A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! Here's the next chapter. Now, a lot of people hate this character in the first part of this chapter and honestly, he's a total dick in the movie, but like they say, people who pick on other people do it to make themselves feel good because they're insecure about themselves. That's how I see this character so hopefully I'm putting a cool twist on the story. Please enjoy!

I don't own Transformers!

The Ties that Bind
Chapter Twenty-Four: Rash Decisions

When his parents received the call that their only son was in the hospital they both saw his professional football career flash before their eyes and disappear like so many dreams do. All sorts of injuries; shattered knee cap, broken elbow, paralysis could lead to cutting his future prematurely. Trent walked out of the hospital, his mother holding onto his arm as she ushered him out. His father was currently arguing with the doctor. The doctor wanted Trent to stay another night, merely as a precaution, but Mr. DeMarco insisted that he had Trent checked out sooner than later since they had a football game at the end of the week. Trent merely rolled his eyes at the man as he went off about how missing one game could ruin his chances since you never knew who would be sitting in the audience watching.

"I'll make you some hot soup when we get home, how about that?" his mother asked.

"Whatever," he replied disinterestedly.

Trent remembered exactly what happened at school the day he ended up in the hospital; Sam Witwicky. That scrawny punk punched him and sent him flying. He had a huge bruise on his chest as a souvenir too. But the thing that made the even most unnerving wasn't the fact that he was humiliated in front of the student body, it was the look on Sam's face and the way his eyes turned black that really freaked him out. It would be something he would never be able to forget.

Trent climbed into the back of his father's black Escalade, cringing as he irritated his chest. Man, if it didn't get any better by Friday then he wouldn't be able to play and he knew that his father would absolutely love that. Pulling his seatbelt on he tried not to move too much. As he leaned on his elbow he stared out the window. His parents were arguing about something, but he really didn't care to pay attention since it was something they did all the time. Instead he sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing since it looked like he'd be having a rough couple of days.

When he opened his eyes something caught his attention. A Honda dealership with a line of bikes parked outside the shop. He had been saving up for a bike, but his father would never condone it and his mother probably wouldn't either. Instead he got a huge truck; safety first. At least if he got in an accident in his truck he probably wouldn't die, but the damn thing was so big God help the person in the smaller vehicle. What his parents didn't know was that his best buddy had a speed bike much like the ones they were passing and he rode it all the time.

"So are you ready for Friday?" his father spoke up, "Big game."

"Every game is a big game to you," the teen muttered back, his blue eyes tired.

"What was that?"

"Yeah," Trent said more loudly, "East High is going down."

"That's the spirit!" Mr. DeMarco beamed, "There's no way their quarterback's arm can compare to yours!"

"Are you sure you're going to be okay to play, honey?" his mother asked, "The doctor wants you to take it easy."

Trent opened his mouth to answer.

"He's fine!" Mr. DeMarco said causally, "It's going to take more then a fight at school to keep him out. Though I was a little surprised about who actually started the fight. That Wilkilky kid—"

"Witwicky," Trent corrected, though he didn't know why.

"Whatever," his father rolled his eyes in the mirror, "I can't believe you let that punk knock you out, Trent. He's so…scrawny!"

Trent flushed out of embarrassment and turned his hat around to pull over his eyes. Yeah, well if you had seen what he looked like you sure as hell wouldn't be saying that…

"He must be taking steroids or something," Mrs. DeMarco deduced, "I tried to call his parents but no one answered. Do you think we should sue?"

"No," Trent spoke up, "Just forget it. It was a lucky hit."

"According to the school it was only one hit," his father bit out in shame.

Trent glared at the back of his old man's head, but once again he was silent. His was the classic story of an overbearing father that was living his dream through his son while the mother stood idly by not doing a damn thing though she should know that it was tearing her child apart. He looked back out the window and noted that there was a black and bronze Suzuki speed bike riding beside them. The rider wore all black, the visor was tinted, but from the way the head was turned Trent knew that it was looking at him. Trent frowned and shook his head as if to ask 'what the hell you looking at'? The driver gave a half wave before yanking the font of the bike up, speeding by on the back tire

"Holy Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" his father cried in alarm as the bike cut him off.

