Part 4: Refuge by Arabis
Summary: In the aftermath of MECH's downfall, Sam visits his grandmother for some rest and recovery. Although his physical injuries are healing well, the same cannot be said of his emotional state.
Author's Note: Thank-you all for joining me in the fourth instillation of the Signature series. This short interlude will chronicle Sam's recovery in aftermath of his torture. It'll be 20-30k words of fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, and bonding.
Chapter 1
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
They left the embassy at seven o'clock in the morning. Bumblebee took point, followed by Ratchet and Cliffjumper. His security detail, consisting of Agents Boynton and Simmons, brought up the rear in a dark-colored sports utility vehicle. Bumblebee navigated out of the ground bridge hangar, down the access tunnel, and into the desert. The sky was a perfect powder blue from horizon to horizon. They drove down the road, slowing long enough for the perimeter fence to rumble open, and then they accelerated towards the highway. Sam watched in the rearview mirror as the embassy fell away behind them. When it was no longer visible, he dropped his eyes to stare out the windshield. The road stretched out in front of them, its dark pavement contrasting against the red sand.
Bumblebee took the on-ramp towards the I-80 N and accelerated to sixty-five miles per hour. The highway was almost entirely devoid of traffic, except for the transport trucks and tractor-trailers that were common between Jasper and Reno. Sam turned his head, watching as the little town passed by on their right. The community stood out like an oasis in the barren desert that surrounded it. Still, he couldn't prevent the way his heart sped up as they passed the exit that had taken them to the restaurant. Had it only been a week ago? He absently tugged on his shirtsleeves, pulling the cuffs down over his bruised wrists. It felt like another lifetime.
"Did you want to drive?" Bumblebee asked, pulling him out of his thoughts.
Sam glanced at the dashboard in surprise. "Are you sure?"
Bumblebee's engine revved loudly by way of answer, and Sam couldn't help the grin that split his face. He sat up straighter in the seat, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gearshift. He could feel the moment that Bumblebee relinquished control, a subtle shiver running through his frame. As soon Sam pressed the gas pedal, the entertainment console lit up and navigated to Sirius XM radio. A moment later, Black Betty burst from the speakers at high volume. He laughed lightly, running his thumb over the steering wheel. It had been a long time since he and Bumblebee had gone driving together. Although he could still feel Ratchet and Cliffjumper traveling behind them, it was almost like old times.
They drove in companionable silence for the better part of two hours. Sam stayed in the right lane until they neared Reno, and then he moved into the middle lane to avoid the numerous on-ramps with too-short merges. Ratchet and Cliffjumper followed closely behind them, and the dark-colored SUV followed suit shortly thereafter. The traffic was heavier this close to the city, and Sam found himself behind a Winnebago with a COEXIST bumper sticker. The irony was not lost on him.
They drove for another twenty miles before Sam noticed the red and orange Lamborghini Centenario in the rearview mirror. The sleek sports car was trailing a dozen vehicles behind them, keeping a low profile. Sam turned his attention inwards, and it took him less than a second to find Hot Rod's rose-gold spark signature on the neural network.
Sam sighed heavily. So much for just the two of us.
Bumblebee's engine rumbled lowly.
"They'll keep their distance." He promised.
"It's fine." Sam replied, resignedly.
He had been briefed on the security details for his trip earlier that morning. Ratchet, Bumblebee, and Cliffjumper would stay on his grandmother's property. A security detail, including Hot Rod, Bluestreak, Hound, Trailbreaker, and Mirage would be stationed in close proximity. When Sam had asked why they had been chosen, Ultra Magnus had explained, in his usual direct manner, that they had the necessary skills to protect him in the event of an attack. Agents Boynton and Simmons would be staying at a B&B down the road. They would only accompany him if he left the property, which he had no intentions of doing.
