Notes: Author's Note: I apologize in advance for any editorial mistakes in this chapter. I haven't had the time to thoroughly beta-read it.
Will watched as Ratchet accelerated across the airfield towards the perimeter. He was followed by Trailbreaker, Hound, and Bumblebee. The Camaro was visibly battered, with dents and gouges marring his pristine yellow paint. Will frowned, tracking their progression until the convoy disappeared into the early morning gloom. He had been surprised when Optimus had assigned Bumblebee to the vanguard. After the Camaro's freak-out earlier that morning, Will had expected the Autobot leader to put him on stand-down. Instead, Bumblebee had led the ground assault with Ironhide and Sunstreaker. When Will had shared his reservations with Ironhide, the weapon's specialist had shrugged and replied, "It's his due."
Will had asked for clarification, but the already reticent mechanoid had refused to speak any further on the subject. Despite their comradery, Ironhide was still his superior officer, and Will had been forced to accept the strange non-answer.
His thoughts were interrupted by the crackle of his handheld radio. He glanced down, unclipping the radio from his belt and bringing it to his ear.
"Phoenix is all-clear. ETA to embassy 80 minutes. Over."
Will thumbed the push-to-talk button, "Lennox here. Roger that. Over."
"Major, your presence is requested at the perimeter. The sweep is about to begin. Over."
He glanced down at his wristwatch. It was almost six o'clock in the morning—they were moving ahead of schedule. He raised the radio to his mouth again, "Wilco. Over."
Will turned on his heel, clipping the radio to his belt as he strode towards the staging area. The MECH base was a sprawling compound composed of two airplane hangars, the underground bunker, and a dozen structures arranged along the perimeter. They had cleared the airplane hangars and the bunker first, which left a sizable portion of the compound to sweep. Arcee and her team had picked off a few stragglers trying to make a run for it. Silas had not been among them.
As Will stepped into the large tent that had been erected in the staging area, he caught the Quartermaster's eye. The older man stepped away from the two lieutenants he had been speaking with, acknowledging him with a sharp salute.
"Yes, Major?"
"I need another flak jacket ASAP. We're clearing the perimeter."
The Quartermaster nodded, gesturing towards a short woman in Army Greens standing at a nearby table. She made her way towards the stores arranged at the back of the tent. She returned minutes later with a flak vest adorned with the Marine Corps logo.
Close enough. Will thought, accepting the Kevlar armor. He pulled it on over his head, securing the straps around his ribs. He stopped long enough to sign his name to the supply list, and then he was striding across the airfield towards the buildings in the distance. The sky was just starting to brighten at the horizon, changing from nondescript gray to early-morning yellow. It wouldn't be long before the sun was up.
He was half-way to the perimeter when Bobby Epps and Robin Williams caught up to him. The Chief Master Sergeants fell into step on either side of him.
"You saw Sam off?" Robin asked, adjusting the utility belt around his waist.
"Yeah, I did." Will replied. In the distance, Ironhide and Jazz were speaking to one another in their bipedal modes. The Autobots towered over the two dozen soldiers that stood on the dusty pavement, awaiting their orders.
"How's he doing?" Robin asked.
Will shrugged. "Sam's a survivor. He'll be fine."
Epps made a sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a scoff and a grunt. "He'll be a whole lot more fine if we find that sonofabitch."
Ironhide and Jazz turned as they approached, azure optics blazing in the dim morning light. An older man stood at their side, wearing the rank insignia of a United States Army Colonel. Will stopped in front of them, snapping off a crisp salute. The Colonel inclined his head, accepting the gesture of respect.
"Sir, Major Lennox and Master Sergeants Epps and Williams, reporting as ordered." He said.
"Major. My name is Colonel Chamberlain. I'm in charge of this Op."
Will resisted the urge to set his jaw. The United States had insisted, in no uncertain terms, that they would lead the assault on the compound. They had allowed the Autobots to take point on Sam's rescue, but from here on out, the Americans were calling the shots.
He schooled his expression and his tone, before asking, "What's the situation, sir?"
The Colonel regarded him closely, "We have swept three of the twelve buildings so far. They were empty. We have reason to believe the enemy is entrenched in the building behind us."
Will leaned to the side, looking past Jazz at the large structure. He had seen the schematics from Skywarp's scans. It had probably once been an administrative building—two stories high and over 20,000 square feet in area. It was mostly office space, but the floor to ceiling windows would make stealth a challenge.