Trent looked around his mother and noted the license plate; CJU MP3R. He was impressed to be honest. He, himself, had done his fair share of wheelies on his friend's bike, but nothing that good.

"Stupid kid!" his father cursed, "He's gonna get himself killed on that thing! You see why I won't let you have one?"

Trent leaned back in his seat, arms crossed. "His parents must trust him enough to let him have one."

"Misplaced trust if you ask me," was the retort, "If they knew what he was doing on that thing I'm sure they'd take it away."

"Not unless he bought it himself they couldn't," Trent said rather softly, knowing that he was getting himself into a losing debate with his father, "His bike. His property."

"We're not arguing about this. You're not getting one."

That's what you think, Trent thought snidely.

They finally made it back to their half-million colonial house, Trent's huge truck parked on the circle drive with his mother's Crossfire. Trent got out as quickly as he could and grabbed his backpack from next to him. Making a mad dash for the opened garage he went into the house, immediately greeted by Shelly, his golden retriever of two years. He greeted the dog affectionately which was returned with large, furious licks, but she was restrained as if she could sense that her best friend was hurt.

"Let's go," he said.

The dog followed faithfully as he rushed up the stairs before his parents could intercept him in the kitchen. Shelly jumped up on his bed, tall wagging furiously, her bright brown eyes watching anxiously. The rules of the house were that if Trent was going to have a dog then it wasn't allowed on the furniture. Shelly soon learned that it was okay as long as it was in Trent's room. Her crate was in the corner, where she typically slept, but that didn't mean she didn't like to lay next to him before bedtime.

Trent dropped onto the bed, his chest throbbing, but he ignored it as Shelly laid her head on his stomach, her tail still wagging as he began to scratch her ears. Pulling off his hat he tossed it across the room and closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. Around the room were pictures of athletic icons from basketball to heroes to the NFL superstars where he was 'destined' to end up. Don't get him wrong, he loved football, but as his father continued to pressure him to do better and better and demean him if he failed he was starting to think that it wasn't worth it.

Shelly snorted loudly, getting his attention. His dog looked up at him reining innocence. He smiled genuinely at her, not the cocky smile he displayed at school in front of his peers, no it was the one of an eighteen-year-old boy who was happy to have at least one friend who saw him for him and not this high school star was going to play college ball and move on from there. No one but Shelly probably really knew what he wanted to do with his life. Trent closed his eyes again, his hand slowly down until he finally fell asleep. Even though she was disappointed that the petting stopped she didn't move from her spot deciding that a nap was just what she needed.

Carter left the courtroom a proud grin on his face. Loosening his tie he watched as the press assaulted the D.A. with questions upon questions about the trial. This was his job. Putting the bad guys behind bars and getting no credit for it. Despite Carter's typical attitude he didn't mind that he was in the background because at the end of the day he knew that he put the pieces together and he knew were credit was due, whether or not he got it through the media.

Leaving the courthouse he hopped into his Dodge Dakota and sighed. The defense attorney was a killer though. He really hated it when they asked bogus questions to distract from the true point in order to confuse the jury. He proved him wrong that was for sure after the D.A yelled objection a handful of times. Jeffery wanted a rundown on the trail when he returned to the lab, so that's where he'd head before heading back to his apartment.

He pulled down the visor, not surprised when a photo few out. Picking it off his lap he smiled, almost sadly at the couple in the picture, both wearing huge smiles. The man's arms wrapped tightly around the girl's shoulders his chin resting on the curve of her neck. They wore fleeces since it just so happen to be a cold day in Vegas when the photo was taken, last Christmas probably.

Carter often wondered what happened to the couple in the photo but it wasn't hard to figure out. Jealousy turned to bitter anger and resentment that tore apart their relationship leaving a desperate woman wanting to make amends and a man who just didn't give a damn. Carter traced the girl's face, her wavy blonde hair and stared into the brown eyes that he missed waking up to so much.