Their little convoy continued on until almost noon, when Sam's stomach and his bladder were in need of a break. He ceded control back to Bumblebee, who navigated to the nearest rest station. The Camaro parked at the far end of the lot, and Ratchet, Cliffjumper, and Hot Rod pulled alongside him. The dark-colored SUV parked behind them a moment later. Sam pushed open the door, stretching his back with an audible groan. It had been a long time since he had driven for longer than an hour or two.
Boynton and Simmons climbed out of their SUV, slamming the doors behind them. The two agents were dressed in casual wear; the only clue that they were federal marshals were the dark sunglasses and coiled earpieces they wore.
"You good to go?" Boynton asked.
Sam nodded at the older man, who had the weathered face and general demeanor of a drill sergeant. Ironhide would love him.
"Yeah, sure." He replied.
As soon as the words left his mouth, Bumblebee's holoform flickered to life beside him. Agent Boynton startled, swearing loudly in surprise. Bumblebee gave him an apologetic look, but the older man waved him off.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to that." Boynton grumbled.
They made their way across the parking lot and into the service station. It was busy, given the lunch hour, and Sam had to wait for a urinal. Boynton stood near the bathroom entrance as he relieved himself and washed his hands, earning more than a few strange looks.
When Sam finished, he made his way into the dining area. The space was bright and airy, with a domed glass ceiling and abundant seating. Bumblebee was waiting for him near the vending machines. Sam smiled at the holoform, and together they crossed the large atrium towards the fast-food counters along the opposite wall. Sam considered his choices, and then got in line at the Popeyes Chicken. He ordered a combo meal to go and paid with the credit card that Carter had given him that morning. He only had to wait a short while before the cashier called out his number. He stepped up to the counter, exchanging his receipt for a paper bag and a disposable cup, before walking over to the beverage dispenser. He half-filled his cup with diet soda, sealing it with a plastic lid, and then stuffed a handful of napkins and condiment packets into the bag.
When he turned around, both Agent Simmons and Agent Boynton were standing near the metal cordon that separated the fast food counters from the dining area. Sam made his way towards them, taking a drink of his soda.
"Are you guys getting anything to eat?" He asked.
"We have sandwiches in the car." Boynton replied gruffly.
Sam shrugged, taking another drink. "Suit yourself, but takeout is half the fun of a road trip."
Simmons grinned at him, causing dimples to appear in her cheeks. "Don't mind Robert. He stopped having fun sometime after his balls dropped."
The older agent gave Simmons a sharp look, which didn't seem to affect her in the least.
They made their way through the dining area, stepping around tables full of road-weary parents and rambunctious children. When they approached the exit, Boynton strode forward and pulled open the door. Sam raised his soda in a silent thank-you and walked into the early afternoon sunlight. It was busier than it had been when they first arrived, and as a result, they were halfway across the parking lot before Sam noticed the crowd. He pulled up short, staring in dismay at the dozen or so people milling around the flashy alt modes.
Sam sighed heavily, before turning to look at Bumblebee. The holoform had an upbeat, almost cheerful expression on his face. It caused Sam to turn his attention inwards, and he was immediately met with a warm glow of satisfaction from the scout.
"You're enjoying this?" He asked, disbelievingly.
Bumblebee grinned unabashedly in return. "It's nice to be appreciated."
Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling despite himself. "You're so vain. I swear, you're worse than Hot Rod."
Across the parking lot, the Lamborghini honked at him, causing the crowd of people to exclaim in surprise and delight. A younger guy wearing a v-neck tee-shirt and cargo shorts pulled out his phone and crouched down, taking a selfie with Cliffjumper in the background. Sam watched in a mixture of consternation and disbelief—the entire situation felt surreal.
Agent Boynton made an impatient sound in the back of his throat, before turning to look at him. "Stay here."
The older man crossed the parking lot towards the onlookers, his back ramrod straight and shoulders squared. Agent Simmons moved to stand at Sam's side. Her posture was relaxed, but Sam could tell that she was watching Boynton very closely.
