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 Ten: Paint it Black

The medbay was lit up bright as day, every light on and humming, burning as Ratchet and Aid bent over Prowl's still form. Sam had the sensation of seeing through optics that weren't his as he looked on, but it was a common one when he dreamed. An out of body experience where the form he occupied wasn't his but still managed to be familiar. A hand was on his shoulder, smaller than his current ones but gripping with a tightness that let him know the bot could easily wipe the floor with him, and he was aware of others around him, sensed the thrum of his prime's spark to his left and the flare of Jazz just behind and to the side. He didn't seem to care at all about them, however, as he watched Prowl's optics flicker to their normal deep blue before onlining firmly. But the lieutenant didn't move from his current position, simply stared at the ceiling like he didn't understand where he was or how he had gotten there.

"Prowl," Ratchet prompted, and his voice was odd. Nearly strangled with concern and something a lot like agony.

"Prowler," Jazz tried instead, stepping forward to place his fingers on Prowl's arm. "Prowler, how are ya?"

"Confused," the police car replied with absolute bewilderment. "What happened?"

"What is the last thing you remember?" Optimus asked in return. Sam could tell that his face was hard behind his mask, tone agitated but steely. Hand a fist at his side.

"I was in ops… No, I went outside," Prowl said as he slowly sat up. "Why would I go outside? I wasn't done with my shift yet."

There was an uneasy ripple that spread through those gathered, and the room suddenly seemed five times too small. Sam felt his spark flutter before Optimus sent out a soothing wave of his energy field.

"Ya went out ta find Sam," Jazz reminded him gently, normal mirth long gone.

Prowl nodded. "Yes, Sam… He was troubled and had gone out there to think. I saw him leave on the monitors and followed. I found him, and we spoke." His optics were glazed over as he struggled to recall. "We talked about friendship."

Ratchet and Optimus exchanged a glance over his head, while Jazz squeezed his arm and Aid hovered tensely nearby. Sam just stood off to the side, pump pounding in his chest and on the verge of exploding.

"What else?" Optimus questioned.

"What about Sam?" Ratchet asked at the same time.

They looked at each other again.

"What happened then?" his prime continued alone.

Sam hung on Prowl's answer, listened as the lieutenant struggled to piece it together, clinging to hope like a dying mech. But each word only made him tremble. Made his spark dim and pump sink down to his knees.

"Did you see what happened to Sam?" Ratchet's tone was hollow and demanding but also half-panicked.

Prowl shook his head, gazing into nothing. "I do not… It doesn't make any sense. There was something out in the desert, but then, I couldn't move. I tried…" He trailed off, freezing completely and arm slipping free from Jazz's now lax grasp.

And Sam leaned forward eagerly. Praying to Primus with his every thought. Promising anything, anything at all that things would be alright. That they hadn't gone as he dreaded.

"Soundwave," Prowl breathed. "It was Soundwave." His optics held only horror. "Soundwave was there, and he… No. No. No… I could not… I did not… I'm sorry, Prime. Ratchet. I just…"

But Sam couldn't hear the rest of it over the unexpected rushing of his audios. Over the howl that tore itself free from his vocalizer. Over the echo of his body colliding with Prowl and taking them both to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

"Bumblebee!" Optimus shouted.

But it was a vague and fading sound in his mind. All he could see was Prowl. All he could feel were his fingers digging into the older mech's sensitive neck wiring. All he could think about was how Prowl had failed. Had let their only youngling be taken. Had let S--

Suddenly, there were two sets of hands pulling him back, ripping him away. Sam struggled, but they were much too strong, wrestling him into submission on the cold ground. He tried to move, but Jazz was a firm weight on his back, and First Aid was already reaching for the relays in his neck. With a click, he felt his body become dead weight, unable to even twitch but still capable of awareness.

"Easy, Bee," Jazz said, mouth inches away from his face. "Take it easy. This ain't helpin'."

Sam could hear the others moving around above him. The sound of Optimus steadying Prowl as Ratchet went to help them. Feel Aid just off to the side, manipulating some type of medical instrument. And he knew exactly what was coming.

"I'm sorry," Jazz whispered then. "I'm sorry, Bee. But we can't deal with this now. We have ta figure out what happened."

Sam wanted to yell. To shriek in defiance. But he just couldn't manage it. Could only watch in despair as he saw Aid lean closer out of the corner of his optic. Feel something dig into his frame before the world dissolved into blackness.