He put the photo of him and Peyton in the mirror and even though there was no sun he kept the mirror down anyways so he could look up at it occasionally on the ride to lab. He didn't know what sparked old feelings for his colleague, but it was getting harder and harder to resist since she had disappeared and gone off to fight a war with the aliens.

Jeffery advised against their relationship from the beginning, but they ignored the warnings. When Peyton started establish her career that's where things went wrong. He cast a quick glance at the picture again before making a right hand turn. He wanted nothing more then to apologize for being such a bastard, for treating her the way he did…does. He sighed as he remembered the hard times he gave her trying to make amends and be funny, only to have her aloofness to his attitude get the better of him and letting it escalate into an argument. It seemed she wanted nothing to do with him and it was only a consequence that they still had to work together.

He arrived at the lab within fifteen minutes. Parking his truck he went into the building and headed for Jeffery's office where the older man was, as always, hovering over case files, his cell phone within arm's reach and his glasses at the tip of his nose. Knocking on the door he smiled in greeting when his mentor looked up.

"Guilty on all counts," he stated simply, "The victim's decomposition rate was slowed to the body being frozen for so long. He dumped it after he took his flight to Atlanta."

"Good work," Jeffery congratulated, "But you don't look half as arrogant as you normally would after solving a case like this."

Carter mocked a look of hurt, pressing his palm to his heart in exaggeration. "You wound me!" he proclaimed as he strode into the office taking a seat in one of the two cushioned chairs in front of Jeffery's desk. "I caught him. It's done. Another case solved."

Jeffery's expression darkened. "That's something Peyton would say."

Carter stiffened and couldn't look up at his boss. "Nah! She knows how to gloat."

"Really?" Jeffery said his tone serious, as he pulled off his glasses, "I really can't remember a time when Peyton danced around the break room for solving a case."

"Trust me," Carter said, "She knows how to celebrate."

"…I really didn't need to know that."

"C'mon, Chief!" Carter said exasperatedly, "She's a grown woman!"

"A grown woman I watched grow since birth."

"…Sorry."

"It's fine," the man said with a huff, "Don't ever do it again."

"So whatcha got for me?" Carter changed the subject, leaning forward, "Anything good I can steal from ya?"

"These aren't open cases," the supervisor explained, "I'm comparing cases to my current one. I think they may be related, but we'll see."

"Oh," Carter leaned back, "Well, do you need help?"

"You just got out of court. Go home and rest. You shift starts in ten hours."

"Well, what are you doing here?"

"Relaxing."

"…You're a freak."

"I like my job," Jeffery grinned, "It relaxes me."

"Like I said," Cater countered, "Freak."

"Shut up and go home!" the man laughed.

Cater held up his hands in a defensive gesture and headed for the door. He was just about to pass through the doorway when a voice stopped him.

"You know, if you're worried about her," Jeffery said, "you can always call her."

Carter's hand clenched around the doorframe. "I'm the last person she wants to hear from, Jeff."

"You never know," he added, "Maybe this whole experience has changed on how she views things. Plus, without her here you're bored out of your mind."

"Am not!" carter said obviously offended, "I get all the best cases. No competition."

"Call her," Jeffery insisted, "I think she'll like to hear that you care at least a little."

Carter faced his mentor, a sad look in his dark eyes, one Jeffery hadn't seen since the two of them broke up around a year ago. "I do care, Jeffery, more then anyone knows, but I can't put her in that position."

"What position? No one said you guys can't at least be friends," a look of enlightenment came to his face, "Unless…You still love her don't you?"

Carter was silent.

"Well, I think she still loves you too," Jeffery stated offhandedly.

"What?" Carter squeaked.

"Call. Her."

"No, man! Geez! You never give up!"

Jeffery had an all knowing smile on his face. "Not when the evidence is right in front of me," his face turned a little serious, "Have you thought about what I told you the other day?"

Carter's face went practically dead, except for his eyes. They were filled to the brim of self loathing, regret, and sadness. He sighed heavily, bowing his head. Nodding slightly, he got a sympathetic look from his superior who pursed his lips together. Carter rubbed his forehead wearily. "I can't believe she never told me."

