Ink On Paper

by JoinMyInsanity

What is it that initially draws your attention to another person? What is that little factor that helps you realize your place in the scheme of things? When Sam ans Raven try to find the answers, they end up paying the price. Because after all, the easiest way to break a person is to break their loved ones. Sam/OC. DISCONTINUED / REWRITE UP.

14. Chapter 14

AN: alrighty, so here is another chapter for you guys. This one is again in Sam's POV, in this person, and it's LONG. So that means lots and lots of goodness for you all. It's was brought to my attention by my beta that un thus chapter there is a lot of talk of their friendship, but I don't show it as much – and as the golden rule of writing says: show, don't tell. Yes, I can see that – and think you – but don't worry anyone; it's just the beginning of the story, so we will be seeing plenty more. Oh my God, I have so much planed that my head is about to explode!

Anyway, on with the actual story: the movie ark is over and I am free! I am done with part one and we are ready to move on. I'm going off-script entirely now, for hopefully the next AT LEAST fifty or sixty chapters, until the next movie, so we are going to have some fun.

ALSO (sorry this is so long folks): BleckBlah5956 won the naming competition. Thank you to those who participated because like Raven, I'm not good at all with names, and I also want to interact with you guys. That's why I do the chapter questions, and do little competitions like that.

Ok, I'll shut up now, and let you enjoy the chapter:

He would have called it a once in a lifetime misunderstanding that Sam Witwicky ended up in an interrogation room, but that was two days ago, and yet he once again found himself in a rather familiar metal-walled room with a single, plain metal table and a matching duo of chairs. It was not so much a frustration that it was going to hurt his college applications big time, as much as it was the fact that after the last three hours, he was still there. The young boy eyed the man suspiciously, not fully trusting anyone at this particular moment. Who are these people, and what do they still want with me, he wondered distantly, not taking his eyes off the elder agent. One would assume that after falling from the top of a skyscraper, they'd give you a day of breathing space to put your thoughts together, and go pick your balls up in the rubble; but no, they grab you as though you are a stray animal, stuff you into yet another black van, and ship you off some place two hours away. Sam took in the man's attire looking carefully over his two-hundred-dollar-looking suit, and just as costly watch as he unfolds his briefcase and takes out recording devices and clipboards and other things the boy couldn't name.

His mind instantly went back to every CSI movie he has ever watched. Never thought I would end up in that room where the psycho serial killers and child molesters go, he thought with an amused mental smirk, God only knows who sat in the chair I'm in now! There could have been a child rapist and murdered sitting right there, in this room! As soon as he thought all that, another, highly amusing thought came to him: this type of thinking does say a lot about the people he tended to spend most of his time with. But Raven always had a very strong point on this matter. Just thinking about what kind of person may have once sat in that chair sent a wave of chills over him – if asked to describe the feeling, the only word that came to mind, strong enough to capture the feeling is death; the chill felt like what he had always imagined to feel like.

"So…" the teen started awkwardly, eager to break the tense silence and get the interrogation over with. Although legally it was the second time, if including Simmons' questioning back when he and his friends where forcefully taken from his home, this would have to be the third tie, in the last seventy two hours, that Sam had been interrogated. It was beyond outrageous! After the countless movies he watched with his friends, Sam had formed this vision of that when you save the world, they shower you with money and girls and paparazzi, not lock you up in a room away from your friends, take all clothes away and make you change into some over-sized grey shirt and identical pants and torture you with hunger – as he couldn't even remember when was the last time he ate anymore. Clearly, his embarrassingly loud stomach was agreeing. But no, he got nothing but criminal treatment. "When can I see the Autobots?" Sam questioned impatiently, counting the seconds in his head, until he is let out and allowed to see them. He had a lot to talk to them about – a lot to thank them for; namely Optimus Prime.

He also had a lot of questions. He really had no idea what had come over him on that… when Megatron… Sam shutter visibly at the horrid memory, and his heart sped up, adrenaline working its way into his system just as fast as it did three hours ago. Suddenly he felt like he was falling; falling, falling, falling, but the ground never came; he grabbed the seat of his chair and held onto it like a life-line as the world began spinning dizzy circles around him. Eyes closed tightly, Sam waited for the room to come to a stand-still and for the visions of the coming solid ground to fade back into the background of his thoughts. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, Sam asked the man again, "When can I talk to my friends?" It was a bit of an overstatement, yes, but it wasn't entirely untrue. They weren't really "friends"; however they did fight Megatron together. Granted, it was only once, and Sam did little to help the matter. Still, Bee saved Raven, him, and Mikeala on various occasions over one night; Optimus saved his life as well. In Sam's mind, all his did was give the final blow to an already weakened Megatron – the blow that finished him for good after Optimus and the United Stated air force gave him the run for his money. Even after all that, he was still standing – more or less, at least. All the teen had done was shove the cube up the warlord's chest and resist the urge to scream "DIE, motherfucker!" as he did so. The job was done by the rest, but Sam did feel a little twisted pride in helping out.

And after everything went down, he had to go correct Optimus on his "I owe you my life" theory, which was more than false as technically, Sam was the one paying off the debt. After the great leader saved him when Megatron… He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. He couldn't really kill Optimus after that; in the boy's mind, he saved his life and the least Sam could do was the same. It was simple logic – that, and his rather numb "fight or flight" instinct, which had been put under a great deal of pressure in the passing several hours. And after all that Sam and his newfound allies and even acquaintance have done, the government went ahead and started being a pain in the ass with the safely regulations and secrecy rules and more "protocols". If I hear that word one more time, Sam thought bitterly, in utter irritation, I might have to learn how to spell it. That and the fact that he was now certain he would never write another word again. To put it in simply terms: Sam could remember spelling his full name wrong once, when he was in grade nine, and thanks to the last half hour, he will never make that mistake again. In fact, since according to various sources, it takes thirty times to make a habit, "Samuel James Witwicky" will be the only thing he'll be writing for a very, very long time.

The man sat down, pushing a microphone-like device in front of Sam, and pressed a button. "Tell me everything you can, starting with when you first met the NBE's," he instructed, not bothering to even introduce himself. Well, looks like everyone has the same attitude here as Simmons. Lucky me, the boy thought to himself, almost groaning as he did so. With a sigh, he started the story of how he bought his first real car –real, as in, anything bigger than a Hot-Wheels semi truck. First was the second-hand car shop. Then a brief few words of test-driving it – since the guy said to tell about that as well, so that they can "analyze" it. Sam preferred to not go into detail about the joy-ride Raven came up with, because it was private, and even the government had no business knowing. He did mention about the car was playing the radio at random times, and how he had thought the old thing was exactly that: old and broken. Anything more than that was classified on a self-impose level of secrecy. Their moments were their own, and Sam was a hundred and ten percent sure that Raven would be irritated at least, if he spilled any of it. These moments belonged to them and them alone.

After the lake scene came how said car stole itself and stood up at an old junkyard outside the town, not far from the railroads. Then about how it came back, and how it chased Sam. Next was a very broken up, confusing description of the "giant droid death-match", as Mikaela so descriptively called it, that Bee and the monster had, and after that were all the events to follow. And what felt like an eternity later, Sam was done. It was hardly three days worth of events, but by the time he finished telling the agent about the battle at Mission City, the boy was actually tired. It felt like at least an hour, but finally the story was finished, and Sam was shaking my head over and over again, not wanting to remember all that he had to, in order to put together the report. There were just too much unpleasant memories in all of this – memories he wouldn't wish on Trent if he could. This wasn't an experience anyone deserves to go through. It had been a little – a lot – exciting, yes, but given the events that had brought him to this very moment, he couldn't help but feel as though death itself was coming after him with infuriated vengeance for something he had or hadn't done. Nothing came to mind when he tried to think of what he could have done to deserve it; but looking back on everything, Sam nearly either died or was killed three very long, very terrifying times.

