How it Is
Chapter 24: Revivals and Reunions

By: Nightelfcrawler
Disclaimer: Obviously Transformers is not my own, and is property of Hasbro. Be gentle.

He first became aware of a loud dim of voices far in the distance, echoing as if spoken from a corridor behind a thick door. He didn't open his eyes yet, feeling sleepy and content as he was. But the voices sounded harsh, loud, and slightly distorted, as if he were listening through a breaking up cell phone. Someone was protesting, loudly, at his side. Sam heard a windy sigh, and his brain suddenly connected a name to that sigh. "Bee…" He murmured quietly, his voice sounding oddly distorted and distant, cracked as if he'd just had a sore throat.

Instantly he felt the motion beside him, and could nearly feel the presence hovering before he cracked one eye open. The light was harsh, and he quickly shut his eye again before it could hurt much. "Sam." A warm concerned voice familiar to his ears spoke softly at his side. "You are awake."

"Ugh." He commented hoarsely. "…wish I weren't. Did Optimus run me over?"

There was a small snort off to the side that he took to be laughter, and a soft warbling series of notes nearer to him that sounded like the same thing. "No, Sam. Do you remember what happened?"

It was hard to try and remember. He could pull up flashes with a lot of green and blue involved, some yellow and black framed against white… and blue optics watching him. "Oh…right…yeah I remember."

"We have successfully transferred the spark from your protection into its new body, Sam." Ratchet was reporting off to his right somewhere. "It was a bit tricky, but it seemed once we got you close enough, the Allspark took over and reacted, completing the transfer and dissolving the components it created in your body before bringing you back online."

"Right…sounds great."

"Cheeky little…" Ratchet muttered. "You scared the slag outta me, boy." He sighed. "Keep your eyes shut for now. Trust me, it's better."

"Kay." Sam said, not wanting to protest. The light hurt his eyes. "How long's it been?" He vaguely remembered Bee telling him that it would be a while. The answer was hesitant to come, but at last the medic spoke up.

"It has been a considerable amount of time, Sam… approximately seven months."

Sam's eyes opened despite the warning, the harsh light causing him to wince and shut them again, as he let out a small groan. "Seven MONTHS?" Holy crap, what about his parents…? Mikaela…? Miles…? School…? Ah screw school.

"I understand your disorientation, however there was no way I could work faster." Ratchet sounded irritated. "It took all of our help, plus scrounging for extra supplies to get you back on your feet as quick as we did." There was a pause then… "How do you feel right now, Sam?"

"Like crap." He said tiredly. "Everything aches. Bright light… too loud noises… Feels like I've had a killer flu."

"That should pass." Ratchet said, sounding slightly pleased. "Your body is still adapting."

Pause.

"Wait…what?"

Ratchet sighed impatiently. "You just finished feeding power to a spark, trying to keep it alive for the last six months, Sam. Your body is exhausted and needs rest."

"I just woke up!"

"Your mind woke up, your body has been in a continuous state of operation, though your systems were on stand-by." The CMO growled.

"English, doc!" Sam protested.

"The Allspark was busy. Your body had a low priority, it kept you alive and healthy, but it's been running full power like a battery, that's plain enough for you?" Snapped Ratchet before he sighed. "You'll recover quickly in no time, Sam. I'm just a bit concerned what side-effects might occur due to this constant charge of Allspark energy through your system."

"Well…you've had time to watch me, anything weird happen?" He was a little wary of what the answer might be.

Ratchet was silent for a moment, before speaking crossly. "Not that I can see, YET." He said, stressing the word. "But it was busy, as I said, keeping the spark alive. That vast amount of energy is bound to be exhausting no matter who you are. I did pick up increased electrical activity and metal signatures, but I cannot get specific readings." There was a windy sigh, and suddenly the bright harsh light shut off above him, plunging him into comparative darkness as Sam let out a sigh of relief, cracking his eyes open. Spots still danced before his eyes. "However, there was one unusual side-effect."

"Huh?" The boy tried to peer through the dimness as his eyes slowly focused on the chartreuse paintjob of the medic leaning over him. "What kind of side-effect." He caught the glance Ratchet tossed towards Bumblebee, and glanced up at his Guardian who he suddenly realized was grinning widely. "What's the catch here?"

"The catch, kid… is you got one hell of a power kick I'm told." Came a familiar voice from somewhere behind Bumblebee.

Sam's eyes widened and he sat up abruptly, his head whirling in the process but that didn't stop him from craning his head to see the friendly face of Jazz grinning down at him. "Holy…"

"Yup, I sure was." Jazz replied cheekily. "Not anymore though, thanks to you."

Sam's jaw fell open. "M…me?" He whispered softly, one hand lifting a bit as he stared down at his palm, which appeared unmarked and as normal as ever, even the gray lines had become 'normal' to him. He glanced up to meet gazes with Bumblebee and Jazz, who were both grinning at him. His gaze switched to Ratchet who looked less pleased but still smugly proud. "Dude…"

"However, I don't want this resurrection ability of yours going to your head." The medic said firmly. "Whatever that surge did, it sure wasn't easy on your body. My guess is it put you out longer than you needed to be. So next time, you wait for my permission before bringing the dead back to life, got it?"

"Uh...Yeah. No problem."

The saboteur and spy both chortled their amusement.

Sam rolled his eyes, rubbing them with the back of his hand as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. Everything ached when he moved, as if he'd just recovered from a killer flu. He figured that just came from not moving for seven months, though that amount of time just baffled him. What'd he been doing, just laying here on Ratchet's table the whole time? Frightening images of the Hatchet taking that opportunity to examine him sent shivers down his spine. Ok, not a good image.