"Alright, get going." Boynton commanded briskly.
The guy who had taken the selfie stood up, watching Boynton with wide eyes. "Woah, it's a Fed."
"I told you it was them!" His companion said, tugging at his elbow enthusiastically.
Boynton planted himself in front of the crowd, motioning in a move along gesture. "That's enough, fellas. You had your fun. Step away from the vehicles, please."
"It's them though, right?" An older man asked, eyeing the alt modes speculatively, "I mean, a Camaro, a Bugatti, and a Lamborghini? It has to be them."
A woman standing nearby crossed her arms. "What would the Autobots be doing thirty miles outside of Redding, California?"
"Their embassy's not far." The man replied, "Maybe they're sightseeing."
"At a rest stop in the middle of nowhere?" She countered sarcastically.
"That is enough." Boynton interrupted sharply, "Move along. Now."
The people reluctantly dispersed, making their way back across the parking lot. The younger guy and his friend took a few more pictures of Cliffjumper, before trailing along behind them. When he passed by Sam, he did a double-take and then his eyes went as wide as saucers. Sam grimaced deeply, walking away before he had the chance to say anything. Bumblebee opened the door as he approached, and Sam climbed into the cab without a word. He set the disposable cup in the holder and fastened his seatbelt. By the time that he was settled, Bumblebee was already accelerating towards the rest stop exit. Sam pointedly did not look at the two guys as they drove past them.
He opened the take-out bag and pulled out the chicken sandwich. He unwrapped the foil, laying it in his lap, and began to eat. Bumblebee merged into traffic, changing lanes and accelerating to eighty miles per hour. Sam wiped his mouth with a napkin, and asked wryly, "In a hurry, speedracer?"
"Several people posted pictures to social media, and one of them geo-tagged the rest stop." Bumblebee explained, changing lanes to pass a mini-van with a stickman family decal in the rear windshield, "We should put some distance between us."
Sam took another bite of his sandwich and washed it down with Diet Coke, "Of course they did."
"They were enthusiastic about Cliffjumper's alt mode." Bumblebee said dryly, before adding, "Hot Rod is very put out about it."
Sam laughed, loud and genuine. "I can only imagine."
He had Googled the price of their alt modes once, on a whim. A new Bugatti Chiron priced out at three million dollars, while the Lamborghini just topped 1.9 million. It ground Hot Rod's gears that Cliff had the more coveted alt mode. Although, that was nothing compared to Roddy's reaction when Knock Out had chosen the Aston Martin Valkyrie as his alt. The cavalier had bitched about it for days.
Sam worked his way through his meal, mindful of crumbs and grease. By the time that he was finished, the divided highway had transitioned to a three-lane city street as they made their way through the suburbs of Redding, California. Bumblebee changed lanes to take the exit to CA 299 W, and then the road narrowed into a two-lane highway. The city quickly fell away behind them, replaced with rolling hills and thick forests. The road curved around a corner and up a steep incline, and then Sam could see a long lake stretching across the valley below them. It followed the road for five or six miles, before disappearing behind a curtain of Douglas-firs and pine trees. The dense vegetation was a welcome change after two months in the hot, dusty desert. On a whim, Sam rolled down the windows. The warm, temperate air buffeted his face, and he closed his eyes. It smelled fresh and clean and organic, and he was thankful for it.
He sat like that for a long while, enjoying the fresh air and the rumble of Bumblebee's engines. He might have dozed off, but when Bumblebee slowed down, he came back to himself. They were making their way down into the valley, and Sam could see the ocean in the distance. He sat up in his seat and directed a curious look at the dashboard.
"Where are we?" He asked.
"We're twenty minutes outside of Eureka." Bumblebee replied.