Finally, the torture was over, and he sat silently for a while, as the man in the expensive suit showed off his watch several times – checking the time, apparently, but no one checks their watch three times in the span of five minutes – as he packed everything up speechlessly. Sam didn't look at him – he didn't need to feel like he was going to continue questioning him and he didn't want to be around anyone right now. Instead, the exhausted, spent teen stared past him, into empty space with a blank, half-dead expression which easily made him look like a zombie of some sort. He felt completely numb, like when you're sick, and can't bring yourself to move. There was little will left in him to do anything at all by this point, but sit – better yet, go to sleep… hopefully without waking up anytime soon. How did I go from telling Trent off, to sitting in an interrogation room, he wondered lazily. How was it that less then seventy two hours ago, he was just trying to get enough marks on a project, to by a car? The taste of blood shook him back to life and Sam cringed at the rusty taste and stopped biting the inside of his cheek as he looked up.

"When can I see my friends?" he demanded. As he had half-expected, no answer came. "I answered all of your questions, now answer mine: where are the Autobots and when can I see them?" The man ignored him, packed the last of his things, and left without a word. "Hey… hey!" Sam shouted, standing up in anger. The chair made a 'nails on chalkboard' sound that made him cringe, as it slid back from the speed at which he got to his feet. "Hey, I asked a question! I want to talk to my friend! Here is he?!" No one came – not for a very long, very quiet while. No one answered him, no one acknowledged him, no one walked in. The green-eyed boy was left on his own, shouting at the door like someone who belongs in a mental ward. These people seemed to have no semblance of anything but ignorance, do they, he thought, almost idly, as he passed back and forth along the room, calling out every now and then, to anyone who might hear. They walked into his house, took him, and his family, his friends, as though they were all criminals, dragged them out to Hoover Dam, treated them like they were nothing important and without a personal opinion on the matter, and then had the guts to hold them all here like they were terrorists or something.

Slumping back in the chair, he cupped his fist in his hand and rested his forehead he wait for someone – anyone – to come in and tell him something. Sam couldn't even find it in himself to care what that may be; he just needed to know how his friends and parents were. Even more so, he had to know how Raven was. A terrible realization set in, and he started shaking violently in pure fear for the young, hazel-eyed girl who had stayed behind. She was in Hoover Dam when Megatron was coming back to life, with every intention to destroy everything around him, seeing as he had been kept prisoner there for seven decades at least. Sam realized he hadn't the slightest idea of how things were with the Dam. The whole place could have very well collapsed down on everyone in it. It could have come right down and he would never know. Raven… she was inside… Dear Lord. No, not Raven; anyone but her. "Raven…" he muttered, his eyes widening in shock, his mind already playing out every possibility of what may have happened.

Just then, the door opened, and the man he recognized from the Dam walked in – Banacheck, Sam believed his name was. He folded his arms as he walked over, a highly bothered expression on his face. "So…" he started, his voice controlled; however beneath it, Sam could clearing hear anger. More specifically, anger at the boy himself. He didn't like where this was going one bit, but he had little to no say at all in the matter, and his options were limited to sitting still and taking it all silently. "… One of the greatest discoveries of mankind breaks free, going on a rampage, and you tell us that the only way to save everyone is to hand our "crown jewel", as many like to call it, over to your alien friends. We give it to you with little resistance, trusting your judgment in the matter. And the moment you have it in your hands, you first, toss it aside to make out with your girlfriend, then stick it into NBE-One's chest, thereby destroying them both, and ridding us of any possibility of ever continuing the research we were doing."

Sam gulped nervously, looking up at the man with what he hoped was an innocent expression. His mind froze up for a moment, unable to come up with the appropriate response. "Does that sound about right?" Banacheck questioned in annoyance, almost glaring down at Sam, who in turn tried to shrink into himself in discomfort of being under the older man's watchful gaze. He nodded slowly, unsure of what the right answer should be, and if there should be an answer at all. "Yeah…" was all he managed to say. There was a seemingly long moment of awkward silence.

"…" Agent Banacheck's eyes darted back and forth a few times, his mouth opening to say something, but then snapping shut audibly, his lips pressing tightly together. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he finally asked, after the moment of silence grew uncomfortable. To this, though, Sam did suddenly have something to say. It took a few seconds for the question and accusation to sink in. He did have to ask himself once, what Raven would say… at least what she would say in her head. I real life, he knew all too well that all she would do is shrink into herself and apologize, even though she did the right thing – whatever that right thing would be.

"I saved the world from you dear beloved, so-called "greatest discovery of mankind"," Sam said bluntly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "What do you propose I would have done, huh? Handed Megatron the Alspark?" Was it so hard to understand that he did what he did because he really didn't have a choice in the matter? It wasn't as though he deliberately arranged everything, with the sole purpose of destroying the greatest weapon to have ever been created? Or at least… as far as he knew. HE had to do what everyone expected of him and truth be told, he couldn't hold himself very accountable for his actions. All he was trying to do was live long enough to see Raven smile mischievously at him as she planned out her devious, deceptive plans to ruin something or cause as much trouble as she could. He was just trying to live through it just enough to be roped into her insane ideas once more – if only just once. That and his entire world was at stake, and he all he could do was literally think on his feet, of a way to save lives.

It's not like anyone asked him if he liked the plan of going into a battlefield, and run for his life to the top of a really tall building. He wasn't given much of choice in anything. Yes, once he had nowhere else to go, several instincts kicked in, combined with the adrenaline drive, and he gathered up enough courage to talk back at, and refuse Megatron – who has proved that he couldn't care less about what happens to Sam himself. There was little he could do at that point, but go along with whatever happened – not that what did happen was an experience anyone should have to go through. And he couldn't say that at least not too many were hurt, because he would gladly jump at the chance to undo the events of the last few days, and make everything normal and simple again. He would gladly give up meeting the Autobots if it made everyone safe again – if all of that didn't have to happen, just so that he and his family and loved one would be oblivious and away from the harm that came when the Autobots landed on his planet.

"Because you know, giving the cube to a psychopath would be such a great idea. Yes, why don't we bring him back, apologize, and present him with a "welcome back" gift so that he can blow all our asses to the sky. Is that what you would have preferred me to do?!" He was angry now; very angry. He hated that he did the only thing he could think of, to save countless lives and all the thanks he gets are misled accusations and blame for the only action he had the ability to take. "What I would like…" agent Banacheck said, his voice rising with every word as he tried to quiet the teen, "was for you to not have blown something to irreplaceable to bits. Wherever I look, I see another sixteen-year-old like you, but the cube could have been the answer to questions we haven't even begun to ask." His words were rushed and angry angry at the situation, angry at the NBE's, and angry at the young boy sitting in front of him with a glare on his face, still retaining its childish roundness and youth. He told himself over and over again that the kid didn't know any better; that he was nothing but a boy, trying to be brave. He hadn't known the true value the artifact held. Still, the teen hadn't held the cube for an hour, and it was gone, along with all the potential it held, all the knowledge and power and possibility. It was all gone at the hands of this one, small, insignificant boy who was in the wrong place in the wrong time.

"So… am I getting this right? You got mad at me that I broke your shiny new toys and dumped all of my tax money, instead being happy with what you have, which is, oh I don't know, the planet? You know what, Raven was right; you are all full of yourselves." Then he bit his tongue as he realized he said a few words too much. He didn't mean for that to slip out. After all, these people were trying to do their job just as much as he was. They just didn't know better. "Look… Look it isn't like I had much of a say in any of it. I did what I was told – just like you. I wouldn't do any of that if I had the choice. I didn't sign up for any of this! I got rid of both because the only alternative was to get rid of the cube, and Optimus. It wasn't an option I was going to take. And speaking of Optimus' it isn't like the cube was yours to begin with. The rule of "finders keepers" doesn't apply here; don't you think?"

"They came to our planet, threatening us with their war. I think this gives us enough reason to keep our only means of protection; don't you think?" the older man questioned, his tone mocking at he echoed Sam's question.