"It was a bad time for you both," he said, "I don't know the details, but she must've had a reason. She may have been afraid. You weren't the easiest person to talk to you know."

"Yeah I know."

"That's why I think you should call her. I think there's a lot you need to work out to at least work together civilly."

Carter grinned uncomfortably, trying to hide his current vulnerability. "Whatever you say, man. See you later."

Jeffery called out his goodbye as Carter started down the hall to the locker room. Would she mind if he called her? He didn't think it was such a good idea given their not so good history together. He didn't deny that it was his fault that there was such bad friction between him. He did a lot of things he shouldn't have, things he really regretted, but it was too late. He blew his chance, so why the hell should he waste her time. It seemed now that they only way they could tolerate being in the same room together was if they made fun of each other, but anyone could see it; both still had a longing look in their eyes, whether the other noticed or not was a mystery.

Carter opened his locker his eyes immediately falling on a crinkled picture on the door. He had only just hung it up. It was of his and Peyton last year. Both wore happy smiles, her head leaning on his shoulder while her arm was outstretched, taking a picture. Carter grinned at the picture. He had taken her out to one of the fanciest restaurants on the strip for their first year anniversary. It was sad, because it was the very next day that things started to go south for them and their relationship and it ended in a lot of tears, cruel words, and regret.

He slammed his locker shut and slung his jacket over his shoulders wasting no more time and heading for the parking lot. A Chevy Avalanche waited for him. Climbing in, he started it up, but didn't drive out immediately. Instead her reminisced some more. He thought of how sometimes the two of them would end up late for their shift due to some private circumstances in the back seat. Working the graveyard shift had its perks. He laughed at the memory of getting caught in the act. Kelly didn't rat them out to Jeffery, thank God, but she teased them for the longest time and put in a little harmless blackmail just to shake things up.

He suddenly hated himself. He wanted to drive to LA, get on his knees and beg Peyton to forgive him. He wasn't there for her when she needed him and he only made it worse. She was a better CSI, he accepted that now, but he didn't accept it then and he was willing to do anything he possibly could to stay Jeffery's number one guy, even if it meant completely humiliating his boss's goddaughter. If Jeffery had known what he had done…Carter wouldn't just have to worry about losing his job.

He put the truck into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. He was going to go home and have a drink. Sure it was two o'clock, but it was five o'clock somewhere. There were a lot of things he wanted to get off his mind.

Ironhide was seething. Having just gotten off the line with Optimus, Hound was starting to wonder if he should move as far away as possible for his own safety. Hands clenched into fists, his bright blue optics were narrowed in dangerous anger that so many Decepticons had been on the receiving end of.

"What's goin' on?" Hound asked.

"Bumblebee," Ironhide said slowly, "ignored his orders and ran away. Optimus is sure he's heading here."

"Damn youngling," Hound hissed in disappointment.

"I swear to Primus I'll send him to Pit bring him back and do it again," the weapon specialist growled.

The two were currently within fifty miles of the Decepticon base. They discovered that it was underground and Hound also picked up energy readings similar to the cloaking generators that he was using now to keep them from being detected. Fortunately, Hounds cloaks were much better than Shockwave's though they were good enough to fool the humans. Optimus was relieved to finally know where the Decepticons were hiding after a year of tiptoeing around each other.

"I know Bee didn't somethin' stupid, but we hafta understand that he just wants to get Sam back," Hound said gently, "He's probably blamin' himself for what happened."

Ironhide spun around. "I don't care! The stupid slag-head could get Sam and himself killed because of his actions!"

"What else did Optimus say?

"Peyton and Mikaela are accompanying him," he explained, "We need to formulate a plan to get Sam out of their and to keep Bumblebee away from the base at all costs."

"Damn," Hound growled, "We're outnumbered."

"We've always been outnumbered."

"Yeah but this time we're tryin' to save a human," Hound pointed out, "A very fragile, squishy human."