Sam sat up straighter, catching sight of the sprawling town nestled beside the water. Eureka was only half an hour from Ferndale and about forty minutes from his grandmother's place. She used to take him into town whenever he visited her in the summer. He had vivid memories of shopping at the promenade and eating ice cream at the little place by the highway. For one brief moment, he could almost taste the soft serve—cold, and sweet, and melting over his fingers faster than he could eat it.
"There's a coffee place coming up on the right. Can we stop?" Sam asked, "I need to use the bathroom."
He felt the scout's agreement through their bond, and he settled back against the leather seat. The coast was beautiful in the spring. It was sunny and warm, without the oppressive heat of the summer. It wasn't long before Sam could smell salt water on the breeze, and it caused his throat to thicken with emotion. He had missed California so much.
Bumblebee pulled off the road, parking in front of the little café. The weathered, hand-painted sign over the door read Beanie's Bistro. There were picnic tables under umbrellas set up out front and Adirondack chairs on the deck. Sam climbed out of the cab and made his way into the building. The smell of coffee and pastries was heavy in the air. He walked over to the counter, staring up at the chalkboard menu hanging on the wall. At the same time, an older woman with graying hair piled in a neat bun came out of the saloon-style doors from the kitchen.
"Good afternoon!" She greeted, "What can I getcha?"
Sam smiled at her. "Can I have a medium-sized light roast, two sugars and one milk, and a half a dozen scones to go, please?"
The woman rang up his items on the antiquated cash register. He glanced over his shoulder at Boynton and Simmons, who had entered the shop behind him. He knew that he wasn't imagining the interested glint in the older man's eyes.
"Can I get you guys something?" He asked, "My treat. Their coffee is good and their pastries are unreal."
"Are you from around here?" The cashier asked curiously. She was looking at him closely now, "I don't recognize you."
Those words warmed him from the inside out, and a genuine smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "I used to come here with my grandmother when I was a kid. She lives outside of Ferndale."
The woman clucked at him approvingly. "Bringing her a treat, are you? What a good boy."
Sam laughed lightly, before glancing at the two agents again. "C'mon, what can I get you guys?"
Boynton ended up ordering a tall double-double and a blueberry muffin, while Simmons got a chai tea and a scone. Sam paid for their food, accepting his card when the cashier handed it back to him, and then made his way to the bathroom. The little room was barely large enough for a toilet and a sink, but it was decorated in the same country-aesthetic as the rest of the café. When he finished, he opened the door to find Boynton standing in the hallway.
By the time that they got back to the counter, their orders were ready. The scones were tucked into a white box that was tied with a ribbon and sealed with a sticker that read Beanie's Bistro in cursive font. Sam transferred the box to one hand and picked up his coffee with the other, before strolling outside. Boynton and Simmons followed closely behind him.
The late afternoon sky was a deep Persian blue, and fair weather clouds had begun gathering at the horizon. Sam glanced over at the parking lot, and he was relieved to find that the Autobots hadn't attracted any curious onlookers while they had been inside. He made his way over to Bumblebee, who opened the driver's side door for him. Sam put the coffee and scones on the roof of the Camaro, before leaning into the cab and grabbing his garbage. He tossed the bag into the tall metal barrel near the picnic tables, and then climbed into his seat. He put the coffee in the cup holder and the scones on the passenger seat. Bumblebee's engine turned over, and his tires crunched over gravel as he pulled back onto the road.
The remainder of the drive was a strange mixture of pleasant and painful. Highway 101 traveled parallel to the coast, and the view was beautiful—rolling hills, abundant forests, and pristine oceanfront. As they neared Ferndale, however, Sam began recognizing things that left him feeling wistful and melancholy. They passed the church where his grandfather's funeral had been held. It was an older building, standing alone on a hill overlooking the water. Nearer to town, they drove by Stonewall Park and the falls, two places that he had often visited with his grandmother.