"I can detect a dozen biomarkers, perhaps more." Jazz put in, folding his arms over his chassis, "They're clustered together on the second floor. There are several others in the stairwell."
Will grimaced. MECH was well trained, well provisioned, and fanatically devoted to their cause—a volatile combination.
"Any sign of IEDs?" Robin asked.
"Bulkhead hasn't detected anything yet." Ironhide rumbled.
"Alright." Will said, scrubbing a hand over his face, "A dozen biomarkers, all assumed hostile, with clear lines of sight and no element of surprise. No biggie—nothing we can't handle."
The Colonel's expression noticeably cooled. "I would remind you that these people are still citizens of the United States, whatever their alleged crimes."
Will narrowed his eyes at the older man's tone. Thatcher and Morshower had briefed NEST prior to the assault. It was the American government's position that all MECH personnel were to stand trial for their crimes. As such, they were to be taken alive unless absolutely necessary. The 'absolutely necessary' stipulation was the sticking point. Will was certain they weren't about to surrender peacefully.
"I realize they're citizens of the United States, Colonel." He replied, eventually. "We will do what we can."
"Good." Chamberlain replied, "So long as you remember that, Lennox."
Will's pulse quickened in familiar anger. After the Battle of Egypt, Galloway had made good on his threat to court-martial him. The former National Security Advisor had him brought up on charges of dereliction of duty, insubordinate conduct, mutiny, and sedition. It had only been Optimus' intervention, in the form of denaturalization and permanent transferal to Diego Garcia, that had prevented Will from spending the rest of his life in prison. Although the Autobot leader had eventually convinced the United States to overturn the charges, what was done was done.
As such, he was well aware of the implication in the Colonel's words: MECH were American citizens. He was not.
"Yeah, well, your citizens beat the shit out of a 21 year old kid. Sir." Epps said flatly, "If you don't mind, we'd like to go finish this so we can get the hell out of here."
The Colonel turned to regard the Master Sergeant, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. "The Rangers are taking point. NEST will bring up the rear."
Will felt his face flush red. The Rangers had been his battalion, in the years before Mission City. He was certain their presence at the Op wasn't a coincidence.
"Yes, sir." He replied, voice devoid of inflection, "At your command."
The administrative building proved to be a straightforward site exploitation. The Rangers entered the building first, following by NEST, as Ironhide and Jazz maintained a perimeter. Although the airy office space made stealth difficult, the direct line of sight was as beneficial as it was a hindrance. Will and Epps took shelter in the lee of a wall as the Rangers popped smoke. They waited, tense and anticipatory, for the command to advance. Then they were moving, Will at point, Robin and Bobby on his flank, as they pushed forward. The Rangers cleared the foyer, and then they began sweeping offices on the first floor. Will could hear the sharp cries of, "Clear! All clear!" as they made their way down the hall. With every step, his frustration and anger at Chamberlain melted away, replaced with the calm focus of active combat.
Ahead of him, the Ranger Captain went down to one knee, signaling the all-stop. Will pulled up short, hugging the wall. The Captain pointed two fingers at his eyes, pointed to his second-in-command, and then waved two fingers towards the open office space. The other man nodded, clapping his companion on the shoulder, and together they made their way into the large room.
When they had taken their positions, the Captain hollered, "This is Captain Jeffers of the 3rd Ranger Battalion. The building is surrounded. Surrender now."
There was a beat of silence, and then gunfire erupted from the opposite end of the room. The Captain waited until the gunfire stopped, before making eye contact with his second-in-command. He gave a terse nod, and the man jogged to the next row of cubicles, staying low.
"This is your last chance to surrender peacefully." The Captain yelled, "We have been authorized to use lethal force, if necessary."
Beside him, Epps muttered, "That's a hell of a caveat."
His words were drowned out in the roar of automatic gunfire. Will fingered his assault rifle, eyes narrowed in concentration. He could see the muzzle flash in the dark hallway on the opposite side of the room. Their assailant was taking shelter near the stairwell. The Captain evidentially came to the same conclusion, for he signaled to his second-in-command and pointed him in that direction. Will waited. A moment, later, there was the sharp rapport of gunfire. He heard a strangled scream, and then it was quiet.
"Clear!" The second-in-command called out.
The Captain straightened to his full height, making his way across the office space. Will followed on his heels, assault rifle held in a ready position. He rounded a row of cubicles and then pulled up short. There, lying on the floor and bleeding heavily from a gunshot wound in his thigh and lower abdomen, was Lieutenant Novo. The olive-skinned man was sweating heavily, his face twisted with agony. The second-in-command was kneeling at his side, applying pressure to his abdomen.