"Don't you see? They never wanted for any of this!" Sam shouted his retort, getting to his feet as he was unable to keep sitting as he argued his point. "They never wanted for us to fight. They wanted to get the Allspark and be gone. Optimus Prime chose Earth over his own life in the battle, to give us all a chance at surviving, and he isn't even from this planet! They didn't mean for any of it; ask them yourself!" He held a gesturing hand out to the metal door to prove his point. He surprised himself with just how much he had to say in the defense of those who put him and his friends on the line like that. Sure, they never intended for any of them to be dragged into the war – even though there is a good chance it was only because the Autobots knew they'd be in their way. No, they didn't need a bunch of scared teenagers running around under their feet, shouting at them for broken flower beds and fountains, but Bumblebee wouldn't risk his life and allow himself to be hurt to keep Sam safe if he didn't care. Sam had to believe that at least one of them cared. And then there was Optimus, who was willing to give his very life to save this planet and its people. Up until today, he thought people like that only existed in movies. The great leader proved him wrong.

He had only ever seen such selflessness in one person, and only ever in regards to himself alone: Raven. He couldn't count the amount of times she stood up for him in her own ways – the amount of times she showed him how much she cared.

… Raven.

A dreading shudder ripped through him as the small girl crossed him mind and his expression twisted into that of horror. Raven was in Hoover Dam when Megatron broke loose. "Where is Raven?" he muttered under his breath, his voice audible only to him, and someone who would be standing right in front of him – which at this point was the agent Banacheck. "Where… where is Raven?' She was at Hoover Dam; what happened?!" Sam shouted in fear, his mind involuntarily playing out every possible outcome – none of which were anything good.

"I don't know!" Banacheck nearly shouted, trying to silence the teen. "Well then find out!" Sam spits back. "Find out what happened! She could be hurt; something terrible could have happened! What if it came down on everyone? What's going on; I think I have the right to know!"

"Calm down, young man," Banacheck warned him in a stern voice, putting a restricting hand on Sam's shoulder and pushing him back down into his seat. "We have one of our own in there, the secretary of defense, and three civilians. We are doing everything we can, to find out what went down. All we know is that little over four hours ago, an ambulance was called to the area," the agent explains to Sam who, in turn, gulped at the word 'ambulance'. "As for now, I'll have to ask you calm down, and wait." Sam shook his head; it was an uncoordinated, lost movement – as though he was trying to clear his head of confusion. Nothing made any sense.

"No… no you don't get it. Sir, she was my responsibility. I'm supposed to take care of her; it's my job to keep her safe. I need to know what happened to her – I have to know where she is, and how is she. I need to- no, look just… listen to me: I gotta know if she's alright. I have to know that she'll be ok!" Tears started rolling down his cheeks, his voice becoming choked and weak as Sam pleaded for any and every bit of information they have. Everything else was pushed into the back of his mind as he tried to think of anything else to say, to make them understand that "as fast as we can" is not enough; make them understand that "fast" isn't good enough, and she could be hurt at this very moment. Moreover, he needed to be the one looking for her. He needed to see her face and know that she's ok "You've got the secretary of defense in there; I'm sure if someone came to pick him and everyone else up, word would travel fast. Just… just please find her," he pleaded.

"We are putting as many resources as we can afford into finding out what happened. We already sent out a team to the Dam to assess damage and look for survivors. But if NBE-One is as bad as you said, I don't know if we will find much of anything in there." Sam shook his head again, looking as lost as scared as he was. Just then, the door opened and a man in yet another black suit came in. "Sir, we got word that a few hours ago several people were checked into the UCLA Medical Center. One of them was the Secretary Of Defense. He and four more were brought in from near Hoover Dam. A young woman they had with them was injured," he reported, causing Sam to jump from his seat, knocking it back a good foot of distance.

"Who was it?" Sam demanded urgently, his eye wide at the newly found information. The agent gave him a look, and then turned to Banacheck, as though waiting for permission to speak. After receiving a small nod in confirmation, the younger agent turned to Sam. "We don't know. It was patient confidentiality."

"Then find out!" he shouted in frustration. Did no one here know how to do a thorough job with something? "It could be Raven. How badly was she hurt? IF she was bleeding, and it is Raven, they need to treat her as fast as they can. Did she have her phone on her? I need to call her. They got her out; I have to speak with her! I'm in charge of her; I need to know if she's ok," he kept begging. He was always the one looking after her, making sure she was fine. He found himself slowly taking on the roll of the big brother and parent – checking on her homework, teaching her to cook, practically walking her to school by the hand when she wanted to skip, and getting her into trouble when she failed a class assignment or skipped more than one day at a time. She was his responsibility, and now she could be hurt, and the protective instinct in Sam told him that he was the one to blame. I didn't look after you… he thought darkly, a heavy feeling of deep sadness and regret sinking into his heart. I promised I'd keep you safe, and I crashed and burned and failed miserably. All he ever wanted for her, was that she's be safe, and cared for, and that she would know how much she means to him. And now all he knew was that she was in a hospital, most likely injured, and he wasn't there to hold her.

"Please… please just let me call the hospital…" Sam begged, his voice shaking as hot tears ran down his young face, washing down the grime and dirt that has been left on his skin from the battle. The Sector Seven agents hadn't even given the paramedics the time to clean him up. They barely had the chance to give him stitches where needed, and disinfect any cuts and scratches he got before Sam was rudely, forcefully shoved into a black car and driven off to another location – one he was unfamiliar with from the bits of scenery he caught on the way from the car to the building. He was told it was the beta site in that case of that they couldn't get to the HQ in Hoover Dam. "She's… she's my best friend…" It was desperate attempt to call on their human side, but as he had learned, protocol comes before humanity for anyone associated with Sector Seven. He'd tried to tell himself that it was only their job, but a large part of him hated them – now more than ever, for not putting every pair of free hands to the search. Sure, they didn't have to look for her, but she was only a seventeen-year-old girl who could easily pass as fifteen. And they were supposed to be responsible adults who protect children who need to be protected.

Of course he knew that the world didn't work that way, and people rarely cared for children who were not their own – worse yet, didn't care for children who were – but it was natural to have motherly instincts over children who were hurt – even if the adult wasn't even a woman. He was a seventeen-year-old just like her, and he cared for her as much as his parents did for him. And growing up in such a fortunate family made it far behind him the idea that someone can leave a child in a dangerous position, and then not instantly go back to look for said child. But could he really blame strangers who have nothing to do with Raven for not looking for her, if he just left her there, when he knew exactly what danger she was in? Could he blame perfect strangers for not doing the very thing he is not doing?

"We have a lot of things on our plate at this moment, young man, and sorry to tell you, but your girlfriend is not of our top priority list. We will find her, and we will make sure she's ok, but as of right now, I will have to ask you to sit down, and be quiet while we try to figure everything out," Banacheck told him sternly, looking him in the eye with a hard gaze. Sam didn't have it in him to protest, and did as told, taking a seat back on the cold metal, successfully blocking out any sound. All noise faded into the distance and disappeared, as he stared blankly at the wall across from where he sat. It's all my fault, he thought sourly to himself, gritting his teeth at the painful, bitter-tasting lump in his throat that was keeping him from even swallowing normally. I should never have let her come with me; I should have just done as she asked and left her there with the agents. And now Raven was God knows where, probably injured, and he was miles away, locked in a holding room, waiting to be let go instead of there, to be with her. He missed having her in his arms, missed her teasing tone as she stole his math book and ran as fast as she could; he missed the sound of her laugh, and the way her eyes lit up when she was genuinely smiling. He missed everything about her and the fact that he could have – should have – been dead at this very moment made him miss her even more.

There was so much he regretted – most of that was regret of wasted chances that he had let slip away in his cowardly moments. He always felt like he could never really tell her what she was to him, because no matter what he said, it would never be enough. True to that, it never was; she had far too many insecurities and complexes to let herself believe even him. Still, they did make a vow to each other years ago – an actual vow, with a needle and candles and everything. And he, for one, had every intention to keep that vow. The two went to unbelievable lengths to stay side by side in the small town that is home to both. It was amusing to recall all they had done.