"Sam's a resourceful boy," Ironhide stated, "If we can get him away from Vortex he'll be fine."

"What about Megatron?"

"There's no way he could be back. His spark was destroyed and without the Cube he cannot come back."

"I don't know," Hound sighed, "I'm getting' a really bad feelin' about all this."

Ironhide didn't answer, because honestly, he was feeling the same. Something was wrong. Why kidnap Sam? Sure they could hold him hostage and bait the Autobots into a trap, but they never received a ransom or terms of any kind. And if he was kidnapped merely to be killed then why haven't they announced that as well. Ironhide really didn't know what to think of the situation other than it was a trap. He hoped that was all it was and they were going to toss a dead, mangled body at them. He really didn't want to see Bee go through such a loss. The mech had a real deal of getting attached to the young human boy and Ironhide didn't want that to happen either.

Ironhide's thought process was interrupted by Hound. "Ironhide," he started grimly, "something's coming."

"What?"

"Something is coming this way," he said, "and it's not good."

Ironhide followed Hounds trail of vision and sure enough something was walking towards them, something big so it wasn't human. It was a Decepticon, they knew that at least, but there was no way it could sense them, or even see them behind the cloak. Ironhide armed his canons anyways and Hound followed suit while he called Simmons to tell him to get the team of humans that had searched for the base to get out of the desert immediately. Simmons wasn't thrilled but he listened when he was told that there was a serious problem heading in their direction. There were six others walking with the tallest in the front and the two knew that it was the entire force of Decepticons on Earth.

"Wait!" Hound hissed, "One, two, three, four, five, six…seven? Ironhide…"

"They got themselves a newbie," Ironhide growled, "Wonder who it is."

But Hound knew who it was. He knew who it was because his frame was wracked with a terrified shudder. He knew because his spark started to race. Oh, he knew exactly who it was and it express that emotion he took a phrase out of Epps's book.

"Shit…"

Bumblebee was driving so fast he was kicking up ridiculous amounts of sand into the air and tearing up shrubs and forcing creatures of the desert to dive for cover. He was following the energy signs coming from the seven Decepticons that were moderately close.

Seven; one more then there was before.

Bee wanted to tear them all apart. How dare they take his best friend. How dare they attack Maggie. How dare they kill so many innocent humans. How dare they exist!

He thought of Sam; the boy's cheerful smile and panicky behavior in certain situations. Sam was a fast talker and that intended to increase when he was nervous about something, mostly concerning Mikaela, but at of lately that smile was only half of what it used to be. Sam hardly talked at all and he was always tired. Bee and Mikaela seemed to notice this the most, since they were always with him, but when he was around the other Autobots it was huge fake smiles and jokes.

Like Mikaela, Bee had asked Sam if there was anything wrong and time after time he received the same answers;

"Yeah!"

"Why would there be anything wrong? You worry too much."

"Dude, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm fine!"

Bee didn't really know how to react to Sam's lying. He knew that something was wrong. Sometimes when Sam would have nightmares and not wake up Bee would stand outside his window and play soothing music until he calmed down. Bee also asked about the nightmares and if there was anything he could do to help. Sam would get a faraway look in his eyes and completely zone out, his face paling to the point where Bee though he'd faint. But he would always shake himself out of it and smile and reassure him that everything was 'peachy'.

When Bumblebee left to take care of the base issue, he told Sam that they would talk about his problems when he got back, because in all actuality, Bee was sick of being lied to and not being able to help him human friend. And after that statement for the first time Sam looked relieved, like he was ready to talk about it. Sam had told Bee that he could tell him anything from personal issues to the war that he had grown up in and ended up fighting. He appreciated that Sam would give him the time of day for such a story and it went vice versa. After a particular story that left Bee feeling like crap he offered the same gesture to Sam.

But Sam wasn't talking.

And now Sam was gone.

