prowl heaved. "I managed to contact Bumblebee.."
"What?!" The field medic sputtered again. The other bots' vomiting now served to set in an even deeper worry and fear. "How did you..? How bad is the kid..?!"
"Get the others." Prowl took in deep intakes, standing a little shakily. "I don't think I'll be able to say it twice." He wondered if he could even say it once.
Not twenty minutes later and all the Autobots were set around a table in the abandoned warehouse that served as their base. It was still only late afternoon and the call to pull whoever was on patrol off of it came as a complete surprise; it had taken Bulkhead an impressive ten minutes to get halfway across Detroit.
By the time they were all situated, Prowl had his head supported almost entirely by his own hand on his forehead, appearing more than a little ill. The sight of it caused widespread concern.
"Prowl?" Optimus Prime stared at the ninja in wide-optic worry for a moment before sitting down.
The mech in question took in a deep intake. "I got in contact with Bumblebee."
"What?!" Bulkhead boggled. "How?!"
"Processor over matter." Prowl shrugged a little. "..I didn't think it would work, either. I had brief telepathic communication with him and managed to record some images to my processor that may help us find him."
"Thank Primus for that..!" Optimus sat back with incredulity and joy. "Anything is better than nothing!"
"There's more." Prowl frowned deeply, looking to the table; he had no real idea how to verbalize what needed to be said.
"He's hurt bad, isn't he?" Ratchet frowned knowingly; the ninja wouldn't be acting this way otherwise. "How bad?"
Prowl shut off pain-filled optics behind his visor. "There is no good way to say this." A deep, shaky intake came and went. "Megatron's bonded with Bumblebee."
"What?!" Bulkhead shot to his pedes.
"Are you sure?!" Ratchet gaped in shock and horror.
Prowl nodded slightly, still not looking up in the attempt to hide his guilt. "I saw it myself." The math had added itself up and he hated the sum. "Bumblebee told me it happened the night after he called us."
"Dear Primus.." Optimus whispered low, barely able to breathe.
"I shouldn't have told him to preserve his strength.." Prowl continued to look away, his own words haunting him. "Primus, I shouldn't have said that.."
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Prowl woke from recharge with a gasp, sitting up sharply. The memory haunted him still, despite now being in the waking world; guilt coursed through his systems, processor angry at itself. They all knew full and well that the only person truly to blame for everything that had happened was Megatron himself; yet, he couldn't help the thoroughly horrible feeling that had stuck firm these past weeks.
He had never properly asked for Bumblebee's forgiveness; it hadn't been right of him to do so. He was, after all, guilty of ordering his friend to allow Megatron to bond with him; he was entirely to blame for a damaged life and doomed spark.
It did not help that he had been able to see the damage; Bumblebee would never be the same again, and the quiet sadness his friend had shown when he had seen him last said as much. Prowl had seen the extinguished joy that had once been a constant in his friends' bright optics; he had seen his friends' processor crack further after learning the yellow mech was actually carrying.
There was a sudden temptation to telepathically contact his friend again; a glance at his chronometer told him otherwise. The Elite Guard ship was likely running on Cybertronian standard time; Bumblebee would likely be asleep at this hour.
The ninja wasn't used to this deep, confused worry; he didn't know what to do with himself or how to act normal again. If he was feeling this terribly, he could only imagine how badly Bumblebee was taking it all.
"Primus, forgive me.." Prowl shook his head, looking down.
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Unconsciousness swam about in a mingled array of confusion and curiosity; perhaps it was simply because memory wasn't working properly, but Blurr couldn't quite find it within himself to worry why he was both asleep yet oddly aware at the same time. He couldn't quite recall when he had fallen asleep; all he knew was that he was. The last thing he recalled, at the moment, was looking out the window and talking with Bumblebee.
What felt like a soft tapping was at the edge of his processor. It was an almost gentle rapping, like the knock on a door; the speedster didn't answer it, having enough sense to be afraid.