Will strode forward, shouldering people aside. He crouched down and grabbed the younger man by the collar of his flak jacket.
"Where's Silas?" He growled, over the objections of the second-in-command.
Novo's eyes were glassy with pain, but there was recognition lurking in their depths. "He's gone."
Will shook him sharply, eliciting a cry from the wounded man. "Listen to me, you sack of shit. We're finding Silas one way or the other. Tell me where he is."
The second-in-command pried Will's fingers off Novo's vest, snapping, "Stand down, Major. He's bleeding out."
Will let go without complaint, straightening to his full height. Epps caught him by the elbow, pulling him aside to make room for the combat medic. As the corpsman knelt by his side and unzipped her kitbag, Novo met his gaze.
"Sam… did he make it?" He rasped, breathlessly.
"Shut your goddamn mouth." Williams snapped.
Novo closed his eyes, his head falling back against the floor. "I never meant… for him to get caught up in this."
Will's pulse quickened in anger, as something spiteful possessed him to growl, "I guess you didn't hear, then. Silas killed him."
The former lieutenant opened his eyes with obvious effort. There was grief and remorse and resignation written all over his face. "I wasn't… informed."
Will could hear the note of vulnerability in the younger man's tone. Sensing an opportunity, he crouched down, pinning Novo with a cold look. "Silas drowned him in a pig trough. You didn't mean for Sam to get caught up in this? You can tell that to his parents at the court-martial… if you live that long."
Novo's breath left him in a shaky exhale as he closed his eyes again. He laid so still for so long that Will thought he might have passed out. It wasn't until he stood up that the former lieutenant opened his eyes, finding Will's own.
"I don't know where Silas is." He rasped, with great effort, "He went radio-silent when the perimeter was breached."
"If you don't know where he is, then do you know where he could be?" Epps asked.
The combat medic glanced up at the Ranger Captain, her gloved hands covered in blood past her wrists. "He needs surgery if he's going to survive."
The Ranger glanced from the medic to Lennox to Novo, his face going hard. "Answer the question, soldier."
Novo muttered something in Spanish. A prayer, perhaps, judging by the cadence.
The combat medic pinned the Captain with a sharp look. "He's going to die if we don't move him. Now."
"The warehouse." Novo rasped at last, drawing their collective attention, "The one by the westernmost airplane hangar."
Will felt sinking disappointment at his words. The Rangers had already swept the warehouse and turned up nothing. He opened his mouth to say as much, when Novo shook his head slightly. "There's a… sub-basement. Not many had the access code. I don't know it. Silas spent hours down there."
He turned, exchanging a look with Epps. The Master Sergeant shrugged his shoulders. "It's worth a shot."
Will glanced at the Ranger Captain, "What do you think?"
The older man frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. Eventually, he came to a decision. "Go. Take Droyd and Ettlinger. It might be a dead-end, but you should check it out. We'll stay and clear the rest of the building."
Will nodded sharply, as two men separated themselves from the others. One was dark-skinned and broad-shouldered, the other was tall and thin, with a face full of freckles. They introduced themselves as Droyd and Ettlinger respectively. Will nodded to them both, before striding back across the office space. The sound of Novo's labored breathing followed him all the way to the hall. When he stepped into the early morning sunshine, it was to the sight of Ironhide and Chamberlain standing on the dusty tarmac. The Colonel narrowed his eyes as they approached.
"Gentlemen, what's the situation?" He demanded.
"We've secured a prisoner, former lieutenant Luis Novo." Will said, and he didn't miss the way that Ironhide's plating flared aggressively, "He says that Silas might be holed up in the warehouse."
The older man's mouth thinned with displeasure. "My team already cleared the warehouse."
"Novo said there's a sub-basement." Will explained, "Captain Jeffers ordered us to investigate."
The Colonel's frown deepened. "It's a waste of time. We were thorough in our sweep."
Will frowned in return. "It's a good lead, sir. Novo was already in custody and the intel is easily verifiable. He gains nothing from lying about it."
"It's only a good lead if I say it's a good lead, Major." Chamberlain replied coldly, "Go back inside and finish sweeping the building."
Will narrowed his eyes, fully prepared to earn himself that insubordination charge, when Ironhide stepped forward. "Belay that order, Lennox."
The Colonel turned to look up at him, his face flushing an ugly maroon at the interference.
"You do not have jurisdiction here." Chamberlain ground out, "I'm the CO and this is my Op."