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" the chocolate-haired girl asked in a small voice, sneaking carefully behind Sam, seeking protection behind his not at all larger figure, using his body as a sort of weak barricade – which looked like it was going to fall apart at any moment, at times. But at others, there was no cover better than the young boy to whose shoulder she now clung for, for dear life. "Sam, it's closed. We'll get into trouble," she whimpered, staring at the large wooden door as though it's about to turn into a monster, and drag her away to the world of the undead – and it would have been an amusing thought, had there not been a cemetery not a hundred yards away.

"Yeah, it's fine; don't worry, I come here sometimes – they all know me," he assured her. But that only made Raven eye him skeptically, tilting her head in her lack of faith in him. "Yeah," she said, "they know you alright; as the boy who stole all of their charity chocolate-chip cookies last summer." This cause Sam to frown, as though recalling an old memory, and then his face twisted into an expression of realization, and later into one mischief. "Come on, Raven, you have to admit that it was fun!" he exclaimed in defense, holding his hands up in a surrendering motion.

"It would have been a lot more fun if Liz didn't ground me for three months. I was banned from the church ever since! They won't let me in. In fact, they'll probably get a broom and kick us both out like we're rats in a restaurant!" she whisper-shouted at her friend, who only shrugged, and waved her off like it was no bother at all. "Sam, let's just go. We don't need to go to a church for this," she pleaded desperately, really not wanting to get the short end of the stick – literally – in this whole fiasco. One time was plenty and not an experience she would have ever liked to repeat.

Sam, however, ignored her, stating his resolve as he knocked on the large, heavy door of a century old three times, hoping that whoever was inside would come quick, and not make them wait outside like a pair of idiots. The night was chilly, and they were twelve. If anyone cared enough to stop, and question them, they would both get it when his parents get back in town. Luck was so, that neither Ron nor Judy knew of what that day was here and both left on an overnight fishing trip. However, getting a call from the local police station would drive them back to town in record time, and get the both of them grounded for months. So to hurry things up, he knocked five more times, but before his small fist can hit the door once more, it was pulled open, and both children were looking up at an elder man, forty years of age, dressed in what Raven could only describe as a bathing robe; his face was wearing a vivid expression of confusion.

"What… are you two doing here?" he questioned them both quizzically, looking at the two small bodies standing in an awkward hug on the front steps – or rather, the girl was huddled behind the boy as though he was her own personal human shield. Sam felt his courage wane at the sight of the older man, but it also gave him more and more resolve. "Um…" he started nervously, not sure how to approach the matter. He had practiced the request in his head since he heard that his mom and dad would be out of town for the night, but standing in the spotlight does things to a man's courage, and a seemingly simple question becomes that much more difficult to regard when you are the one asking it – especially if you are a twelve year-old boy who should be sleeping "Uh… we were… wondering…"

Sam whipped the tears on his cheeks away, feeling the grim beneath them smear. But he'd rather that happen then have tear lines shouting at whoever looked at him, that he had been crying. However small an amount, he did still have some semblance of dignity left in him, and evidence of crying would take that all away in a moment. As his mind came back to the real world, Banacheck came back in, holding a phone out in his hand, reaching it out to the boy, a blank, unreadable expression on his face; for a second, Sam was terrified to take the phone. "For you," he said with a monotone voice, jerking his arm once to indicate for Sam to just take the phone already! He cleared his throat, coughing twice to get the tears out of his voice, and reached over the table for the phone, bringing it tensely to his ear.

"Sa-?" Raven doesn't get to get the word out before the boy nearly jumped up to the ceiling, and showers her with questions that had been piling up by the moment, since the moment he realized where he had left her, and with whom. "How are you? Where are you? What happened? Did you get hurt? What am I talking about; knowing you, of course you got hurt. How badly are you hurt? Did they fix you? Did you tell them about your condition? How much blood did you lose? Were you light-headed? I heard that light-headedness is very bad when you are losing blood. Were you treated nicely? Who got you to the hospital? Can you sit up? Did you break anything? Are you hungry? Did they feed you at all? What happened?!" he demanded in an endless verbal vomit of question that came from his mouth before they could form in his head.

"Hey, hey, hey! Slow down, will you! I can't hear a word you say!" she shouted at him loudly – so loudly, in fact, that he actually flinched away from the phone in his hand. But by God he missed hearing her shout at him. At the moment, anything would do, if only she just talked to him, and told him she was ok. "And for the record: no way in hell; it's my turn first. You were the one who went into Mission city all alone. I need a play by play of what happened, and a detailed report of your injuries – both physical and mental," she ordered sternly. Sam couldn't stop the grin from coming up on his face at that. Oh he had missed her alright. Sam shook his head at her little freak-out, struggling to not snort at how concerned she was with him when she was the one who was – most likely – lying in a hospital bed. From the incisive beeping seeping through in the background on her end, Sam had concluded that yes, she was indeed the one in the hospital bed. And yet she was the one shouting at him to give her a play-by-play of the battle, and a full injury report. Oh Raven… the thought idly to himself, covering his mouth with his fist in amusement at the girl.

Knowing there was no way out of it, Sam went into a far more detailed reenactment of the fight that went down in Mission City, clearly hearing his voice convey much more of the emotion behind the story. When questioned by the agent, it was nothing more than a more-or-less straight-faced, plain report of what had happened; but with Raven, the story had a lot more to it with simply the added effect of emotions – sadness, self-blame, longing, sorry, sorrow – as he told her what had happened to his newly found friend, who had saved his life so many times. And even after humans had hurt him so much, he had chosen to stay with Sam should he get the chance. How this was, Sam didn't know; what he did know was that Bumblebee had really grown attached to him boy, and was willing to stick by him, even after what had been done to him. Health class taught him that after you are hurt like that, trust becomes an issue, and since Bee's experience with the human race was a greatly painful one, Sam took pride in that his alien friend and protector had trusted him enough to want to stay with him. The boy was familiar with mistrust, as it has been more than ten years, and Raven still has trust issues with him.

Next came a rather unpleasant retelling of the later course of action – allowing Raven to rant out her protest to Captain Lennox's decision to send Sam out into the field, all the while wearing an amused smirk on his face. "Something could have happened! You could've… you might've been…" But she never got the words out – they were choked away into coming tears, which Sam could clearly hear coming up in her voice. "Just-… just promise… promise me that you aren't… that you are ok, ok?" That is all she managed to get out, but even that was in a pained, desperate, terrified sob, which brought Sam's heart to momentary stop – she sounded so broken. "Promise me that everything is ok and I'm going to see you soon."

He wanted to promise her a lot more then that; he wanted to promise her that she will never be in danger again, and that he will never leave her side again; he wanted to promise her that he would make her safe and that his shoulder is always free if she ever needs to cry about something – be it a bad breakup, or a bad mark on a biology test. But all he could say was, "Raven, I promise; nothing happened that was that bad."For a little while, she doesn't respond, and he knew that she knew he was lying to her. She didn't even need that sixth sense of hers to send a column of icy cold down her back to know it – she knew him too well for that.

"Liar."

"Yup." No more than that has to be said.

"What happened?" Sam's back straightened and he went ridged. By the time San got to the roof encounter, his entire frame was shaking violently, and as he spoke to Raven, he glanced over his shoulder, honestly expecting the falls warlord to materialize behind him, raging over his murder. Glowing red flashed across his vision, and his breath – along with his words – hitched, and were cut short; he fell completely silent, holding the phone so tightly in his hand, that should his grip tighten any further, he was sure the phone would snap in half. He shut his eyes, trying to think of anything at all, but the crimson orbs that burned into him as the monster-like creature promised a life as a pet to Sam, in exchange for the Cybertronian source of life. Shaking his head, he attempted to picture Raven's worried face at the silence on his end of the line, but all that came into his vision when he closed his eyes, was a clawed hand, reaching to grab him and kill him. He tasted the rusty flavor of blood on his tongue as something warm and ruby-red dripped from his clenched palm, and onto the cold metal table.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it… Sam repeated the mantra in his head, trying to convince himself that it was all in the past, and unless Cybertronians possessed the ability to come back to life after having their Spark – which he assumed was very important, as Megatron died after Sam stuck the Allspark into it – melted and then exploded into a firework of sparks (like a light bulb breaking). He was in a closed, safely guarded facility, with the Autobots somewhere nearby – hopefully – and should Megatron really come back to life, he wouldn't even have the chance to get close enough before being put down once again. He shook his head in a desperate attempt to clear it, and mentally prayed that Raven wouldn't be worried enough to question him now, about his sudden loss of voice. It was her voice that finally brought him back.