Sam awoke gasping. Limbs attempting to thrash but held steady by restraints. Back pressed into the smooth surface of a berth. Or perhaps a table. He couldn't be certain as he tried to tilt his head and peer around. But the minibot couldn't even do that much. Entire body all but fixed in place.

"He is awake, creator," someone commented dryly. As though it were a fact not already obvious.

"Indeed" was the reply, but it was emotionless and efficient. Almost like Prowl but lacking the undercurrent of hidden warmth. The vague amusement that forever revealed itself after one of the twins' pranks. It was a frightening voice, so mechanical but oddly intriguing. Winding and wrapping its way through his mind and to his very core.

Sam couldn't repress a shiver.

The mech – Soundwave, his mind supplied from out of nowhere – stepped into view then, dark paint glinting in the bright light. His red optics all but bored into Sam's as he loomed over, and the youngling felt a trickle at the back of his mind. Like a cold rain that tried to come in through the window but was blocked by the glass. It tried the direct approach and then to slip in through the cracks, but nothing got through. Sam couldn't quite understand why or how he did it, but his thoughts simply slid away like a shadow being chased by the sun. One step ahead and always out of reach until Soundwave shuttered his optics and looked away.

"Designation?" he queried after a long moment. Tone still detached and not the least bit perturbed.

Sam had the distinct impression that he already knew the answer. That this was a test of some sort. Perhaps seeing just how cooperative he would be. But honestly, the youngling didn't see the harm in it. Especially with what he risked if he didn't.

"It's Sam," he responded, surprised by how fuzzy his own voice was. "Sam Witwicky."

There was a flicker in his mind again. The feel of something attempting to follow that line of thought back to the source, but it was once more rebuffed. Just as effortlessly as before. A deft hand that unconsciously and easily slipped his mind away.

"How utterly droll," another bot replied, rich with disdain. It wasn't Soundwave but one of the others. His symbiotes, weren't they? Wasn't he supposed to have them?

"One would think that they'd give him something more appropriate," a different one added, landing near Sam's head with the flutter of metal wings and the soft clink of talons.

"Especially with such a pleasing form," the first agreed, now suddenly beside him, and Sam could just make out a feline face from the edge of his vision. "It simply doesn't suit him at all. We will have to come up with something more appropriate."

"Most certainly," the second went on, each step a distinct set of clacks as he walked on the berth. "Don't you agree, creator?"

"Ravage, Laserbeak, enough," Soundwave dismissed as he came back into full view. He had something in hand, something long and metallic and rather frightening.

Sam had just enough time to stiffen as it touched his chassis before his body was on fire, lightening racing through his insides and a scream ripping from his throat. He could feel himself arching off the table, but his restraints kept his limbs firmly in place. Held him down as he thrashed and then stilled, unable to move despite the pain tearing into his system. It just blazed around his circuits, burning hotter before suddenly cooling into a faint warmth.

The youngling lay in a daze, dimly aware of his surroundings but not caring as he tried to process what had just happened. His servos and gears hissed at the unexpected rush of heat followed by the relative chill of the room, and the air above his chest was fluid and distorted from the spike in temperature. His fingers shook as he dug them into the berth's surface, and his spark rattled inside him, flaring painfully, feeling much like the rest of him.

"Fascinating," Soundwave murmured above him in a parody of Perceptor, studying a display. "Highly unexpected." Then, he was leaning forward again.

The minibot didn't even have the chance to react this time. Much less the next. Sam couldn't even be sure how long it went on. Pure agony followed by a few minutes of shaky relief. Rinse and repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And scream until his vocalizer couldn't handle the sound any longer. Until his audios even gave out and he couldn't hear his own whimpers or Soundwave's occasional mutter or the symbiotes' mocking commentary.

As suddenly as it had all began, it just stopped. Soundwave simply walked away, symbiotes following in his wake. Went up to the exit, ushered the others out, and turned off the light before leaving himself. That was it. Nothing more or less. Torture followed by nothing at all. No questions or interrogation or demands. Just… nothing.

And Sam could only stare into the darkness. Left alone with his thoughts and the lingering ache in his circuits. Only the buzz of his own shuddering spark for company.

Sam was dreaming again.

Simmons was on the tabletop, a large holographic display in front of him. "We're searching section by section here and here." His arms swept out to encompass two large parts of the map as he addressed the group of assembled humans behind him. "Red Alert's coordinating it all, and Blaster is backtracking every signal in a three hundred mile radius. You aren't to bother them for anything. Nothing at all. If you need something, talk to one of the others."