He had failed his duty as a guardian and that's why he had to go. Not only to make it up to Sam, but to redeem himself and bring Sam back. Even though he was away at the time Bee didn't blame Sides or Hound like Ironhide had, but he blamed himself. They all should've known that leaving Sam with only two to protect him and himself not being one of them was a bad idea. Bee should've fought to stay behind like he had wanted, but never voiced. He should've been with Sam the entire time, that way, when he ran from school, Bee could follow him, hence preventing Barricade and Frenzy from taking him.

Bee knew that Optimus had more than likely figured out that he was gone, but he couldn't seem to make himself really care at the moment even though he knew that the punishment would be severe. He was the only one that could get Sam back and if Optimus didn't think so then he'd just have to deal.

Suddenly, he was shaken from his revere when he picked up two more energy signals. He recognized them as Ironhide and Hound. They were dangerously close to the Decepticons. Hound must've dropped the cloaking device, which was a good indication that it didn't work seeing that their enemies had been traveling in that direction all along. Bee's engine roared as he pushed himself to go faster. He needed to hurry if he was going to help them on top. Three against seven was better than two.

Peyton looked back at Mikaela fast asleep on the long bench seat. The girl was absolutely exhausted. Peyton on the other had was wide awake, used to pulling long shifts over piles of evidence and working through lunch. She sat in the driver seat, leaning back with her arms crossed. Optimus was silent, but the tension on the cab indicated that he was not a happy camper. Peyton didn't want to anger him further so she didn't say anything. Instead she tried to relax a little. Looking out the window she noted that they had left California a long time ago and were now in Arizona. Ironhide had called earlier with the location of the base and his location in comparison to that. Bee still had his communications off, which was to be expected. When Ironhide found out what his ward had done Peyton was silently grateful she wasn't there with him. He didn't yell and that was the scary part. His voice was dangerously soft and considering the kind of guy Ironhide was that was much more frightening.

He cell suddenly rang startling her out of her daydream she had slipped into. Pulling it off the clip she moaned upon seeing Jeffery's name. She had forgotten to call him today…again…

"Hi, Jeffery…"

"One phone call," he said, "One phone call is all I ask. If it'll make it easier just send a text message, preferably saying 'I'm still alive'."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, "Things have bee crazy lately."

"Any luck finding the boy?"

"Yeah," she responded, "Found the base where they're keeping him."

"Then why do you sound so down."

Peyton didn't know where to begin. There were so many things plaguing her mind right now varying from the war to personal feelings involving a certain dumbass back in Vegas. "We're just having…some difficulties. I can't really say."

"I don't like being lied to."

"I know you don't."

"There's something else I think you should know."

"…Yeah?"

"Carter has been talking about you lately."

"…Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"What the hell Jeffery? Talking about me behind my back?"

"No, nothing like that! He's been very worried about you," Jeffery explained, "He's actually the one that's helping me keep sane about what you've been doing."

"…Really?"

"Yeah. He wants to call you to see how things are going and even though I told him to I don't think he will."

"Well that's his problem. I'm not calling him if that's what you're getting at."

"I'm not saying you have to date him," Jeffery sighed.

"I sure as hell ain't gonna do that again."
"But why can't you at least be civil to each other? You do work together."

"Ask him," she spat, "He's the one who turned into a total dickhead."

"Peyton…"

"I don't want to talk about this," she huffed, rubbing her forehead wearily, "Any interesting cases?"

"Not really," Jeffery admitted, "The only interesting one so far was a guy who ate himself to death."

"What? Like that movie?"

"Seven?"

"Yeah! That was a good one. Really creepy."

"No. He had a genetic disorder that interrupted the signal to his brain that basically says 'I'm full'. He felt constant starvation everyday of his life. A condition like that needs constant monitoring, but apparently he escaped and hit the nearest buffet."

"Oh," she said in a frown, "That's kinda weird and sad."

"It was Carter's case too."

"Jeffery!"

"What?"

"Ugh! I have to go. We're getting close," she lied.

"To where? The base? Is there gonna be a fight?"

"Probably not," she lied again, "And if there is I can grantee you I will be far, far away from it."

"Alright," he said, "Be careful. I love you."

Peyton smiled and nodded though he couldn't see it. "I will. Love you too."