"Sam?" Her voice was cautious. He shook his head, quickly apologizing, and rushed to finish the story in less than two dozen words, getting it all out of his system before he can dwell on it any further. He didn't want to talk about himself anymore. He wanted to ask Raven about how things were in her end, and what happened to land her in the best hospital in Los Angeles. "So where are you now?" Sam asked, changing the subject.

"Waiting to be interrogated," is her answer, and he shakes his head once more. Raven had no idea she was in for the longest two hours of her life, and the thought almost made him laugh. Look out, girl, 'cause they are coming for you, and you have nowhere to run, he thought to himself, barely suppressing the rising laugh that he miraculously managed to trap in his throat. "Are you hurt?" he questioned, knowing full well that she wouldn't say it.

"I only got a little scratch. I'm ok, though." Lies; lots and lots of shameful lies that fool no one but a clueless child, which he was not… most of the time, that is. "So let's not talk about it at all; how about that? Let's talk about something else; anything at all. Just promise me that you'll talk to me; I need to hear your voice, need to know that you're ok." Her voice was pleading, pained, and desperate, and Sam hated the distance between them. He wanted to show her that he was ok, and that she's the one they should both be worried about. He was the one who was supposed to take care of her, not the other way around – not that it happened very often; commonly, it really was the other way around.

"Alright; how about we talk about that one time you actually got to school on time, and it was a day off, so you stood there in front of the front door like a dork, and pacing back and forth." The sound of her laughter breaks Sam's laugh free of his hold, and the booms at the memory. "You even checked the time from a total stranger because you thought you came an hour early!" he shouted, appalled by the hilarity of the situation. She was never an early riser, but the one time she wasn't dragged out of bed by her feet, it was an off day! She shouted at him to stop laughing, but the order would have been a lot more convincing had she not been laughing, herself. And then she came to his house, very lost and completely out of it, asking him what's going on, and why he looks like she woke him up early – which she absolutely did, as she was not the only one who valued her every sleeping hour.

He missed hearing her laugh. Her laugh, right now, was a God-sent, but it was not right; he needed to hear her in person, needed to see her smile. She always had a way about her – she could always make everything better. Just like his own little angel of happiness – given that she, herself, was happy; not that it was a rare occurrence, but still. Raven tries to take breaths, attempting to stop her laughing, and Sam does the same, holding his breath to choke it all down. "Yeah… and I want to see yours." She said, sighing longingly into the phone. "You can make everything right." With that, a pang of guilt set in with a hard blow, nearly knocking all the air from Sam's lungs as every time he had ever failed in any way – and there were surprisingly a lot. He shook his head in dispute, forgetting that she can't see him through the phone. "No I can't; I can only screw it up more. I already did before, didn't I? I messed everything up for you," he tells her sadly, hanging his head in shame at many of the times he has somehow wronged her – or at least that's how it was in his mind. Of course there were many times when she was to blame – even more than him – but at the moment, Sam couldn't come up with a single one; he was just too wrapped up in missing the girl to count her faults. Sure she had too many to count, but Sam wasn't counting – at the moment, that is; other times… he preaches them out for her.

But one of the times he had wronged her – actually there were several, but this one was the second worst, as they both agreed – stood out above most of the others. She had been wrong; they both knew that. It was her mistake – one of the biggest she's made, when it came to Sam. But he over-reacted. Sure it wasn't something she should have been snooping about, and sticking her small nose into big business that didn't concern her in the least, but there was hundreds of other ways to react, and none of them involved his choice of solution to the problem.

"What is that?" Raven jumped in the air, shrieking loudly, and whipped around to face Sam. She'd been far too engrossed in the desktop in front of her to see him come up behind her. He had every intention to cover her eyes and say that lame "guess who" that they played with other classmates when they were kids, but the idea faded away when his eyes naturally found the name "Samuel James Witwicky" on the monitor. As Raven spun around, about to shout at him, his eyes skimmed down the page, looking over the information briefly. Then his eyes fell down to hers, and he was met with two steady rivers of water running down the girl's face.

"Why didn't…" her voice caught, and she had to breathe through her mouth as she tried to get the tears off her face uselessly. "Why didn't you t-tell me, huh?" She hitched in the last word, her voice breaking in her cry as she tried to put on a pointlessly brave act. "Wh-why didn't you tell mm… why didn't you tell me what it i-is?" The sentence was broken up, her voice cracking on every other word. She glared up at him with a blaming look, but at the same time, one of shock and pain. Sam's eyes skimmed over the page on the monitor once more, before he realized what it was. How she got a hold of it, he didn't know; what he did know was that a sudden, sharp pang of betrayal washed through him at the fact that she did get a hold of it. "Raven… how did you get my medical card?" he questioned her.

"You're prone to Alzheimer's disease?" She whispered in a terrified voice, staring up at him with wide eyes. It took the teen a little while to understand her question, but it only created more of his own questions. "Raven… where did you get that?" he asked her again in a hard voice. How could she have pulled up his medical records from a computer in the computer lab? Moreover, why would she be looking at that? Why in the world did she suddenly think it would be a good idea to invade his privacy like that?

"I should have told you personally, when I found out. I should have trusted you enough to share it with you. But I freaked out like an amateur child with a temper tantrum. I hit you, Raven!" Sam shouted into the phone, angry with himself and his response. There were many ways in which he could have taken the news, and he chose violence over reason. She had been wrong, that much was certainly true; Raven really did have no right to invade his privacy – especially like that – but he jumped to conclusions before she had the chance to explain. He may or may not have brought her curiosity upon himself by acting strangely, but where she could have asked, he could have explained.

"Ok! Ok, I admit that yes, I did hack that up from the hospital – which let me tell you, has some serious security, for a health facility – but if you just give me a second!" Raven shouted, running out of the computer lab on the early sunny Sunday afternoon, after an enraged Sam who had stormed off in a blink of an eye. He ignored her shouting, and continued walking, clenching his hands into tight fists. "Sam just let me explain! Please!" she cried after him, trying to catch up with him as he crossed the road. His health was his business, and something this intense was not something he was ready to share with anyone – not even her. He may have been less agree if her methods of getting the information didn't include illegally hacking the local hospital security system and flipping through his medical records like it was a frikin story book; but if his reaction would have been different, he would still be angry. It was private family matters that she had no business looking through, and he would have told her had he deemed it of importance. But no, she couldn't just wait, and ask him, like a normal person would; no, she had to go ahead and steel the information! He couldn't believe that his friend was a hacker.

How could someone like Raven be a hacker? How could she think that she had any right to go through his privacy like that? He wasn't sure what angered him more: the fact that Raven was a hacker, or what she used her skills for? Either way, he didn't want to see her. "Sam! Sam just wait for a moment! Sam I can explain!" she shouted behind him, causing him to stop abruptly, and turn around. Her small figure ran right into him, and stumbled back a little. "Explain? What is there to explain, huh? You're a criminal and you… Raven, you steal information! Raven, that's illegal! When they catch you, I can go to jail with you!" he shouted in anger. "And I would have told you about this! You could've just asked me! My uncle doesn't even know about it, and you just… fished it out, like it's experience points in a computer game!" he boomed in her face, rising his arms over his head to exaggerate his point. "What's wrong with you?!"

"Sam, just let me speak for a second! Look, you were acting all strange in the past two months, and I thought something was wrong. Something is wrong, Sam!"