The man continued in that vein for several minutes, but Sam felt his attention wane rapidly, too busy trying to contain his nerves. He could feel his hands clenching and unclenching. Legs practically twitching with the urge to race out of the room and start searching immediately. Even as he remember how futile and useless that would be. They needed to be organized. Needed to work together. Or else they'd never find him. And the last thing between them would forever be an argument.

"You'll be in teams," Simmons was saying as Sam snapped his attention back to the matter at hand. "Reporting to either me and Bee back there or Ironhide and Will Lennox. Your job is just to get out there and look. Yes, manually," he added, shooting a dark look at one man in particular, who had the decency to flush. "I don't care if we have to look through every cave, barn, and ditch, we're going to find this kid. He's top priority. Doesn't matter what other assignment you have, this comes first. You understand me?"

The other humans traded a few glances that were followed by a murmur of agreement. Simmons nodded and was about to speak again when his phone buzzed. It didn't even have the chance to make it through the first line of the chorus before he answered, listening for a moment before ending the call. His face was firm then, completely unreadable.

"The head of Homeworld Security is coming," Simmons said for the humans who weren't able to tap into his phone line. "He'll be here in three hours. Until then, people, your assignments stand. Now get going."

He made a shooing gesture, which was obeyed with a minimum of muttering. Simmons didn't seem to care though as Sam strode forward and plucked him effortlessly from the table and transformed. Speeding down out of the hanger and almost running down three different humans in his haste to leave. But Sam just couldn't bring himself to be bothered, to worry about that as he raced by.

"Easy there, speed racer." Simmons yelped as they turned a sharp corner and nearly clipped a building. "Causing a traffic accident isn't going to help us at all."

He was silent as Sam revved his engine and tore through a straight stretch of road. The human just watched as the scenery streaked by and fiddled with his phone, waiting for the inevitable call. The one that would either bring salvation or damnation.

"We'll find him," Simmons said then, hand stroking the steering wheel. "I promise that we'll find him, kid. You'll see."

Sam didn't say anything, just let out a burst of song through his radio as something like relief trickled through his core. If he had to be assigned a human, at least it was one who truly understood what was at stake. Who truly cared if they found him or not…

Sam woke to pain. Not the all-consuming agony that seemed his closest companion now. Just a sharp jab of talons into his chestplates.

"Wakey, wakey, my delicious little youngling," a voice purred in his audio. Dripping with a hundred unknowable but unsavory things.

Sam fought back a groan. Not even needing to online his optics to know it was Ravage. The 'Con had taken a particular liking to him. Although "liking" was used lightly. Really a euphemism for loving to torment Sam in his own special little way. A break from the monotony of testing and experimenting.

"Where are those lovely green optics?" Ravage questioned then and tapped one with his foreclaw, a signal if there ever was one that the youngling should obey his unspoken command. "There they are. So precious and unique," he announced as Sam flared his optics on, trying his best to stare straight forward and see nothing. "I do wonder how the Autobots ever managed something so exquisite. They just don't have our sense of aesthetics, do they brothers?"

His question was directed at Buzzsaw, who made a dismissive twitter, and Laserbeak, who merely snickered. Rumble chortled darkly, while Ratbat just gave the impression of rolling his optics. The others contributed in a similar line, but further discussion was halted as Soundwave came into view.

And then, Sam once more knew pain.

Time passed in a dark blur. Trapped in the blackness he couldn't tell how long it was from one visit to another. From one round of screaming and fire racing through him to the next.

Mind a swirl of Bee and Mikaela and dreams. Fractures of memory as he lay in the dark. Singing every song he knew. And when those ran out, speaking to himself about his life story, all the little things and details. Anything to fill the silence.

His first memory of learning to ride a tricycle with his dad holding onto the back just in case. Meeting Miles in kindergarten, the weird kids without any other friends. The sandwiches his mom made, two types of jelly and peanut butter in the center and sealed with a kiss in his lunchbox. Remembering his first day of middle school, of being shoved into his locker by Trent but rescued by Miles minutes later. Seeing Mikaela for the first time in eighth grade when he'd tripped and fallen over her. The Autobots and his grandfather's glasses and Bee and running for his life. Mission City and the little creatures he'd made accidentally that had only lived as long as the Allspark energy echoed inside of them. Then Megatron and how utterly tired but relieved Optimus seemed. How over the moon his parents had been when he'd brought Mikaela home to meet them properly. Miles screaming over the bots and then wanting nothing more to do with him. His dad dying only months later and sitting in the waiting room with his head in his hands as Mikaela cried with him. His mom's squeal of joy when he gotten into college, the first time she'd smiled in so long. Mikaela so broken on her hospital bed, the machines the only thing keeping her alive.