Bumblebee slowed to thirty-five miles per hour as they crossed into Ferndale. It was a quaint little hamlet nestled between the Eel River and the Lost Coast. It had less than 1500 residents, most of whom lived on the aptly named Main Street, which was the main thoroughfare through town. Ferndale only had a handful of businesses to boast of, including two gas stations, a drugstore, a family-owned restaurant that his grandmother loved, and the smallest grocery store that Sam had ever seen. It was a pretty little town, with hanging flower baskets on the telephone poles and well-groomed lawns on either side of the street.
They drove down Main Street, past the post office and the library, turning the heads of passersby as they went. Sam took a drink of coffee to hide this grimace—their little convoy was about as inconspicuous as a tire fire. Thankfully, it took less than five minutes before they were turning down Sonora Road. Sam sat up straighter in his seat, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. He recognized everything on this road—every turn, every hill, every cove and inlet. He knew it by heart.
The sun was sinking towards the horizon by the time that his grandmother's place came into view. It was a Cape Cod style house, with black shingles and snow-white siding. It stood alone on a little rise overlooking the ocean. The property itself was a sprawling half-mile, surrounded on two sides by water. The road crossed an isthmus, with the ocean on the right and a pond on the left, before ending at the bottom of his grandmother's driveway. Bumblebee slowed as he drove up the long, gravel path towards the house.
"Watch the dog." Sam said, absently.
Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, his grandmother opened the door and stepped onto the deck. Her old German Shepard bolted down the steps and over the lawn towards them, barking her head off. Sam grinned faintly as the dog darted from Bumblebee to Cliffjumper to Ratchet, ears perked up and tongue lolling out of her mouth. It was clear that she didn't know what to make of these strangers trespassing on her property. It was only then that Sam realized that Hot Rod and the SUV were nowhere to be seen. They must have turned off at the B&B down the road.
Bumblebee pulled to a stop at the end of the driveway, popping open his door. Immediately, the dog rushed forward, crowding into Sam's space. He held out his hand, palm up for her to smell, and then her tail started wagging fiercely.
"Hey Sheena." He murmured, running his hands over her broad head, "How you doing, baby?"
"Sheena!" His grandmother called sharply, "Get up here."
The German Shepard pivoted on her hind legs, rocketing over the stone path and up the stairs. She turned in a wide circle, before laying down against the railing in her spot. Sam picked up his coffee and the box of scones, before climbing out of the cab. His grandmother stood at the top of the stairs, watching him. She was a small woman, perhaps five-foot-five and a hundred pounds, but she had sharp eyes and a formidable presence. Sam smiled at her as he approached, setting his things down on the top step so that he could hug her.
"Hey Nanny." He murmured.
She smiled at him, warm and fond, as she raised her hands to cup his face.
"Hello Chicken." She said, thumbs stroking over his cheeks. "Just look at you. You're all grown up."
Sam's smile softened as he gently grasped her hands. "Yeah, I guess so."
His grandmother pulled him into a hug, and Sam wrapped his arms around her thin shoulders. She smelled exactly as he remembered, like lavender and laundry soap. His throat thickened unexpectedly with emotion, and Sam had to take a moment to compose himself before pulling away.
"Nanny, I'd like to introduce you to some people." He said softly, glancing towards the Autobots.
His grandmother followed his gaze, smiling broadly. "Well, that would be lovely. Thank-you Samuel."
They made their way down the steps and across the lawn. Bumblebee was parked nearest the house, with Cliffjumper and Ratchet further away. As they approached, the three Autobots began to transform. At once, Sheena started barking furiously from her spot on the deck. His grandmother half-turned, looking over her shoulder and whistling sharply. Sheena stopped mid-bark, head tilted in obvious puzzlement. By the time that his grandmother turned back around, the Autobot were standing in a loose semi-circle in front of them.
"Nan, this is Bumblebee, Ratchet, and Cliffjumper." He said, gesturing to each of them in turn.
"Welcome to my home." She said politely, "I've heard a lot about you."