She snapped the phone shut and leaned back again with another sigh. He just had to bring up the Carter issue didn't he?

"How is your godfather?"

Peyton smiled at the radio as if it had a face. "He's mad I keep on forgetting to call him, but he's okay."

"What was he saying about that man Carter?"

Peyton stiffened and Optimus was able to feel it. "We dated for a while and apparently he's been 'worried' about me."

"The relationship ended?"

"You couldn't tell by the way we treated each other the day you met him?"

"What happened?"

"He turned into an asshole."

"Why?"

The words left her mouth before she could really stop herself. "This is not something we need to be discussing right now. We should think of a way to get to Sam and not my past relationships. It ended badly. That's it."

Optimus was silent and Peyton immediately felt bad for getting snippy. He hadn't spoken the entire ride and when he tried to finally start a conversation she went and bit his head off.

"Sorry—"

"No, I should've realized it was too personal."

"It's okay," she said, "Bad memories, that's all."

They fell silent again until Mikaela woke up in the back seat. "Hmm. Where are we?"

"We've been in Arizona for a while," Peyton explained, "I really don't know where we are."

"We are approximately 36 miles from the location of the base."

Peyton smiled at Mikaela and gestured to the radio. "There you go."

"Did you get a hold of Bee?"

"No."

"Figures," the teen sighed, climbing into the passenger seat, "I'm gonna kick his ass as soon as I see him."

Optimus actually chuckled lightly at the tone in Mikaela's voice while Peyton nodded. "I wouldn't blame you."

Then she said something that had all of them floored. "Why do all the men in my life do this to me?"

"Huh?" Peyton asked in confusion.

"My Dad, Sam, Bee, boyfriends who cheated on me," she said, "They never talk to me. They never try to work things out. They just lie and think I'll sit back and take it and the sad thing is I do. I should've tried harder to get Sam to talk to me. I shouldn't have left Bee by himself."

"You can't blame yourself for what happened to Sam anymore than Bumblebee. It's this self persecution that made him disobey my orders in the first place," Optimus said gently, though it was still obvious that he was ticked off by his scout's actions.

"Telling me not to blame myself is one thing," she countered, "But actually doing it is another."

"When we get Sam back," Peyton started determinedly, "he's gonna get it from all of us, including me and I've only known him for a week."

"I just want him back," Mikaela said weakly, "I just want him to hold me and tell me everything's okay, that he's okay, but I know that's not gonna happen. Something is seriously wrong with him."

The conversation was cut when Optimus received a transmission. "Optimus!"

"Hound?"

"He's here! You need to hurry! He's—Ah! Ironhide! You okay?"

"Hound! What's going on?"

"Slag! Get dow—timus! It's Mega—"

Static.

Peyton and Mikaela had looks of horror on their faces. Optimus was silent, listening to the empty static that filled the cab. The truck speed up, the engine roaring as it defied the normal laws of big rigs, weaving in between cars with expert ease not caring what gestures he received. Peyton looked over at Mikaela and upon seeing the girl's frightened face took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Mikaela squeezed twice as hard.

Bee could see the explosions coming from the battle as he drew closer. Ironhide and Hound were trying desperately not to lose any ground, shielded behind some rocks. He could see that the ones attacking were Demolisher, Breakdown, Dead End, Shockwave, and Barricade. Vortex was standing back with another mech that had frightened Bumblebee ever since he was a sparkling and that mech was currently holding a deathly pale, limp Sam in his grip with a malicious grin on his face.

Transforming, Bumblebee charged forward, not really stopping to think about how this certain mech could've have come back to life. His movements gained their attention it was too late to react before he was launching himself through the air yelling the captor's name in pure anger and hate, "MEGATRON!"

Well, shit, this sucks. Kinda kept You-Know-Who under wraps minus the revival scene. Aaaaaaannnddd...Bee is still an idiot, but I love him anyways. Optimus better hurry, yeah? Did you guess who the bike was?? Hehe! And what did Jeffery tell Carter about Peyton that would make him so upset?? Thanks for reading!!

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