"Yes, something is; and that something is you!" the fifteen-year-old shouted in her face in anger. "I would tell you when I thought it was appropriate!"

"Oh yeah? And when would that be? When you can't remember my name?" she fired back, getting on her tippy toes to get more height and level her eyes with his. "You're over exaggerating," he spat. "I still have years and years to go; and the doctor said I was prone, not that I would get it! And what do you care if I told you or not? It's my business, and you had no right to go through it!"

"Look, I get that I was wrong; I shouldn't have done that. Sam, I'm sorry!"

"No, you aren't! You get your hands on my medical records; God knows what else you look at in your free time! I trusted you, and you just… Raven, how could you do that?!"

The girl tried to reason once again, wanting more than anything for him to listen, but he cut her off before she can get two letters out. "-No! I don't want to hear it; I don't want to hear you! Just stay away from me; you aren't dragging me anywhere close to any of this!" Raven stumble back a step, taken aback by the anger in Sam's voice. Sure she'd seen him get angry, but never this angry. She looked at him with tears of shame in her eyes, realizing what she'd done. He was right; she did something she really wasn't allowed to. And it wasn't some petty little stolen glance at the teacher's bank account; this was personal to someone very close to her. She was sure it wasn't something Sam would want to broadcast to the world, but he had every chance of getting Alzheimer's disease! By sixty five, he could have no clue of who she is! He can forget everything, and then forget how to eat and drink, and even breathe! He can die!

"Sam, just listen to me for a second!" she pleaded as the boy began to walk away again., but he turned around too fast for her to stop, and shouted, "Don't even talk to me!" as he pushed her away from himself forcefully, sending her flying backward onto the road with a loud "hmpf" and "ow", and tears rolling down her face. Glaring coldly down at her like she was beneath him, Sam turned around and went to walk away from her once more, with every intention of not going back, or even turning around; only the young teen was stopped by a loud honking of a horn, a screeching of tires, the smell of burned rubber and a heart-wrenching scream of terror.

Sam slammed his fist on the table in anger at himself for what he had done. Raven could have died that day. And it was his fault. Angry or not, he didn't know what he would do if something happened to her. And when the car veered away from her, driving over the curb and into a fire hydrant with a loud crash, the hood of the car becoming demolished to scrap from the speed at which the driver rammed his car into it. And Saw, the 'hero' of the day, turned on his heels and ran as fast as his feet can take him, from the crash site; he ran in fear of what had happened, and in fear of that he was the one who imminently cause it all. He caused a man thousands of dollars of damage, and nearly took Raven's life because of his temper. Had he pushed her onto the road two moments later, she would have been road kill. The thought horrified him – the suggestion that he could have killed her that day, because he finally lost his temper with the crazy girl, and shoved her onto the open road. The event became their secret from there on out – an unspoken, forgotten moment – but to this day, it haunted his dreams. It was the second biggest mistake of his life, an event that had failed to drive her away.

"Sam…!" a distant cry called out to him for the third time, the sound finally reaching not just his ears, but his mind as he recognize the voice to belong to the one and only Raven Montague. The breathless teen halted to an abrupt stop, the worn out soles of his shoes causing him to skid forward a good foot forward, and fall over on his face. Catching himself lamely on this hands and knees, and hissing at the burning sensation in his palms as they got skinned, he got up and turned around, searching the street desperately for the owner of the voice that a large part of him feared he'd never hear again. Of course that large part was greatly overshadowed by the fear of the charges he'll be given, and the accusations and consequences of his action; but even though it was pushed to the back of his mind momentarily, it was ever present, and insisting to be acknowledged. And finally it was.

A pair of small arms were thrown around his neck, tear-stained face burying into Sam's neck as the girl sobbed uncontrollably, repeating over and over again that she was sorry, and that she would never do that again. And Sam held her tightly, thanking all the Gods and deities up there, that she was ok – for the most part; he was certain that she got damage to the brain, as he should be the one to be apologizing for what he had done, and not her. But the girl in his arms didn't stop, even after he told her to, making him feel more and more guilty with every word she uttered. Her entire frame shook in the shock of what had just happened, but she got up, apologized to the driver, saying that she tripped, and took off as fast as her feet could take her, after Sam. Why she had done that would remain a mystery to the end of days, that much Sam knew for sure, but he couldn't care – not anymore – about anything but the fact that she was still alive and breathing.

Sure Sam had known that she was a hacker for a long time, but the discovery was more than eventful, and a very painful and guilt-inducing memory to have. It was an accident – she wasn't paying attention in the computer lab to the world around her, and he reacted inappropriately, and all factors considered, it was an encounter that could very easily have lead to her death. He didn't mean it to turn out like that – he really didn't. But it wasn't like it would matter if the driver of the car wasn't fast enough.

"Yes, you did, and I ran after you, calling you're name. And I did that because I didn't even notice what you had done wrong. Sam, you are… you are the most important person in the world to me. Just because you hurt me once, it doesn't mean that I suddenly turn my back on you." Sam shook his head, blinking away his tears – damnitt, dude; man up already! – her ridiculousness. Yes, the accident really did leave her somewhat damaged in the head, he thought to himself, trying to lighten his own mood. But as expected, it wouldn't work. There was so much he had to apologize to her for – so much he had to tell her. Whenever the teen spoke to Raven, he'd felt as though he'd said it all, but not enough – like there was always more to be said and done, but never enough nerve and courage, and words. Never enough time. There never seemed to be enough time; everything came and went too quickly to notice. Sam felt as though just a few weeks ago they met for the first time. Time was running from them no matter what they did to make it last. The two of them made the best of every possible moment, taking it all and giving nothing back.

It was a fear of Ravens – one she herself rarely noticed. But all the movies she'd watched about people dying paid off, and it was as though she was constantly running from time, trying to escape its grasp. She never seemed to have enough time for anything; she was always trying to outrun the sun as it set in mountains – at times quite literally. The two of them have chased the sun for hours, driving after it in Ron's car until it vanished beyond the peeks. That was the time that Sam had stopped for a moment and looked at Raven, and all he wanted was for her to stop, and wait for him to catch up, because she was far ahead and nearly out of sight. He wanted her to wait for him as he waited for her. He always waited. What hurt him is that she never saw it; she just ran as fast as she could, while she could, always using the same excuse: no matter how much time you have, it's never enough.

But after what happened to him today, he understood the 'why'. She was right: there is never enough time. You never know the amount of time you have; you only have here and now. And he kept screwing up the 'now' for himself. Never said it, never did it, never showed her; and in the end he ran out of all the time he was given because he kissed her back, and wedged an ax in their relationship instead of doing the smart thing and pushing her away, and keeping any hope of mending what had been broken. They will always have that silent moment, and the ones before that – little things that turned into big secrets – that they had never, and will never speak of; but things that happened nonetheless. And when it's all done, one of them will be long gone, and the other will be left to pick up the pieces of what was, what could have been, and what never will be. All the days that should have gone by, and all the moments that should have been spent laughing and crying and teasing; all of what never happened because she is running and he isn't keeping up.

She will always run; it's in her nature to run. And he will stay; it's what's in his nature. And where she was afraid of time running out, he was afraid that it will; and when it does, he will look Raven in the eye, and he won't have the slightest idea who she is. Because whether he agreed with it or not, she was not the little girl with the bright red face anymore; she was the girl with tear stains on her cheeks, and secrets far deeper than even she realized. She had fears and insecurities that she herself didn't see yet, and it was wasting her away. He would stay with her to the very end, never leaving her side no matter how much she pushes him away because he already knew that having known how life was with her in it, he couldn't take it if she was gone. She was his anchor, and having her gone left him adrift. There were too many things that only she knew about him – things he didn't even know yet – and letting her go left him blind and confused, wondering what he had done wrong. He knew this far too well, and he was afraid to let her go. But he was even more afraid of keeping her close and watching her change. She seemed to have her life all figured out by that point, and in her eyes he saw that that plan was going to get her nowhere good at all.