"Perhaps so." Ironhide replied, "But I'm Lennox's commanding officer, and we're following up on his lead."
The older man bristled at the casual dismissal, "Optimus Prime has signed an agreement of cooperation—"
"Sorry, Colonel." Jazz interrupted as he approached, "Prime's commanded us to investigate the warehouse."
The second-in-command brought two fingers to his helm in a haphazard salute, and transformed without another word. As soon as the last panel slid into place, he popped open his door in an obvious invitation. Williams stepped forward, climbing into the Pontiac Solstice as Ironhide initiated his transformation sequence.
"Who's going to maintain the perimeter here?" Chamberlain demanded.
"It's your Op, sir." Lennox replied respectfully, "I guess you'll have to figure that out."
He ducked into Ironhide's cab before the Colonel could reply. He double-checked the safety on his rifle, resting it against the door as Epps climbed into the passenger seat. Ironhide and Jazz accelerated across the tarmac towards the large, run-down building on the opposite side of the compound. The Colonel stood in their wake, speaking into a handheld radio with an apoplectic expression on his face.
"He's not going to let that one go." Will predicted, mildly.
"The thought does not strain my processors." Ironhide replied.
Will huffed a laugh at his dry tone. Through the windshield, he could see that Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Kup were already waiting in front of the warehouse. The large building was made of sheet metal and steel beams, with a corrugated polycarbonate roof. Its wide double-doors stood open, with one hanging at an angle by its hinges. The few windows that Will could see from his angle were broken or missing. The combined effect gave the building a run-down, derelict appearance.
They pulled to a stop next to Kup. The Elite Guard was sitting in his alt mode, his engine audible even inside Ironhide's cabin. Will glanced over at Epps.
"Ready?"
The Master Sergeant grinned at him. "Let's go catch some bad guys."
Sam fell asleep sometime after they crossed the county line. His exhaustion, combined with the painkillers and the warmth of Ratchet's cabin, lulled him into a light doze. Bumblebee roused him sometime later, carding his fingers through Sam's hair until he was fully awake. He blinked open his eyes, turning his head to look up at the holoform. Bumblebee was crouched beside the gurney, his expression soft.
"We're here. Can you sit up?"
Sam grimaced, but he pushed into a sitting position all the same. He couldn't prevent the groan of pain as every muscle in his body protested the movement. Bumblebee picked up the blanket that had pooled around Sam's hips, drawing it across his shoulders. The holoform helped him to his feet, and together, they climbed out of the cabin. As soon as they were clear, Ratchet transformed into his bipedal mode. The medic crouched down, gathering Sam into his servos and bringing him to his chest. He curled one palm against Sam's back, steadying him as he crossed the space towards the berths. A moment later, he set Sam down on the hospital bed, as gingerly as one might place a teacup on a saucer.
"I'm going to see to those lacerations, and then we can get you cleaned up." Ratchet informed him.
Sam nodded faintly, clasping the edges of the blanket together with one hand. Ratchet's holoform materialized at his side, lifting the blanket over Sam's right shoulder as he detached the IV from the cannula taped to the back of his hand. By the time that he was finished, Ratchet's bipedal mode had returned, carrying a familiar-looking tray filled with medical supplies. Sam flinched as he placed the tray on the overbed table, causing the items to rattle against the metal. The medic glanced at him, his gaze pointed and perceptive.
"Are you alright?" He asked gruffly.
Sam's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Yeah. I'm okay."
Ratchet held his gaze for a moment longer. "Let me know if that changes."
When Sam nodded, the holoform unwrapped the gauze that bound his arm. The first few layers came away clean, but then the cotton became stained with blood and antiseptic. Sam grimaced as the last of the thin material was removed. His arm was red and inflamed from his shoulder to his elbow. The incisions had stopped bleeding, but they were hot and throbbing in time with his pulse. Ratchet made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat as he reached towards the tray.
"I'm going to clean these first. There's evidence of malignant bacteria growth, so I'll be using a strong disinfectant." Ratchet explained, gesturing to items on the tray one at a time, "After I've finished, I'll seal the wounds with surgical adhesive and re-wrap your arm. The procedure shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes."
Sam stared at the items on the tray, before forcing himself to meet Ratchet's gaze. "Yeah, okay. Sounds good."
Ratchet's expression softened minutely. "I'll talk you through it."