Sam resisted the urge to wince. He could only imagine what his mother had told his grandmother over the last four years. As though reading his thoughts, his grandmother directed him a wry look. "I watch the news, Samuel."
They spent the next ten minutes introducing themselves to one another. Bumblebee and Ratchet were polite and direct, respectively, but Cliffjumper was unusually chatty. He crouched in front of his grandmother, answering questions and asking his own in turn. She seemed amused by his obvious interest, for she laughed jovially as she replied. It wasn't until an alarm went off on her phone, and she pulled the device out of her pocket to check the time, that she clucked her tongue at him.
"Supper's almost ready. Go inside and get washed up." She said.
Her voice was brisk and no-nonsense, and Sam replied without thinking. "Yes ma'am."
She smiled warmly at him. "Was that a take-out box from Beanie's I saw?"
Sam picked up his duffle bag from where Bumblebee had left it on the lawn, hefting it over his shoulder. "Yeah, it is. I got scones."
"Well, isn't that thoughtful?" His grandmother replied, making her way back towards the house, "That'll be a lovely dessert."
Behind him, the three Autobots transformed back into their alt modes. Sam looked over his shoulder, smiling faintly in their direction, before adjusting the bag and crossing the lawn. His grandmother climbed the steps and pulled open the front door, before turning to look at him.
"Will Bumblebee be staying with us?" She asked.
Sam glanced up at her in confusion. "Huh?"
His grandmother's expression was knowing and exasperated and amused, all at once. Suddenly, Sam had a very good idea exactly what his mother had told her.
"Um, well, that'd be nice." He stammered, trying to ignore the blush that was spreading across his face, "I mean, if that's alright."
She chuckled and stepped into the porch, letting the door bang shut behind her. Sam turned to look at Bumblebee, shrugging helplessly, and a moment later, his holoform shimmered to life beside the deck. Sam's eyes were immediately drawn to his clothing, which was civilian style rather than military. His eyebrows drifted closer to his hairline at the sight of dark wash jeans, a cream-colored cable-knit sweater, and Blundstone boots. It gave the holoform an almost rustic appearance, like something out of an LL Bean advertisement.
"Blending in?" Sam asked dryly.
Bumblebee bent down, picking up the box of scones and Sam's coffee, the latter of which he handed over with a cheeky grin.
"I'm an infiltrator." He replied, "Blending in is what we do."
Sam laughed, shaking his head in helpless affection. "Yeah, yeah. I know."
Bumblebee's grin deepened as he climbed the steps. Sheena's tail thumped against the deck as they crossed towards the door. Sam couldn't miss the curious look on the holoform's face, so he crouched down, patting his knee.
"C'mere Sheen." He said.
The old dog pushed up onto her feet, ambling over towards them. The gray on her muzzle was more pronounced than Sam remembered, but then, she was almost ten years old. He scratched her chest, before angling his head to look up at Bumblebee.
"Bee, this is Sheena. Sheena, this is Bumblebee." He said, smiling, "My grandmother will be quick to tell you that she's a guard dog, but she's a sweetheart."
The holoform stuck out his hand, which Sheena snuffled loudly. "She guards the property?"
Sam stood up, giving the German Shepard a farewell pat. "She does, and she's a different dog when she's on duty."
Bumblebee looked intrigued by that, but before he could reply, his grandmother called out from the kitchen. "Samuel James Witwicky, didn't I ask you to get washed up?"
Her tone was crisp and no-nonsense, and it triggered something in Sam's hindbrain that made him straighten to attention. "Yes ma'am. I'm going."
He pulled open the screen door, smiling at Bumblebee. "After you."
The holoform smiled back and stepped into the house. Sam followed after him, pulling the door shut behind them.
Notes: Author's Note: I spent way, way more time than I'm comfortable admitting 'driving' down Highway 101 on Google Maps. The towns, the scenery, the roads, the distances/times are all as accurate as I could make them.