He knew he would always be there to remind her of who she was, and what he needed her for, but how long would it be before she stopped listening to him? How long would it be before she vanished without a trace again, looking for time alone, and never came back? How long until the morning he woke up, and she, along with all of her things, were gone? How long would she let him take care of her before she made that job exceptionally difficult on him? These were all questions that kept him up night after night, watching her sleep so intensely – fearing that should he look away, she'll disappear. He knew every one of her habits, and talents and flaws; he knew all of her deepest fears. And it seemed to him that every other thing he did only intensified them further, instead of weakening them and taking them away. He'd valued every moment she was with him, because they both knew, deep down, that those moments would come to an end. Of course he couldn't imagine a life where they were in each other's lives, had to see each other every single day, but were not friends, and dreaded the day, should it come, but the past few days proved anything possible, and proved that there was little he could do to stop it.

One day, the girl he shoved onto the street – the girl who offered him a Kit-Kat – will be gone; it would have to be because of him, or because of something else, but he knew that there was little he could do to stop it. He'd watched her grow up, and change, time hardening her as she built up walls of titanium around herself to keep the outside out, and the inside in; he'd watched, and it scared him. Pushing her away – both figuratively and literally – was not an option he could risk taking again. A world without this strange, confusing, irrational, messed up, so together and yet so broken up person that is Raven Montague would be a very different world. Whether it was for better or worse, Sam didn't; know. Hell, he didn't even know if his own life would be better off or worse off without her; he just knew that he wouldn't trade the girl for anything.

She hung up too soon, and he was with left the phone in his hand, staring at a blank wall numbly, going over the memories she listed – the things she chose to remember for the rest of her life. These were precious memories that would survive centuries – little, meaningless things that it would be a crime to forget. He would remember those memories as well – he'd never let himself forget them. They were perfect little moments of happiness that were so hard to find. They came more and more rarely and never lasted half as long as either of them would like. They weren't children anymore; they were growing up. Soon college would come, and pull them apart for a year or two. Sam would start working full time to save up the money needed, and she would chip in from her numerous Computer Science scholarships and he would pretend he doesn't notice his savings spiking once every several months. And then he would be gone, and hopefully off to his college of dreams: Princeton. And she… well, he couldn't be sure. Raven would probably live up to her word and spend much of the next several years of her life moving from fast-food restaurant to fast-food restaurant, getting kicked out for tardiness and a hot temper with people who try getting her into bed.

And after college Sam would come back, and fish her out of her little hell-hole, and drag her into his apartment to room with him till she can find a stable job, and get an education. He would take her hand and walk her to school every morning, like she's a child, and hire someone to make sure she stays in class all day. Then he would find her a cheap little single-bedroom apartment that she would fall in love with and never want to leave. They'd save up money and then go travel the world a little, and he would show her how to live again. And they would grow old together, and if that Alzheimer's disease the doctors promised him does come through, she would be there every day to remind him how special he is to her. She would be his daughter's Godmother, and aunt, and she would love Raven Junior – or whatever Raven Senior decides to name Sam's daughter (because yes she would) – as she would her own child. Sam and Raven would both have children, and their children would play in the backyard; and two would watch, remembering the good times they had when they were that age. They would watch, and smile; and everything will be just as it was always meant to be: perfect. Everything would be perfect.

An hour later, after endless begging and pleading on his part, the teen was released. Of course he didn't do it all on his own: a phone call from Secretary Keller sped things up when it came to letting Sam go; and an hour later, Sam found himself standing motionlessly in front of a uniform white door, the too-clean, plastic scent of the hospital abusing his nose. The pale pinks and yellows and blues on the walls, floor, and ceiling were a rather disgusting shade, unnerving the boy more and more with every time his eyes caught any of the colors. Hospitals have always had that effect on him and soon the boy felt bile rising up his throat. How anyone could stand it here was far beyond him; he hadn't gone to a hospital in five years. Sam would much rather fake being healthy and go to school than have his parent driving him to a place like this. And poor little Raven was stuck here for a good six, maybe seven hours.

Six or seven hours, and for some reason, he couldn't see her parents in the room as he looked at her peacefully sleeping form through the window. Of course they could have just left to go to the bathroom, or to get a snack, and he just didn't recognize them – or rather, didn't know it was them. After all, Sam had never seen Raven's parents – she didn't have any pictures, and she never spoke of them. He wouldn't intrude on her personal life, but he always had a gut feeling that her home life was not a happy one. She never looked abused – at least physically – but of the two of them, he was the one paying attention in class… most of the time, that is. And either she was verbally and emotionally abused, given the factor of her low self-esteem and inability to stand up for herself much, or she was largely neglected. He never met her at parent-teacher conferences. The young girl was always so detached and impartial when it came to family discussion that involved her. Now Sam's family, on the other hand, was a whole other topic. It seemed she spent as much productive time with his parents as she could. She'd come to family movie nights, and helped Judy make dinner, and asked Ron for help with her homework when she was over.

She constantly gave Sam the impression – one which he assumed to be accurate – that was desperate for an adult's attention and pries. So much, in fact, that every now and then Sam had to wonder if she even had parents. She made it clear that she didn't care for them – even if she did – and instead took after the parents of her best friend. She searched acceptance in the closest thing to a family she could find, aside from her real family. It angered the teenager that she would have to do that; not because it bothered him – oh Gods no – but the simple fact that she wasn't getting any of that back at her own home. He didn't know what was going on between her and her family, but it was clear that it was nothing good. Growing up in the family he did, it was beyond him that someone could neglect their own child to the point there said child had to seek family and care elsewhere. What she could have done wrong was just as beyond his understanding as anything else about the girl. She couldn't have done something so bad as to drive her family away. So… what was it?

With a deep, heavy sigh, he quietly pushed the door open, and walked into her dimly lit room, letting the door click shut silently behind him, and simply watched Raven for a little, taking in her peaceful features. He smirked as she moved, making a strange snuggling-like sound in the back of her throat and nuzzled her face into the pillow like a baby. She was so adorably amusing – and that was coming from a guy. Yes, he was a man, and few to none at all things were cute, adorable, or precious, but Raven as the one exception. She was cute a lot of the time: when she teased him, when she was annoyed, when she pouted, or went red in the face. And her glares were simply priceless to the point where he pulled out his phone numerous times, and took a picture, to last him a while. And sure it was cliché, but she was also adorable when she slept. Some of the faces she'd made over the years were something to remember. He even remembered her sucking her thumb in her sleep. She was fourteen. He took a video.

"Hey there, little bird," he whispered quietly, so that only he could barely hear – though he didn't know why he had bothered to remain quiet as the girl could sleep through a tornado – and moved to the chair next to her bed. His eyes ran over the bandage over the arm, a thin strip of red across it. Given the sheer amount of movies he'd watched, and the fact that him mom was genuinely into that one show about the crazy doctor – House – she'd need them changed in an hour or two. Sam sighed at his current circumstance, trying to figure out how exactly had he ended up here. On more than one occasion, the boy had wished it was all nothing but a very strange dream and what really happened was that he and Raven when out for another joy-ride, and ended up crashing, and now he is in a coma of some sort, dreaming up some nonsense about an alien race. As unfortunate as that would be, it sure made a lot more sense than the truth – which was not something any human in the sane mind could foresee. This was out of his league.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers locked tightly, and shook his head distantly... only to be interrupted by a strange noise. This caused him to look up from his hands – which all of the sudden seemed to be the most interesting thing in the room – and up at the hospital bed, where Raven began to stir in her sleep, mumbling incomprehensible gibberish. "Hmphmup…" Sam snorted a little at her little "sleep talk" (not that there was much actual talking going on; just some nonsense). She did that every now and then, and as short as every time was, the things she said were just hilarious. Sam found himself wishing that he had his phone on him; this would have been the ultimate blackmail against the girl. "Ghwa…" What? Sam thought to himself, snorting again at the sleeping girl. Her hand started to ever so slowly creep up from next to her, onto her leg as she subconsciously dragged it up to her upper body. "Goway…" Oh, he thought, that's what she was saying!