"Take it slow." Ratchet insisted again, glaring over at him meaningfully as Sam squinted through the dim light, his eyes slowly adapting to the lack of harshness from the uber lamp that had been positioned over him.

"What was with the light, anyway." Sam muttered irritated. "It was way too bright, burn out my retinas why don't you."

"Stop griping." Ratchet growled. "You're as bad as Sunstreaker."

"Hey! No one's THAT bad." Sam protested in a wounded tone.

"You got that right." Jazz chuckled.

Ratchet snorted and turned back to him, prodding a finger in his direction. "For your information, that light was a powerful UV generator. I discovered while you were blissfully unaware of what was going on around you, that your body reacts favorably to exposure to UV radiation."

Sam blinked. "Huh?"

"Sunlight." Bee explained helpfully. "Ratchet thought that sunlight might be helping the Allspark recharge. He noticed earlier you always seemed content in the sun and tended to fall asleep."

"Oh." Sam scratched his head, and then looked down at his arms. Well, he didn't have s sunburn, which was a good sign, though he did appear to have a nice tan. "That's good?"

"It explains how the Allspark is regenerating within you." Ratchet explained simply, folding his arms. "It cannot create energy from nothing, so it takes energy from the Ultra Violet rays you are exposed to and converts it into energy you can use. It can generate it's own, but by this method it can add energy to itself rather than recycle it. My recommendation, use that to your advantage and go bathe in the sun."

"It's called sun-bathing, Ratchet."

"That's what I said."

"Of course alternate power sources like fusion or nuclear reactions might do the same thing, but that tends not to be favorable to the human body."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Who?"

"Never mind." Sam sighed and exchanged a glance with Bee, who simply shrugged. "So, you got the spark safely?" He asked, glancing around the med bay for some kind of sign, but saw no body or unidentified mech.

"Yes." Ratchet agreed. "He is functioning and speaking with Optimus. Perhaps you can converse with him later. He unfortunately does not have memories to rely on so you will have to build relationships from scratch."

"So like… if his processors don't have the memories, that means he just starts over blank?"

"Essentially." Ratchet agreed. "It's a disadvantage, I admit. He had years of experience and intel we could have used on our side."

"So what's he going to be? A fighter like Barricade?"

"Until we know more about what kind of spirit the spark has, we cannot second guess and simply assume he will be a warrior like Barricade was. He could have been a medic, a spy, or even a consumer model for all we know. Once we determine more his preferences and tendencies, then I can specialize his visage and give him adaptations as needed. Optimus also wishes to keep an eye on him during his learning and development stages, just in case our neighborhood Decepticon rears his ugly face again. One never knows with sparks…" Ratchet frowned. "And with two lives of two 'different' mechs on one spark, we have no idea what that could do to him."

Sam blinked and nodded, all that information a bit much for him to absorb all at once. "So what are you gonna call him?"

Ratchet hesitated then shot a glance over at Sam. "That is a most curious question." He said, seeming slightly surprised. "Most mechs choose a name of their liking, or are given one by their creator once they figure out who they are. Likely he will do the same once he establishes his own parameters. Until then, we have names we use in situations such as these however…" He glanced at Bumblebee and seemed to transmit something silently, as Sam could almost feel the signals flying between them though he couldn't intercept them. "…I don't believe it translates well into your language."

"Try me." Sam suggested. "Since I know yours, maybe we can figure something out."

"Very well. We use the designation… --" What followed was a complex string of warbles and notes that Sam merely blinked at, as he frowned trying to figure it out.

"Yikes." He finally said. "You weren't kidding. That's one long-ass name." He finally offered. The best paraphrasing he could come up with was 'one who is too young to designate oneself and therefore given generic designation'. "Ok, well humans have something like that… When someone loses their memory or can't be identified, we call them John Doe, or Jane Doe if it's a girl." He scratched his head awkwardly. "I guess that doesn't really help us though."

"Not entirely. I don't think it would be appropriate to refer to him with a human designation." Ratchet admitted, glaring at Bumblebee and Jazz who both found the whole thing amusing enough to chuckle a bit. "We will refer to him using that designation for now. I will leave it in your hands to pick a temporary designation for human use."

"Uh…right." Sam said rather blankly. "Maybe I'll wait on that till I meet him."

Ratchet sighed and rolled his optics. "As you wish. Now, if you are feeling well enough I believe you have very concerned family and friends anxiously awaiting your return in the rec room. They have been hovering for hours since I finished the procedure."

Sam grinned a bit at that. "Welcome home party… wait, rec room?" he blinked.

"They built it while you were asleep, Sam." Bumblebee offered, extending a hand for the youth to climb into. "I believe it is quite a comfortable facility, however there are no entrances large enough to permit our physical forms."

"Captain Lennox made a point in gloating about that." Ratchet murmured. "He seemed intent on having some 'personal space'… I honestly don't understand humans at times."

Bumblebee exchanged a glance with Sam, grinning at each other. They understood better, perhaps because Bee was more familiar with human ideologies from being on the planet longer. "Would you like to see them now, Sam?"

"Might as well. I'm sure I look like crap…" He slowly tugged himself into Bee's hand, still feeling weak and shaky, so decided not to stand up just yet. "Dare I ask who's been changing my clothes? I know I don't own army fatigues."

"Captain Lennox has been seeing to your physical welfare at my request." Ratchet offered. "I was not aware how much maintenance a stasis-locked human required." He muttered looking a bit affronted.

Well, at least it hadn't been Mikaela, Sam thought with a flush to his cheeks.