After all, he remembered that he was being hunted, recalled the large bounty; danger lurked around every corner, these days. Paranoia served to protect, now.
The tapping, however, did not leave. In fact, it increased, getting louder and louder as the cycles went on. It wasn't long before it felt as if a jackhammer was pounding directly atop his skull; Blurr whimpered and tried to block it out.
It only got worse; it felt as if his mind was tearing apart. In a sudden fit of desperation, he allowed the metaphysical door to open, if only to make the noise stop.
"Well, it's about time." A slightly amused tone in a dreadfully familiar voice.
"Nonononononono.." Blurr tried to 'shove' the presence in his processor back out the door; his attempts were in vain.
"It's all right, Special Agent Blurr.." It sounded so much like Longarm Prime that he could have wept. "I'm only here to talk."
"Idon'twanttohearanythingyouhavetosay!" Blurr tried to be angry, truly he did, but found only terror at his disposal. "Getoutofmyprocessor! Getoutgetoutgetout!"
Shockwave didn't budge. "Aren't you tired of running? Aren't you tired of being afraid? Come to me, and I promise you'll be treated well."
Blurr couldn't believe what he was hearing. "GetOUTofmyHEAD!"
"I only want what's best for the sparkling."
The reminder of what was growing in his chassis only caused an even deeper, more frenzied despair. "Youruinedmylife! YoudestroyedeverythingIeverdid! GetoutoutoutoutOUT!"
"All right. I will, for now." Such a calm, friendly tone. Shockwave chuckled in Longarm's voice, as if a gentle creator to their child. "But remember my words, little one."
When the intrusive presence finally left his mind, Blurr's optics snapped alight. He sat up hurriedly in a room he didn't recognize; unsure where he was and the conversation still echoing in his spark, panic gripped him and he started to scream.
"What the --" Someone yelled. "Slaggit, Blurr, calm down! We're okay!"
Blurr looked around rapidly; he stopped shrieking when he spotted a familiar yellow form on a nearby chair. "Bumblebee?!"
Bumblebee rubbed the back of his head, wincing a little. "We're in the Elite Guard's medical bay." That would explain why the room was large and unfamiliar. "Lockdown's offline."
Blurr could only stare in dumb shock for a few cycles, slowly recalling the earlier fight. Memory came a little too slow for his usual quick mind. "..Howtheslagdid..?"
"Sari says she shot a laser at him." Bumblebee smirked a little, visibly proud of his best friend. "Out of her optics."
The blue speedster boggled at that; it wasn't a completely unheard of talent, but it was extraordinarily rare. "Iseverybodyallright?"
Bumblebee frowned at that. "Sentinel's got a hole in his head, but he was awake and swearing before, and Jazz said he'll be okay. Jetstorm and Jetfire are both in emergency stasis lock, though. Something about damage to their spark casings."
Blurr winced at that. "..Areweonourown?"
It took a moment to dissect what Blurr had said. "Jazz is up and running, but he's working on Jetfire and Jetstorm. As far as I know, it's us, Sari and Jazz until we get to Cybertron." A small grin. "On the other hand, Lockdown is offline, and we even got his ship and everything in it." He looked a little too happy about that.
Blurr frowned in slight confusion, unsure why his yellow friend was delighted. "Whatdoesthatmeanexactly?"
Bumblebee continued to grin. "Weapons, medical supplies.. If another bounty hunter tries to attack us, we have slagload of guns to kick aft!" He almost seemed like his old self for a moment.
"Uhm.. Didn'tweallreadyhaveaslagloadofguns?" Blurr blinked. At the sharp look from Bumblebee, he couldn't help a small smirk. "You'rejusthappytohavealotofguns, huh?"
Bumblebee sat back and folded his arms -- by the chair next to his own, it seems he had been in emergency recharge on the makeshift berth. "I like making Decepticreeps blow up. With their own weapons, it's just more awesome."