Bee and the Allspark fragment and the strange tingling in his chest afterwards. Going to Ratchet days later and passing out. Waking up to a metal body and being numb and not even crying because he couldn't anymore but how First Aid had sat on the berth and held him as he shook. How he'd seen Bee out of the corner of his optics. How pleased his friend had been. How he had smiled, just a little. He had Sam forever now and betrayal and…

And Primus, he couldn't think about that. Something else. Anything else.

The order all the bots had arrived. Optimus Prime with his unit. Then, it'd been Red Alert's team. Wheeljack and the Protectobots. Tracks and Smokescreen. And someone else. One of the minibots. Cliffjumper. Definitely him.

Next, Skyfire had shown up.

No, he'd come with the Dinobots. Sam knew that because he'd been there when Mikaela had named them. Had taken one look at Grimlock and pronounced him the most awesome thing ever.

That's right.

But before that, Prowl and the twins had come right after his mom had sold their house and moved to Portland with his aunt. And Bluestreak and Trailbreaker and the rest of the minibots were with them. And Perceptor. Couldn't forget him now, could he? He'd asked Sam to strip so he could be scanned and probed. And he'd never seen Ratchet so angry or Prowl so embarrassed or heard Optimus laugh like that.

And Sarah Lennox had gone into labor just a week later. She'd been the only calm one as Will and Ironhide and Epps all panicked and ran around. Just carrying her own duffle bag down the hall to the front door and putting both it and Annabelle in Prowl's backseat, having him drive her to the hospital with Sam and Mikaela following in Bee. And Will showing up an hour later after he'd finally realized she was gone. The baby so delicate and new with eyes just like Will and Sarah's hair.

Spending the holidays with them at their farm over his breaks – winter and then summer and winter again – but getting the call just after dawn on Christmas Day that Mikaela had been in an accident on her way up to see her dad. That the road had been wet and her tires not as good as they should've been. Sitting in the ICU, holding her hand through the night. Feeling the beat of her heart against his fingertips but already knowing that the part of her that made her truly alive was long gone, and the doctors coming in, and could he donate her organs because there was nothing more they could do for her?

Being in the medbay afterwards with Ratchet, just reminiscing about her and all the others who had been lost. The terrified way Bee had looked at him then, frantic and petrified as though he'd suddenly understood some universal truth in all its horrifying glory. The sinking dread in his stomach as Bee became distant and distracted but forgetting about that as he mourned, and then, the Aerialbots showing up en masse. Slingshot not even there a full day before he and Blades were already in the brig for fighting. And Fireflight plowing into a mountain a few hours later.

And then changing. Transforming. And after the shock had worn off, the pleased gleam to Ratchet's optics. The feel of Optimus' hand on his shoulder and the way Red Alert looked at him with approval. Wheeljack so excited to teach him and the twins showing him how to dance. Waiting with Blue for Jazz to be fixed, Prowl so hopeful but unable to say it.

Finally, Mirage and Hound. Blaster. Who didn't see anything but Sam himself. Who never saw the human who had been or a boy. Only a friend. Who was so lonely and empty like Sam himself but actually seemed to be overcoming it, trying to bring Sam up from the deep with him.

Now, Soundwave and being trapped in the dark. Screaming and begging and violation and pain and then blissful, hurtful silence.

And then, he was dreaming.

Sam was disorientated. The feeling of consciousness after being forcefully offlined. Body heavy and far too cumbersome to move a single inch. Disconnected from him. Almost like it belonged to someone else entirely and he was just hitching a ride, merely a placeholder as the owner was away. And even with that, he lay with his optics off, trying and failing to fight the rising dizziness and not at all liking the way the room seemed to sway around him. The sound of near-shouts and wrenches connecting with metal didn't help matters either.

"It's been two orns," Ratchet snarled as he hurled tools this way and that and stomped closer to where Sam rested. "Two! Damned Pit-born slaggers can't even find their own afts with both hands and a GPS."

There was the noise of another pair of feet moving nearby. However, this set was much lighter and had a distinctly familiar cadence. Regal and nearly dancing with their smoothness.

"Earth is only so big," Mirage tried to reassure, but he sounded more like he was attempting to convince himself. "We'll find him. It will just take time. Soundwave is… He is devious and tricky."

Ratchet snorted, and it was an inelegant noise. "It's not just him, though he's the slagging cause. The fragging humans have already pulled back their search. The only ones still looking besides us are Lennox's team and that half-glitch Simmons."