Bumblebee carefully disentangled the blanket from Sam's numb fingers. The scout guided him to lie against the mattress, before draping the blanket over him. Sam turned, smiling faintly at his bonded. It was a wan expression, watery and thin, but Bumblebee smiled back without reservation. He curled both servos over the bedrail, leaning forward until he was close enough to touch. Sam reached up with his good arm, smoothing his hand over the scout's yellow faceplates.
"Thanks Bee." He murmured.
Bumblebee chirruped at him as Ratchet readied his supplies.
"I'm going to begin disinfecting the incisions." The medic said, an apology in his voice, "I'll be as quick as I can."
Sam jumped at the feeling of cold wetness swabbing across his arm. He tried to turn his head, but Bumblebee stopped him with a single digit against the side of his face. The scout applied gentle pressure until Sam was looking at him again.
"I thought we could go on a trip together." Bumblebee said, "Once this is all over."
His words took Sam completely by surprise. He opened his mouth to reply, when the sudden burn of antiseptic in a fresh wound made him gasp. Ratchet murmured an apology, but his hands were perfectly steady as he worked.
"Maybe we could visit your grandmother." Bumblebee continued, "Just the two of us."
Sam blinked open his watering eyes to look up at the scout. Bee was gazing down at him with a tender expression on his face. His optics were so bright that they were almost white.
"Yeah?" He asked, voice rough with pain and lack of sleep, "That'd be nice. I'd like you to meet her."
Bumblebee whistled at him, a high-pitched, chirpy sound that Sam had come to interpret as an affirmation. "Tell me about her."
Sam's arm was throbbing now, and he could feel every single incision. He took a deep breath through his nose, releasing it out of his mouth, before he fixed the scout with a tremulous smile. "She's great. She used to be one of the top lawyers in the state. She retired early to take care of my grandfather when he got sick."
Bumblebee's expression visibly softened. "She sounds like a formidable woman."
Sam laughed weakly. "Oh yeah, definitely. She's tiny, maybe five-foot-five and a hundred pounds, but she's a force to be reckoned with."
Ratchet placed the wet gauze in the shallow basin on the overbed tray. He picked up a small tube and uncapped it with a twist of his fingers. "I'm going to seal your wounds with surgical adhesive. It shouldn't hurt."
Sam could feel the holoform's fingers against his skin, gentle but firm. He swallowed and turned his head back towards Bumblebee. "She lives in this little house right on the coast. I used to love it there as a kid."
"I look forward to seeing it." Bumblebee replied.
"You'll love it too." Sam rasped.
"That's enough chatter." Ratchet cut in briskly.
Sam closed his eyes. His throat was burning from the effort of speaking, and he didn't object to Ratchet's intervention. He heard Bumblebee shift forward, and then he was drawing a blunt digit down Sam's chest. It was a feather-light caress, both tender and affectionate. Sam rested a hand against the scout's servo in appreciation.
"Alright, that should do it." Ratchet muttered, dropping the adhesive back onto the tray with a clatter. "I'll wrap your arm and then we can get you cleaned up."
Sam nodded without opening his eyes. He listened as Ratchet's holoform moved items around the tray, and then his fingers were pressing into Sam's skin as he wound the gauze around his bicep. The medic adjusted the thin material was he worked, occasionally asking Sam how it felt ("Too tight?" and "Is that comfortable?"), before he affixed the ends with a number of small fasteners. Sam glanced over in time to see Ratchet surveying his work with a critical eye. Eventually, the medic nodded to himself and put the rest of the gauze on the tray, before pushing the overbed table aside.
"Let's get you up." He said gruffly, carefully sliding an arm beneath Sam's back. Bumblebee's holoform was suddenly at his side, grasping him by the hand and elbow of his good arm. Together, they helped Sam into a sitting position. Ratchet's holoform lowered the bedrail, and extended a hand towards him. Sam clasped it, swinging his legs over the mattress. He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and climbed to his feet. The change in position sent agony across his backside and thighs, and he choked on a whimper. Bumblebee wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, supporting his weight as Ratchet extended a servo towards him. The two holoforms helped Sam climb onto the proffered palm. It wasn't until Ratchet turned around that Sam saw Hoist standing at the opposite side of the alcove. The physician smiled at him, gesturing towards the berth in front of him.
"It's all ready for you." He rumbled.
Sam's brow furrowed in confusion. There was a large crate-like object resting on the platform. It looked like an energon container—rectangular in shape, opaque gray, and roughly the dimensions of an inflatable pool. It wasn't until Ratchet approached the berth that Sam saw the container was steaming in the cool hangar air. His insides seized with anxiety as Ratchet set him in front of the makeshift tub. He clutched the blanket more tightly around his shoulders, staring down at the cloudy water.