The hand in question was tangled up in a wire that stretched out from the large clip on her index finger – one of the multiple devices measuring her pulse. Once the wire reached its tightest, the restricted her movement – which she could clearly feel – and she started uselessly, absently tugging at it to free her arm. Sam slapped both hands over his mouth as the girl began to weakly, sleepily struggle with her "restrains". Seeing her in such a sleeping fuss was one of the things that amused him most about him. He remembered all the times he'd snatched the blanket from her to wake her up for school, and how she thrashed around like an idiot when he did so, letting out a chain of mumbled protest that no one could understand. As she tried to crook her other arm, though, a wince of pain came over her face, and her body tensed. At first Sam thought he should worry, but then she started to reach for her arm, looking for the sourse of the pain, and the monologue caused him to snicker loudly, barely sustaining his laughter as his body shook violently.

Her right arm reached for the one with the IV needle in it lazily, and she numbly tried to pluck it from her arm. "Ghbaj… Ghabage… Garbage…" Her hand searched for the needle in her arm, and when she found it, she weakly pulled at it. "Spdr… Spider… hmpf…" She eventually succeeded in getting the needle out of her arm, and tossed it lazily over the side of the bed, turning over to her side comfortable, to sleep better. Sam calmed down from his laughing fit, but it never crossed his mind to call the nurse. But shortly after he caught his breath, another wave of laughter washed over him and the boy tried very hard to control it as Raven brought her right hand up to her head in a sharp movement, and groaned as the large, heavy-looking clip on her finger stuck her in the eye. She was just too funny in her sleep, Sam thought as he shook his head at her humorously.

"Um… we were wondering… can you please… um… what do you call it again? You know, Mr. Preacher; when two people get married they say that they will always be together? You see, Mr. Preacher, it's Raven's birthday, and I wanted to make her a very special present," a juvenile Sam stuttered out, his still childishly rounded face putting on the best puppy dog face he could muster, his eyes as wide as he could make them. Given his age, it did look cute, but as he overdid with the wideness of his eyes, it would look rather frightening had he been even a year older. The plea seemed to have taken the robed man by surprise and Sam tried not to laugh as he remembered how Raven so very accurately put it: "it looks like they just got out of the shower". The older man eyed the two children on his doorstep suspiciously, not sure what the request was aiming for, let alone how to handle it.

Frowning at the children, he asked, "What are you asking me, exactly?"

And with that, Sam recalled himself trying miserably to explain. He laughed to himself as he remembered the man's eyebrows shooting so high, they almost shot right off his head when Sam mentioned the wedding vows. Adults can sometimes be so silly, they used to think. Looking back at his younger self, he couldn't blame the preacher for jumping to a conclusion like that. Of course he would think what he would, given the wording the boy chose to explain what he wanted for them to do. But to think that the two of them came to the church in the middle of the night to get married? Even now that he had grown some, San found it outright ridiculous. They were twelve! That, and Sam had trouble forming requests to strangers – or even people he knew well – especially if he was nervous. He couldn't help but recall, with a reddening face, his atrocious choice of word when he offered Mikaela a lift home.

The two kids stood face to face, hand in hands, in front of a holy statue of a holy figure which neither Sam nor Raven could remember the name of. The preacher stood tall before then, a book in his hand – a book he made sure not to honestly read. As these were kids, and they were being just that – kids – and it was the young girl's birthday – and the fact that the request they had for the church was absolutely adorable – the church staff had agreed to the ceremony, To say it was a first for the church would be an understatement. In fact, it was rather unheard of for a pair of kids to show up out of the blue with such a strange request.

"Repeat after me, please," the preacher instructed, turning to look down at Sam, who nodded in obedience. "I, Samuel James Witwicky," he said, and the boy followed, quoting the older man word for word carefully.

"Take you, Raven Montague, to be my best friend for the rest of my life," the boy said with confidence. Sure it was a silly idea, but to them both, it meant everything. "To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part." A ring of pride was in his words as he proclaimed himself Raven's best friend forever. He would look after her, and make sure she goes to school and does her homework and doesn't get into trouble with the other kids. Knowing her – and he did know her – it would be no easy task, and he knew that she would make his life as difficult as possible, but he knew he could do it; he just had to.

The little girl with the small voice was up next, and when she spoke, Sam couldn't recall any time at which she sounded so self-confident. "I, Raven Montague, take you, Samuel James Witwicky, to be my best friend for the rest of my life," the girl said with confidence. Sure it was a silly idea, but to them both, it meant everything. "To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part." Raven found that she'd never been prouder of herself, than she was at that moment. She would look after Sam, and protect him from the bullies, and get herself, along with him, into trouble, and she would let him copy her math homework, and kick him in the 'hind when he messed up and didn't call her to join him. And when he fell, she might not be able to pick him up, but she would sure lie down next to him, and wait for him to be strong enough to get up on his own. And she knew that he would do the same.

"If there is anyone who stands against this union, please speak now or remain forever silent," the preacher announced, turning to his coworkers, sitting in the place of the audience. The two children looked at the group to find every one of them smiling from ear to ear. None made a noise. "The bracelets?" the man asked, turning to Raven and Sam. Both children pulled a woven bracelet with their name on it from their pockets and held them in front of them. Raven reached her little arm out to her friend, and he hooked an ultramarine blue bracelet around her wrist, with his name woven onto it. Raven did the same, wrapping a brown bracelet with the word "Raven" across the top of it.

"I now pronounce you best friends forever; you may embrace." And the two did just that, pulling each other into the tightest hug ever.

Sam spun the woven bracelet around his wrist, and turned his hand over, palm up, to read to name on it as a small tear ran down his face at the memory. What was only five years ago, now seemed to be a lifetime ago – now more than ever with the recent development of events. It had been the most precious moment in his life, and it was all he could do not to laugh at himself for no particular reason. So much had happened in eleven years; almost too much to remember. But he knew that both he and Raven would never forget any of it. He knew that if that disease really does strike, Raven would be by his side every moment of every day, reminding him of who he is, and who she is, and what they are together.

He did, indeed, copy her math homework when she did it, and she did, indeed, hit him when he got into trouble and didn't call her along for the ride; he did, indeed, wake her up every morning, and drag her to school when she stayed over – which was most of the time – and she did, indeed, lay down next to him when he couldn't up. He did things that he regretted greatly, and she took off after him. Even when she ran, she was always there in some way, even when she wasn't. She teased him, and he teased her back, and they listened to each other's complains, and even when they got tired and had their own issues to deal with, they sat quietly, and listened – or pretended to listen, when the rants got too long. What they said about childhood being the best year of your life – even more so once you got to high school – was true all the way. It may have been the most confusing and messed up part of his life, but he loved every minute of it.

Raven broke him out of his thought as she began to stir and make strange noises again, and suddenly Sam felt really tired as well. He stood up, walked over to the large hospital bed, and shoved Raven out of the way a little, gathering her limbs closer to her body – how can such a small girl take up so much space on such a large bed? – and climbed on, staying over the covers. Before long, he was back in Mission city, watching the battle unfold once more. And the worst part was that Raven was right there with him, as she always would be. It was the one time he wished she would disappear.

AN:IMPORTANT: alright so, since I'm going off the script, everything from here on out will be mine, and since I'm writing this story for you guys, as well as for myself, if there is something you want to see in the story in terms of character interaction (like a family trip to the pool, fishing, camping, etc.) please share. If you have an idea for a cute sense or chapter that you want to read in this story, you can either leave a comment, or PM it to me, and odds are, I will incorporate it into here. You might not see it right away, but it will probably come. If I pick your idea, I will credit you for it at the beginning of the chapter.

I will be saying this often (once ever couple of chapters, probably), so if there is anything you want to read in here, let me know.

Please leave a thought or two about what was your favorite part of the chapter, and have a wonderful day or night!

Question of the day: if you can have one wish, what would you wish for, and/or why?