Mirage didn't seem to have an answer for that. Neither did First Aid as he cautiously joined them, not even saying a word and only identified by the ease with which he sidestepped his boss. Long ago trained to avoid the rampage. He simply glided out of the way like a well-rehearsed choreograph, two steps left for every move right the older medic took. Picking up the discarded tools without missing a beat and setting them in their proper place. But still, there was something off to his movements, something strange in the way that he hadn't spoken at all.

And none of them seemed to have noticed that Sam was awake.

"They're all we need," Mirage said after several moments, but it was weak and unsure. "It will all work out. We will find Soundwave. And soon." He rubbed his hands together, as though unexpectedly cold.

"Pit," Ratchet all but spat as he whirled around. "You don't honestly believe that, and neither do I. Bee is out of his processor, and Prime isn't far behind. Prowl is barely functioning, and Red Alert has run himself into the ground. Blaster and his symbiotes are pulling triple shifts with Sideswipe, trying to track his signal. Sunstreaker is running ops, while Jazz does interference with the human government. Not even counting the patrols all of them still pull. I haven't seen any of the minibots for an orn. We're scattered across seven states. Willy-nilly." He made a cutting motion through the air, static cackling across his frame. "Cliffjumper and Tracks. Bluestreak and Gears. Slingshot and Blades are even on patrols together. Together! Willingly!"The medic let out a rush of air as he finished and would've been breathing hard had he been human.

"And you haven't recharged since this all began," Mirage inserted softly, tiredly. Weak and weary. "Please, Ratchet. Rest. You need it."

"Bah. I'll rest when it's over," he retorted, flinging some nameless instrument to the nearby berth. It hit hard enough to make Aid visibly and audibly flinch, but the senior medic didn't notice.

"Since you are the picture of rationality at the moment," the racecar shot back. "We'll need you in top form when they bring him back. Soundwave will not have been kind to him."

Sam could hear the gears in Ratchet's arm stutter and catch as he squeezed the tabletop hard enough to leave finger impressions. His wrist servos made a horrible grinding noise and would undoubtedly need replacing in the future, but no one save Sam even noticed.

"And I suppose you agree with him?" Ratchet asked, turning to his apprentice. There was an odd note in the question, something a lot like defeat.

First Aid said nothing, however, arms curled around his chest as though hugging himself. Even from his place on the berth, Sam could hear his body trembling. The faint ping of metal on metal.

"Aid?"

And Sam could tell that Ratchet was now staring at his assistant. Own fatigue forgotten. Swept away in the realization that something was wrong.

"Aid, are you--"

"He's not coming back," First Aid finally replied. And he sounded impossibly young and broken. "He's dead, isn't he? Sam… Sam's dead."

Sam felt his spark flicker. Aid couldn't possibly believe that, could he? But he could tell from their stunned silence, from the way that neither refuted the claim that both Ratchet and Mirage had to have already been thinking along the same lines. Had to think that, even if only in some small part of themselves.

"You don't know that," Mirage whispered, and his voice was echoingly loud in the dead quiet of the medbay. "We cannot know that."

"But we would've found something by now," Aid snapped, tone now agitated and far too vehement. Hands jerking in the air. "Some sign. Some trace of him. And we haven't. Soundwave has killed him. Discarded or dismantled his body and left this world. There's nothing left to find." He paused for a second but was already in motion again before they could cut in. "Or perhaps they've already found what is left of him and won't tell us. Can't tell us."

"First Aid," Ratchet began, reaching out to touch him. "That's not true. It can't be. It isn't."

But Aid jerked away. "No. No. No. NO!"

The younger mech was shouting now, backing away until his back connected with one of the berths. And he sank to the floor, head clutched in his hands. Shivering so badly that he could do little more than that, couldn't even move from Ratchet and Mirage as they knelt down next to him. He was pliable in their grasp, allowing them to pull him forward, but the noise he made was anything but comforting. The closest a mechanical robot from outer space could ever get to weeping. The sound of a lost child, wrecked and defeated.

And Sam woke to the blackness with First Aid's cries still echoing in his head. To rising despair and the realization that he was truly alone. That Soundwave had won without even lifting a proverbial finger. That he was trapped here and would never escape. That they weren't coming from him. That they had already given up hope.

That this would be his end.

AN: The new movie is rather awesome at times, though I had several wtf moments, especially with Sideswipe and the twins and the plot and well… a lot of things. Still, score one for me with the Ravage part towards the end.

Ever Hopeful,

Azar