"It's okay, Sam." Bumblebee murmured.
"I'm fine." He replied automatically.
"I'll be right here with you." Bumblebee said, hands settling on Sam's shoulders. "In and out."
Sam swallowed against the bile that burned the back of his throat. He was filthy, covered in blood and mud and grime, but he couldn't force himself to step into the tub. The three Autobots glanced at one another, their gazes heavy and meaningful. After a moment, Ratchet and Hoist stepped away. The two medical builds walked across the narrow alcove to stand at the workbench against the opposite wall. It was clear that they were trying to give him the illusion of privacy.
Bumblebee's holoform squeezed his elbow reassuringly. "Come on. I'll help you."
Sam didn't protest as Bumblebee drew the blanket away. The holoform folded it neatly, hanging it over the edge of the tub. Then he took Sam's hand and stepped into the knee-high water. Sam stared at the ripples as they spread across the surface.
I'm fine. He repeated to himself, like a mantra, This is fine.
Bumblebee waited without complaint as Sam gathered up his nerves. Eventually, he exhaled a shaky sigh and climbed into the make-shift tub. The water was pleasantly warm against his skin, a welcome contrast to the hangar air. Bumblebee murmured encouragement as he guided Sam to sit with his back against the side of the container. To his immense relief, the water only came up to his armpits.
"There you go." Bumblebee said, kneeling beside him, "How does that feel?"
"It's… alright." Sam conceded slowly.
And it was, he realized. The warmth was soothing, soaking into his abused body like a balm. Sam ran his hand through the water, watching eddies play across the surface. The welts across his ass and thighs were beginning to tingle, a strange but not unpleasant sensation.
Sam glanced over at the holoform. "Epsom salts?"
Bumblebee nodded, shifting to sit a short distance away. He gathered up one of Sam's feet, setting it in his lap. "Epsom salts and oatmeal. The literature was specific."
Sam's lips quirked up again. "The last time I had an oatmeal bath was when I had the chickenpox."
Bumblebee smiled, working his thumbs into the arch of Sam's foot, "The principle is the same. It's moisturizing and relieves inflammation."
Sam closed his eyes, letting his head rest against the edge of the container. Bumblebee continued rubbing his foot, working the arch and heel with clinical precision.
"You don't need to do that." Sam murmured.
Bumblebee hushed him softly, holding his heel in one hand and bending his toes with the other. Too tired to object any further, Sam let him. The holoform massaged one foot and then the other, as Sam drifted comfortably. His touch was firm and sure, soothing away any tension that he found. When he was finished, Bumblebee retrieved a cloth and began drawing it over Sam's legs. He slanted open his eyes, watching as the holoform cleaned away the worst of the muck. The water changed color as he worked, darkening from cloudy white to soot-grey. Eventually, Bumblebee encouraged Sam to lean forward. The scout drew the cloth across his shoulders and down his back. His mental presence was carefully controlled, but Sam could feel the flashes of anger and concern as the full extent of his injuries was revealed.
Sam didn't say anything. Bumblebee didn't say anything either. He closed his eyes, letting his shoulders curl forward as the holoform bathed him. He was distantly aware of the fact that, in any other circumstance, he would have been embarrassed by the gentle treatment. As it was, however, he found himself relaxing into Bumblebee's touch. The holoform murmured at him approvingly, pressing a chaste kiss against his temple.
When he was finished, Bumblebee settled down beside him. They sat together, shoulder-to-shoulder, as Sam soaked in the warm water. By the time that the water grew tepid, Sam was half-asleep. Bumblebee murmured an apology as he helped Sam to his feet. The scout proceeded to dry him off with a towel that was large enough to be a bed sheet. Ratchet was there then, helping Sam into an open-backed hospital gown and gathering him up in his servos. The medic strode across the alcove and settled him on the hospital bed. Sam watched through half-lidded eyes as his IV was reconnected, and then the blankets were drawn up to his armpits.
"Get some rest." Ratchet instructed, "I'll turn down the lights."
Sam nodded faintly, rolling onto his left side. Other than the low-level burning on his backside, he was warm and comfortable, and it was no time at all before he was nodding off. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds around him. There was the clang of metal against metal, the hiss of hydraulics, and the rasp of air being cycled through vents. The sounds were, at once, both familiar and alien. The thought was strangely comforting, and it followed him all the way down into his dreams.