The smirk broadened for a moment on Blurr's face, but quickly faded. "..Shockwavewasinmyhead."
Bumblebee sat up in some alarm; after a moment, he frowned sadly. "Megatron was in my head, too. I let him in once by accident, and then I refused to let him in. They're trying to find out where we are."
"Whatdowedo?" Blurr whimpered.
"Don't let him in. It gives a pit of a processor ache, but, slag, I managed to do it." Bumblebee shrugged helplessly. He looked downwards for a moment, expression turning bitter. "I'd rather offline myself than go back to those fraggers."
Blurr looked at his yellow friend in wonder, taking in what had been said. He wondered how the other Autobot managed to keep from breaking down the way he had. The blue mech looked to his lap in subdued silence, unsure what to say.
Everything had changed so much in such a short span of time; he didn't know what to do or what would happen next; the unclear future brought only more depressed uncertainty.
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Jazz had claimed it would take roughly eight solar cycles to get to Cybertron; Earth had simply been so far off and they were too wary to attempt taking a space bridge. With the stolen weapons and supplies from Lockdown's ship -- not to mention the ship itself, being towed along for the ride --, at least they didn't have to worry about running out of anything. They even now had a surplus of energon.
Three solar cycles in to the journey proved thankfully quiet. With Lockdown's stolen cloaking device, they managed to hide both ships with little difficulty; a test even proved sensors couldn't pick them up.
That evening, Blurr wandered around the ship with a hand on his chassis, hissing in slight pain; they had been told their sparks might ache with the growing sparklings inside, so he wasn't too concerned. Still, he looked for the only Elite Guard who he felt would know what to do; it didn't take long to find Jazz in the ships' medical bay, checking on the recharging twins.
"Jazz?" Blurr blinked at the two mechs; they both had survived the surgeries to repair the damage the chainsaw had done, but hadn't been allowed to move around just yet.
"Hmm?" Jazz turned in surprise, frowning in concern. "Blurr? You okay, man?"
"Ithurtsaroundmysparkalittle." Blurr frowned, only a little worried, calmed by expectation.
"Already?" Jazz frowned a little. "The sparkling shouldn't've grown that big, yet. Take a seat someplace, okay?"
The blue mech frowned deeply, disturbed by the comment; he didn't know much about how sparklings grew -- or about medical things in general, really --, but he had a feeling it probably wasn't a good thing if Jazz was worried.
Jazz picked up the pen-like scanner from a nearby stand; he gazed to the small blue mech in concern. "You know how this goes."
Blurr winced a little; he hated opening up his spark chamber, unable to help the memory of having it torn off from returning every time he did. It took a few seconds to get it open, servos shaking.
The monochrome Elite Guard walked towards the open spark chamber, kneeling to get a better look. He ended up not having to turn on the scanning device, blinking slightly at what he saw with his naked optics. A relieved intake was let out. "Slag, for a moment there, I was worried."
"It'snothingbad?" Blurr blinked widely, relaxing.
"Looks like you'll have to get a larger chassis soon, but nothin' serious, man." Jazz was relieved enough to grin a little, standing back up. "Though, uhm.. You know how twins are made, right?"
"Isn'tthatwhenasparklingsplits --" Blurr blinked, stunned. He closed up his spark chamber slowly. "..Oh." He had not expected this, but he somehow didn't care. He was already carrying; one extra didn't do much, really. "Dowehavetheequipmenttoupgrade..?"
"Not for a real job." Jazz frowned a little in thought. "Temporary patches, but you're going to be uncomfortable 'til we get to Cybertron."
"Slag." Blurr sighed; this was the last thing he needed, then. "Primusmusthateme."
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What have we done?
With a war that can't be won?
This can't be real
'Cause I don't know what to feel
So, tell me, what would you say?
I'd say it's time;
Too late
-- 'Still Waiting', Sum 41